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“Big difference in daughter and daughter-in-law,” Mac pointed out.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Unfortunately, Harley believed Mac was wrong.
Harley was afraid Trouble’s arriving resident would put current residents in danger while exposing Trouble’s founding fathers to a war they didn’t have the manpower to fight. The Dixie Mafia, what was left of it anyway, protected its own, and unfortunately the McCoy family was under this particular outfit’s protection. Tabor McCoy was a badass old man, too. He had his own pull with or without the mafia behind him.
“How much longer?” Mac had about as much patience as a pimp waiting for his whores to pay.
“Three to four minutes,” Harley replied, checking his phone. About the time he shoved the device in his pocket, it vibrated. He retrieved it again and frowned at the message. Reading it once more, he swallowed a few times before he turned to the other men.
“This is it, boys. Stand ready! We’ve got company coming our way.”
“What the fuck has Allister and Draegan gotten us into here?” Mac shook his head and stepped to the left of the main entrance. The springs creaked and popped and the gates parted enough for a wide vehicle to pass through them.
“Do your brothers have a plan?” Curt Caldwell asked. Standing on the far end of the front line, he stepped within view so Harley could see him.
“Let’s hope so,” Harley replied.
Curt stepped back into the shadows and Nicholas said, “That means they don’t.”
“Uh-huh,” Mac muttered. “That means they’re counting on us.”
“We’ll block the entrance,” Harley hurriedly announced, checking his texts again. “Draegan’s out front. He’ll slow down, come to a stop. Nicholas, you and Doc approach Draegan’s SUV. Trevor, you’re with me. We’ll skip Ryan and Allister and walk toward the McCoy’s lead vehicle. Doc, when Draegan slows down, jump in. You’re with him. Draegan says the woman may need additional medical attention. Draegan will gun it and get you and the girl behind the gates. We’ll handle the rest as it unfolds.”
“Instead of calling her ‘the girl’ do we have a name?” Doc asked.
“Not yet,” Harley replied.
Trevor balked at that. “With the McCoy name attached, who cares what her first name is?”
“Not me,” said Mac before he looked at Harley. “Is that it?”
“It’s all I’ve got. Think it will work?”
Mac slapped Harley squarely between the shoulders. “Sounds like a surefire plan, son.” Mac often quoted their father and when he did, he sounded just like him. He turned to the others and yelled, “If anyone else out here wants to be the first to catch a bullet, step on up here and stand with my brother.”
“Fuck off, Mac.”
“And what would that get ‘cha? Instant death, maybe?” He snarled. “I’ll stick around. After all, if I’m not out here front and center waiting to clean up Draegan’s messes, who’ll do it?”
About that time, a sleek black SUV rounded the bend, followed by a train of headlights. Draegan stopped at the gates. Lights behind Ryan’s and Allister’s vehicle flickered to high beams. A few doors opened and closed.
Mac stomped past Harley. “You stay back. You hear me?”
Harley jerked and for a split second, he thought about heeling to his brother’s warning. Then again, he’d never listened to his siblings’ orders. He wasn’t about to start now.
A few men stepped away from their trucks and cars. It looked as if a few dozen people had decided to get this party cranked up right at the gates.
Doc hitched his ride with Draegan. Harley gripped his weapon. Trevor, Curt, and Nicholas were right beside him.
Someone hollered, “We don’t want to talk. Just give us our woman and we’re out of here. No harm done.”
“Go!” Mac slapped the hood of Draegan’s automobile, darted around the side of it, and reappeared seconds later with the butt of his rifle against his shoulder. By this time, Harley was beside him again, the dust from Draegan’s wheels stirring a whirlwind of cloudy aggravation.
Tires barked as Draegan raced through the gates. Ryan whipped his vehicle sideways, blocking the main entrance until it was sealed off, protecting those they coveted—the women who deserved their protection.
Ryan and Allister rushed from the SUV with their handguns drawn. They joined Mac and Harley now hunkered down behind the only protection they had
from the McCoys and their convoy—Ryan’s vehicle and its open doors.
