Burn It Up(18)

“Way you’re gussied up, I’m guessing you’re stuck showing those environmental people around again.”

Miah rolled his eyes. “Another survey, yeah. Meant I got to sleep in an extra hour, though.”

“What are they after, exactly?” Casey knew only that they showed up wielding clipboards and hard hats, and that they’d been by twice since he’d moved Abilene in.

“Silver State, the casino’s new contracting outfit,” Miah said, “is requiring the town to conduct a geological survey. They say they’re worried about run-off from the construction messing up our groundwater, things like that. Sounds all conscientious and admirable, but I’ve got my money on them just wanting to cover their asses against any potential lawsuits. After what happened with Virgin River, they’ve got to know the town’s feeling skeptical about the entire project.”

Virgin River Contracting had been the proposed Eclipse resort casino’s first construction company, but they’d turned out to be corrupt. Some higher-ups had tried to keep the accidental death of an illegal worker secret, so they wouldn’t risk the bonuses promised to them by the casino’s development company, for finishing on time. That crime had snowballed, resulting in the death of a sheriff’s deputy—a good friend of Casey’s, once upon a time, in fact—who’d seen too much, and then the sheriff himself, who’d been tangled up in the contractors’ racket.

“In theory it’s a good thing,” Miah said, “regardless of the motivation. Though it kills me to be spending my morning chaperoning them around when the last thing I want is for that casino to even go through. How many people have lost their lives now, yet we’re still willing to welcome the goddamn thing? Welcome it to come through and rip this whole town to pieces, and for what? Some tax breaks? A load of menial service jobs built on tricking people out of their hard-earned money? Jobs that probably won’t pay well enough to even keep the struggling locals in town once the property values get bloated out of all reason.”

Miah wasn’t alone in his thinking there. Plenty of people in Fortuity hoped the casino wouldn’t get built—Casey’s brother being one of the louder voices in that camp. Casey was undecided. A part of him would always resent the casino; a childhood friend would still be alive if not for that project. But on an impersonal level, he wasn’t afraid of change, and the competition to the bar didn’t scare him. Bring on the tourists, in fact. He was alone in his ambivalence among his friends, though. The rest of them liked their town the way it was.

“A club meeting’s been called for tomorrow, early,” Miah said. “Six a.m.”

Casey dropped out of his thoughts and back down onto the hard wooden bench. “Goddamn.”

“I know. But it’s the only time your brother and I can swing it. If you’re gonna feel bad for someone, make it whoever’s stuck closing the bar tonight.”

“True.” And what a f*cking way to kick off the day, Casey thought, getting Miah in the same room with Raina and Duncan. Miah had dated Raina a while back, and the guy was still struggling to get over the fact that she was now in love with a man he took for an entitled, pompous prick. So they weren’t the best of friends, no.

“Consolation is, my mom promised to make pancakes.”

“What a butch-ass load of bikers we are,” Casey said. “Fucking homemade pancakes and everything. What’s the meeting about?”

“Scheduling, mainly, making sure there’s always somebody here with Abilene while this Ware situation unfolds. Plus I got a couple agenda items of my own. Nothing dramatic, just stuff to keep an eye out for.”

Casey grabbed a fork from a small pile of cutlery and stabbed himself a sausage link from a dwindling platter. “Well, I’m gonna open the bar this afternoon after Abilene heads to Elko, so I’ll tell whoever’s around about the early wake-up call.” No doubt Miah would prefer to avoid calling his ex and her lover.

“Sounds good.”

An urge tugged at Casey, an impulse to ask Miah if he thought that he and Abilene messing around had been just as bad an idea as he suspected it was.

Or do I secretly want to hear him tell me to go for it? He had to wonder. That was just his dick talking, surely.

In either case, Miah might not be the right man for the job. He still regarded Casey as his best friend’s obnoxious little brother in some ways. Easy for him to judge, when he’d been born into a respectable business, his path all laid out in front of him. Casey tried to imagine Jeremiah Church, future Three C patriarch and Prince of Fortuity, ever messing around with one of his employees, and decided, no, this was not the friend to confide in.

Duncan, however . . . Perfect as the guy might look, he’d f*cked up his fair share of stuff. Plus he was discreet. Casey resolved to ask him when he went into town later. One thing was for sure: He could use some perspective.

? ? ?

James Ware shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the official at the discharge desk to return with his bin, all the shit he’d had on him when he’d been incarcerated back in July.

Eight months sounded like nothing compared to his first stint—five years—yet he felt way out of practice at this whole free-man thing. His jeans felt weird on his legs, heavy and stiff after all this time in orange scrubs and sweats. His belt felt strange, like the contraband it would have been only two hours ago.