Chapter 19

Wilder

The base of my neck burned. It had seemed easy at first. Breaking Maisie down. Figuring out who she was. But I could never unravel her completely.

She wanted to see the property. That was easy enough. But did she understand what that meant?

“The more I show you, the more important it will be that you never cross my family,” I said. Maisie scanned the corpse kneeling behind us.

“What did he do?” she asked.

“Theft.”

Her cheeks flushed. I had kept it short, using one word to determine her place in this. And I was right: she had stolen too. I had always known that. But my father had promised her money, which was one of the reasons I let it slide; she was taking an advance.

The other reason? I didn’t give a shit about money. She wasn’t a livestock order yet.

“Oh,” she said.

I gestured at the different pens, the stanchions, the drains, the basin, at the bloodstains that had turned the shade of copper with the passing time.

“So this is all for humans?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. Part of me wanted to tell her. To test her. To see where exactly her boundaries lay. But I held back. I didn’t want to scare her yet.

“Why are those racks in here?” She pointed to the stanchions. “Those are for milking cows, right? But you don’t work with dairy cows.”

The stanchions were made of metal and wood, with slats wide enough for cow and human heads to poke through. A head gate buckled the livestock orders into place to keep them still. In a way, it was a modern pillory, ripped from the humiliating dungeon and thrown into a rancher’s barn. Put a trough in front of it for the cows. And the humans? A bucket for catching blood and other fluids that dripped out.

“Forrest considered dairy cows once,” I said. “But he had other ideas.”

Then I explained our terminology. New hires, once we deemed we could trust them, were promoted to ‘hunters’—men who gathered the targets, unless the buyer requested an on-site execution. The targets were called ‘livestock,’ as part of our cover should anyone overhear. Livestock was then brought to the Dairy Barn for execution, handled by the ‘ranchers,’ the final promotional ranking in our business. Ranchers were skilled at torture and murder. Finally, we incinerated the remains with the rest of the animal waste, unless otherwise requested.

Maisie was speechless after that. I took her back to the Calving Barn. “You know most of this,” I said. She pointed to the door leading to the office.

“Who uses this?” she asked.

“Mostly Sawyer,” I said.

She pushed the door open, then pulled on a drawer. A locked box slid into view.

“The key is above the door,” I said.

“Don’t tell me that,” she said.

“No one is here at night.”

She rolled her eyes. But it was a test. Would she use that information, or would she be loyal to us? To me? And if she stole, would I blame her for it? The theft didn’t seem like a crime when it came to marrying into a family where you might not make it to your first anniversary.

Outside, we walked through the pastures together. The stars blinked above us, staring down in the night. Her scent trickled in the wind; I had never met someone as potent as her, someone who smelled as sweet.

Drowned out the fur, decay, and blood.

Why wasn’t she afraid of me?

She couldn’t accept me. I didn’t accept her.

“Make no mistake,” I said. I squared my shoulders, dipping my chin.

“I don’t care about you.” Her eyes never left mine. “If you follow me again, I will drown you. You will beg for your life.”

The stars twinkled in her dark pupils as she dipped her chin again. She understood, but that didn’t mean that she would be smart about it. Curiosity killed Maisie, driving her straight toward danger.

I left her in the house, and then I stood outside, waiting until I saw her bedroom go dark. Then I went back to the Dairy Barn. The lights were on inside.

“You let her into the Dairy Barn, willingly?” Sawyer asked.

Forrest rubbed his forehead. “Sawyer,” he warned.

“She could give away our secrets. Jeopardize our operation.”

“She knows the consequences,” I said.

“It’s his wife, son,” Forrest said, putting a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. “We have to trust Wilder’s decisions. If he wants to invite her into the family business, then who are we to stop him?”

Sawyer’s gaze seared into me. I didn’t understand Forrest’s infatuation with Maisie and me, but I understood Sawyer’s distrust of our relationship. He had already completed the Feldman Offering. But Forrest was on my side.

“Let him fall for her,” Forrest said. “You know how hard it is for him to connect.”

My fists tensed. He said it like I was born this way like he had nothing to do with my lack of interest in people.

“I’m not connecting with her,” I said, gritting my teeth.

Forrest smiled. “All right, son,” he said.

Sawyer shook his head, dismissing my words. “We’ll see,” he said.

***

Maisie

In the morning, I made my way to an old monthly-rate motel. Bambi wasn’t picking up her phone. In the far corner room, a bottle of vodka was sitting on the windowsill, a plastic cup with a bright red lipstick stain next to it. Green’s car was gone, which meant that if Bambi wasn’t out with Green, then she was sleeping in, alone and by herself. I banged on the door.

The door creaked. “The hell are you doing here?” she asked, her voice raspy with sleep. “Damn, lady. What time is it?”

I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand behind her.

“After eight,” I said. Which meant that she had only been asleep for a few hours. It was a jerk move, but not enough to keep me away. She stepped to the side, letting me in. The two of us sat on the bed. She pulled the comforter around her. A bruise darkened her shoulder.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Forget about me,” she said. “What about you? What is it?” She tilted her chin toward the door. “You know Green will be back any minute, right?”

I nodded, holding my chest. Which was why I had to figure out a plan as quickly as I could and let the bruise go for now. What the Feldmans would do was so much worse.

“Have you been able to keep that money?” I asked. Her eyes flicked away from me. “Where is it?”

“I—”

“You spent it, right?” As long as Green didn’t have it. “Did you get new sunglasses? A purse?” When she didn’t answer, my pulse raced.

“Don’t tell me you—”

“What’s wrong with it, anyway?”

“Did you give it to Green?”

Her chin jutted forward. “You think he’s going to let me keep that kind of cash?”

I wrung my hands together. It had only been a little while, but I had already forgotten what it was like. It was hard for us to keep around cash, even tips that the clients gave us. Because if Green found out we were keeping something from him, we paid for it. And if we spent it quickly, feigning that a regular client had gifted the purchases to us, he would sell those ‘gifts.’ We had to spend it on little things: cheap sunglasses, bottles of nail polish, and a new makeup palette.

I had screwed up everything in my old life, but with Bambi, I wanted to make things better for her, even if I wasn’t there to protect her. But Green was like an oncoming train, always off in the distance, until suddenly, he was running you over. He’d never stop.

I had to get her away from him. But how could I help her when I was in a similar situation? Wilder hadn’t punched or stabbed me like Green had, but now that I knew what ‘interested’ him, it didn’t seem that far off. My life was in danger.

“That money was for you,” I said. “Green’s already got enough from the arranged marriage.”

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked again. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“My husband killed a man for stealing,” I said. “If he finds out I stole from him, I don’t want him to come after me.”

“Geez.” Her jaw dropped. “Who the hell did you marry?”