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Will picked Abby up from the inn like the dutiful younger brother he was. His dad made him drive her around like a fucking chauffeur. It chafed, no denying that. But his dad made it clear—Abby had a job, Abby was bringing in money to help out now that his dad could no longer drive for Morris Preston under the table like he had, and something had to offset his dad’s disability payment without sending his dad over the legal limit. At least on paper. Abby’s job was so fucking important.

His dad had driven for Morris because Morris paid cash. His dad hadn’t exactly reported that cash on his taxes or anything. Just one way people around Masterson could get by.

Just like Will had distributed a few things for good old Morris at times too. For cold, hard, untraceable cash.

His own supply of Opal Joy was dwindling. Will didn’t use OPJ that much now—he couldn’t. Since Preston was arrested, Will didn’t have access to much more.

Once he sold what he had, he was shit out of luck unless he could find someone to give him more. There was supposed to be another shipment hidden around Masterson somewhere. That punk Sonny from Finley Creek had dropped one off somewhere before Judge Fisher had offed him. Will just hadn’t found it yet. No one had found it yet.

He was still looking. When Will found it, he would have an entire truckload of his own OPJ to sell. There would be enough there to make him rich, especially since rumors were going around that supply was going to be even tighter to come by.

He’d use a bit of it, just enough to check out the product. That was all he was doing with it. Quality control. Like a factory or something.

Then he’d sell it, but he was going to jack up the price. The law of supply and demand, baby.

“You are ten minutes late.” His sister had her resting bitch face on. Great.

“There was a damned wreck. Truck slid off north of town.” Something had obviously crawled up her ass. No denying that. Abby was going to be in her mood all damned night. He’d have to deal with her and then listen to their dad coddling her. Abby was his father’s precious girl, after all.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, but not like he really wanted to know or anything. Sometimes, she was so damned hard to take.

“What’s wrong? That damned bitch Dylan moved out of the inn, that’s what’s wrong. She’s living with Fletcher Tyler now. As his housekeeper. Go by his house. I want to see if her stupid car is there for myself.”

That Tyler guy had a ranch literally right outside city limits. It wasn’t a great place, but it was decent. Will knew where it was. He’d past it a thousand times just this month alone. “Got to, anyway. Wreck closed our road. We’re going to have to circle up behind the house.”

She bitched about that for a moment. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she give a shit? “Hell, Abby, the truck driver died. Have some compassion. What’s so special about Fletcher Tyler anyway?”

“I have plans for him, moron. He’s going to be rich someday. Think I want to work at the inn forever? I’m not a stupid Talley or anything.”

That she wasn’t. Then it sank in. “You said Dylan? That’s the seriously hot little one, right?”

She’d been there when his friend had been killed. Will had heard the rumors too. Everyone was talking about it. And Will had seen her driving down that road himself that day.

“Hot? You think that freak is hot? What are you smoking now? She’s nothing but an annoying little bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone now because she’s a Talley.”

And Dylan was apparently another woman Abby had a problem with. His sister could be such a stupid jealous bitch sometimes. Especially where hot women were concerned. He thought Abby was intimidated by them or something. It was no wonder she barely had any friends, and no decent guy would touch her with a ten-foot pole let alone his dick. “If you hate the Talleys so much, why do you work at the inn?”

“What else am I going to do, go work at a factory and get all hot and sweaty and aged before my time?”

Nothing wrong with working at a factory—their mom had before she’d died. But Will kept that to himself. Abby could be a royal bitch when she wanted. And he didn’t want to fight with her.

He still hadn’t decided what he was going to do about Dylan.

If she was living with Fletcher Tyler, was she screwing him?

He thought about that for a moment.

It definitely pissed him off.

What had he been thinking—that he’d screw Dylan himself? Like he could see that happening. Screw the woman who could help put him jail? No fucking way. She had seen Will out there that day. It was just a matter of time before she told the cops that or something.

A woman like a Talley wouldn’t even look twice at a man like him. Will wasn’t that much of an idiot. But he could certainly imagine that she did.