Not Heather. She was Roussou born and bred. She’d never changed. And everything she’d said held up. I’d go to the ends of the fucking Earth for her, and these guys would have my back.
Scratch would stay and take care of the bar.
“Sorry, Heather.” He took another bite, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “Sometimes my mouth moves before my brain does.”
“It happens.” She sat back, looking over to me. “Are we doing something or just going to hold hands?”
Chad burst out laughing. “I’ve missed having little Jax on our missions.”
“Yeah, when was the last time?” Moose asked.
“I remember.” Chad snapped his fingers. “That old barn-dance place. The owner said he’d rather burn it down than let some homosexuals party there. Ginger Gypsy was there with my other aunt and some of their friends, back when they could still shake it.”
Chad a large family. Really large.
Congo raised his voice, “Yeah! She was there with her girlfriend, and they got so mad, they went to Manny’s. Heather heard, came and found us, and then—”
Heather was watching me.
I finished the story, so goddamn proud of my girl. “Heather was the first to go and light the match.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I really liked Cora. That made me mad.”
Chad’s laugh softened. He rested his arm on my door. “That meant a lot to my aunts. Cora asked about you until the day she died. She kept proclaiming you’d be blessed for what you did.”
“For burning down a barn-dance hall?” But Heather was smiling.
I’d forgotten how much she’d loved Chad’s aunts, but it wasn’t just them. It was the girlfriend. Heather had doted on them…
“They were friends with your dad,” I said, remembering.
She nodded again. “Cora Lovell used to babysit Brandon when he was little. He had a crush on her. I was the one who told him she didn’t swing that way. I think it made him love on her even more.”
“Yeah, she said you visited them in the nursing home a lot.”
“How is Ginger Gypsy?” Heather asked Chad.
He glanced to me, asking for permission. I nodded, just barely.
“She’s good. Still fighting, raising a ruckus like always.”
“And your mom?”
He lifted up a tight shoulder. “My mom not so much. She got conned by someone recently.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, Chad. I really am.”
“Yeah.” His head lowered a little. “She wasn’t hurt too bad. And we were able to get most of the money back.”
There was a pregnant pause after that.
Someone had hurt someone a crew member loved. Heather knew the policy after that: we got even. I waited to hear her response.
“And whoever conned your mom?”
I looked over. I was surprised to hear a hardness in her tone. It reflected in her eyes. There was the old Heather, the one who’d burned down a barn-dance hall without a moment’s hesitation.
I swore I saw the same flames flickering in her eyes as she asked me, “Did you get the guy?”
I nodded. “You know it.” Whatever god brought her into my life, thank you.
She clipped out, “Good.”
After her response, the guys all seemed to breathe easier, stepping back from the truck. Congo popped the last of his chew in his cheek, then brought out a lighter and started to touch the flame to the empty case.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Moose grabbed for the lighter. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What?” Congo frowned. “There’s no trash around, and I don't want to litter.”
Chad started laughing behind me.
Moose shook the chew packet in front of Congo’s face. “Burning this shit could be worse for the environment than littering.”
“How? I’m just burning it up.”
“You gotta make sure.” Moose patted the top of Congo’s head with the chew case. “Just in case, man. There could be chemicals in this. You got it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Congo grumbled, grabbing for the case and going back to his vehicle. He called over his shoulder, “Figure out the plan and let me know, would you?”
Moose turned back to the truck. He stepped in closer; so did Chad.
“You heard him, boss. What’s the plan?” Moose asked.
This was a scouting mission. So, it was time to do some scouting.
26
Heather
Fart!
Somehow I’d ended up running behind Channing’s cousin, and smelling the farts he kept denying.
Another one. I hit Scratch in the back. “Stop farting! They stink!”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I shouldn’t have had that sandwich in the truck.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re kinda mean sometimes, Heather. Do you know that about yourself?”
My hand spasmed. I wanted to hit him again, across the face. I deadpanned, “Really? I had no idea.”
“Not nice. Not nice.”
Then a voice spoke from behind me. “Would you two stop bickering? You’re like two little kids fighting over a toy.”
Scratch didn’t respond, but I screamed my displeasure—or I would’ve. I jumped straight in the air, and just as I started to yell, a hand clamped over my mouth.
“Ssshhhh! It’s me. Lincoln.”
I nodded, and he eased his hand away. I looked at him over my shoulder, still a little shaken. “Where the hell did you come from? And make some noise, why don’t you?” I punched his arm.
Girls aren’t supposed to hit. Guys can’t hit girls, so it should go both ways, but my God, he scared three years off my life. And the need to smoke hit me full blast now. I could smell the nicotine. My nose started twitching, trying to lead me toward it.
“He’s been trailing us the whole time. Right?” Congo said, laughter in his voice.
Lincoln nodded, but barely. The guy was committed to his statue impersonation. “Chan sent me after you guys. Neither of you were answering your phones.” He nodded to our left. “We’re supposed to cross there and meet them on the other side of the hill.”
So far in our scouting mission, we’d done a whole bunch of running around fields and over hills. We’d crossed a river (that was not fun) and gone over more hills. Channing said we were checking some of the Red Demon territories, but so far, I was just seeing land. Everywhere.
“Were you in the trucks before?” It was still bugging me, not seeing Lincoln till now.
Congo spoke for him as Lincoln went ahead, taking the lead. “He’s been our rear, staying back and making sure no one sneaks up on us.”
Well. That made perfect sense.
Channing moved like a ghost. So did Moose, and now Lincoln too. But Congo didn’t, and neither did Chad. Chad smelled like spice cologne, and Congo wore these chains from his pants that rattled every time he moved. Although now I noticed those chains had stopped making any sound.
Chill, Heather. It’s not like they haven’t done this before.
This was a regular Tuesday to them. I kept telling myself that as I jogged after Lincoln and Congo and saw the rest were already ahead. They lay flat at the top of the next hill, some with binoculars out.
Channing turned his head, checking on us as Lincoln dropped and began army-crawling to lie next to him. Congo did the same, but he went to the end, next to Chad. Channing gestured to his right, and I crawled there, Moose on my other side.