Page 45 of Jack

“Why? The Mavericks up to something?” I take a step closer to the street, straining to hear their engines.

“Sounds like they stopped at Angie’s.” Cloudy’s listening, too.

Jay leans against the side of my truck on the edge of the drive. “Rumor in the vine says Trace’s family’s pissed about something. No word on why or who at.”

“I had a run-in with him at the bakery a few weeks ago. Told him to go home.” I look toward the direction of the bakery again. The Mavericks aren’t there. They’ve stopped, but they haven’t killed their engines yet.

“Trace is here?” Jay asks.

“Yeah. Brock, Diesel, and Buck were with him.” I should’ve had one of our brothers follow them out of town.

“If Trace is here, guess that means they’re pissed at us.” Cloudy joins Jay against the truck.

“What have we done?” I’ve only been home for a month. Whatever it is, it happened before that.

Jay shakes his head. “No clue. We haven’t done anything major in months.”

I turn to face him. “What was the last thing you did?”

My cousin knows an enemy can take months, sometimes years, to plot revenge. If you want to do it right, you want to serve it up cold. The colder the better.

“Concerning the Mavericks?” Jay thinks for a moment. “Just racing in The Valley.”

The Valley is an open field the owner turned into a racing track over sixty years ago. He and his buddies started the races during their high school days. It’s not an official race track by any means. It’s about fifty miles south of us and Dades Creek. The Valley gets raided ever so often. The staged raids let the locals believe the cops are monitoring it. They aren’t. The cops are paid to look the other way.

“What did they lose?”

“Just cash. Nobody put up slips or anything else against them.” Jay finishes his soda and tosses the can into the back of my truck.

I point my finger at him. “That’s not a trash can.” With my thumb, I point to the shop. He’s got plenty of trash cans in there.

Jay rolls his eyes and laughs. He gets that can out of my truck bed, though.

“Bring me a soda,” Cloudy calls out.

Jay comes back with two sodas. Cloudy walks to the middle of the drive with his. I don’t want a soda, but my hands need something to do before my mind goes crazy.

“Losing a couple thousand dollars isn’t enough to make them come after us,” Jay says.

It’s not. Everyone who goes to The Valley knows it. The rules at The Valley are straightforward. Whatever happens at The Valley stays in that field. Cash doesn’t usually cause problems. It’s when they bet slips and other things that cause fights. A few guys have been so wasted that they bet their women. That’s against the rules. In fact, it’s rule number two. However, side bets happen without the people running the races knowing about them.

“They’re moving,” Cloudy calls out.

Jay and I walk out to the middle of the drive, not as close to the street as Cloudy. The roar of the engines gets louder. The sounds bounce off the buildings.

“They aren’t on Main Street.” Jay points to our right. “They’re using the back streets and coming this way.”

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “You armed?” Stupid question.

“Absolutely.”

“I mean more than just knives.” Still stupid.

“Absolutely.” Jay grins, and his eyes dance. My insane cousin lives for moments like this.

It’s beyond bold, cocky, and stupid for Trace to come to Jay’s shop, no matter how mad he is. Everybody knows Jay can come unhinged in the blink of an eye. Sadly, for a lot of men, they didn’t realize it until it was too late.

There’s no time to call for backup. It’s just the three of us today. We’re more than enough to handle four Mavericks.

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