Barbie. If crazy is hereditary, there’s no dodging it, though.
That’s probably the biggest reason why I agreed to meet River at his house. Declining will feed Barbie’s paranoia. If I go to Shasta and survive, I hope she’ll back away from the fevered pitch of batshit insanity she’s been leaning toward lately.
Shasta is a raunchy little town that stinks of death from the nearby rendering plant. For decades, I’ve wanted control of this town. That dream died when the Reapers bulldozed over the former club that ran Shasta.
River Majors is a second-generation tough guy. His dad owns a solid reputation for making people disappear. Long-haired and blond, River comes off as a dumb hippie, but it’s a con. Just like how he and his friends live in this grandma house in the fancy part of town. They put on a show to throw off people’s perceptions.
After a two-hour ride, I pull my hog down the property’s long driveway, followed by Lowell and the Executioners’ Sergeant at Arms, Anders. On the old-fashioned house’s front porch, River stops swaying on a swing and stands at the sight of us. I don’t get off my ride immediately. Instead, I scan the area for threats. This neighborhood is pretty fucking posh for a small town. However, it’s no Woodlands at Dry Creek—the gated community my club calls home.
The blond, pretty boy club president doesn’t strut his ass over to meet us. Instead, he waits for me to climb off my hog and walk to him. Behind me, Lowell and Anders keep watch.
“Are you done with the secrets, Majors?” I ask when River chooses to wear his fake-friendly, hippie face.
“I need you to come inside to talk,” he says before leaning to the side to add for my men’s benefit, “Alone.”
“Why?” I ask, dubious of this entire fucking thing.
“Look, man, if I wanted to kill you, I’d strap on my rifle and drive to Elko. Then I’d get comfy somewhere near your favorite hot spots and wait for a chance to put a bullet in your head. Easy-fucking-peasy. What I wouldn’t do is have you come to my house and murder you with my wife and kid down the hall.”
“No, I suspect you wouldn’t,” I say and glance back at my VP. Lowell scratches at his tidy black beard and nods as if he’s good. Next to him, Anders uses all the self-control in his seven-foot-tall body not to jump on River. “Relax,” I tell the giant.
Following the younger man inside his grandma house, I’m struck by the sweet scent of cooking from the kitchen. I recall how River’s woman owns a restaurant. Whatever she’s baking makes my stomach growl. I really should have eaten before the ride, but I got distracted by my youngest daughter’s dramatics. Sidonie’s getting as paranoid as her aunt.
River opens up the double doors to another overly fussy room. I’m ready to ask him what the fuck this is about until I see Lana Lee sitting in a chair. Her expression tells half the story while the baby she holds explains the other part.
Last summer, during my visit to Shasta, I stopped by a nearby strip club. I don’t know what came over me when I saw Lana. The sexy blonde sucked the air out of that strip club. The other girls bounced and giggled and made duck faces. Lana existed in a bubble, untouchable. I hadn’t met a woman that gorgeous—or obviously trouble—in a long time.
I’m a sucker for bad women. Always have been. That’s why I chatted up the stripper despite knowing her interest was likely more focused on stealing my wallet than my heart. Lana smiled so easily for me that I forgot who I was and what she was. We ended up in the back seat of her car.
Now, ten months later, she’s holding a bouncing baby girl and clearly IDing me as the daddy. It’s not the first time I’ve been in this situation.
“This is my sister-in-law, Maude,” River says, and I instantly wonder if her flirtation at the strip club was a setup. “You two met awhile back.”
“Let’s skip the awkward dance,” I mutter when he struggles to find an easy way to get to the point. “I remember her. I’m assuming that’s my kid she’s holding.”
Lana/Maude stands up. Her blonde hair hangs loose around her shoulders, and I flash back to my fingers sliding through it. She’s wearing a helluva lot more clothes today than when I last saw her, and she’s rounder