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Actually, I did. Because Nadine needed to mind her own fucking business. “You don’t own me an apology. What did Jester say to her?”

“Thanks. The short of it, he told her to fuck off. She fucking sucks, so I figured I’d just bring your shirt back and cut off any shit she tries to start.”

Her head tilted because there was something else going on, I could tell. I’d known her too long. She was jumpy, like when she had something she needed to say but didn’t know how. I just needed to wait her out.

“Okay, that’s not entirely true. The shirt is an excuse. I could have texted, but I didn’t want things to be weird after last night. And I wanted to apologize for that, too.”

“What?” I blinked. “You’re apologizing for blowing my mind? Jesus Christ, Kenna.”

“You liked it? You don’t think I’m…”

“I…” I think you’re fucking amazing. But those words didn’t come. Fuck, she made my head spin. She was sexy as fuck, sitting there looking at me with those big eyes. “I fucking loved it.”

Another vehicle door shut and voices outside.

Those I didn’t know, and then one I knew very well.

Jessica’s sing-song, broken voice no longer excited me.

It soured everything bright in my world.

But it was the male voices with hers that had me setting the coffee down and grabbing the forty-five I kept above the fridge.

The magazine was in a cabinet above the coffee pot.

I had a kid; loaded weapons didn’t just lie around.

I loaded it, put one in the chamber, and shoved it into the back of my jeans. Kenna watched all of this, wide-eyed.

“Stay out of sight.”

Jessica was fidgeting nervously on my front door, wringing her hands together and focusing on the handle. Her eyes red and swollen. She didn’t want to be here. Someone had made her. As I opened the door, she scurried from the porch, down the steps, and right past her stepdad.

Last time I’d heard about Jerry Wayne, he’d been in prison. Should have stayed in longer, for what he’d done to those girls and their mother.

“Where’s my grandson at?” he asked with a bright, toothy smile.

“You got one of those?” He didn’t have kids of his own but liked to fuck around with his stepdaughters. Even if they didn’t want to.

Hatred for Jerry Wayne still flipped around in my chest. I despised what Jessica had become, the life she’d denied our son. But even she didn’t deserve to be standing behind that sick, twisted piece of white trash.

“Don’t play stupid, Kelly.”

Not my first name. Not my nickname. He denied me the respect of either.

I stretched the fingers of my free hand to keep from making a fist and took a long, bored swallow of my coffee.

When I played hockey, I learned if I got the first punch in, I’d win.

Every time. Never let them know what was coming.

I might look like I was lazing on my front porch, but Jerry Wayne would be in the dirt before his bozo goons even noticed I’d hopped down the steps.

Jessica knew it and skittered even further to the back of the little pack. She’d never feared me like she did him, but she was damn sure afraid of the damage I could do to all of them.

“You got nothing here, Jerry Wayne, and never will.”

“Jessica’s got rights.” He sneered.

“Not anymore. She signed that shit over for five-grand worth of blow a few years ago. If she wants to see my son, it goes through me. End of story.” I glanced at her. She wouldn’t even look at me. The fear wasn’t of me—I’d never hurt her. But she’d pay for this later, in one way or another.

I tried not to feel bad about that, but it made me sick.

Even alone on my porch, I wasn’t afraid of Jerry Wayne or his cronies that stood near the pickup he’d driven.

Jessica, dirty-blond hair shoved behind her ears, glanced up at me and mouthed she was sorry. Yeah, she was, for a lot of reasons. But I wouldn’t blame her for bringing this piece of garbage to my doorstep. Nah, she was too beaten to tell him no.

He wanted to argue, but when the crackhead at the front of the truck reached into his pocket, I reached around behind my back.

The sound of Harleys echoed through town, one close enough to be Merc. The other coming from Archer’s place. Kenna must have called Cam. After my conversation with him last night, I had no doubt he’d answered her, tucked away in his love nest or not.

Good girl.

“I think it’s time you go, Jerry Wayne.”

He sneered again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure about that?” I asked, free hand still on the butt of the pistol, but I hadn’t pulled it yet.

Merc rolled in, coasting with his legs out, right on Jerry Wayne’s flank. He cut the bike off, leaned back on his seat, and kicked the kickstand down with the ease of long practice. Never taking his eyes off the older man.

Our odds were evening and Jerry Wayne knew it.

“This isn’t over. That boy is ours too.”

“No,” I said as Cam slowed his bike near the back of Jerry Wayne’s truck, behind the two cronies. A triangle of death. They had nowhere to go if we decided they needed to die right there.

Cam lit a cigarette and smiled. He loved this shit.

“Time to go, Cantrell.” It was my turn to use his last name, to remind him I knew exactly who he was.

He caught my gaze. But unlike the other people in his life, I wasn’t afraid of men like him. If he came back, I’d kill him. This was all the warning he’d get.

***

Mom was pissed when I didn’t pick Eli up and gave her no reason. I’d rather her mad than scared, and right now, I had things under control. I drove straight to AP’s when Kenna left. Merc was in the garage, door open, working on the old Knucklehead.

Kenna had been understanding, but a little freaked when she left.

Jerry Wayne Cantrell was someone she’d grown up knowing about.

Most of the kids in the Bends had. Wanda Haynes and her boys were one thing, but Jerry Wayne was worse.

A lot fucking worse. No moral compass, just an all-around fucked up piece of shit.

Holding in the blind rage, the anger, had been hard.

I shook by the time I put the truck in park and climbed out. Merc stood, wiping his hands on a red shop rag. He took one look at me and cursed, hollering for his dad.

“I can’t believe they let that piece of shit rapist mother fucker out of prison?” I pushed my hands through my hair, hadn’t even bothered to brush it or pull it up.

Before I’d moved to Dry Valley, Jerry Wayne Cantrell had a big dust up with the Kings. Merc had messed around with Jessica—Eli’s mom—to get dirt on Jerry Wayne. Wasn’t a surprise Cam and AP had come up with this mole idea for Ghost and the peckerwoods.

But nobody had expected the rusty wrench Jerry Wayne’s presence had thrown into things.

Wanda Haynes did the things she did, to feed and protect her own. I could understand and respect that. But Jerry Wayne, power was all that mattered to him. One of those men that was barely smart enough to lead but mean enough to keep everyone in check. The Putin of the trailer park.

I hated him. Jessica was fucked, for sure, and most of it was because of him. Had it not been for the Soletsky’s, so would her little sister Whitney. The only member of that fucked up family Eli knew.

AP came around the corner. “At least he got the point today. Cam said he was as close to running scared as he’d ever seen him.”

“Nah.” I spit in the grass and inhaled a deep breath of unseasonably cool air. “He just didn’t come heavy enough, didn’t expect Cam to be here. Figured we were weak. If he’d had more than a couple of inbred meth-heads, he’d have started some shit.”

“Explains the shady shit in the Bends,” Merc added. “He’ll start there but won’t stay long. That man doesn’t play well with women, and those boys won’t cook his shit if he’s not good to Wanda.”

He was right.

“I’ll have Jester touch base with Ghost. Set up a meet.”

“I need patrols on my kid. Us and the cops.” Because Jerry Wayne’s threats weren’t idle. If I made it hard for him to get to Eli, maybe he’d come for me instead.

“I’ll get Cam to handle the cops.” AP cut his gaze to his son. “Set some stuff up. I want eyes on the kid all the time.”

“Unless he’s with me.” Let Jerry Wayne see that as his opening. I’d be ready and blow his fucking head off. I should have done it before Eli was born.

“You sure about that?” Merc’s blue eyes were narrowed with uncertainty.

“Yeah, because I’ll kill that mother fucker.”