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Today, he appears from a thick patch of trees and signals for us to join him. Eagle and I are soon hunkered in the humid brush with our club brother who is long past needing a bath.
Eagle shoves a cap over his wind-blown, brown hair while I tie back my mane into a bun. We prepare to go hunting as Hobo explains the situation.
“Chip Edwards is camped out here with a younger guy covered in prison tats. I tracked the unknown guy here after seeing him at Benny’s Gas Bin, hassling the little girl who works there.”
“What are they doing?” I ask while checking my weapons.
“Just setting up camp, it seems. I heard Chip on the phone. Sounds like he’s calling in reinforcements. The Cove will be their fallback spot if they run into trouble.”
“Are they in their tents now?”
“No, they went to meet someone. I lost them when they reached Poplar River. That’s when I decided to call in backup.”
“What’d Ruin say?” Eagle asks as we scan the quiet road.
“Finish them off now.”
“And you couldn’t do that alone?” I grumble at Hobo.
He smiles at my irritation. “If I died, you’d never forgive yourself.”
Smirking at how he knows my bullshit, I strap my rifle to my back.
“Why here?” Eagle asks, resting his hands on our shoulders when we move deeper into the brush. “Turtle Cove doesn’t offer the best cover, compared to other parts of the Valley. So, why pick here to hide?”
Eagle isn’t so different from me. We’re both loyal yet prefer to stand back and watch. We don’t speak up unless there’s shit to say.
I consider Eagle’s point. Chip Edwards grew up in a nearby town. He knows the Valley. This spot isn’t ideal. There’s a reason Hobo lost them around Poplar River. The land gets rougher, the brush thicker, and the dense woods make visibility nearly impossible. If I was planning to hide in McMurdo Valley, I could think of several safer, more ideal areas than Turtle Cove.
“Much of this land belongs to Todd Rogers,” I mutter, thinking of the evil old fuck who owns a sizable chunk of the Valley.
Hobo stares into my eyes as if my information isn’t helpful. No, wait, he’s already reached the point where Eagle and I find ourselves. The Edwards family paired up with a local ally.
“Think it’s Todd or one of his moron sons?” I ask Hobo.
“Larry, Jimbo, and Marky don’t do shit without the old man ordering it.”
Though old as fuck, Todd Rogers has enjoyed a long line of gold diggers over the years. A few of them gave him sons. Jimbo, Marky, and Larry Rogers are cold-hearted monsters known to get rough with women and kick puppies. The only reason the club hasn’t put them down is to make nice with their rich daddy.
If I know my president, Ruin got his back up as soon as he heard about Turtle Cove. Whether he plans to push Todd on the issue isn’t my problem. My sole focus is killing the current interlopers. Dealing with their coconspirators is for another day.
Eagle, Hobo, and I set up in various spots along the least treacherous section of Poplar River. When Chip Edwards and his prison buddy return, we’ll see them.
Despite hiding in the shade, I’m roasted by the humid day. I let my mind wander back home.
It’s naptime at the house. Did Beau have trouble falling asleep today? Is Landry getting any rest? I bet she’s cuddled in one of the kids’ beds.
The sun starts to dip by the time I hear a voice in the woods. Chip Edwards tells his prison buddy to shut up.
“Voices echo here,” he growls.
Chip isn’t wrong. This area has a terrible echo, meaning gunshots will bounce all over. Todd Rogers in his big house up on the hill will likely hear them.
Rather than aim up a sniper shot, I crawl through the brush with the finesse of a small bear trying to be sneaky. Still, I manage to get within striking distance of the two men without being noticed.
Chip must be pushing his late fifties, but prison kept him in shape. Whereas the elder Edwards brother bulked up, his younger friend is wiry. They’re both bound to put up a struggle. Still, I’d rather keep from making a racket out here and alerting the old man. He might be as hard of hearing as an armadillo, but he has people with him who hear just fine. Soon, his idiot sons might show up to turn a simple two-corpse job into a free for all.
I’m nearly on top of Chip before the men stop flapping their gums and notice me. Lunging from the brush, I bear-hug the assholes, taking them to the ground hard with me on top. I roll off them and manage to take the prison asshole’s pistol with me.
