Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(30)
Murdock was sure the f*ck was after him, ready to finish the fight they had started before. At that very second, Murdock couldn’t remember what started the fight much less how it ended, he just knew one thing—he hated Declan.
Murdock wasn’t a fool. He knew something went down with Declan and Justice, he could read that girl without even trying. He’d been scornfully simmering on the idea for days.
Not even bothering to tell the girl passed out across her bed bye, he’d grabbed his shirt and made his way out. Right when he reached the edge of the yard he saw them. Declan pulling back from a kiss then walking away in his high and mighty, I don’t give a f*ck, way. And there was Justice looking just as sick and pained as he had seen her before when Declan Rawlings was the favored topic.
Murdock and Justice had never had a real thing, but they had something. They were more than friends, and yet, he’d never once seen her even show an ounce of the emotion toward anything or any one the way she did toward Declan.
Why she did was lost on Murdock. The guy was a dick and had always been one. Walking around like he was too good to be friends with anyone. Too cool to be bothered with having a good time. The f*cking girls ate it up—the bigger the ass he was, the more they would flock.
Declan would use them and lose them, leaving them broken and twisted enough that any and all self confidence was shattered, making them easy prey for guys like Murdock, who just needed a break from the straight line. A quick f*ck.
Murdock never imagined Justice being one of those girls, and knowing she was now burned him.
He didn’t move when he heard the screen door creak behind him, but the second he felt the woman’s arm snake around his shoulder he jolted up and glared back at her. She was a rough pick when he was three sheets to the wind. In the morning light, she looked all the rougher. She had at least five years on him, but it looked and sounded like more with her smoker’s cough, pasty skin, and cagy stare.
The woman grinned and crossed her arms as she stood up straighter. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, looking over him, the nasty bruise on his chest, and how black and blue his jaw was. She was sure it was swollen.
“Leaving,” he said harshly.
He pushed inside past her and kicked Jacks awake. He was passed out on the couch with two different girls across him, neither one of them were Faith, the chick who was hard up for Jacks last Murdock heard.
When Jacks took one look at Murdock and laughed, Murdock knew he’d have to avoid anyone who mattered for a day or so. The last thing he wanted anyone to know was that he had gotten into a brawl and not come out on top. Again.
Fuck a Rawlings.
His nasty attitude didn’t go anywhere all day long. He’d gone home, fought with his mother when she asked him where he’d been and ‘what was on his face’ then he crashed, but not before washing as much as he could of the skank from the night before off.
When he finally woke after dark he had a slew of missed texts and calls.
The only one he bothered to call back was Justice’s house. Her calling him made him think maybe he was just still drunk that morning and imagined it all.
Brent Rose was the one who answered. He was the one looking for Murdock and all but demanded he meet him at his shop—well, the shop that use to be Justice’s grandfather’s. Brent had been moving things in for a minute now. He basically used it as a place to sell equipment he came across. He was always looking for a way to make some fast cash. This storm was like the lottery for him.
Not only did people want the help clearing damage away or ‘taking care of things’ during their emotional stress, but they also trusted the town alderman, the man who was everybody’s friend. Who made you feel like a million bucks when he smiled at you or offered his approval. You just wanted to respect him, fall under his favor. So much so, any crazy rumors you heard about him, any bullshit stories the roughneck Rawlings and company said, just sounded insane.
Tonight Brent Rose wanted Murdock’s help unloading all the metal he had picked up around town after the storm. He had a ton of copper, which was worth a fortune, more machines, and nearly a whole fence line.
Telling Brent no was never easy, and since he was offering beer for payment, Murdock knew if he refused Brent would know something was up.
Instead, Murdock hoped his fair-haired stubble would help hide the mark on his jaw as he dressed. Once outside, for good measure, he slapped some dirt on him, to make it look like he had been busy working all day, and to cover his marks all the more.
When he opened his truck door, his bag along with a pile of baseballs fell out.
He squinted from the pain in his chest as he knelt down to pick them up two at a time, and then as he did, flashes of what went down the night before came to him. He remembered throwing balls at Nolan’s truck; he remembered how good his aim was.
Even though he didn’t remember how the fight ended, knowing he managed to get a shot at Declan and Nolan’s ride spread a grin across his face as he loaded his bag and threw it in the passenger seat. At once, he was feeling better. One way or another Declan was gone by now.
An hour into helping Brent unload the trailer, he had backed up to the shop and Murdock was sure he wasted his time throwing any dirt on himself.
He was sweating out all he drank the night before and every morsel of dust in the old shop was sticking to him.
“You sure you want this here?” Murdock asked, throwing down fencing post across lawnmowers that Brent had jacked from across town, ones the storm had picked up and carried away. Brent said he was doing the owners a favor, they could claim it and he could sell them—everybody won his way.