Page 102 of The Best Kind of Bad

I should talk to him.

I need to talk to him.

But I’m not sure I’m brave enough.

I drive back to the house, my head in a strange place. I don’t even notice the car in the drive until I nearly bang into it.

A friend of Sienna’s?

As I round the sidewalk, and the back door comes into view, my hackles go up.

I have no idea who he is, but he’s no friend of Sienna’s. That much I know.

66.

Dusty

Tonight.

I’ll tell Marnie tonight. I’ve got a job lined up, and she doesn’t have to stay out of obligation.

But hopefully she stays because she wants to. I’m going to give her a reason to stay. I’m going to make it worth her while. Or, if her life is back in Lincoln, I’ll follow her there. If she’ll have me. Either way, we don’t have to be tied to the land. I’ve freed us both of the obligation.

There’s a few more hours of mindless work before I can call it a night, but that’ll give me plenty of time to think of the right words. I had an engine completely pulled apart that needs some attention, but when I spot the rust bucket parked next to Marnie’s car, I slam on the brakes. I barely get the truck in park before I’m climbing out of the truck, stomping towards the back door.

My blood boils and it’s like my hearing recedes, replaced by a high-pitched whining.

Fucking Skunk is holding the door open, keeping Marnie from closing it.

The distress on her pretty face is enough to make me see red.

He’s dead.

She glances over his shoulder, catching sight of me. Relief washes over her face, and Skunk turns to look at me. “Dusty. What’s up, man?”

I stop just within arm’s reach. “You have five seconds to explain what you’re doing here.”

He holds up his hands. “I’m just talking.”

Sienna pokes her head up, peering over Marnie’s shoulder. “He won’t leave.”

Skunk’s lips pull back. “Nobody was talking to you, Peanut.”

“I don’t want you talking to anybody, asshole.” My finger pokes at his bony chest. “I already told you to leave my girls alone.”

Sienna’s head pops up again. “I called the sheriff, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Skunk knocks my hand aside. “There ain’t no law against talking.”

I grab his upper arm, ushering him away. “Well, there’s a law against trespassing and we say you aren’t welcome. So, fuck off.”

He shrugs violently out of my grip. “Get off me.”

“Get off my fucking land before I put a boot up your ass.”

He turns, narrowing his eyes. “It ain’t your land. It’s sugar tits over there. And she’s…”

Whatever trash was about to come out of his mouth is interrupted by my fist as it connects with his teeth. I reel back, shaking out my hand. That’s going to leave a mark. On both of us. Skunk’s head was knocked back by my cross hook, but he’s like a cockroach. Hard to get rid of.

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