Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
The flannel shirt he’s wearing hangs loose around his torso, and the circles under his eyes are as dark as bruises in the moonlight. His gaze darts back and forth between us, then to the woods surrounding the clearing.
Asshole is already searching for an escape route.
Unfortunately, there isn’t one. There’s nowhere on this land I won’t find him.
“Evening, Martin,” I say, my voice flat. “I assume you’ve got your payment.”
A sharp and sour smell rolls off him. Fear. It mixes with the pine-scented air and the lingering scent of cattle clinging to my clothes from the long day.
Martin’s throat bobs as he swallows, and his hands tremble as he pushes back the brim of a worn baseball cap. “I got some of it. Not all, but—”
“All or nothing. That’s what we agreed on.” I cut him off.
“Come on, Calder.” His voice cracks, desperation leaking into the open space. “My wife’s sick, and the medical bills keep stacking up.”
I might feel bad for him if I didn’t know he really gambled his money away at the casino one town over. Like most who have no issues borrowing our money, there is always a problem when it’s time to pay it back. Everyone in Black Hollow Creek knows what it means to cross my family. Our ranch is our business, but our influence stretches much further.
“Not my problem.” It’s a harsh response, but I can’t afford to offer him sympathy, not when he owes a debt to my family. I flex my hands at my sides. My palms calloused and my knuckles scarred—hands that have broken horses and men with equal efficiency. “My father gave you a deadline, and you agreed to the terms. Now you show up here with some of the money and expect me to let you walk away? Be smart. We both know I can’t do that.”
Wayne shifts to my right, positioning himself with the instinct of a man who’s backed me up more times than I can count. His hand slides toward the gun at his hip—all but saying he’s ready whenever I am.
“I can get the rest,” Martin begs, desperation leaking into his voice. “Just need two more weeks. I swear on my life.”
In my family, there are no second chances. Not for me, not for my brothers, and sure as hell not for the likes of Martin Everett. Extensions lead to exceptions, exceptions lead to weakness, and weakness gets you killed. Or worse, disrespected.
“Funny enough, that’s exactly what you’re doing,” I tell him, not bothering to soften the blow.
Fumbling with his jacket pocket, he pulls out an envelope that’s been folded and refolded so many times the creases look permanent. “Here’s seven thousand. If you give me a little time, I’ll get you the rest.”
It’s always the same song and dance. Begging and pleading and promising things they can never deliver. If I let Martin walk away, then my father’s and my words mean nothing. I take the envelope and count it methodically while Martin shifts from one foot to the other.
The bills are worn, some of them taped where they’ve torn. Seven thousand out of the fifteen he owes. It doesn’t matter how much he has. It’s not enough.
“My father’s instructions were clear,” I say, tucking the envelope into my jacket. The leather creaks as I move, well-worn and shaped to my frame from years of wear. “It’s all or nothing. If you don’t have all of it, then there’s only one other form of payment.”
Martin’s face crumples. “Please. I have kids.”
“Everyone has obligations. Guess you should’ve thought about that before you borrowed money from the Bishops.”
The night air carries my words away, dissolving them into the darkness surrounding us. Out here, screams disappear the same way.
Wayne steps forward, and I give him a slight nod that tells him to end it now, the movement barely perceptible.
I watch the reality of his situation wash over Martin’s face, his eyes widening just enough to show the whites all around. This is the part I hate—not the violence, but when they realize there’s no talking their way out. When they understand that in the Bishop family, there are no extensions.
At that exact moment, Martin bolts.
Everything happens all at once. When Wayne goes to pull his gun, it gets stuck in the holster, giving Martin an easy head start. He crashes through the underbrush at the edge of the clearing, running for his life into the dark woods. His desperation gives him speed I wouldn’t have credited him with, his thin frame disappearing between the thick trunks of ponderosa pines.
“Fuck,” Wayne spits, finally yanking his gun free.
The silver glints in the moonlight as he fires a shot that goes wide, the crack echoing through the trees, the smell of gunpowder and pine filling the air.
“Don’t shoot blind, you idiot,” I snarl, already moving.