Page 122 of Westin

Corbin’s eyes bounce back and forth. “You two know each other?”

He’s refined when I see him like this, alongside Deacon. I open my mouth to answer but stop short.

I’m so fucking angry. My brain tells me to try to find a way this can be solved without a bullet. My heart tells me that Deacon Ryder might be here for a reason, and I should speak with him first.

“Excuse us,” I tell Corbin.

I step back, jerking my head. Deacon lifts his brows, but he follows me as I head down to the second landing on the steps

“Why are you in the city?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I got some business.”

“You want to go steal some horses?” I ask.

Deacon shakes back his sleeves, exposing a chipped silver watch with a leather band. “I don’t have shit to do until noon, so yeah.”

We head out, but Deacon has to stop at a street vender for a coffee. Then, we get into my truck with the trailer attached and pull back onto the highway. It’s thirty minutes to Carter Farms, and we’re both quiet. The cab smells like black coffee and boot oil. My mouth tastes bitter..

The silence is loud. The last time we ran into each other was at a BDSM club in Wyoming. I was on a trip and had time to kill, so I went to blow off some steam. Deacon was there, and we made uncomfortable eye contact before I decided to head out early.

I cleared my throat. “You still with that blonde girl?”

He shook his head. “She was a redhead, but no.”

There’s another silence. Deacon finishes his coffee and crushes the cup in his fist. I turn off the highway onto the state route.

“You got anybody?” Deacon asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “The owner of the horses I’m about to steal.”

His forehead creases. “You stealing your own girl’s horses?”

“Her brother has them.”

“And the brother won’t be at the house?”

“Not this time of day.”

“Makes sense. Too bad. I was hoping we could fuck somebody up.”

My mind goes back to last night, to the memory of her broken body in my arms, shaking as she told me what they did to her. My knuckles tighten. Deacon glances over, and his brow rises.

“Oh, the brother’s in for it, huh?” he says. “What’d he do?”

I run a hand through my hair. My eyes stay on the road.

“She was married to Thomas Garrison. He beat her, and her brother stood there and watched.”

Deacon shakes his head. “Sounds like you should fuck him up.”

I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah, I plan on it.”

“I’ll help. Sounds like fun.” Deacon rolls his jaw again. “You said she was married to a Garrison? The younger one?”

I nod again.

“Well, those motherfuckers are dead,” he says. “Everyone heard, everyone knows who did it, but I’d guess with the gunslinger on his payroll, they won’t catch nobody.”

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