Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

JAMIE

Fucking Christ.

As usual, our Friday night party has gotten completely out of control. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but I’ve got to find a couple of men that can make a run down to a truck stop close to the South Carolina border tonight. Finding anyone sober enough won’t be easy.

Party. What goes on here is way beyond the typical definition of that word, and tonight is no different. It’s nearly midnight and most of my men are playing cards, half in the bag, or using some girl to get off. Or all the above at once. The girls here are disposable and are treated that way. Most know their clothes should come off when the sun sets and no matter who they think they’re here for, it’s only a matter of time before they’re passed around.

My great-granddaddy, or maybe great-great, had the only still for a hundred miles around this part of the Smokey Mountains during prohibition. His little monopoly held because he’d send his brothers out to blow up the competition. His son moved the business from booze to pot as the times changed; the story goes that his second son took over the business and expanded it. All I know is that my father expanded it further to run guns, meth, and heroin—anything that would pull in more money.

Fuck this, I think, turning around and running into a blond.

“I’m sorry. But I’m not actually—because I’ve crushed on you forever,” she gushes her words out like she’s worried about losing her nerve as she stops me from walking by her.

“Not interested.”

“I’ll do anything you want. ANYTHING.” She offers, and I look at her face for the first time. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen. Your cousin wouldn’t let me in otherwise. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Unfortunately, my question seems to encourage her, and she wraps her arms around my waist.

“Yeah? Did he tell ya I wanted a cheap piece of ass?” I ask with the nicest smile I can manage. She’s sober enough to look confused. “I don’t. Had my fill of whores by the time I was your age. So, get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.”

Shrugging out of her embrace, I stalk back to the house. It took me a minute to place her, but she’s the high school principal’s daughter and even if she wasn’t, I wouldn’t have touched her. Not that I don’t dip into our endless well now and then, but getting myself off is less stressful than fucking some girl that came here with an agenda.

Locking my office door behind me, I call the town sheriff.

“I need transport tonight. Have two of your men pick up the package at the usual place.”

“What? Hold on, there’s no one around,” he growls. “Mick would never expect us to move?—”

“Then he shouldn’t have been paying you for a decade,” I cut him off. Brooks is right, his deputies aren’t a fucking delivery system but in another power play, Mick—my father—dumped a surprise deal in my lap and I know better than to disappoint him. “Look, you’re not the only one caught by surprise here and I’ll make sure Mick pays out bonuses.

“One time. Tonight, that’s it. Our deal works because we aren’t exposed.”

I know Brooks is pissed and stuck. We both know my father will never let him out of the trap laid for him so long ago.

“And you need to do me a solid,” Brooks says, surprising the fuck out of me. I stay quiet, waiting until he speaks up again. “An old friend of mine, a mechanic, can be convinced to open his business in town, but not with the rent and security fees your dad charges. We need a local place; it’ll make everyone’s life easier in the long run.”

“We all know how Mick feels about outsiders coming in …”

“He’s not an outsider. Your dad will remember him; he might not like him but …” He lets out a sigh before continuing. “Lance Bane’s a local. He just keeps to himself.”

“Look, times a-fucking-wasting. Get your men together and we’ll discuss this in a few days.” I end the call and destroy the burner, wondering for the zillionth time how to keep my dad in check when he insists on acting like technology will never catch up to him.

“Boy! You listening to me?”

“Naw. Ain’t any shit I haven’t heard before,” I mutter, regretting the bottle of tequila I killed last night.

His truck suddenly swerves into a parking spot and I almost vomit on the windshield, getting him laughing until his breath comes out in short gasps.

Is it too much to hope his heart will explode right now? Fuck, I’d walk away without ever calling an ambulance.

I grudgingly follow him once I realize we’re at the pharmacy. Our little town still has the old-fashioned kind and we’re rounding the third aisle when Dad all but runs into another man.

“Sorry … Mick. Long time,” the guy says, looking between my dad and me. I briefly glance at his face; not recognizing him, I’m eager to move past them to find something that’ll stop my stomach from rolling.

“Jesus Christ!” My dad all but yells as he grabs my arm to pull me back. “Lance, where you been hiding?”

“Ah, ya know, work and life, man. Nothing else.”

Lance. I’ve heard that name, but the bile in my stomach is rebelling and my head is pounding, preventing me from worrying about anything else.

“Hey, have you ever met my son?” Dad asks him before looking at me. “Where are your manners, Butch?”

“I’m Jamie,” I say, reaching my hand out. “Thought I knew everyone from around here.”

The tall thin man takes my hands as he studies my face and I’d guess he’s about forty. Considering I’ve never met him before, he must be a straight shooter. One of the few in this area, I think, grinning at him and I’m surprised when he holds my stare; few people around here look me in the eye anymore.

“Ah, we’re—I’m out near the county line,” he says and his eyes flick between my dad and me. “You lost Melinda last year. She was a great woman. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the funeral.”

“The love of my life.” My father bows his head, mimicking sorrow, and I want to put a bullet between his eyes. Fucker put us in a separate house so he could live his life without us in his way. I was nine when he brought another boy over, telling mom to raise him as her own. Mom never said a word in front of me; quietly raising Mitchell and two more of my father’s sons alongside me.

“Excuse me,” I say, finally pushing past them to get to the ginger ale in the refrigerator behind Lance. Christ, where have I heard that name?

“But you know what’s that’s like,” my father’s saying as I start sipping from the bottle I grabbed. “Butch, Lance isn’t from around here. He was a military man and came up for some parade or another. There he was with all these shining metals on his chest and Annabelle—the prettiest girl this town had seen besides your mama at that age—eloped with him a few days later. It just broke your uncle’s heart.”

At this statement, Lance’s eyes narrow and my sluggish brain clicks together the pieces. My Uncle Carter was gunned down a few years back, but when he would get drunk, he’d start talking about Annabelle, and how she’d still be alive if she’d stayed with him instead of running off with some soldier.

“Was she the love of your life?” I ask, sarcasm twisting my voice enough that Lance pulls his glare away from Mick before he notices that the man before us looks like he wants to kill him.

“She was. I miss her every second of every day,” Lance quietly answers me, straightening his shoulders and holding my stare again.

“Cancer, wasn’t it?” Dad asks, barely waiting for Lance’s curt nod before looking at me. When he continues, I narrow my eyes, wondering what game he’s playing. “Annabelle was pregnant before they discovered it and tried to carry their baby rather than go through the treatment.”

“I’m sorry you had to lose them both,” I say, without thinking, and see a glint in Lance’s eyes. Slowly sipping my ginger ale, an errant thought flashes through my mind. “You a mechanic?”

He gives me a nod and holds up a hand. It’s easy to see years of grease that’ll never wash clean, and I finally remember the conversation with Brooks the night before.

“Well, we best be going,” my father says, and I grab a bottle of water and some chips before tossing twenty bucks to the checkout boy.

“I guess I assumed his kid died, did it?” I ask as we’re getting back into the Navigator.

“Suppose so, ain’t never seen him with one. He lives out near Route 6 on her family’s property. Hmm, come to think of it, I saw Annabelle’s sister in town a month or so back. She’s a lawyer and you know how I feel about them. As you guessed from his hands, he’s a mechanic, had a garage way over in Vinton, but I heard he sold it.”

“Uncle Carter always said …”

“That fucker,” he laughs. “The part of the story that your uncle didn’t tell you was that she was in high school when he asked her out. She may have gone out with him a time or two, but none of us Callens have it in us to be faithful and Annabelle wouldn’t stand for it. Carter couldn’t take no for an answer, and her family took out a restraining order against him. She wasn’t eighteen yet, so Judge Watts approved it and your granddaddy enforced it. Don’t mean shit anymore. Annabelle’s been dead about fifteen or so years now.

“Time marches on, son. People like her get forgotten. Us Callens? We’ll be remembered long into the next century.” Dad’s words change the whole narrative I’d grown up hearing, and I suddenly know what the look on Lance’s face meant.

It was the look of a man who still has something worth protecting.

Hours later, I nurse a beer while my crew enjoys the next party going on around us. I consider how my father’s ego has grown over the years—thinking that he’s actually got a legacy anyone will care about in a hundred years.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was using our product.

The meth we moved in the wee hours of the day will keep half of this corner of the state flush over the next month and will send the other half further down their spiral. A woman tries to sit on my lap as I calculate my share of the profit and I shove her away, harder than I meant to but enough so the other ones circling me get the message. Zia reaches for the girl I pushed aside and pulls her away for a drink.

That fucking viper will probably have the woman stripping and turning tricks in the next week. Zia started out as a dancer herself, before clawing her way onto our crew. She’s half crazy-as-fuck and half smoking hot. I may only be a year or so older than her, but I’m too smart to fall into her trap.

“Now, that’s two parts of a threesome I want in on,” Tim says from behind me, his eyes trained on their asses, and I shake my head as the others laugh, egging him on.

“There’s not enough latex in the world to convince me that’s a good idea.” I laugh in reply.

“You’re too damn picky,” Togs cracks out, pointing in the vicinity of my dick. “You know there are pills to help you with any issues, right?”

“Don’t need to take a pill to fight off dick-rot if I don’t catch it in the first place,” I answer, just as I see the one person I’m looking for. The high school librarian.

My eyes are locked on her as I approach and her friends back away.

“Hey, Butch,” she greets me with a big smile, reaching a hand up to touch my chest before she gets a closer look at me and freezes.

“Is there a way to search for a birth certificate or notice, whatever, online?” I ask, cutting to the chase. It’s nearly a minute before the confusion in her eyes fades and she starts talking.

“Well, yeah. Newspaper or county records, you just enter the name and date of birth …”

“What if I don’t know that, just the parent’s name?”

“Um, I’m sure there’s a way to do it, but you’re going to at least need the year of birth,” she says, smiling again. “I wouldn’t mind helping you if?—”

“No.” I bite out the word before remembering what a gossip she is. “And I mean, forget I asked about it.”

She’s still mumbling assurances when I turn back to grab a beer from the cooler.

Retaking my seat, I open my phone to scroll through contact information for the county clerk’s office until I see a surname that I recognize. Lifting my eyes up, I scan the area on both sides of the bonfire until I see the man I’m looking for.

“Togs, how much does Boskon owe?”

“What are we talking? Sports book or drugs? He’s behind on both,” Togs answers, all business from the moment he heard my question. “Nearly six thousand altogether.”

“Keep the interest going, but don’t go after him for it until I say.”

I smirk across the fire at the man in question, but he’s oblivious to me. Now, I just need to hope that the woman in the records department is his mother, and that she cares enough about him to discreetly handle a job for me in exchange for some of his debt.

“No new product or books for him, just the vig.” I clarify my position on his debt, raising an eyebrow at Tim for letting it get so high in the first place.

“He was paying regular for a while, Butch,” Tim speaks up. “I told Togs it was okay to let him go a bit over because I want him driving for us again. Just figured we could back him into a corner that way.”

I nod, narrowing my eyes. Some girl from the next county over had Boskon’s kid not so long ago. A lot of guys try to pull away from the work we throw them when they first become a father; until they realize they’re never going to make the money we offer doing anything else.

The next morning I’m waiting outside the County Building, sipping on a strong black coffee and keeping an eye out for the woman that’s going to possibly confirm a hunch I have.

Not for the first time do I wonder why I’m even bothering to search for someone who may or may not have been born roughly eighteen years ago. I decide to blame it on ego.

I’ve come to think of this as my town . Not that I’ll ever be elected mayor, even though we own the current puppet, but I’ve always prided myself on knowing everyone. And more importantly, what makes them tick.

Meeting Lance the other day, and the exchange we had, felt like a taser going off inside of me. Not just that there was a family around I didn’t know existed, but something stronger that I just can’t put my finger on. Mom always told me to follow my instincts and they haven’t steered me wrong yet.