Page 42 of Cole

“I like favors,” Rusty said, starting to pace. “But I like examples too.”

“You make an example out of one of mine, and I will make one out of you,” I said firmly. “Same principle.”

Rusty didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile.

“Do you really think I’m going to buy from you again after all this?” Rusty asked, barely maintaining his composure.

“I think so, and here’s why. I’ll give you back half of what you paid me,” I answered.

Rusty blinked slowly, like he had misheard me.

“I’ll call it a stupidity tax for my stupidity. I’ll write it down on a receipt for you so next time anyone tries to shake you down, you can point to that receipt and tell them that Bailey paid to keep the peace. Everyone else pays you to keep their teeth.”

The night was silent for a beat too long. Rusty clicked his teeth before his lips curled into a controlled smile. He chuckled, a low rattle sounding in his large chest. I knew he liked the principle of the deal and the money even more.

“Half?” he asked finally.

“Cash. Right now,” I responded. “But this is a one-time deal. You let my kid walk, and you get half back.”

“Done,” Rusty said. He nodded to one of his henchmen, who walked over to Finn and dragged him by the arm to where Rusty stood.

I pulled out my roll and counted the bills slowly so Rusty would notice I didn’t flinch at the amount. I pressed the cash into his meaty palm and kept my eyes locked on his.

“You cut the kid loose,” I said.

Rusty pulled out his pocketknife and sliced through the zip tie with one quick movement. Finn rubbed at his wrists but was smart enough to keep his head down.

“Best watch it, Bailey. Boys like that one sink ships. You keep using up favors on him, you’re going to end up broke,” Rusty said, turning to leave.

“I don’t plan on spending it twice,” I said, watching Rusty and his men melt into the shadows.

Finn finally raised his eyes to meet mine, “Cole, I’m…”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear a single word from you. If I hear even one word, you get to walk your sorry ass home,” I gritted out, turning to leave the lumberyard.

He caught on and shut up. He watched each stack of lumber as we passed, like they might jump him if he didn’t stare them down. I didn’t need to look. I could feel the eyes of Rusty’s men on my back as we left. I always assumed at least three more sets of eyes were out there whenever I met with him.

“Where’s your bike?” I asked.

Finn gestured to where he’d parked his bike a little down the road under a broken streetlight. I kicked my bike to life and watched Finn as he climbed on his and fumbled to start it. I guessed his hands were still shaking, even though he had tried to act tough. The engine coughed like it thought about dying before finally turning over. We pulled out slowly and took the path that was clear of all street cameras. The road home gave me nothing. Not the relief I was hoping for or the reflection that I needed. I’d let the kid walk into a den of wolves just because I’d had my eyes drawn to the other end of the bar.

The bar was empty when we got back. It was just like Maddox to make sure everyone was out exactly when the bar closed. He was behind the bar helping Ronnie close up for the night. Gage was in his usual spot, leaning on the doorframe between the bar and the shop, his arms crossed against his chest. Finn walked into the bar behind me, head still down. I could see the relief on Gage and Maddox’s faces as the kid walked in with nothing more than a busted lip.

“Office,” was all I said to him.

He didn’t argue, and walked back to the shop without meeting anyone’s gaze. Finn hovered in front of the old couch in my office. He paced silently in front of it. I closed the door behind me, enhancing the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey still left from when it’d been my dad’s office.

“So you decided it was your job to run my accounts?” I asked, my voice low, daring him to argue with me.

He flinched. “I just thought that we were getting shorted. Last time…”

“You don’t know what happened last time. You weren’t there because you aren’t a Hound. You don’t understand the fine line that we walk with men like Rusty. You don’t know what he respects. I don’t send you away from the auto shop, or the bar. You could work there, learn the ropes, help the mechanics. Learn a proper skill, instead of hanging onto this dream of being a Hound. I’ve said no to you being involved in this shit a hundred times. If you can’t handle a simple no, and understand it, how are you proving yourself to be someone I could trust in the future?” I said through clenched teeth.

“I can learn,” he said, lifting his head and meeting my eyes.

“You need to learn by listening, Finn. You can’t improvise. You pushed a man who doesn’t bend. Do you know what that kind of mistake buys you?” I asked.

He didn’t answer me, but held eye contact. His eyes flashed with anger. I didn’t know if it was anger at himself or anger at me.