Page 64 of Adam's Rising

Here Adam was… practically forced to take on Thomas’s name and wonder if drug dealers would show up any second.

Meanwhile, Peter was out looking for the crap.

“So?” Adam finally said. Once again, he decided not to take the bait. Truly, he was glad Frank had snitched. He’d deal with Peter later.

No way would he give Frank the satisfaction of seeing him off-balance.

Frank sucked on his teeth. “Alrighty, then. Figured you’d like to know. Guess Brett was right about you.”

Adam didn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking either of them knew anything about him. He just stood there, waiting for the punk — he liked Rusty’s word — to hightail it offhisranch.

* * *

Adam waited long enoughthat Frank should have caught up with Brett before rushing to the rear of the barn.

The taillights of Brett’s big black truck bounced as the two finally left the ranch.

“Good riddance!”

Sheesh!

He still had Peter’s little scavenger hunt to address — he hoped Frank hadn’t given his brother anygrass.

Crap!

The joint he’d found. It was still in his jeans pocket.

He laughed quietly. “Well, Peter will never find it.” He’d actually have to clean up, and that was about as unlikely as Brett offering him that fake job.

Adam watched as Clara Mae moved back and forth from one apartment to the next. He hadn’t seen any of the hands’ quarters, but they had to have more amenities than the basement. Besides, if he and Peter moved to one, it’d be easier for Adam to keep an eye on his brother.

Where had he been all yesterday?

Yeah, the kid could sleep. But twenty hours was even a lot for Peter.

Adam walked toward the quad units. “Need some help?”

Clara Mae stuck just her head through a doorway. “Yeah, find us some help. George just hightailed it out of here in the back of Brett’s truck. Knew that S.O.B… .” The rest of her sentence was garbled as she ducked back into the room.

George quit, too.

Adam’s day was looking up — scratch that. Last time he’d hinted to himself that things were looking up, he’d had to knock a guy on his back.

And he still needed to confront a fourteen-year-old kid looking for drugs.

Clara Mae stepped out of the apartment, yellow gloves up to her elbows.

Instead of asking for help, she pointed behind him. “You’re up, lover boy!”

Adam turned. Oh, that’s right. He still had to deal withLala.

He’d never claim that things were looking up again, even to himself.

It was like that old wives’ tale… Whenever his mother spoke of good fortune — or something she hoped wouldn’t happen — she’d knock on wood — so the demons wouldn’t hear.

Lala sat on the fence separating the parking lot from the working ranch again.

At least she was following the rules. Well, probably only because she knew Clara Mae was looking.

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