Beard Science(49)

“Yes, He did,” my brother ground out.

“No. He didn’t,” Cletus continued. “God wouldn’t say something so stupid. The Creator of the heavens doesn’t care what her hair looks like, and He doesn’t care what she’s wearing. I’m pretty sure He’s got his hands full with more weighty matters, like dark matter, and black holes, and ISIS, and ignorant bikers of the criminal variety.”

“Winston, this is the last time I’ll ask you nicely to mind your own damn business,” Isaac seethed, his hands balling into fists.

“Besides,” Cletus went on philosophically, “you think those dresses your parents have her in don’t inspire lust? You think men all around these parts aren’t daydreaming about bending her over and lifting her skirt and—”

I gasped and, clearly forgetting myself, quickly covered Cletus’s mouth with my hand. But I was too late. Isaac shoved me to the side and lifted his fist, intent on pummeling the words from Cletus’s brain. A sound of fear and despair escaped my throat before I could catch it, and the world lurched forward in slow motion. I braced for his fist to make contact, wincing in terror.

But it didn’t happen.

Cletus blocked him, then leaned to the side in a remarkably agile movement for such a large man. Isaac ended up putting his fist through the shelf of canned goods, hitting his forehead in the process. Incensed and undaunted, he spun and walked right into Cletus’s left hook, and the sickening sound of bones crunching filled my ears. I covered my mouth to suppress another gasp as Cletus followed the first punch with a second, the momentum of which threw Isaac backward and against the shelves.

My brother fell to the ground, his head banging against the bottom shelf on the way down. Blood gushed from his nose, mouth, and a cut on his left eyebrow, flowing to his white shirt and leather jacket.

Tina stood to one side, gawking at Cletus.

But instinctual worry for my brother sent me rushing forward. “Oh no!”

Before I could reach Isaac, Cletus wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me from the floor.

“I have one more thing to say,” Cletus growled, my back pressed to his front, his beard against my temple. The quality of his voice—low with scarcely restrained rage—made me stiffen and grow still in his arms. The dangerous intensity behind his words sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine.

“Do you honestly think God would make a creature as lovely and talented and good as your sister, and then make the way she looks something sinful? Something to be ashamed of? No. He wouldn’t. If anything, your sister—her face, her body, her mind, and her heart—give glory to Him. And she shouldn’t be hidden. You don’t hide something that remarkable away from the world, like your parents have done, like you want to do. That’s the true sin.”

Then, immediately, Cletus turned me in his arms, tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and announced, “Time to go.”





CHAPTER 21


“Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.”

 Zora Neale Hurston

~Jennifer~

Cletus exited the Piggly Wiggly like the hounds of hell were at our ankles. The suddenness of being thrown over his shoulder knocked the wind from my lungs and I gasped for air, unable to find purchase as I endeavored to cough. But I was never in danger of falling. Even though he moved swiftly, I didn’t budge or slip from his shoulder.

He carried us straight to the parking lot, set me in front of a car I didn’t recognize, then opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he ordered, glancing over his shoulder.

I was dizzy, black spots moving in and out of my vision, but the time spent in the store—being tossed about by Drill and my brother and eventually Cletus—had finally registered in my brain.

“I’m not getting in.” I gasped, coughing, a surge of something dark and ferocious climbing to the surface and making my bones feel rigid and cold.

I was just so . . . I was just so incredibly angry. And I was tired of people telling me what to do.

“Dammit, woman, please get in the car.” Cletus pulled his fingers through his long hair.

“I’m not getting in your freaking car,” I screeched, shoving at his chest, needing to scream.

Cletus flinched, visibly startled by my outburst, but the very next moment he stepped into my space, bent his mouth to my ear, and said, “We are being watched by seven members of the Iron Wraiths—don’t look! They’re two rows over and behind me. I have just assaulted one of their brethren. You need to get in this car before Twilight emerges with his rearranged face or Tina screams bloody murder. I’m not going to force you to get in the car, but there’s no way I’m leaving you here.”

Sobering dread cut through my cloud of anger and my hands automatically lifted to Cletus’s arms, the feel of his solid strength beneath my fingertips reassuring.

He leaned a few inches away and glared down at me, his eyebrows raised just slightly. I could almost hear his voice in my head saying, “Get in the fucking car right goddamn now. Please.”

Without another word, I slid into the passenger seat and shut the door after me, hastily fastening my seatbelt. The urge to look at the bikers was strong, but I didn’t. Instead, I kept my eyes studiously affixed to the dashboard as Cletus rounded the back and entered the driver’s side.

He turned the engine, placed it in reverse, and pulled out of the spot like nothing was amiss. But then I heard a scream. Fright had me sucking in the breath as Tina Patterson’s form emerged from the grocery store and pointed at us.

“Get him! He knocked out Twilight! He’s taking his sister,” she bellowed, waving her arms.

Unable to help myself, I twisted in my seat and—to my horror—watched as the fleet of bikers glanced between Tina and us. Her words sunk in, spurring them into motion.

“Hold on.” Cletus peeled out of the parking lot, no need for clandestine maneuvers at this point, and set off at neck-breaking speed down the main thoroughfare. I did as instructed and held on to the door and the back of the bench, relieved I’d already buckled my seatbelt.

His car was fast, but it was big. And the bikers were more nimble on their motorcycles. Several cut across the lot, chasing at a diagonal when Cletus was forced to take a turn. Two were almost directly behind us, the others some distance back.

“My phone is in the glove compartment. I want you to call Duane and put him on speaker.” Given the situation, Cletus’s voice was remarkably calm. He split his attention between the rearview mirror and the road ahead.

With irritatingly shaking fingers, I fumbled for his phone.

“The password is one, zero, one, zero.”

I nodded, quickly typing it in, navigating to Duane in his contacts, and highlighting the speaker button.

The phone rang and I searched behind us. The two bikers hadn’t come any closer, because Cletus was driving like a maniac, still accelerating while he weaved through the sparse traffic.

“What’s up?” Duane answered on the third ring.

“Are you at the house?”

Duane hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m nearby.”

“How close?”

“Real close.”

“Listen to me. I have seven Wraiths on my tail, I can’t tell you why right now. I need your help.”

“Anything.” Duane didn’t hesitate, but his tone held an odd edge that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.

“My keys for the Buick are in the top drawer of my side table. Take the Buick to the end of the driveway, leave the lights off, and wait for me to drive by the house. I’m in its twin and will be there in approximately five minutes. After I drive past, pull onto Moth Run and turn on your lights. I’ll cut mine and take the side road behind the house. You lead them away.”

“Where do you want me to take them?”

“Lead these gentleman to the police station and get out of the car, so they can see they’ve lost me. They’ll back off when they see it’s you and where you are.”

“Or I could take them on a goose chase.”

“No. If they catch up, it won’t be good.”

“They won’t catch me.” Duane made a scoffing sound.

“Duane, just do as I say.” Cletus reached over and ended the call.

I gripped his phone and glanced anxiously at my side mirror. I didn’t say anything, because Cletus could likely see for himself, but one of the bikers was almost flanking my side. It was so dark, and I couldn’t decipher what the man was doing. He might’ve had a gun.

The next several minutes were terrifying, but I remained quiet, not wanting to distract him from what he needed to do. My heart was beating in triple time when the Winston place came into view, set back from the road and lit up like an old, stately mansion. The end of the driveway was dark, but I knew Duane would be there.

Cletus hit the accelerator and I was pressed back against the seat, my eyes on the side mirror. The motorcycles’ headlights diminished to small dots as he placed distance between us. Clearly they’d expected his destination to be the Winston house.

As soon as we passed the end of their drive, Cletus switched off his lights. Almost immediately after that, he slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel to one side, pulling onto a road I’d never noticed. Or maybe it wasn’t a road. Either way, it was too dark for me to see. We were surrounded by blackness and forest and the car jostled violently. For all I knew, we were about to hit a tree.