Page 113 of Jensen

The hair on my neck rises. “Is it really…that bad?”

The bluegrass band starts up again, the fiddle going hard and fast. Everyone is drunk enough, they’re dancing, shaking the floors and rattling the windows. I lean in, but that interim seems to make Angus rethink his words.

“Don’t worry about it, miss,” he shouts. “Shouldn’t have said anything.”

He pushes off the bar to leave. I glance back at Brothers, and for the first time, I think I see a little humanity. This isn’t all about getting his claws back into Jensen the way he seems to think. It’s more a matter of survival, a last ditch effort to bring in the best team to take the Caudills out.

A shiver runs down my spine.

I need to get my son and go. My home isn’t safe anymore. It feels like the city is on the cusp of decimation.

Brothers and Jensen split about ten minutes later, and Jensen walks around to disappear into the back room. Brothers hoists himself up on the counter, sliding over and landing on his feet. He puts his hand on the small of my back.

“You give any thought to going back to Leland?” he says.

I freeze, looking ahead. “Is that still what you want?”

“Yes. Go back to Leland like I said, and I will draw him out of the house and provide you a safe route out with your son. But you have to be in the house, ready to go when I say. Understood?”

I stammer, wordless.

“Jensen knows he can’t do this on his own,” Brothers drawls. “We do this my way, or you lose everything.”

The fiddle pauses. Everyone draws a breath. Then, they clap, and the floor shakes as they shout and the music starts up with a vengeance again. It’s so fucking loud. Brothers’ touch disappears. I turn, but he’s already leaning over the counter, shaking hands and accepting congratulations on his win. The music hurts my head. There are too many people in this room.

My brain is going to explode. I put my fingers to my temples and shut my eyes.

“Come on,” Brothers say, appearing at my elbow again.

Lord, how did he get back so fast? I open my eyes, a glass of bourbon hovering in my vision.

“Drink,” he says. “Tonight is about yesterday. Tomorrow is all about tomorrow.”

I reach for the glass, then hesitate. I’m at a crossroads, being offered a choice. A deal with the devil and a drink to seal it. I turn my head, and he’s so close, I can feel his hot breath on my shoulder. He smells familiar, almost like my father’s aftershave does in my memory.

“What’s your real name?” I breathe. “I know your mother didn’t name you Brothers fucking Boyd.”

“Theonly reason anybody needs my name is for bedroom purposes,” he says. “You don’t have a use for that, Della.”

My heart thumps in my mouth. My mind races through everything that’s happened since we got back. The swamp, the attack in the gorge, what he’s whispering in my ear right now. It’s all falling into place, his design like dominos tumbling under the great and powerful hand of Brothers Boyd.

Flick, and they all fall, making a path right to my little boy.

“Jensen won’t let me go back to Leland,” I say, watching the back hallway.

“What Jensen doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he says, stepping back. “Come with me tonight. I’ll take you back to Leland.”

The high of bourbon and horse racing is gone. My breath comes short and fast. The music keeps getting faster, thumping with my heart.

I want to go, now.

Whirling, I push through the dutch doors and run across the floor, bumping directly into a broad figure. It’s Jensen, steadying me, looking concerned. When did he come out of the back? And why does he have a bundle of AKs hanging over his shoulder?

“I’m leaving,” I gasp, darting around him.

He steps back, eyes roaming over me, a crease between his brows. Behind him, I can make out the shape of Brothers leaning on the bar, head cocked, watching us with the smallest smile, like a cat playing with its prey.

My stomach churns.