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“You think you're the only one who’s lost someone important, Carson?” He laughs at me bitterly. “I’ll give you the truth and the short version of it. I came to this town looking for vengeance and I got it. I found some friends along the way. Realfuckin’ friends who became my family, and I decided to stick around because, just like you, this dead-end little town is my home. And just like you, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my home and my family. I ain’t ya enemy.” He shakes his head at me before picking up the chair I threw and sitting his ass back down on it calmly.
“And what would you do if Marston ordered you to kill Garrett?” I ask, pressing both my palms against the table and leaning over him.
“He won’t, he needs Garrett.” Noah looks up at me unnerved.
“And what if Garrett asked you to kill him?”
“Then I guess you’d learn if that brand you put on my chest really means something to me.” He stares through me and I actually feel a chill in my bones.
“What’s your story, kid? I’m curious how Noah Wylde got to be so old beyond his years. This guy hasn’t just touched darkness, he’s drowned in it and still somehow kicked himself back up to the surface.
“I told ya, vengeance brought me here, and loyalty keeps me here. I’d’a told ya ‘bout the house if I thought it was important. I got nothin’ to gain in keeping shit from ya.”
“And is there any otherharmlessshit you think you should get off ya chest?” I ask sarcastically.
“Plenty, but none that’s relevant to you.” He narrows his eyes on me.
“How did she die? This wife Harvey had.”
“Car crash.” Something in Noah’s demeanor changes, allowing me to see a flash of weakness.
“And you know more about that, don’t ya?” I stab a guess.
“I was there.” He surprises me when he looks back up at me, and all the emotion comes back to his face. “My dad was driving the car that drove into ‘em,” he admits.
“Them? Harvey was in the car with her?”
“No, their little girl was.” Noah gets up from the table and fixes himself a drink and despite my shock, I remain silent and wait for him to continue in his own time.
“He’d just picked me up from school and I knew he was drunk.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“And that’s why you work for Harvey, you feel like you owe him for what your father did? How old were you when that happened?”
“Eleven, and yeah, I felt like I owed him something. My drunk assed dad took his family away from him. I was in the wreck and survived without a scratch so did my dad.”
“That’s his debt, not yours,” I point out.
“My dad’s debt was paid. I made sure of that three years later when he got out of jail and I slit his throat.” The kid shows no remorse as he rolls himself a blunt.
“You killed your fa…”
“I killed the man who cheated on my mom and had beat on me for as far back as I can remember.” He licks the paper before sealing it then reaches for a lighter.
“I did my duty to Harvey and I still work for him because I liked the way it felt.” He sparks up and takes a long draw back. “Tell your uncle I said thanks for the supply.” He examines the blunt that’s between his fingers before he gets up from the chair and heads out onto his porch, leaving me sitting in his kitchen and realizing me and Noah have more in common than I thought.
“You got this,” I tell myself as I stare at my reflection in the restroom mirror after I’ve driven Maisie’s truck to this little dive bar on the outskirts of town.
I’ve changed into something much more appropriate for where I’m heading and when the app on my phone flashes to tell me the cab I ordered is outside, I quickly dab on some lipstick and check the updo I’ve pinned my hair up in is neat enough to pass. Nerves flutter in my stomach as I leave the bathroom, earning myself a few whistles from the men that are in here day drinking as I walk past them in the blue heels that match the lace dress I’m wearing. I’ve put on a few pounds since I left LA and the cut clings to my figure better than ever. I’m grateful once I get out into the fresh air. Inside smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke and I quickly spray on some perfume before I dump my bag back in Maisie’s truck and hop inside the cab that's waiting for me.
“Mountain Spring resort, please,” I tell the driver, leaving Maisie’s truck and the tracker that I know is attached to it in the parking lot while I keep convincing myself that this is a good idea.
We arrive at the resort forty minutes later, and after paying him in cash I straighten out my dress and head for the entrance.It’s fancy here, and reminds me of the kinda place my parents would visit in LA.
I surprise myself by slipping back into prissy little rich girl mode much easier than I thought I would, and I purposely strut past the man who opens the door for me without a thank you. The last thing I want to do is raise suspicion.
I head to the bar and order myself the most expensive wine on the menu, then take a seat at a table with a stunning view and sip the wine slowly as I observe my surroundings. There are all types of people here. All of them seem rich and obnoxious, but I see no sign of Harvey Marston. I’ve never seen him before in person, just in a photograph that was attached to the file Zayne put together for Garrett. I’m looking for a man in his fifties, which pretty much factors every guy in the room as a suspect. I eventually catch sight of a man in the opposite corner. He’s drinking alone and staring out at the view, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when intuition kicks in. The man I’m looking at eludes power and his air of self-worth seems superior to everyone else in the room. This is my guy, I can sense it and my senses are rarely wrong.
I wait for the waiter to come over and pick up my empty glass, stopping him before leaves.
