Page 42 of Small Town Beast 2: Saverin's Duet

“I do,” said Lloyd, a carpenter by trade.

Absalom nodded. “Okay. Guts, you switch with Lloyd. Clear out the roasting pits and get some wood together. Lloyd, I want you to measure all the furniture in here. Take pictures of yon paintings, too.”

“For what, boss?”

“To jerk my dick at, Lloyd. Just do what I tell you. Everything we do, we need to write it down and file it. Step to it.”

“What about Bailey?” Hiram piped up, trying to start shit as usual.

Absalom clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to Bailey. You just stay there and try not to look like a jackass.”

Hiram reddened.

“Nobody is to shoot at Saverin, even if he throws a punch,” Absalom said firmly. “Are we clear? Heave-ho.”

The men reluctantly shuffled into action. Absalom hoped they followed the last part of his orders. The last thing he needed was a trigger-happy jackass shooting at Saverin, or that foul bastard Guts trying to defile the girl. Saverin was still a Bailey. The Baileys never had the numbers of the Snatch Hills and the Green Trees, but held prestige due to their clean reputation.Honest as a Bailey, it was said.

Absalom walked out of the house, his neck prickling as he felt a number of Snatch Hill eyes on his back.They won’t kill me yet,he thought.They’re scared of Hiram. They want to see if I’ll take him out first. Maybe they’re arguing about it right now.

Then one of the Green Trees, his cousin Shadrac, came out of nowhere and stopped him.

“Abi,” hissed Shadrac. “We found something. Basement.”

Bingo.

“A tunnel?” Absalom murmured.

“Possibly. We didn’t tell nobody yet.”

“Keep it quiet. I’ll be up in a few. I want to talk to you about something.”

“I hope it’s getting rid of them dirty Snatch Hills,” Shadrac spat. “I can’t stand the sight nor smell of these motherfuckers. I wish to God we didn’t need their guns.”

“We’ll have them out of here before tomorrow if all goes well,” Absaloms said slowly, watching Saverin clear the hill.

Shadrac clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s the plan, boss?”

No such thing as a fair fight.“Does your Aunt Eileen still have that flower garden?”

Shadrac’s eyes widened. “Yeah. She does. She don’t live too far from here, neither. Why?”

“Go wait upstairs for me. I’ll write her a note. And listen—don’t touch none of the whiskey. Make sure our boys know that. Spread the word around.”

Shadrac nodded. “You got it, Abi.”

Saverin had once beena familiar face at the Harvest. He’d become Roman’s right-hand when Roman became the shot-caller after Duke. But then Saverin’s brother had been killed in Roman’s war with the Snatch Hills, and poor luck had hounded the family ever since. Saverin became a hermit, never venturing from his hill. The bad blood between him and Roman ran deep over Sam Bailey’s murder.

In light of that, some days back Absalom had extended an olive branch to Saverin. The rejection was swift and cold. Not surprising. These blueblood clans were a proud bunch and they looked down on Green Trees and Snatch Hills as trash. But securing Saverin’s blessing was important for Absalom’s new order. A Bailey endorsement would smooth the feathers of the older conservatives who hadn’t liked Roman but might turn up their noses at a Green Tree leading the Harvest. Saverin was also filthy rich; a well to be tapped if others ran dry.

No; they could not get rid of Saverin. He had to be brought into the fold. And since he’d refused the carrot, the only thing left was the stick.

Saverin stopped his furious march just inches from Absalom’s face. They were the same height, same brawny build. “Send my woman down,” he bit out. “You’ve gone too far now. Send her down or somebody is getting chopped.”

Crash Walker— of all people— came up behind Saverin, face grim, holding the arm of a scared-looking elderly woman. Crash didn’t seem like a threat and he had nothing to do with Harvest politics; it seemed like he’d just come to back Saverin.

“Let’s talk for a minute. No need for threats,” Absalom said mildly.

Saverin got in his face. “Did anyonetouchher?”

---