Page 54 of Hell and Gone
Lawrence pivoted, aimed for Braddock—
Burke and Howell scrambled down the hallway to the front door. “Barricade it shut,” Howell shouted. “Lock them in there and let it burn to hell! If they crawl out the windows, shoot them!”
“Go!” Everett hollered. “Law, Go! Get them!”
Lawrence hesitated, his eyes flicking from the hallway back to Everett.
The front door slammed. Something heavy fell in front of it on the porch.
“Gonow!”
Lawrence hurdled the couch and slammed the butt of his shotgun through the window. Glass shattered, and he threw himself out the window. Shouts rose. A rifle cracked, split the night. Horses whined, nickered, and then hooves pounded on dirt as they took off across the pasture and headed for the woods.
Get them, Lawrence.Everett’s vision darkened, Braddock’s hands closing around his throat. He tried to grab behind him, but with only one arm, he couldn’t get the leverage. Fuck grabbing. He reached blind for Braddock’s face, his eyes.
His thumb found Braddock’s eye socket, his squishy eyeball.
Grunting, he shoved his thumb in deep, felt the jelly of his eye slip and slide over his skin, burst apart and leak down his hand.
Braddock howled. He ripped Everett’s arm away, but Everett had hooked his thumb, and as Braddock shoved him off, the remnants of his eyeball came with Everett.
Cursing, Braddock staggered back, one hand covering his empty, bloody eye socket. “You fuckin’ bastard,” he growled.
Smoke rose around them as the flames jumped higher, engulfing the living room, chewing through the furniture one by one. The chairs and the couch where Connor had lain were slowly consumed by the growing inferno. Connor was nowhere to be seen.
“We’re going to die in here,” Everett hissed. He crouched, his limp arm hanging dead, but his other up and ready, fist loose, thumb and palm covered in Braddock’s blood. “But I’m not going without taking you with me.”
“I don’t have time for you. Why didn’t you just go along with where I was herdin’ ya? You coulda lived through this.” Braddock backed up, heading for the kitchen.
Everett pressed him. He pushed forward. “I happen to like the truth. I don’t like putting innocent men in jail.” Braddock snarled. “You’ve thrown in with murderers and thieves. Why work with Burke? Why cover up the murders? Why frame Law?”
“Oh, it’s Law now, huh? You fall in love with him like Carson Riley did?” Braddock slid further into the kitchen, his back to the countertops. “And I don’t work with Burke. Burke and Howell, they work forme.I’mthe one keepin’ them out of jail!I’mthe one who figured out what they was up to! AndI’mthe one who expanded their minds and taught them how tiny their idea was.Ishowed them how to think bigger.”
A few more steps, and then Braddock would be backed into the corner. “What could you possibly teach anyone, you fucking hick?”
Braddock’s one eye flashed. “What’s the future of Montana, boy? I told you already. Do you even remember?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Itisme. It’s meth. And whoever controls the meth, controls the money. Didn’t you listen to me, son? It’s all about diversification. Broadening your opportunities.”
“You’re turning into a fucking drug runner?”
“Howell is one greedy son of a bitch. He wants to own the whole damn mountain, just him in his empire, no public land, no other ranches. Him and Burke cooked up their little scheme to try and scare off the other ranchers and make it too expensive to stay in the Crazies. He’d slide in and buy out the property from them when they wanted to quit, and then suddenly he’d own the whole mountain. Heart’s Rafter sold out. Flying Joker is bucklin’, too. Once Law was out of the picture, Martin at the Rocking H would have fled. It was a perfect plan. Trouble is, they got caught.”
“And you decided to make their plan yours.”
Braddock’s back hit the corner. “Once they control the Crazies, I’ll have free reign to move my product through. No one’s ever goin’ to catch me. Not here.”
“All it takes now is wrapping up your loose ends.” Everett kept his eyes locked on Braddock’s. He watched the blood drip from between Braddock’s fingers, slide down his cheek, drip from his mustache and smear over his lips.
One eye down, and Braddock couldn’t see what Everett was doing.
“Everyone in on it dies,” Braddock said. “That was the deal. We were cleaning up the Crazies of the dumbest of the dumb and making it our own, all in one go. Law had to be difficult, and you had to be even more fuckin’ difficult, but—” Braddock grinned. “Y’all are just another loose end that needs tidyin’ now. Shame. I kinda liked you, son.”
Braddock’s hand closed around a knife on the butcher block behind him. Grunting, he swung, lashing out with a wild haymaker armed with a chef’s knife flying at Everett’s face.
Everett ducked, slammed his shoulder into Braddock’s chest, and lifted him off his feet. His good hand grabbed Braddock’s wrist and twisted until he heard bone snap.
