Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Scotch, one of the phantoms of Ned’s childhood was no more.
So he cheered too. At the top of his lungs. And he accepted the bottle of gin passed to him by a stranger.
Chapter 21
The sweetness of desert sage intoxicated Ned as he followed the dusty road under the moon and stars. He’d always considered himself a good man, but witnessing Scotch’s miserable death still felt like a triumph an hour later, and he found himself whistling with glee. He only stopped once a distant song hummed in many voices reached his ears. Scotch might not have been the most beloved of the gang members, but many still considered him a brother, and if Ned appeared too cheerful, they’d smell that something was off.
The night hid away his presence well enough, but if he could see the distant glow of the fire and shadows dancing on the steep side of the mesa, then whoever was standing guard tonight might spot him too. He cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and urged Nugget into a gallop.
“They killed him!” Ned yelled as the shrubs looming all around turned into a blurry background, leaving him with the far-off campfire as the single waypoint. In the dark, even the stars seemed dim when compared to its warm, inviting glow. It meant company, food, and safety from predators. He could sense the warmth rising from the flames even from afar.
“Ned?” Sarah called out. She must have been posted at the entryway into the camp, but he didn’t bother answering her and rode right past her dark silhouette, into the long shadows cast by tents and wagons.
“They got Scotch!” Ned yelled breathlessly, riding in as far between the tents as he could get. He jumped off Nugget’s back as soon as the horse stopped, and rushed into the heart of the encampment. The gang members had gathered around the two bonfires like moths, but as they stood, light seeped into the empty space in the middle and shone at Ned, tearing at the mask he wore to hide his true feelings.
His heart sang in delight. One of the three men whose blood he craved was dead. Which left two. Zeb. And Tom. Once that was done, his personal vendetta would be over. And Cole would never again be a victim of Scotch’s loathsome suggestions.
They could start fresh. Together.
Cole made no sound, but Ned’s eyes still found his face among so many others. Even in shadow, the angular lines of his cheeks and eyes that were blacker than any Ned had seen drew him in like beacons of light only he could see.
Tom’s voice was like a rusty hook that pierced Ned’s cheek and now pulled him to the surface, where he could no longer breathe. Shock stabbed his body, as if he’d been hit by lightning and no longer remembered how to move. Ned had started seeing Tom’s features as human during his time with the Gotham Boys, but as the bastard stood in front of the fire, set aflame by its glow, he transformed back into the monster from Ned’s childhood.
“What did you say? What happened to Scotch?”
“We parted, and when I came back to meet him, he was already dead!” Ned had been faking emotion when he arrived, but faced with Butcher Tom’s wrath, he was struggling to keep his ground. His lungs worked ever faster, and the child that still had nightmares of the time his family’s sanctuary had been invaded, crawled out of the hole at the back of his mind. By the time he spoke again, there was a slight tremble to his voice. “People said he bothered the local madam, and her husband drowned him.”
Silence was so thick that Ned could feel it clenching around him and covering his skin like hot tar.
“You left Scotch on his own?” Saul asked in the eerie silence, to which Tom scoffed, pushing his rough fingers into the brown curls.
“Goddamn it! May the plague strike that shithole of a town.” He kicked over a bucket of water, his face getting darker as he paced—a caged predator that had been prodded one time too many and was about to unleash its wrath on everything and everyone around him.
It was as if a sudden breeze had frozen the camp, and Cole shook his head, eyed pinned to Ned’s face in warning.
Ned spread his arms. “He wanted to drink and visit a whore. Told me to piss off for a few hours! I didn’t know I was supposed to mother him.” His nape prickled with cold sweat when he caught the glacier of Zeb’s gaze, and even the heat of the bonfire could not melt the frost sinking into his bones.
For a heartbeat, they just watched each other as if time stood still, but then Zeb made his move and charged forward like a bull angered by one too many prods. He leaped over the fire, emerging on Ned’s side surrounded by sparks, like a devil who’d come for his soul. Ned stumbled back but Zeb’s fist still collided with his face.