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Silver Bastard (Silver Valley #1) Page 68
Author: Joanna Wylde

Ten minutes later I sat back in my chair, stuffed nearly to the point of popping.

“You want another piece?” Regina asked. I shook my head—I’d be able to go without eating for a week after that meal. Thank God I didn’t have to work afterward, either, because just standing up to clear the table almost killed me.

“Can you do the dishes?” Earl asked Regina, startling me. “I’ve got that thing for our girl out in the garage. Probably even more important now, all things considered.”

Regina glanced at him, an entire conversation taking place silently between them.

“Sure thing—you two take care of your business.”

He winked at her, then stood and stretched, looking pleased with himself.

“So what’s going on?” I asked once we were outside.

“This business with your mom—it’s bad news,” he said. “And you still don’t know how it’ll play out. Say she really did decide to leave him, come up here. Would you be safe?”

“She’s not coming,” I said flatly. “You didn’t hear her. She’s just playing me for money. Again.”

“If that’s the case, she’s obviously desperate,” he replied. “And desperate people are dangerous. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. Proud of you for standing up to her, but I don’t think it’s over. Got something I want you to start carrying.”

My eyes widened as he walked over to the huge, custom-welded sheet metal cabinet he kept his tools and guns in. It’d come from the Laughing Tess back in the day, where he’d spent close to thirty years underground before McDonogh Corp. laid him off two years back. Working for the school had been a big step down for him, but he’d handled it with grace.

Earl fiddled with the padlock, something that’d always seemed out of place to me because they didn’t even lock their front door. Then he opened it and pulled an old cigar box off one of the shelves, carrying it back over to his workbench.

He lifted the lid, revealing a small revolver inlaid with mother-of-pearl on the stock.

“This belonged to my mother,” he said, his voice strong and plain. “My dad gave it to her when he left for World War II. She’d married him the day before. I’d like you to have it.”

My eyes widened.

“I can’t take that,” I whispered.

“Yes, you can,” he said. “This is a great weapon, and still in beautiful condition. It’s small and light, designed for a woman’s hand. Not only that, it’s completely untraceable. I hope you never have to use it, but if Teeny Patchel ever shows his face up here, I want you to take this and put a bullet in his brain. Then you call me and we’ll figure out what to do with the body. You keep Puck Redhouse in line, too.”

My mouth dropped.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You know me better, little girl. I never joke about guns.”

This was true. Earl had hunted his entire life. He’d shot the deer we’d eaten for dinner, and he’d taught me how to dress and butcher a kill the first year I lived with them, because “anyone who owns a gun should know exactly what a bullet can do to a living creature.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to shoot anyone.”

“Good,” he replied, smiling. “Let’s hope it never happens. But know this—we’re here for you. No matter what. You’re like our own flesh and blood, and there’s nothing you could do that’ll make us stop loving you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes and he coughed uncomfortably.

“Let’s go out and put her through her paces,” he said gruffly. I smiled and followed him out of the garage. They lived ten miles outside of town, straight up a mountainside, so Earl had his own little target range set up in the meadow.

He and I spent the next hour shooting, him telling corny jokes and me laughing as the light slowly faded. We’d spent so many evenings like this over the years. I’d never be a hunter and I could care less about guns, but I loved shooting with Earl.

Eventually it got dark enough that we couldn’t see the targets, so we called it quits. We strolled back to the house, where I saw Puck’s motorcycle parked right next to my little Subaru. That slowed me down. What was he doing here?

He was eating pie.

I discovered this when I walked into the kitchen, cigar box in my hand.

“Hey, Becca,” he said, nodding at me. Regina sat next to him drinking coffee like they’d been best friends for years. “Sorry to crash your dinner, but I had no idea what time you’d be back and I was in the area.”

I opened my mouth to call bullshit on him, then realized it might actually be true. Boonie and Darcy lived a couple miles down the mountain from here.

“He didn’t just barge in,” Regina chimed in. “He drove by and saw your car, and I found him tucking a note under the windshield wiper. Of course I invited him in.”

Puck smiled at me, then finished off his pie and stood up. “You ready to leave?”

“Yes,” Earl said. “I’m ready for bed. Remember what I told you, Becca. I may be an old man, but I mean what I say.”

Puck cocked a brow at me and I shrugged, because no way was I going to tell him that Earl had sort of offered to dispose of his body if he got on my bad side. Instead I gathered my things, and then Regina was handing me a plate full of leftovers, along with stern instructions to come again as soon as I could.

“So Earl didn’t break out the shotgun. That’s a good sign,” Puck said as we walked out. Oh, Puck, if you only knew . . . “I’ll follow you back to town on the bike. We’ll sleep at your place again.”

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Joanna Wylde's Novels
» Reaper's Fall (Reapers MC #5)
» Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3)
» Silver Bastard (Silver Valley #1)
» The Price of Freedom (Saurellian Federation #2)
» Jerred's Price (Saurellian Federation #3)
» Be Careful What You Wish For
» Survival's Price (Saurellian Federation #3.6)
» Catherine's Awakening
» Reaper's Property (Reapers MC #1)
» Garnets or Bust (Saurellian Federation 0.5)
» The Price of Pleasure (Saurellian Federation #1)
» Serendipity (Saurellian Federation #1.5)
» Dragon's Mistress (Saurellian Federation #1.6)