Page 36 of Hammer and Hops

He was still fucking with the lock on the grain room but stopped and looked up at me when I called his name. He either wanted to ruin my supply or take a sample of my hops. Or both. Fuck no.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Everett Lundy.”

“Who the fuck did you expect? This is my brewery.”

“I know that. But it should be mine.”

“The fuck it should.”

He rushed forward and kicked the base of one of the conical fermenters. “This whole area was my territory until you stepped in. Now my business is failing, and it’s your fault.”

“It’s failing because your beer sucks.”

“Fuck you, Everett. You took my business, my sales territory, everything, and I want it back, along with all of this.” He waved his hand around, indicating either my brewery, the equipment, or perhaps all of it. “Let’s make it easy, and I’ll just buy it from you. Let’s say twenty-five thousand?”

“You’re crazy. I’m not selling and not for that.” He had no clue what it took to make a successful business. Maybe I wasn’t doing that well, but I had been doing better than him. That is, until he started trying to ruin me.

“Okay, fine. Just your recipe. Or I could rent the facilities? Partner up? Come on. Give me something here.”

“Why do you think I’m any more successful than you?”

“You have to be. Look at this.”

“You don’t think all of this has me seriously overextended? But you can pay me the hundred and twenty-five thousand it’s going to take to fix everything after the fire you set.” I pointed at him.

“Fire? What Fire? Thought that was your boyfriend.” The grimace on his face told me everything I needed to know.

“Fuck off. I’m calling the cops.” I lifted my phone, but before I could tap Sheriff West’s number, he rushed me, knocking me to the ground.

“You’re not calling anyone. I’ll bash your fucking face in, you spoiled bastard.”

Chapter thirty

One More Time - Cameron

I forwarded the text to Sheriff Clay and followed that up with a call as I ran out to my truck.

Clay answered with a snarly, “Do not go there. I mean it. Just wait for us. We’re on our way.”

“You think I’m going to stay out of it now? Thought you knew me better than that.”

“Cameron…”

“What?”

He exhaled a huge sigh. “Be careful. We’re on our way.”

I didn’t bother to answer as I slammed the truck in gear. Thankfully, today’s job site wasn’t too far away. I parked next to his car, which was still running, in front of the entrance and rushed inside. The asshole was on top of Everett in the middle of the brewery floor. Some other dude was holding Alfred back. I wasn’t sure why Alfred was there, but they needed help fast.

I jumped in and kicked the guy off Everett. Before I could check on him, the guy came at me, shoving me in the chest. I nearly lost my balance but managed to keep my feet. This guy was a little taller than me and broad, but it looked like rather than muscle that bulk was mostly made of fat like he’d been fit, but hadn’t worked out in a long time, while I had actual muscle going for me. I’d worked in construction right out of high school. Hell, I worked part-time while I was still in high school. I would have rather dropped out and gone full-time, but a lot of people wouldn’t let me. That diploma was hard to get, but I’d done it. I never gave up, and I wasn’t about to now.

The guy tried to grapple with me, but I pulled out of his hold and kicked at his knee. Bringing him down without a lot of harm was the goal, but it didn’t work like I’d hoped. Instead, he turned a circle and came at me again. He’d fought before for sure, but I didn’t like his fighting style and kept out of his reach.

If a kick to the knee didn’t bring him down, maybe a gut punch would. I dodged left, then punched out with my right, landing in the center of his stomach. He oomphed but didn’t slow down. Instead, he leaned and punched with his left. And landed it in my face.

I screamed, but I still wasn’t giving up. I wiped the blood trickling down my face from my nose with the back of my arm. “Son of a bitch.”

He cursed, calling me some pretty foul and nasty names, but none of that bothered me. His friend, who was still holding on to Alfred, laughed maniacally, and that didn’t bother me either as I circled him. Everett called him a culprit. He was here doing fucked up shit, and I was going to stop it one way or another.