Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(31)

One of the mowers had a busted gas line. Every time the motor was cranked gas came out like a river. The whole area was rank with the stench of both oil and gas. Then again, the whole shop was.

“Those are some good post, nails or not. I can use the wood for somethin’,” Brent said, wiping the sweat out of his dark eyes. His deep auburn hair was so wet it was black.

Murdock wasn’t the only one sweating out the drink from the night before, much less the twelve pack they had already gone through like it was water over the last hour.

“Right, but the wood’s gonna be soaked,” Murdock said, looking down at the last pool of gas that had not had a chance to dry.

Brent waved him off and threw another board riddled with nails and long rebar on the pile, barely missing one of the mowers.

“I just want it in here now. I can sort it out in a bit.”

Murdock didn’t say anything, but he knew Brent was just trying to hide all this stuff before the haze of the storm wore off and people started to question everything, count every penny.

Brent had a seat on a line of interior car seats he had also acquired, and opened another beer before he nodded toward Murdock. “You gonna tell me who got a piece of you?”

Brent Rose and Mary Souter, Murdock’s mom, had been ‘close and personal’ on and off for years. Mary wanted to leave Monty for him, but Brent would be damned if he ended up with another nagging woman he had to put in their place when they went to thinking they had a clue or two.

Brent liked her kid, though. Murdock made him wish he had a boy instead of a girl who was too much like her momma for her own good. And he liked being able to call Mary up any time he felt like it. So, when she called him this morning and told him how tore up Murdock looked, Brent promised he’d take a look into it.

“Too drunk to know,” Murdock said as he brazenly took another beer from the cooler and plopped down next to Brent.

“Bullshit. You’re too pissed not to know.”

Murdock shook his head. He was walking a fine line and knew it. Brent was the only adult he felt right letting know about his whole life. With others he played what role he needed to around them. The good student. The good athlete. The good son. The buddy you could count on.

No one really saw his dark side but Brent, and maybe that was because he sensed Brent knew what it felt like to hide who you were for the sake of some f*cked status in a nowhere town.

At the same time, telling Brent he was pretty sure a Rawlings f*cked his daughter would not be good for Justice. And under all the bullshit Murdock fronted, he did care about Justice. Murdock was pissed and hurt knowing what went down. Brent would be worse because he was still mad that a Rawlings, or a buddy of theirs, took his ex.

Justice would take her punishment and her mother’s.

“I don’t know, shit with Nolan, I guess. Can’t remember,” Murdock said with a grin that he could manifest at the drop of a hat, a cool easy one. Then he drank nearly half his beer, hoping Brent’s short attention span would lead him to another topic.

“You blacking out?” Brent asked, finishing his beer and reaching for another.

Murdock shrugged.

“Know your limit, boy.”

Murdock, on the inside, was smirking. There was nothing like a blackout alcoholic telling you to mind your drink—a blackout alcoholic who supplied your habit at that!

Murdock nodded to his beer. “I’m good.”

“You don’t know what went down? Looks like he got a good lick in.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It was more so with his brother.” He shook his head. “Declan has a thing for Justice. I’m sure I told him to back the f*ck off.’

Brent slowly lowered his beer, rage in his gaze. “That so?”

Murdock waved his hand like it was nothing. “Like she’d notice. She’s always reading some shit with those damn headphones in her ears.”

“You need to set that boy right. Declan?” Brent asked, making it to his feet, staggering as he did so, telling Murdock he was wasted. Any sway, any slur, and you could bet Brent Rose was on at least his fourth twelve pack.

“He’s gone. Big bad jarhead now.”

“Fuck that. I bet he ain’t gone yet and you best be putting him right ‘fore he does. Otherwise, he’ll roll up in here whenever they have their f*cked ritual at the end of every summer and run off with my little girl and your woman.”

Murdock looked at him like he was crazy, because he was. And because Justice was not his no matter how much Brent, his daddy, or his mother wanted her to be—she was not his. Murdock had tried. Hell yeah, he had. He’d said every right word, molded himself to what he was sure she’d like. Nothing.

Brent reached down and pulled him up. “I’m serious, son. You don’t let him get a lick in then leave f*cking town. Hell no!” Brent said, kicking over the radio that had been playing in the background, silencing the shop.

“What do you expect me to do?”

Right then, in the silence between their words, they heard the rumble of a truck idling. Then they both walked to the shop’s doorway.

As if Declan Rawlings had been summoned—there he was, his truck had crept up to the side of Bell Everly’s home in the distance. In the dark they watched him get out, put a box under the porch then leave.

“That son of a bitch,” Brent said, stepping forward. By the time they reached the gravel path the truck was long gone, turning left up the back road.