Page 19 of Property of Legend

He eyes me sideways.“You always been that protective over that girl?”Cornbread doesn’t have a filter.

I don’t answer.

Instead, I tip back the bottle, let it sit on my tongue like the truth I ain’t speakin’.

Cornbread sighs.“Look, I told you, before, I’ve been helpin’ out at the Falls now and then.Fixin’ fences.Muckin’ stalls.Haulin’ hay.Ain’t exactly on the books, but they let me stick around so long as I don’t wear my cut.”

“Montgomery’s still got that ‘no bikers’ rule?”

“Yeah,” he says, grimacing.“Old man’s stubborn, even from his deathbed.We ain’t exactly known for peace and quiet.”

I lean back, let my boots stretch out toward the fire.“You like it there?”

He nods.“They’re good people, Legend.Especially Sophie.Got that grit, most rich girls fake.And Mr.Montgomery’s tough as rawhide.Lost his wife and never once dropped the reins.”

“Yeah, well…” I let the bottle hang between my fingers.“Good people still get enemies.Especially when they got money, land, and legacy.”

Cornbread frowns.“You thinkin’ someone’s targeting them?”

“I know someone is.”

He shifts.“Sam’s been sniffin’ around, again, you know.Sophie’s little clean-cut friend.”

That gets my attention.No, I don’t know shit.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.Real white collar, buttoned-up type.Used to take her out to all her fancy events.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Oaks leans in like a know it all.“Family’s got political roots.Daddy was a state senator.Cousin’s got pull in the zoning commission.Old money.The kind that smiles while they rob you blind.”

My jaw tightens.“You think he’s dirty?”

Cornbread shrugs.

Oaks answers, “I think he ain’t wearin’ a patch, but he’s part of a different kind of gang.The kind with judges on payroll and cops on speed dial.”

I stare into the fire, see shadows twistin’ in the flames.“Figures.That farm’s not just land, it’s power.Blood-soaked legacy wrapped in white fences and rose bushes.”

Cornbread snorts.“Still can’t believe anyone’d wanna hurt that family.They treat us all real good.Never hurt a fly.”

I glance at him then.Real slow.“They didn’t?”

He shuts up.Knows what I mean.

Ran my old man outta this town.I got locked up.Our names blackened while the Montgomerys turned their backs.Like we never mattered.

Cornbread nods, reading the heat in my eyes.“I’ll keep my ears open.People talk too much when they drink hard.”

“You hear anything, you come straight to me.”

He tips his bottle in my direction.“You got it, Prez.”

Later, I’m leanin’ up against the side of the mansion, outta sight, smokin’ and listenin’ to the brothers shoot the shit on the porch.

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