“Why in the hell am I just now hearing about this?”
I swing my eyes back to Judge. “Because right now has been the first opportunity I’ve had to talk to you,” I answer heatedly. This shit is not my fault. I didn’t bring the woman to town and fuck up her car so she couldn’t leave. “You were with Jamie or Gillian or whichever of your women, so you weren’t answering your fuckin’ phone. Don’t blame this shit on me. I didn’t drop this on our plate.”
“Son-of-a-bitch.”
“It’s over, it’s done with. I just didn’t want you to be surprised if you saw her. Mick’ll have her car fixed and she’ll be on her way.”
“She needs to be gone,” he warns, and I resist the urge to knock his fucking teeth in.
Even so, I lean forward. “I damn well know that. She’s almost thirty-five weeks pregnant and came in dehydrated. I can’t just push her out of town in the middle of Texas, traveling a dead route with hardly any stops, in a fucked-up car with no air conditioning. What we do here in Malus is protect children and woman from harm, not put them in situations that’ll almost guarantee it.”
“Fuck you, Trouble,” he seethes.
“And fuck you right back, Judge. I don’t like this anymore than you do, but it’s not like we have a choice.”
He blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his brown hair, muttering a few curses.
“Fine. Just get it taken care of as quickly as possible.”
I give him a tight nod then turn away to get in my car before I tell him to go fuck himself. Judge is a real bastard when he wants to be. The four of us have been through some of the most horrifying experiences as children. I’d do anything for them, just as they would for me, but there are times we argue and fight like real siblings. We used to grate on Dale and Mae’s nerves when we lashed out at each other.
Thank fuck I love the bastards as much as I do.
REMI
SUSAN’S STILL AT WORK, so, bored out of my mind, I decide to take a stroll through town. Malus is charming and quaint. Everything is spread out, but still within walking distance. Although many of the businesses and houses are old, they’re still well taken care of.
I pass by a couple of women who’re out talking in front of a shop of some sort. Ex
pecting more leery glances, I’m surprised when they actually smile at me. I smile back and wave, suddenly feeling better about coming out in public. I’ve been here six days, and this is the first time I’ve left Susan’s house, except for my visit to the mechanic and to Dr. Trayce’s office.
Speaking of the mechanic, I never heard from him like Dr. Trayce said I would. I ended up calling him yesterday to get an update and was let down when he said he still hadn’t acquired a couple of the parts he needs. So much for Dr. Trayce getting Mick to finish my car faster.
It’s hot out today. Before I left, I checked the temperature on my phone and it said the highs were in the upper nineties, with a heat index of one-oh-four. Magnolia gets hot, but this heat almost takes your breath away.
I grip the front of my silk tank top and fan it out, trying to draw in some air. It helps, but not nearly enough. Thankfully, there are some trees lining the sidewalk that offer a bit of reprieve from the blazing sun.
Spotting the restaurant I pulled into that first day, I decide to go inside to cool off and get a glass of water. The cool air that hits me when I walk inside is both a blessing and a curse. I’m already not looking forward to going back out into the heat to get back home.
There are only a few people in the restaurant. It has the same set up as a sports bar and restaurant. A small bar is in the center of the room with a television hanging from the ceiling above. Several tables are spread throughout the rest of the space. Three stools are occupied by patrons and only a couple of the tables have people sitting at them.
I choose a table at the very back and make sure I’m facing the rest of the room.
“I’ll be right with you, dearie,” an older lady calls without looking up from a notepad, and I realize it’s the woman who came to my rescue.
While I wait on her, I take a look around the room, absently fingering the cross sitting just above my cleavage. The walls are wood, and several different kinds of animal heads and fish are mounted on them, along with a couple of cowboy hats. That’s one thing I haven’t seen much of; people wearing cowboy hats and boots. I mean, there’s been a few, but not like they portray in movies. Call me childish, but I sort of want to pout at that. I was looking forward to seeing the typical Texans in their cowboy attire.
Feeling eyes on me, I glance over to the bar and find a middle-aged man giving me the Malus Look. Most people would glance away when caught, but he doesn’t. He just lifts his beer, takes a pull, and rests it back on the bar with his hand still around it, never looking away. His expression is blank, so I can’t tell if the stare is more a glare or just curiosity. I drop my eyes to my hands on the table and start picking at the cuticles.
A moment later, I lift my head when a pair of shoes appear beside the table. It’s the lady I met in the parking lot—I think her name is Doris.
“Hey, sugar, what can I get for you?”
“A water, please.”
Her eyes move to my stomach for a brief second. “You sure that’s it?”
“Yeah. I had lunch an hour ago.” I gently pat my stomach. “I’d just like something to cool off a bit. It’s hotter than blazes out there.”