Kings of Decay (The Winston Brothers Duet #1)

23. Willow

Chapter twenty-three

Willow

I stared across the narrow street, looking at the nice restaurant and bar across from Paydirt. It was closed, and the windows were dark. In fact, it was closed most of the time, only opening for tourist season, which was apparently getting shorter and shorter every year.

Paydirt was the place for the locals.

I sighed and picked up two heavy garbage bags full of napkins, chicken bones, and broken glass. Tuesdays were wing nights and, therefore, the worst night to work. I was drowning in sticky buffalo sauce that refused to come out from under my fingernails, even after vigorously washing my hands.

I dragged the trash to the back of the bar to the dumpster in the alley. It was freezing outside, my hands numb with cold as I tried to toss the garbage into the waste bin.

I walked back and forth from the door to the dumpster until all of the garbage was put away in the bear and raccoon safe bins. Didn't need any wild animals stalking around.

I shivered, but this time it wasn't from the cold. I remembered how they found the state trooper last week, half-eaten in his SUV. Guess he rolled his vehicle and got trapped. Poor guy.

The darkest part of my mind wondered if the Winston Brothers had anything to do with it. I hadn't seen either of them since the Halloween party.

Well, except for my cold-induced hallucination. I tried not to think about that. Surely, my unconscious mind knew better than that. No matter how hot those brothers were, I shouldn't be falling for them. They were psychos and possibly, most likely, murderers.

And yet, their touch made me feel something I didn't think was possible. Something I didn't even know I wanted. Fear. Danger. A need to prove myself. I was tired of being the victim. I was tired of hurting, but that was all I knew how to do these days.

I should have gone back inside, where it was warm and safe, but my feet wouldn't move. I stood under the street light, bathed in the pool of flickering LED white.

What the hell was I doing here? I should have gone to California with my aunt. This place wasn't for me, and I knew it.

A shadowy figure, hunched over and stumbling, walked by towards a pickup truck. I recognized him from the bar. He was a regular, and the way he looked at me made my skin crawl.

Why didn't I go back inside?

I think the name of the man was Derek. He was a miner my father's age with bushy eyebrows and a permanent five-o'clock shadow. Apparently, if the bar gossip was true, he'd been divorced seven times.

"Hey there, little chocolate missy," he slurred his words as he spoke to me.

Bile rose in my throat. Great, now he was fetishizing my skin tone. My feet finally obeyed me, and I went for the front door.

"Hey, wait, wait," he said.

I hesitated as another truck passed by. The street was washed in light for a brief second.

"Come here. I have something for you. I forgot to tip you yesterday," Derek said, fisting a five-dollar bill. "Sorry for the problems my friends caused the other day."

The massive bar fight from Sunday? If I remembered right, he was one of the first guys that threw a punch. His black eye still hadn't faded.Five dollars wouldn't even begin to cover the damage to the glassware.

"No, that's ok," I said. "It's part of the job."

"You too good for my money, city girl?" He snarled, suddenly angry.

Fuck, did all of the drunks in this town have multiple personalities?

Derek's transformation from seeming friendly to turning on me felt so sudden that I stepped back.

"No, I-" I stammered, my mind scrambling for the right words, but Derek lunged and grabbed my wrist. I tried to twist out of his grasp, but he was too strong. "I'm sorry if it came off that way," I said, trying to channel the calmness my father always seemed to have during tense situations with drunks.

"Then you should give me a kiss. Give me a proper apology." He leaned in.

I gagged on the smell of whisky. "No!"

Derek flung me around against his truck. "Just a kiss, my milky chocolate angel."

"Get off me!" I screamed, struggling against his grip. "Let me go!"

Derek tightened his hold on me, pulling me further towards the truck. I knew I was no match for him, he did physical labor for as living. My anger transformed into pure fear as I realized I couldn't escape.

"No, no, no!" I yelled, my voice trembling. "Please, just let me go!"

I heard footsteps approaching, and a moment later, the Winston brothers appeared.

Pearce's eyes narrowed as he saw Derek's hand on my wrist, and he quickly strode over, pulling Derek back.

"Get your hands off of her," Pearce growled.

Derek sneered at him. "Mind your own business, pretty boy," he spat out.

The fact that he showed no fear to the brothers made me even more terrified. I struggled free and fell onto the slushy gravel road.

Ainsley appeared at Pearce's side, and together they surrounded Derek.

"She's not your property," Ainsley said, his voice low and dangerous. "You can't be treating women like that. Aren't you a married man?"

Derek chuckled. "Na, my divorce just went through."

My eyes flew between Derek and the brothers.

"Come on, let me have her... Unless you want the mulatto whore," he said.

There was a collective gasp and a wiry, tense silence.

Ainsley's eyes darkened. "Willow doesn't belong to anyone except us." He slammed his fist into the drunk man's gut.

Derek let out a blood-curdling groan, staggering back and throwing up all over his jacket.

Unbothered by the mess, Pearce grabbed him by his collar and pinned him against the truck. "Do you understand?"

Derek nodded, blubbering some words that I didn't catch. He took a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever talk about her like that again," Pearce snarled, punching him in the face.

I winced as a tooth flew out of Derek's mouth, and he fell to his knees with a cry.

"God damn fuckers!" He shouted. "Just cause your daddy runs shit, you think you can have it all. You think you can get away with murder? Well, wake up, boys, you're the fucking princes of nothing!"

Ainsley turned on his heel. "What did you say?"