Jim Jones Kool-Aid route, and we’ll find nothing but bodies.”
I don’t normally care about Wyatt’s mouth. The hotheaded blond is family to the man in charge. There’s even a chance Wyatt might run the Executioners one day. Usually, when his mouth spouts bullshit, I keep my head down.
But not today.
Without thinking, I reach out and wrap my large fingers around his thin neck. He inherited a soft lady's throat from his mama, Bambi. I’d never snap her neck, but I feel myself struggling against the urge to end her son. Wyatt’s bright blue eyes—got that from his mama too—widen with fear. He knows he can’t win against me. If we battle, I’ll easily crush him.
“Titan,” Bronco says in that tone he uses when he’s making threats without actually threatening.
“Don’t fuck with my people,” I warn Wyatt.
“Easy, man,” Lowell adds, using the same soft voice as when his wife is pissed.
My hand unwraps from Wyatt’s throat, and I step back. But in my head, I still see myself killing Wyatt. I’m ready to burn down this life. If I do wrong by Pixie, there’s nothing left for me. I might as well end everything.
“I have an idea,” Conor says and keeps talking while everyone still focuses on me. Bronco’s other nephew—Barbie’s boy instead of Bambi’s—is the ice to Wyatt’s fire. His voice cuts through the red-hot tension around us. Speaking calmly, he continues, “There are two reasons the Village hasn’t paid us. One is that John Marks is testing our resolve. The other is that they’re using their income to buy weapons for war.”
Bronco stops watching me and glances at Conor. “And?”
“When we go out today, you could loudly offer to make the club and the Village square and end the blockage. They’ll claim poverty. You can then ask to be paid in weapons.”
“We don’t need guns,” Wyatt grumbles, feeling like a big man when he’s facing off against his younger cousin. Of course, he wasn’t so tough when I was ready to pound him.
“No,” Conor replies without losing his temper, “but we don’t want them to have the weapons. John Marks will likely refuse since his loyal people aren’t starving yet. However, the rest of the Village will understand how their children go to bed hungry because Marks chooses to buy things they don’t need.”
“Create discord,” Bronco says, liking the idea. “I don’t know how a whiny narcissist like Marks convinced those people to let him lead the Village. Maybe enough of them will revolt.”
“The leadership has guns,” I point out. “Many people in the Village, like Pixie’s family, don’t own shoes. How will they find the weapons to take on armed men?”
“But the leadership is fewer in number,” Conor says in a soft tone. I respect how he can correct someone without acting like an asshole. “John Marks and his people have to sleep too. And they’re eating while the sheep starve. Entire governments have been overthrown when food becomes scarce. Hungry people get desperate, and they will fight a stronger force to avoid starvation. Getting torn apart by a group of pissed cultists isn’t how John Marks wants to die.”
Bronco prefers to think smart. His childhood was rough like mine, and his power came in the same way mine did—physical over intellect, violence over peace. But then he got to be the man in charge, and killing doesn’t solve every problem. Now, he thinks hard about stuff.
I’ll never be good at that. I just want what I want. Like how Pixie needs to be mine. If I have to take a bullet or tear off a head to make her love me, then I’ll do it. Give her money, feed her family, live in a tent. I don’t care. Few things in my life ever mattered, and she’s one of them.
Now, she paces around by the car, hurting her bare feet on the rocky ground. She doesn’t like the pants, feeling trapped in her clothes.
“I plan to take Pixie’s family with us. That’s why I brought the SUV,” I say and then add when they all stare at me, “They can’t fit on the bike.”
Bronco watches me with his dark, unreadable eyes. I never know what to think when he studies me in that way. His eyes were easier to understand when he pointed the gun at me in the drug house. I felt relief at knowing my life was about to end. I’d been in pain for so long. What was the point of tomorrow if it