Page 22 of The Oath We Take

“Have the money ready,” the driver says, stepping back to the truck before getting inside and starting the engine. “Cash.”

“Sometime in the next forty-eight hours, you’ll be advised how to deliver,” the bald man says. And I can tell this is their usual business. It’s like they’re finishing each other’s sentences.

He looks down at Rocco, then steps back and kicks him in the gut, before slapping the side of my face. It’s sharp and hard, and I fall backward, landing on my ass as I let out a scream.

While I’m down, he grabs my purse and quickly removes the gun before throwing the purse back to me.

As they drive away, I call 911.

I know my father will need to know eventually. But he’s in Sturgis, too far away and likely too drunk to help me tonight. And I need to call the police and report my gun stolen in the event those men use it to commit a crime in the future. It has my fingerprints on it.

Rocco groans. “Jesus, did it need to be steel-toed boots?”

I place my hand over his as I wait for someone to answer. “I’m so sorry.”

Rocco smiles weakly. “Could have done without the post-restaurant violence, but other than that, I had a good night.”

I shake my head. “Thank you for trying to defend me.”

He shrugs, still struggling to catch his breath. “Does this mean I get a second date?”

The tightness that has been in my gut for the last few minutes eases. “And probably a third.”

7

ATOM

Iopen my bleary eyes to the sound of Wraith in the tent next to me on the phone, grumbling about something.

My head throbs like someone is beating on it with a two-by-four plank of wood. Too much tequila will do that to a man. Or maybe it was the bottle of whiskey that followed.

Fuck if I know.

Smoke arrived about an hour after we did, and it was good to see my friend in one piece. He shared he’d never seen conditions so dry and was on constant call for a jump.

I check my watch and realize I crept into the tent eight hours ago, when everyone else was still gunning alcohol. I’d drunk so much, the world had started to spin. Thought I’d just do a quick power nap, but I must have passed out hard.

I need a piss. And some water. And a vat of coffee. Probably in that order.

My skin is damp to the touch, and the inside of my tent is so fucking hot that my mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of sand. I pat around for the large water bottle I filled last night and grab the painkillers I shoved into my kit before I left.

Once I’ve swallowed a couple and chugged some of the water, I change the boxer briefs I slept in and tug on the jeans I wore yesterday.

“They asked you for how much?” I hear Wraith say, his voice clearer now that I’ve sat up. “Five fucking grand.”

He sounds too angry to be talking to Raven. Even hungover, he thinks that woman hung the moon and stars. There’s no way he’d be shouting at her.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” I hear Catfish shout from the tent on the other side of Wraith.

“Who else?” Wraith says. “The Dobsons? Fuck me. Leave it with me, Margie. Just don’t fucking pay.”

I raise my eyebrows as my Spidey senses tingle. The air isn’t any cooler outside when I unzip the tent. It’s only eight in the morning, but the temperature must already be high. There’s little movement on the campsite, but I see Halo asleep in just his boxers, half inside his unzipped tent.

After all, the Outlaws’ party started when we arrived on Friday and finally stopped about five hours ago in the early hours of Sunday.

My liver doesn’t know which way is up right now.

I step outside just as Wraith stumbles from his tent.

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