Page 69 of Forty

“You’ll watch me knock down the fence?”

“Yeah. You said you’re giving me more of a view. Go on. We’ll be able to see the sunrise across the valley.”

“You’re gonna freeze your ass off sitting on the ground. Go get one of those chairs with a cushion.”

“What did I say about bossing me, Paul Bunyan?” I hop up and go for one of the deck chairs. It is too freezing on the ground.

“Get a blanket from inside!”

Thwack. Crack.

I slip inside and grab a throw and a beer. There’s not much in the fridge besides condiments and a six pack of IPA. I’ll have to get creative with breakfast. Or have him ride us into town.

I go back outside and curl in a chair, sipping the beer. I chat away as he tears down the fence, telling him all about nothing, chattering away like I used to. He answers every so often so I know he’s listening—he always listened—and his strokes become more rote, less rage-filled.

Of course, me being me, I can’t stay seated very long. I wander off to take another dip in the hot tub, and I go upstairs for my shoes. I roam around the house, poking in closets and drawers. I watch Forty from the windows. At one point, the neighbor’s outside lights come on. I guess they think better of fucking with the ax-wielding biker ‘cause the lights go off again a few minutes later.

I keep returning to Forty, though. I bring him a beer. I ask him for the password to his computer. It’s Beretta92.

And I watch his fury ebb and flow, his powerlessness rise up and drive him to swing that ax harder and harder. Tear boards with his bare hands. I watch him get tired and keep going.

I don’t want him to feel like this.

I don’t want to feel better because he feels like this.

But there’s no one on the planet except Shirlene and two or three others who know and care. If I called my mother right now, she’d hang up on me. She knows. But she picked her husband over me a long time ago. He’s gone, but her choice lives on.

There’s something about Forty’s rage that tethers me down. That reaches into the past and shines a disinfectant light. This thing happened to me. It wasn’t right. Every swing of that ax, every board that comes down, it’s testimony.

Ed Ellis had no right to do what he did.

I deserve vengeance.

I deserve a white knight to ride to my rescue, even if he’s years late, and I already saved myself ages ago.

I just hope I can keep him.

This beautiful, prideful man.

Busting down boards with his fists, letting the sunrise in while I tell him all the things I’ve been keeping for him, deep down, where love still lingered in the corners, waiting for me to be brave enough to come and get it.

9

FORTY

Ilove coming home. Nevaeh’s here.

These days have been long. Four a.m. to four p.m.

Rab’s in the wind, and it’s felt like a wild goose chase since day three, and we’re on day fourteen? Fifteen? Beating the same bushes for twelve hours a day on shifts, chasing down false leads. Word about the bounty has gotten out, and we’ve got several players from out of town combing the same ground, muddying the waters.

Frisco conducts his business with some suavity and professionalism, but the same cannot be said for the other dumbasses rolling in from Pyle and as far as Jersey and Detroit.

I’m spending as much time with locals smoothing ruffled feathers as I am checking in with our boys and following up on the more promising leads. Heavy’s found himself some mysterious tech genius who’s working some magic, so we’re reasonably confident Rab hasn’t left the area. I’m beginning to suspect Rab’s one of those men just really good at keeping his head down and staying in one place.

As I pull into my drive, I understand the mentality. Every minute on the road I’m thinking about being back here. And as soon as I see my big ol’ empty house at the top of the street, my whole body thrums with adrenaline.

Nevaeh’s here.

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