Cowboy Logic - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,5
surprised him. “Soon, man. You can go home soon.”
He bumped over the cattle guard, wincing at the noise. You couldn’t hear it at the house, though. He knew that from all those late nights covering for Sister when she was out on a date. The house looked—great. It looked amazing, painted and pretty, roses blooming around it.
Anderson approved. Momma had always tried, but Daddy had done things like pour Roundup on her flower beds. Asshole. No one missed him when he walked away. No one at all.
He pulled up in front of the porch, knowing he was on a tight timeline now, because he couldn’t hide that he’d just thrown gravel. He needed that gun.
He went for speed rather than silence, slipping the shotgun out of the toolbox and leaving it open.
The screen door banged against the wall of the house, something it had done since he was five, and an unshaven man stepped out on the porch. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Family.” Anderson pumped the shotgun, fully willing to use it. This land belonged to his people, dammit. They were not the kind to go down without a fight. “And it’s time for you to get the hell out of here.”
“You’re going to make me?” The man scoffed, then bellowed, “Bailey! Get your ass moving and tell this guy to fuck off.”
Anderson’s lips curled into a smile. This guy was already trying to hide behind Bailey. Coward for sure. And vaguely familiar. Not in his class or Bailey’s, but local.
“Indeed I am, asshole. Get in your fucking car. Now.” Okay, this was fun. No wonder people did it.
“Fuck you. Bailey!” The guy’s voice broke this time. Bailey was too smart for that. She would keep her head down, keep the man locked out now he was not in the house.
“She wants you gone.” The idea of firing a round at the guy’s feet appealed.
“You can’t do that. I’m a fucking Morrow!”
“Like I give a shit.” The name was familiar, and he would process it when he wasn’t in crisis mode. “Time for you to go. Now.”
He laid down a round close enough Morrow jumped. He’d learned on first-person shooter games, and had dated a real gun enthusiast a few years ago, a bodyguard for some superhero movie actor. He knew his shit.
“Fuck! You’re crazy.” Morrow turned to retreat to the house, and his expression went utterly comical when he found the door locked.
Hoo yeah, very nice, Sister. “I told you. She wants you to leave.”
“I’ll call the cops!”
“I dare you. This is my land.” Anderson ground the words out like he was Steve McQueen or something.
“Who—”
Anderson sent off another shot, this one almost taking a toe. “I said. Get. Out.”
He could see Sister now, a wide-eyed shadow in the window.
“I’ll kill her and the kids.”
“And I’ll bury you so deep no one will find your bones.” He knew all the hidden spots for a hundred miles. He’d had enough. “I’ll count to three. One.”
“Motherfucker!” It was a high-pitched scream, complete with spittle and flailing. “I want my shit, Bailey.”
“I’ll have someone deliver it. Surely you have a place to stay that’s not here. You seem to think you’re important.”
The guy sneered even as he moved down the stairs, digging in his pocket, then coming out with a set of keys. “The Morrow mansion, asshole. You’ll pay for this.”
Ah fuck, now he remembered where he knew this guy. Conor Morrow, son of the richest man in town. Jesus, Bailey.
The door opened, and two Walmart bags flew out. Looked like some clothes. Sounded like maybe there was a phone in there when it thudded on the dirt. The door slammed shut again, Bailey disappearing as quickly as she’d appeared.
“Ta-da. Prepacked for your convenience.” He arched an eyebrow. “Two.”
“I’m going!” The jerk was gray under his stubble, so Anderson knew he’d made an impression with the snarling and the shooting.
“Go faster. Three.” He laid a shot down behind the big pickup Morrow was climbing into.
He stayed between the truck and his rental, staring dickhead down the whole way. Morrow burned out, tossing dust, and Logic stood there until he couldn’t hear the engine anymore. Yeah, fuck yeah. He was Logic again. Only then did he climb the steps.
“Nice move with the Walmart bags, Sister.” He was starting to shake, just a little.
“Thanks. The kids are with Janie McDougal over in Greenville. Barb took the babies to her.”
“Good deal. You okay?” See him. See him be strong and shit. “You look like hell.”
“I