My brother is no working slob. He runs an outlaw motorcycle club. If he wants me back in town, he'll do more than stomp his feet and whine.
Leaving a napping Bodie, I go looking for Colbie. The cold of the house feels good on my sweaty skin, but I remain tense. If Cooper sends someone, I'll run. No fucking way will I go back. I'm Cooper's sister, not his employee.
I find Colbie on the couch in the three-story beige living room. She's flipping through channels when I enter.
"What if Cooper sends someone?" I ask.
"Who's Cooper again?"
"My brother and the president of the Reapers."
"Oh, yeah, the big blond guy. He's hot. I wish my brother was hot. That way, I'd have someone better to look at everyday than the shit face I have now."
"Not cool," Zane mumbles, startling me.
I turn to find him on another couch. He's staring at the TV through half-closed eyes.
"What the hell?" I ask. "Am I interrupting naptime?"
"Actually," Bodie says, shuffling into the room with her Doberman and a black cat following close behind, "you are. We get up early and take a nap after lunch. That way, we can stay up late. If you want to roll with the McLaughlin Three, you'll need to learn to nap too."
I take a minute to mentally mock the "McLaughlin Three" thing before returning to my point. "Cooper said if I didn't come back to Ellsberg..."
"Where?" Zane grunts.
"You three need to learn to remember fucking names."
"You'd think," Bodie says, flopping on a third couch, "but nope."
"Look, if he sends someone to Last Dollar to grab me, what the hell can I do besides run?"
"You'll be fine. Those Reapers don't have any power around here."
"My brother doesn't mess around," I say, pacing now. "Hell, he could send one of his enforcers. Someone like Vaughn or Judd. Those guys have known me since I was born. They'll pull guilt trips on me and likely weapons on you."
When I stop pacing, I realize the three of them are asleep. Not even their damn dogs are listening to me.
"Fuck," I mutter.
Bodie suddenly sits up and grabs a blanket from the end of the couch. Noticing me staring at her, she rolls her eyes. "This property is prepared for a zombie apocalypse. The town runs drills for alien invasions. I think we can handle a few bikers, Sawyer. Now, please shut the fuck up. You seriously don't want to be around us if we don't get our afternoon naps. Imagine an overtired baby packing heat."
Collapsing on the couch, she covers herself with the blanket and closes her eyes. The only noises in the room come from the giant TV quietly playing an episode of Roseanne.
Thinking about Cooper's stubborn streak and arrogance, I know he'll send someone to force me back to Ellsberg. I only pray it's not my other brother Tucker. I really don't want to have to kick his ass again.
Chapter 4
Jace
Hello Texas
Driving all night, I reach the Texas/Arkansas border an hour after dawn. I stop at a Denny's for a gallon of coffee and enough food. Apparently, I have eight hours more of driving before me. My plan is ride until I reach Last Dollar. Underestimating the heat and my fatigue, I finally pull over to a Days Inn around noon.
I down a sandwich in between taking a shower and crashing on the bed. My last thought before I sleep is how Sawyer's blue eyes shine when she's happy. Unfortunately, she won't be happy to see me.
Sleeping for way too long, I wake up grumpy. The room is nearly dark, and I remain in bed staring at the ceiling. Sawyer has haunted my thoughts since I was old enough to realize she was a sexy girl rather than my buddy. I'm thinking of her now, and my thoughts aren't happy ones.
Outside my room, arriving guests make a racket. I hear the kids whining about the long drive while the mom sounds ready to scream. The dad grunts all his responses. I don't know why exactly, but the sound of their misery puts me in a better mood.
I take another shower before checking out of the hotel. The heat infecting my every pore dampens my smile. Combing back my shoulder-length brown hair, I hear the earlier family stumbling outside to have dinner somewhere. Their bickering makes me laugh. During family trips, my sisters and I complained the same way. Those vacations were some of my fondest childhood moments.
The next few hours, I ride along quiet highways. The only traffic occurs whenever I pass by a town or small city. The sun is gone by the time I reach the "Welcome to Last Dollar" town sign. I don't know if I should talk to Sawyer tonight or wait until the morning. The old Sawyer was always wilder after sundown. The new Sawyer is a mystery to me.
I fill up my tank at a gas station on the main strip of the small town. The guy behind the counter alternates between watching me like a hawk and avoiding looking at me.
"Do you know the McLaughlin property?" I ask him.
His eyes widen, and he steps back. "Why?"