Page 2

Then Cash releases his collar and Marcus falls back against the wall.

Well. I am honestly taken aback. Not as much as Marcus, but I haven't seen this side of Cash. Because before this display right here, I thought he was all talk. Granted, he did ambush me, kidnap me, beat the shit out of me, tie me to a post and leave me there to die—but it was all kinda half ass, if you ask me.

I am, after all, still alive and currently his partner in crime.

I mean, if ya wanna kill a man, you just… aim and shoot. That's how I do it.

But I can appreciate a man's method.

Cash smiles, and as I watch, a chill climbs up my spine over this smile.

He's not done, either. He keeps goin'. "You're gonna be my little errand boy, too. You're gonna call the board together and let them know this club is for sale. It's gonna shut down tonight and never open again.”

This… THIS is what pisses Marcus White Jr. off. "You can't do that," he hisses.

Cash glares down at him. "Not only is this club shutting down for good, it's gonna be liquidated, along with every fortune in this valley but mine."

"You're insane!" Marcus screams. "You're just insane! You can't stop this club. You can't stop anything! It's been this way since before you were born!"

"Yes," Cash concedes. "It has. And I might just be insane. But I'm gonna say this again, and I hope to god you're listening. This is the end, Marcus. The absolute fucking end."

Then he turns, looks at me, and gives me a nod, motionin' with his chin that it's time to go.

And that's exactly what we do.

I notice my hat is on the floor, so I pick it up and we walk back the way we came.

"They'll kill you," Marcus screams. "I'll call that board meeting all right! And the only thing on the agenda will be how to kill the entire Ashby family! I will rape your sister, I will⁠—"

Cash doesn't take the bait and neither do I. My mind hasn't even caught up to what the fuck just happened yet, so I am in no condition to turn and walk back, and take care of Marcus the proper way.

We just continue down the hallway, through the breezeway, into the great room at the front, and out the fuckin' door.

Cash's truck is parked close, so he waves the valet off, shoving some money into his chest as he walks past.

We get in and drive.

When we're on the freeway heading back up towards Drybone, I ask, "What about that kid?"

Cash doesn't answer right away. He drives, lookin' out the window for a few seconds.

Then his eyes find mine and lock.

He stares at me for the maximum number of seconds one can reasonably expect to look away from the road without consequences. "Marcus is right about one thing, I can't stop what's going on in there. It's been like this for over a century, Legion. The club has weathered every threat you can think of. It never closes down."

"So what?" I ask. "You were just talkin' out your ass back there?"

"Nah," he laughs. "No, I wasn't talkin' out my ass, Legion. The reckoning is part two of this plan."

"Part two?" I ask.

Cash nods. "The part where I make you rich."

Timin' is a funny bitch. Because a man can go his whole life and never once hear the words Bakken formation and then he can't go a week without hearin' it twice.

Cash lays it out much like Mike did back in that abandoned gas station.

The Bakken formation, Cash explains as he drives, is a layer of shale rock sittin' about two miles underground, stretchin' across eastern Montana and western North Dakota like a buried ocean.