Page 6 of No Fear
Chapter Two
The barn was packed halfway to the rafters and not for the first time, Remy wondered how his cousins managed to pull this off. Any other day of the week this place looked all but abandoned. Tonight, it was lit up like a carnival tent and the empty fields surrounding the barn were packed end to end with cars of every color, make and price point. He’d been able to see the glow of the place from a quarter mile away and thought surely anyone with half a brain knew exactly what was going on out here.
Old Settlers, Oklahoma was a small town. Smaller than small really. It was a dusty old oil town that died a little more every time one of the ol’ timers was put in the ground. There was no hiding anything in a town like this. Everyone knew what went on behind closed doors. Everyone knew what kind of business the Bomars dealt in. They knew what this barn was used for but nobody ever said a word.
It was no great secret that Sheriff Trebly had been on the take for years. The old man wasn’t a bad guy. He knew how things worked and he’d always held that some laws didn’t take into account how life was really lived. It helped that he had a bit of a gambling problem too. The old guy paid to play with a line of credit from the Bomars that would never be called in and their beloved Sheriff turned a blind eye to anything that didn’t risk human life. By Trebly’s estimation, two men beating each other unconscious in a cage was their own divine right to stupidity and, unless it spilled into the streets, wasn’t his concern.
The Sherriff’s son also happened to be his deputy though and he was not a fan of the Bomars. Luckily, Lincoln had figured out other ways of dealing with Lawson Trebly. Remy hadn’t asked what that meant, had been afraid to ask honestly. But it had become clear to him that Lincoln had something on the young officer because the guy might talk shit but he didn’t arrest every single one of them like he could have.
Because of that, the Bomars didn’t give much thought to the cops in Old Settlers but they still had to be careful. There were always outside threats to worry about. They’d all had their run-ins with the law but that was never their main concern. Rival gangs and competitors were their main source of trouble and now they had a traitor to add to their list of worries.
One of their own had turned against them. Someone they’d trusted into the inner circle had hit them where they’d known it would hurt the most. Knowing the person that had left Colt lying in a pool of blood was in this very room made Remy more than a little bit uneasy.
Just like this crowd did.
“It’s too fuckin’ crowded in here.”
“Tell me about it.”
He shot a knowing glance at his bodyguard for the night. His cousin, Ford, had been assigned the task of sticking by his side and he hadn’t bothered to argue. Out of everyone in the family, he was least likely to get in a fight with Ford and Lincoln must have known that when he assigned his twin to keep an eye on Remy.
The truth was, growing up, Remy had always been closer to Lincoln. Ford had been the quiet, somber counterweight to Lincoln’s loud, boisterous charisma and though they’d gotten along fine they hadn’t had much in common. Since he’d come back, even before he found out about Lincoln’s betrayal, Remy had gravitated more towards Ford. He’d grown up in the ten years he was away. He’d learned to appreciate Ford’s solid, unwavering seriousness and his ability to keep his head down and his mouth shut. Or maybe he just knew a man with demons when he saw one after so many years of looking in the mirror.
Ford didn’t like crowds. It was another reason Lincoln had probably stuck him on the sidelines tonight, guarding Remy instead of milling through the crowd eavesdropping for information. Ford had done some time behind bars and come out… different. That was all anyone in the family would tell him and since he certainly wasn’t going to ask Ford about it, Remy assumed nobody else had asked what happened to the big man behind bars either.
“How are we supposed to find one asshole in a sea of assholes?”
He thought Ford smirked at that but it was hard to tell behind the thick beard he’d been growing, “Like a needle in a haystack.”
“It’s not like the guy is gonna show up with a sign around his neck saying ‘I’m a rat’ ya know? Rats prefer shadows.”
“He’s hiding in plain sight.” Ford swiped a hand through his long, unruly hair, “Blending in like he’s one of us.”
“Because he is one of you.”
“No. He’s not. He’s not a Bomar so he’s not one of us no matter what bullshit Link spins for those boys on the crew. They ain’t ever gonna have the same loyalty we got because of our blood and this shit proves why.”
Remy had to bite his tongue to keep from making a snide remark about Lincoln. He wanted to snarl that Lincoln was only loyal to himself but even he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He’d fucked over Colt for years, that wasn’t loyalty, but he had managed to keep all of the boys together and, for the most part, out of prison. Lincoln cared about the family and he’d do whatever it took to protect them. Including and not limited to, lying, cheating and stealing so long as it suited the Bomar best interest.
Lincoln was more upset than anyone that the traitor was most likely someone in his organization. It had to be someone connected to the family and with enough knowledge to know when and how to hurt them. The attacks on Colt and his business had been done after a fight only insiders knew about and on nights the rest of the guys were busy elsewhere. The six or seven people deep enough in the organization to pull off something like that were all being watched now but so far their tails hadn’t turned up any hard evidence.
Whoever had bet against the Bomars was laying low, that was why they’d decided to hold another fight. Things had been too quiet the last few weeks. Nobody was talking, nobody was moving and nobody was running any jobs. It was time to do something, to draw their guy out and they’d all agreed a fight was a fairly harmless way to do it.
Harmless for everyone but Remy…
He hated fighting. He hadn’t bothered to tell anyone that because he was here by his own choices but he hated fighting. Hated the feel of bones breaking under his hands. Hated the smell and taste of blood. Hated the sight of the damage he could inflict with nothing but a swing of his fist or a well-placed kick. He was a Bomar. He was supposed to relish the violence, crave it even, but he didn’t. It made him sick.
Maybe it was Decker’s fault. Growing up in that house, seeing the terror that bastard leveled on Cash and Colt every time his anger got the best of him, made Remy hate the genes he’d inherited from their father. Or maybe it was the Army’s fault. Whenever he glimpsed blood now all he could see were the faces of his friends, his unit, as bullets whipped past their heads and damaged them irrevocably. Whatever the reason, the thirst for violence he’d been born with, that he’d happily wreaked havoc with as a stupid kid, was gone and in its place was a bone-deep fear that it was all he would ever be good for.
He’d left and he’d stayed gone for ten years. If it took fighting to earn his place back in his family, then so be it. If it took using his fists to prove to his brothers that he was here to protect them, then he would do it. But he didn’t have to like it and he was ready to get it over with.
“Are we doin’ this shit or not?” He shook out his fists and ignored the glare that Ford shot at him.
“Any minute now.”
“How’s it work? Link gets the crowd all fired up for blood to get last minute bets on the books and then I go to work?”
“Something like that.” Ford pointed upwards and Remy followed his gaze.
