Page 18

JAXON

"T here are donuts!" Theo yelled up the stairs.

"But hurry cuz they're goin' fast!" After reluctantly dropping Bridget back at home, I got to the Shack and downed a few more beers before falling into bed for a restless night of sleep.

Bridget was basically being held hostage by her father.

There had to be a way out for her, for us.

I pulled on shorts and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Theo had even bought coffee.

Griffin was already wolfing down a maple bar.

"I know it was my turn to get groceries," Theo said, "but I was broke. I needed new shocks on my mountain bike."

I grabbed a chocolate donut and a cup of coffee. "So we've been licking the dust out of the cereal boxes all week because you wanted a smoother ride down the trail?"

Theo shrugged. "Well, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a real asshole."

Griffin and I looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

"Anyway, I sold that old BMX bike and you will be happy to know that I'm going to buy groceries today. After I ride," he added.

"Guess we'll believe it when the moldy block of cheese isn't the freshest thing in the fridge," Griffin said. He turned his attention my way. "You took the bike out last night."

"Very observant," I said.

"Well, you don't take it out unless your car is out of gas or you're trying to impress a girl. Is it her? Bridget Walsh?"

Theo laughed and nearly spit out donut chunks. "Why the hell would an old road bike impress a woman who grew up in mansions and limousines?"

"I don't need a bike to impress anyone." Donuts or not, Theo was getting on my nerves. It was time for a subject change. I drank some coffee. "Where's Cru?"

"Saw him leave with his surfboard an hour ago," Griffin said.

Theo looked up. "Really? Wonder where he was heading? I had a bunch of people text me that Walsh and his security pit bulls have closed off Croft Beach."

I picked up another donut and was about to take another bite. "You don't think he—" I stopped. "Fucking Cru." I put down the donut and got up.

"What's going on?" Griffin asked. "Do you think he went to Croft Beach anyway?"

I gave Griffin a "what do you think?" look. He put down his donut. "Right. Of course he did."

Minutes later, the three of us piled into Griffin's truck for a trip to Croft Beach.

"Cru isn't going to let this go," Theo said.

"I told him it was probably best to start looking for a new surf spot.

But Wilkin's Beach has too many rocks and a deadly sandbar, and the beaches in Oceanview—well, they stink of money and wealth and there aren't any good waves.

I don't want to have to drive thirty minutes up the coast to Whistler's Point just to surf. "

"Besides that, the local surfers aren't exactly welcoming when we show up at their surf spot," Griffin said. "We're fucked without Croft Beach. Not gonna be the same for any of us who like to be in the water."

We reached the beach. "Shit, the cops are here," Theo said.

"Man, Cru, you're pushing it, bro," I said under my breath.

Griffin stopped the truck and we climbed out. "At least it's Pugsley. If ole dickface Prentiss were on duty, he'd be dancing with joy at the chance to throw cuffs on a Stone. Looks like those same assholes who showed up at the worksite yesterday."

"What gave it away?" I asked. "The fact that their Frankenstein foreheads make their eyes look beady or that they have no necks, just block heads on top of steroid pumped shoulders?"

We reached the scene and got a wave of scowls from Walsh's security.

Crusoe and his buddy, Max, were sitting on the sand with their legs crossed as if they were sitting on the kindergarten reading rug.

Their hands were cuffed behind their backs.

They were both wet and their boards were jammed into the sand nearby.

Crusoe peered up sheepishly at us from beneath wet strands of hair.

"Officer Adams," I said with a nod. Adams motioned for us to follow him a few feet away from where the black-draped thugs were standing, four of them with arms as thick as their thighs and expressionless faces behind dark sunglasses.

"Guys, you've got to keep Cru and Max from surfing on this beach.

It's closed now. Private property." He added in an eye roll to let us know he disapproved of it too.

"These guys are patrolling the sand as if there is some big buried treasure that needs protecting.

Oh, and they called their boss. Walsh is on his way.

" Adams rolled his already thin lips in.

"I'm going to have to ask him if he wants to press charges. "

"Fuck, can't you let them off with a warning?" Griffin asked.

"That's not my call. Of course, I wouldn't have even cuffed them, but the head of security"—Adams glanced over at the men—"Ivan the terrible, apparently, insisted I cuff them."

"What the hell, Adams? Do they have property rights offshore?"

"Well, not technically, but to get those waves you have to trespass across his property.

" Adams lifted his hat and wiped his forehead.

"Look, guys, I'm with you. This whole thing sucks.

We all spent a lot of time out here on this beach, and not having it—it's going to feel like a piece of our childhood has been taken from us.

I haven't surfed out here since my teens, but I brought my little sisters here all the time to swim and build sandcastles.

Makes me sick that it's going to become a private beach for rich people who probably won't even step foot on the sand. "

"Mr. Walsh is here," the main man, Ivan, I presumed, barked. He was still standing with his arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

We all stopped to watch the man most of us knew only by name, a name we'd all come to despise, as he walked confidently across the sand in his leather loafers.

He was wearing a blue sport coat over a white shirt.

Dark sunglasses hid his expression, but his mouth was pulled tight as he had to suffer the indignity of walking across soft sand.

He wasn't a big man, slight, in fact, but everything about the way he carried himself gave the impression that he was superior to everyone else on the beach, even men twice his size. He stopped to talk to Ivan.

"Looks like he's gonna use the thug as his middleman," Theo quipped. "Too important to talk to local law enforcement."

That comment put a frown on Adams' face.

"Don't worry, Pugsley. We all think you're the coolest," Theo added quickly.

His frown vanished. "Well, I'm going to join them, whether Walsh likes it or not." Adams headed their way just as Walsh took the time to step away from his crew and stare harshly at Crusoe and Max. I instantly stiffened and curled my fists.

"That fucker better not go near 'em," I said.

"Nah, he's just showing them that he's a big man who's been wronged," Theo said.

Officer Adams walked over to Walsh. Walsh's lip turned up to let him know he hadn't been invited into the conversation. The three of us walked over to Crusoe and Max.

"Can you believe this shit?" Crusoe asked. "We were just surfing. No fucking crime in surfing."

"Cru, for now, you guys are going to have to stay off this beach," Griffin said.

"Fuck that," Crusoe said.

"Cru," I said brusquely. "If that asshole presses charges, then you two are going to jail." That statement washed some of the bravado from my brother's posture. Max looked as if he might throw up.

"Shit, Cru, my dad's going to have a fucking meltdown about this," Max said. Max's dad was one of those assholes you didn't want to cross. He was a real fucker to pretty much everyone.

Adams rejoined us. He wore a grim expression, which told me he'd be hauling the two surfers in for trespassing.

"Jaxon, Walsh wants a word with you," Adams said with a look of concern.

"Look, Jax, you know I do a lot for you guys, looking the other way on shit, but I've got no fucking power against this guy.

He basically owns half this coast and?—"

I nodded. "It's all right. I'm not going to throw a fist, if that's what you're worried about." Of course, I would have loved nothing more than to slam a fist into his arrogant face.

Walsh lifted his glasses and gave me a look cold enough to freeze the balls off a fucking elephant. He didn't say a word but motioned with his head for me to follow him out of earshot of everyone else.

We walked a good twenty feet away. My crew didn't take their eyes off us and his crew didn't take their eyes off my crew. Cologne. Why the hell did rich men douse themselves with cologne? Necessary to cover up the stink of their greed and ambition, I supposed.

"Your brother is playing with fire," he said dryly. He was working hard not to show any kind of emotion and keep his tone plain.

"Just paddled out for a few waves. I don't see any harm in that," I said back … plainly.

"This is a private beach."

"Well, you'll have to excuse us. You see, this was a public beach, one that all the locals loved, until you managed to push through your dirty real estate deal.

" I probably wasn't helping Crusoe at this point, but it was my first conversation with Nathan Walsh and, not surprisingly, I'd taken an instant disliking to him.

He pulled his sunglasses back down over his eyes. "There was nothing dirty about it."

"Yeah? Not too sure about that."

"Look here, you piece of—" His plain tone and disaffected expression were gone.

"Go on, you can say it. It's the same word you probably use about anyone who isn't wearing thousand-dollar loafers and ripping off local people of their favorite beach."

"My daughter went out last night even though she wasn't supposed to."

"Holy shit, do you hear yourself? You have literally made your daughter a prisoner, your prisoner. Do you know how fucking nuts that is?"

His upper lip twitched in anger. He stepped closer and put his finger in my face.

He seemed to think that would make me back up.

Instead, I moved closer to the asshole. I could feel waves of tension rolling off him, and his crew were standing fully at attention, ready to take me out if I got too close.

"You've got two choices here. Swear right now that you will never see Bridget again, and I will let these boys off with a warning, or I will have that clown of an officer take them in and book them for trespassing."

"That's how you do business, isn't it? Blackmail, bribery and to hell with Bridget's happiness."

He scoffed. "You could never make her happy."

"And you think that jerk you sold her off to can?"

His face reddened. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ivan move closer to where we were standing. "That's none of your fucking business. I'm not wasting another second talking to you. You're not worth the grit on the bottom of my shoe. And they cost three thousand," he said with a sneer.

"And I'll bet you still step in dog shit like the rest of us. Sure, I'll leave Bridget alone. But if she comes to see me?—"

"She won't. I'll see to it. I'll tell the officer to let them off with a warning, but this is the final straw. If that little punk shows up on this beach again, my men have their orders?—"

"Their orders?" It was my turn to scoff.

"You're going to turn those fucking rock-headed monsters loose on a bunch of young men because they had the audacity to surf in the ocean?

Whooee, those are tough guys. Good for them.

And we'll see how that works out for them. Your lackeys, I mean, not the surfers."

"You just make sure you stay away from Bridget, or your little brother's criminal record will be the least of your family's problems."

I looked hard at him. There were so many things I wanted to say, but mostly, I wanted to lay him flat with one good right hook. It took all my will to turn and walk away, giving him the last word.

"Officer, you can let them go with a warning. I think this is the last time we'll see them on this beach," Walsh said and walked away.

Crusoe and Max rubbed their wrists once free from the zip ties. They picked up their boards and walked silently behind us to the truck.

"Can't promise I'm not going back there," Crusoe said, defiantly.

"Just put your boards in the back and get in, Cru," I said angrily. Walsh was going to be a bigger obstacle than I thought.