I’ve waited long enough to surprise the woman of my dreams—
“Hey, Rhylan.”
“Yeah?”
“D’you ever question what you’re doing? In the MUR, that is… with all the violence, and the… killing?” Declan sheepishly asked from across the bed of his truck, the two of us sharing a couple of beers before his final test of initiation.
We’d parked underneath a couple of willows that lined the boundary between our target’s property and public land. One side was lush with trees, concealing the dark secrets within, while the other was open and bare. Nothing to hide us as moonlight danced across the prairie grass that bowed to the breeze.
The new guy was still hanging on to his integrity, which was surprising, given that he’d already killed his first two targets without any need for assistance. I guess it goes to show that not everyone had to be merciless to perform our work; they just had to comply without remorse.
Declan turned out to be the kind of kid who’d jump through any hoop if it meant achieving a life of ease and luxury. So, in a sense… He’d bark if he wanted something badly enough. That’s precisely why I stepped up to the plate to be his sponsor. But I never considered that he’d cling to his integrity for dear life.Thatwould become a problem eventually—if he never learned to let it all go.
Hesitation kills more often than not; the word itself is a death sentence.
“Nah.” I shook my head with a bold grin as I finished my beer and tossed the can into the far corner of the truck bed. “Questioning what we do is like asking why the ocean is blue. And if you feel the need to bring that up now, then maybe this wasn’t the best decision you could’ve made at your age.”
Like all the guys who apply to the Kerosene Cowboys, Declan here had just turned twenty-one—a spring fucking chicken, but there was no turning back now. He had no other choice but to press forward, either by killing his final target or meeting my buddy Louie firsthand.
It might sound apathetic of me, not caring for his well-being, but he knew the rules; he was fully aware of what he’d signed up for. The only way out was by forfeiting his life.
The Men Under Revue didn’t fuck around with second chances.
“That’s not—I’m not second-guessing my decision if that’s what you’re thinking…” He withdrew, nervously. “I was just…curious… You’ve been doing this for a long fucking time, how can blind murder be so—”
“Easy?” I interrupted him with a light huff, scanning his eyes for any sign of uncertainty. One wrong move could kill us both tonight. “My friend, if you knew half the shit these fuckers have done, you’d be glad to be rid of them. We do Nashville a service, and in turn, she belongs to us.”But I had to admit that I loved making the job fun in the process.
This last test would be a challenge for Declan. To get an idea of his ability to control the situation if a target ever fought back. Iwasn’t necessarily throwing the poor boy to the wolves, but in a sense, I was. To be a Cowboy was one thing, but to be oneanda member of the MUR was to become a force to be reckoned with.
I reached over the tailgate and grabbed my prized Louisville Slugger, smiling as its weight settled in my palm, and I gave it a thorough swing—hearing the solid wood cut through the air like a blade.
“Why the bat?” Declan asked as he watched me practice a couple of moves.
An odd choice of weapon, I know. Most of the cowboys executed their tasks with guns and knives, but I wanted to make a statement.
“Because my father always dreamed of having a son who was an All-Star MLB player for the Nashville Vipers, and I wanted to perform—dance. So… I met him halfway.” Shrugging, I rested the barrel against my shoulder. “C’mon. We have a debt to collect, and I’ve got shit to do in the morning.”
Declan’s throat bobbed, right before he downed the rest of his beer and dropped the can into the bed where he stood—the sound of rattling hollow metal filling his silence.
“One more. It’s one more.” I could hear him whisper to himself over my shoulder, and I smirked up at the night sky.
“It’ll never be just one more, Dec. This is our job—ourduty. When you wash your hands at the end of the night, they’ll just get dirty again in a month or two... Remember that.”Like all of us, he chosethis path.
I didn’t check to see his reaction, letting my words sink in. He’d figure it out. And if he didn’t? Well… Then I guess he’d cross that road when he got there. I wasn’t here to hold his hand like a gentle father while he justified pulling the trigger. If anything, I was the bad influence encouraging it.
At his extended silence, I pressed forward, making my way through the cascade of willow branches, heading toward his target’s plantation, a bright white beacon isolated in the darkness that surrounded us.
Almosteverylightinthe grand residence was switched on, allowing for a clear view of the interior as we reached the edge of the tree line. Some tasks required an element of surprise, while others had you striding through the front door like you owned the fucking place.
In the case of Dawson Plantation, surprise would work to our advantage. Anthony Dawson was born into a family with a long history of slavery, and instead of adapting to the times, he preferred to cling to tradition and the twisted legacy attached to his plantation’s name.
“So what’s this guy’s deal?” Declan crouched beside me as I stared out at the mansion through the hanging branches, analyzing the surrounding area for anything that could prevent us from completing his task.
“What comes to mind when you think of a slave trader?”
“No. He’s not—” His brows furrowed in denial, jaw nearly falling to the tainted dirt beneath our feet. “Are you saying they still trade—”
“Women, now.”The sick fuck. “Every room in that home has been used just as much as the women who are dragged through its doors.” My voice trailed with disgust, and Louie creaked as my fist tightened around the handle in silent rage.
