This particular night, the one Byron had nightmares about, Buckley had come home drunk after an evening of partying and doing God only knows what. As an enforcer who’d worked his way up to Underboss in the Dixie Mafia, he was a brutal man, capable of just about anything.
Buckley had started an argument with Loretta, Byron’s mother. The two of them never should’ve gotten married. As far as Byron could tell, all they did was fight. Byron heard the unmistakable thwack of his father’s leather belt on bare skin. Because Buckley was a real son of a bitch, Byron had experienced the bite of it, stinging on his backside and calves. His father never stopped until the blood welled.
Buckley liked to beat on Loretta too. It’s probably why she stepped out on him with another man. Byron found out later after he read her journal, she’d intended to leave Buckley and run away with Joker, a biker in the Four Horsemen MC.
That terrible night, Byron had laid under the bed—the chill from the cold wooden floor seeping into his very bones. His conscience had warred with his need for safety—a man would get out from under the bed, protect his mother. Instead, he’d listened in agony as the walloping continued, as his mother cried and whimpered. His father had hurled insults at her, calling her a slut and a whore. Then the whir of a zipper, grunting, and Loretta’s gasping wails.
The next thing Byron knew he was standing in the hallway, hand pressed against the wooden door as he summoned the strength to walk in, to stop this, but he’d been too late.
Bang.
Something hot and red rushing from beneath the door. Slippery and thick, staining his feet. Blood.
And Byron had been bathed in it ever since.
Fuck this trip down memory lane.
After taking a swig of moonshine to wash the dreadful recollection down, he threw on some clothes and went downstairs. Gentle laughter came from his office, two voices—one high-pitched and female and the other low and rumbling.
It had to be Vick and Jasper. Byron listened in because he was a nosy bastard and this was his house, after all.
“Tomorrow we gotta make a better plan. We’ll go for a walk, then a shower, and then breakfast—in that order.”
“Good call—I’m still ringin’ with sweat, Jasper.”
“We’ll hit the trail by the gorge this time, and then I’ll take you to Sugar Daddies, Vixen.” Vixen was Jasper’s pet name for Vick. “You can get one of those donuts you love so much.”
“It’s a bagel, not a donut.”
“No, it’s a donut camouflaged as a bagel. The thing has cream cheese frosting and crunchy cinnamon stuff on top.”
“Greek yogurt icing, and the crunchy stuff is granola—because it’s a granola bagel. See? Healthy.”
“Donut.”
“Bagel.”
Byron’s stomach heaved. I’m gonna get a toothache listenin’ to this sickly sweet shit. Those two should fuck already and be done with it. Time to break it up.
“What are you two doin’ here?” Byron barged in the office.
“Geez, you scared the snot out of me.”
Victoria Hale, better known as Vick, sat at his desk, red-tipped fingernails poised over his keyboard. She wore a black and white shirt printed with the words Success is the Best Revenge and a pair of black yoga pants, along with sneakers. Her baby-fine dark hair was pulled up into a bun. Her normally pale skin was flushed, and her tortoiseshell glasses were fogged.
“Mornin’, boss.” Jasper tucked his gun away. He’d drawn as soon as Byron walked in the door. He sat in front of the desk, also wearing athletic clothes—Nikes, a shirt, and jogging pants. “Didn’t expect to see you so early.”
“Clearly. I repeat—what the fuck are you doin’ here at this hour in the mornin’?”
“You don’t have to be such a butthead. I’m here doin’ my job.” Vick didn’t believe in swearing, and when Byron was in a better mood, it amused him. “I came over to check the security systems since the power went out. I wanted to make sure everythin’s functionin’ right since I’m the tech analyst and all.”
“And I came with her because I drove. We got up early this mornin’ and exercised.”
“You went on a hiking date?”
Call him crazy, but Byron thought dates were about getting dressed up and going to a fancy restaurant. Maybe a movie if things were casual. He sure as hell wouldn’t take a lady for a run. They could work the food off later, in bed, the way God intended.
Vick turned red, and Jasper cleared his throat.
“No, not a date, a hike.” Jasper studied the carpet. “We’re friends.”