Five
The weather turned stormy not long after Landon finally made his escape across the beach to the town. The bait shop could get pretty lonely during a storm. Cooper guessed that with the wet Oregon weather, there were plenty of nights like this. So he showered in the trailer, then took the truck the short way into town, across the beach, and decided it was time to hit Cliffhanger’s for a meal.
It wasn’t crowded, which came as no surprise. He had watched the fishing boats come in before the rain clouds and the last of the sunlight left the bay, and he supposed those guys were happy to be home, eating a hot meal in front of a warm fire. There was a large hearth in the restaurant that could be seen in the bar and it made him think of Jack’s place in Virgin River. A lot could be done to that old bait shop of Ben’s to make it a cozier hangout—like a fireplace, for starters, he thought. Then he told himself to stop it—no matter what some piece of paper said, he really had no stake in it. He was only going through the motions for Ben’s sake. For some reason, his old friend trusted him.
He hadn’t expected to see a familiar face in the restaurant, so he was pleasantly surprised when he realized Mac was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and talking to the bartender. He wasn’t dressed for duty tonight. Cooper approached and said, “Hey, Deputy.”
“Cooper,” he said, putting out his hand. “What brings you out on such a wet night?”
“Food,” he said, sitting up at the bar.
“Cliff, bring my friend Cooper a beer.”
“Cliff?” Cooper repeated with a short laugh. “That’s convenient.”
“Yeah, right,” the guy said. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Draft,” Cooper said. “This must be your place, Cliff.”
“Must be. Menu?”
“Thanks.”
“Just get the grouper,” Mac said.
Cooper peered at him. “And how do I want that done?”
“He’ll have the grouper. Just trust me. So, what’s happening on the other side of the beach?”
“Got most of the smell out, went through most of Ben’s things, donated, threw away stuff, you know. It’s not functional. Ben was working on that septic system way back when I was waiting for him to meet me in California. I guess he never quite got it fixed,” Cooper said.
“So, what next?”
Cooper drank some beer. “I don’t know. I’m thinking. I pulled down part of a wall—I don’t know if there’s mold or rot. Maybe it needs to be leveled. I don’t know.”
“You’re still here,” Mac observed.
He took another swallow of beer and shook his head. “Feels like unfinished business around here. I find out something new every day, but half the time it leaves me with more questions.”
“About his death?”
“About his life,” Cooper said. “How’d he make ends meet? He bought deli food from the deli, but he didn’t mark it up....”
“I think Carrie gave him a break,” Mac said. “He bought all his supplies, including liquor, from big-box stores and I bet he made a decent profit on that. I mean, there was no rent, right?”
“He took care of things. Of people. I have Rawley working again, for now.”
Mac grew serious for a moment, then put a firm hand on his back, as if to say thanks.
“I ran into a kid on the beach today who was Ben’s friend, so he says,” Cooper went on. “Ben’s created a habitat for those birds on the point. I feel like I should find out what Rawley needs before I leave. Like I owe it to Ben. I wonder, though...he took care of people but everything is broken down to the point of falling apart. How’d he live?”
“I don’t think making money was ever a priority of Ben’s, but don’t quote me. You probably know more about his business than I do. Than any of us do.”
“Well, he didn’t have much money, for one thing. And didn’t worry about it, from what I can figure out. Why didn’t he give that place to someone else? Why didn’t he give it to the town?”
Mac laughed. He took a pull on his beer. “The town would’ve sold it. Like I said, there are people in town who like things the way they are—simple. Then there are people who think a big business on the bay would be good for the town.”
“What do you think?” Cooper asked.
He gave a lame shrug. “I think a big business, like a golf resort or something, would turn us into a town full of busboys, waiters, maids and valets. I think it would put Carrie’s deli, the Pizza Hut and the diner out of business. But it could help the chamber of commerce and commercial fishermen, especially if we ended up with a five-star restaurant at that resort. You want to know what I’m talking about? Drive up to Bandon Dunes. People come from all over the world to stay there, play golf there, hold events from business conferences to weddings there. It’s really something. Very high-class. There’s a lot good about it. And the help comes from Bandon.”
“It’s work....”
“And not to be taken lightly,” Mac admitted.
“It could help the local economy,” Cooper said. “Increase the value of your property.”
“It could,” Mac said. “You’ve been here about a week. Have you told anyone about Ben’s will?”
“I might’ve mentioned I was responsible for the bait shop, but you’re the only one with the details. You and Rawley.”
“Well, Rawley doesn’t talk. People are already assuming things that are probably true—like that you own it. And you could sell it.”
“There’s still a little legal wrangling to be done,” Cooper said. “I don’t have to hang around for that, though.”
“Why are you still here?”
“As near as I can explain, I want to understand Ben’s intentions, if I can. That doesn’t mean I’m planning to meet his expectations—maybe I just can’t. But I owe it to the guy to see if I can figure them out before I make a plan.”
Mac glanced over his shoulder, glanced back and said, “Well, get ready to make a plan, Cooper. Incoming...”
Almost before he finished his sentence, a woman appeared. She was at least fifty-five, but trying to look thirty-five. Her suit was some kind of satiny red material, low cut to reveal her cleavage. The miniskirt exposed legs that were short, and her pumps were high, very high. Hair bleached blond, of course. Nails, long and red. She wasn’t dressed for church; in fact, she’d look pretty at home with a pole to swing around.
“Well, Mac, how are you?” she said, leaning toward the deputy for a cheek press and kiss-kiss. “And who is your friend?”
“Ray Anne, meet Cooper. Cooper, this is Ray Anne. Cooper was a friend of Ben’s.”
Her face crumpled on cue. “Oh, Cooper, I’m so sorry for your loss. Ben will be greatly missed.”
“Thank you. Pleased to meet you,” he said. But he knew beyond a doubt that Ben didn’t have a relationship with this woman. In contrast, he had understood Ben’s relationship with Rawley almost immediately.
There were a few minutes of chat, Ray Anne asking after Lou and the kids, wondering if any progress had been made on that traffic light in town. Did Mac hear anything about a “domestic situation” involving Charlie and Donna? To which Mac replied, “No, was there a situation?”
Without answering, she turned to Cooper. “I heard a friend of Ben’s was in town. How is everything out at his place?”
“A wreck,” Cooper said. “I’m exploring ways to deal with it.”
“Well, if you need any help, feel free to call.”
A business card appeared; she was a Realtor. Apparently, the woman knew sleight of hand. That card must have been in her hand the whole time, yet had remained invisible until her strike. Cooper looked at it briefly, looked back at Ray Anne, smiled and said, “Thank you.”
“I know every good contractor in the area, no matter what you need—paint, flooring, structure damage, anything...”
She knew everything. “Mold removal?” he asked.
“Yes!” she said, beaming. She tapped the hand that held the card. “Just give me a call. That’s my cell. Anytime!”
“Appreciated,” he said. The grouper arrived.
“There’s your dinner,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town. Take care. And let me know if there’s anything you need, Hank. Always more than happy to help a friend.”
Mac and Cooper turned to their identical dinners. Cooper took a bite. “This is good,” he said.
“Told ya,” Mac returned.
“So, she knows everything. She probably knows my social security number. You introduced me as Cooper, but she called me Hank. I’d bet she knows the acreage on Ben’s place.”
“That would be my guess,” Mac said.
Cooper ate a little more grouper. “And I bet I could get laid for a couple hundred acres.”
Mac turned toward him and, with the slightest smile, said, “You can get laid for just talking about it.”
Cooper tried not to laugh, as Ray Anne was still working the room, taking a run on the bar, then stopping off at tables. “This common with her?”
“I think so,” Mac said, eating more of his dinner. “You’re the first newcomer we’ve had around here in a while, however.”
“You ever, um, experienced that?”
“The attention? Or the payoff?” Mac asked.
“Well, since we’re sharing confidences...”
“Cooper, I work in this town. My kids go to school here, my aunt’s a teacher here. Lou’s known Ray Anne a long time. In a word, no. I have truly dense areas in my brain, but not that dense. Really, she’s not my style. I never did have a mother fixation.”
“I never had a mother who looked like that,” Cooper said.
They ate in silence and by the time Cooper pushed away his plate, Ray Anne had left the restaurant. “So, Mac, did the family desert you tonight?” he asked.
Mac sat back. “Not exactly. It’s Lou’s bunco night with some good friends from Coquille and she’ll be out late. I picked up a pizza for the kids and ran for my life.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I stood at the door, threw it in and said I’d be home in two hours. They jumped on it like starving hounds.”
“Two whole hours?” Cooper asked with a laugh.
“I have to check homework. If I don’t check homework, Lou’s on me like a cheap suit.”
“Checking homework. That can’t be so bad.”
“You checked homework lately, pal?”
“Whose homework do you think I’d check?”
“Well, that’s not the point, Cooper. The point is, it’s torture. If I were in school now, I wouldn’t have graduated sixth grade. In short, I’d rather give up a nut. But that’s the price of fatherhood.”
* * *
Lou stood in front of the bathroom mirror in only her panties, gently lifting her breasts. Then she took a side view and sighed. Although they were small, she felt they drooped to an unflattering degree; they used to be perky. She let them go. Then with her fingers gently pulling at her cheeks, back toward her ears, she wondered for the millionth time if she could look ten years younger with a face-lift.
“Lou, come back,” Joe called from the bedroom.
I’m not greedy, she thought. Just ten years.
She sighed again and went back to the bedroom. Joe Metcalf was fifty and, besides being handsome, he was in terrific shape. George Clooney shape. He was strong as an ox, wide-shouldered, flat-bellied, with long legs, big wonderful hands and beautiful teeth. As she approached the bed, he turned off the TV and opened his arms. “What were you doing in there?” he asked, his lips going immediately to her neck.
“We call it freshening up,” she said, tilting her head back to give him more of her neck.
“I bet you were brooding.”
“Now why would you say that?” she asked, pulling back.
“Because it’s something you tend to do. I think all our problems would be solved if you brought me out of the closet. Why are you keeping me a secret, Lou? Why am I still ‘bunco night’?”
She hesitated. It was so complicated. Mostly it was his age—ten years younger. Even though his hair would be gray if he grew it out, with that shaved head, he could pass for forty-five. “I don’t want the kids to feel vulnerable, to feel like my attention could be sliding away from them.”
“It won’t, Lou. We’ll spend whatever time together is reasonable for you. I have kids, too.”
“Yours are on their own.”
“Thank God,” he said with a sigh. He rolled onto his back but he kept an arm around her. Joe was the divorced father of a son and daughter, twenty-five and twenty-three, respectively. “They still have way too many needs, however. A wallet drain.”
“They’ll be married with children before you know it,” Lou said. “And so will mine. And I’ll feel like a great-grandmother. Oh, my God.” She dropped her head onto his naked shoulder.
He laughed at her and his hand found her ass. “Best-looking great-grandmother in the state, maybe the country.”
She lifted her head, messy red-gold curls flopping around. “When you’re seventy I’ll be eighty. Eighty.”
“Christ, like you’re screwing a nineteen-year-old. I hope I live to seventy. I can’t wait to see what you bring to eighty!”
Lou and Joe had met through an online dating service. They made a date for coffee and he looked, well, mature. When she asked, “How old are you?”, he answered, “How old do you want me to be?” She had answered, “Fifty-nine,” and he said, “Consider it done.”
It was weeks before she learned the truth. She thought he just looked damn good for his age, which men had an annoying tendency to do. It had been programmed that way by the world—men became distinguished while women faded and aged.
He’d been divorced for ten years, had tried dating from time to time but nothing really clicked and he wanted to meet someone he had things in common with who would join him for movies, dinner, social things. Oh, he liked to eat, went to movies seldom, but... “Okay, the truth? I wanted to have sex again before I died. With someone I liked.”
What a coincidence. So did she.
He was a retired air force colonel who now worked for the Oregon State Police as a trooper. It was his mission to retire, for the second time, at sixty. And now that he’d recovered from his divorce—his ex was remarried and his kids had completed college—he could count on a comfortable old age. Part of his job in Coos County was to assist the Sheriff’s Department. That was a little close for comfort for Lou.
“I don’t see why,” he argued. “Police people are like a family. They intermarry all the time.”
“Marry!”
“Well, we have to be going somewhere!” he said. “Besides, Mac and I get along fine. He likes me. We work well together when we have to.”
“Let me think, let me think!” she had pleaded. She’d been pleading that for a year.
But Lou’s little secret was that this was all she’d ever wanted. If she’d met him when she was twenty-one, she’d have married him in a heartbeat—provided he hadn’t been eleven. She’d have been a good wife to him. In fact, what she’d always wanted was a home, a spouse, kids. Crazy as it seemed now, she’d never even come close. She had been twenty-five when her brother and sister-in-law had Mac, thirty-five when their deaths left him orphaned and she became his parent. She’d been only forty-four when Mac came to her and confessed his girlfriend was pregnant, and fifty when Cee Jay left him and the three kids. While raising Mac’s kids was hard work—cutting into her social life and sleep, costing time and money—if she could, she would kiss Cee Jay for giving her these precious children.
Once or twice a week, she met Joe. Sometimes they went out for dinner, sometimes they stayed in, sometimes they even went somewhere other than his house for the night. She stole a long weekend from her family to go to Victoria with him—that was fabulous. He brought out her best self and she adored him. She just didn’t want to saddle him with an old woman, which she felt she would be before long. And she didn’t want anyone to laugh at the idea that she thought she was young enough for this, for him. Not the way they laughed at Ray Anne. Even Lou found Ray Anne ridiculous.
He slid down her panties. “It’s up to you, babe—I don’t want to push you too much and I’m not giving you up. But I sure like the way you play bunco.”
* * *
There were two situations that always tempted Cooper to cut and run. Being at complete odds with his environment, as with the Army or certain jobs. Or feeling a little too comfortable and secure. That had happened to him a few times, a couple of which were very difficult. There were a couple of times he’d been with a woman with whom he thought he could go the distance. He’d had visions of the kind of happy home his parents had. When it didn’t work out, he was dealt a double blow—he was not only informed he’d let the women down, a painful enough thing for a man who’d been doing his best, but he had suffered the pain of loss and isolation. Naturally he tried to avoid both—work unsuited to him and women he couldn’t hold on to. For the past several years, he’d avoided romantic relationships that could gut him in the end. That whole not-sleeping, feeling the deep ache that came from failure, enduring the sudden loneliness of being rejected...it was bad for his disposition. He only got involved with women he didn’t care about too much. He just didn’t like the risks he associated with settling down.
Cooper thought it might be in his best interest to put up a for-sale sign on this beach property and take off. It might be the safest thing to do. But the train wreck of a bar/bait shop tugged at him. He wasn’t sure what that was about. He had no real stake in it. It was a gift, a piece of luck.
It was nice to be back on the water, even though the bait shop was a pimple on the otherwise beautiful landscape. It was a disaster; fixing it looked about as easy as scaling Everest. He didn’t know where to start—or whether to start.
Cooper couldn’t remember ever having such difficulty making a decision. He generally made his decisions too fast, without really thinking things through. Enlisting in the Army, taking a job or quitting a job. Then there had been two engagements, five years apart, that were probably doomed from the start even if he hadn’t seen it. He surprised himself this time. The Cooper he thought he was would have either sold or leveled that dying old shack by now.
He felt an odd sense of peace. And it scared him to death.
* * *
A couple days later, Cooper found himself watching a quiet sunset with an empty beach. The fishing boats had docked. Cooper headed for town, the long way. He thought he’d like either a burger at the diner or pizza. But as he approached the high school, he saw the football field was all lit up, the parking lot overflowing. He could hear cheers and the thumping of high school band music even with the windows up. He turned in to the school, drove around to the back and then hunted for a space but ended up on the back overflow dirt lot. There were buses representing the Carver High Badgers and as he walked toward the field, he could see that both the home and visiting bleachers were full.
By God, the whole town was there.
He paid his five bucks, but the bleachers were so crammed, he just hung around the end, standing. There was an announcer on the loudspeaker. He saw Eve on the sidelines and wondered which of the cheerleaders belonged to Gina. He watched a few plays. The score was 10–7 in favor of the Badgers nearing the half. He picked up from people that Thunder Point never beat Carver High, at least not in too many years to remember. And then, with the clock ticking down to the half, there was a fumble, a recovery and— “Dupre has the ball and runs it! Going, going, and we...have...touchdown! Sixty yards and touchdown for the Cougars!”
The team, the cheerleaders and the fans were all roaring. A few of the Cougars rushed the quarterback and high-fived, hugged and slapped him on the back. The score went to 10–13, Cougars. They kicked and got the point just before the half, when both teams jogged off the field and were replaced by the band.
There was a rush on the concession stand and even though by now Cooper was starving, he saw the line was long and dense. He’d be better off taking his chances on Cliff’s or the Pizza Hut.
“Kid’s a natural athlete,” said a passerby on his way to the concession stand.
“We haven’t seen anything like him since I’ve lived here,” said another.
Maybe things weren’t as terrible for the kid as he believed—the team and the crowd seemed to approve of his game. Despite the growls of hunger Cooper was suffering, he wasn’t going anywhere.
After standing there for about ten minutes, with a steady stream of people moving in and out of the bleachers, someone said his name.
“Cooper? Cooper, what are you doing here?”
He turned to see Gina, blond hair down tonight, wearing a Cougars sweatshirt under her jacket. “I was on my way into town and saw the game, so I just stopped off here. So, which one is yours?” he asked, tipping his head toward the cheerleaders.
“The redhead on the end—that’s Ashley. Right next to her is Mac’s daughter, Eve.”
“I spotted Eve. I had dinner at Mac’s one night and met the kids,” he said.
“You want to sit with us? We’re right up there,” she said, pointing. “We can cram you in. We try to get here early and hold seats on the fifty yard line.”
When he turned to look, Mac was standing, waving his arms. For the first time he thought, maybe there’s something going on there. Mac and Gina. It would make perfect sense. A couple of single parents, a lot in common...
He liked Gina—she was pretty and sassy. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’ve never seen so many people at a high school game.”
“The town gets into the local sports,” she said. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, there isn’t a big entertainment industry here. We’re the real Friday Night Lights.”
“Sure, I’ll come up. Thanks.”
“I’m on my way to the bathroom. See you for the second half.”
Cooper went to the bleachers to sit with Mac and Lou. Mac pulled a cola out of a small cooler and offered it. The kids were off running around the bleachers, looking for anyone to sit with but their family.
The dancers joined the marching band on the field, about a dozen of them. Cooper told them what Gina had said about the town being the real Friday Night Lights.
“Have you counted the kids on the field tonight? Between football players, cheerleaders, pom-pom girls and band, you have any idea the number of hours the parents of this town have invested in just this activity?” Lou asked him. “Plus the fact, after all this, we can’t afford anything else.”
“They’re pretty good for a town this size,” Cooper added.
“They are,” Mac said. “We work ’em hard to keep ’em out of trouble.”
The second half was an even better ball game, but not easier for the Cougars. The Badgers caught up and passed them, the Cougars got behind by 10, then they got within reach and the people from Thunder Point were going crazy. There were a couple of fights on the field, a couple of really bad tackles and penalties. A Cougar was taken out of the game and it got down to the wire.
And then he did it again—Dupre recovered the ball and ran ninety yards for a touchdown, putting them two points ahead. The clock ran down and in a fever of excitement, the Cougars pulled off a win.
Even Cooper was on his feet, yelling till he was hoarse. He found himself hugged by Gina and Lou, slapped on the back by Mac.
“That’s the first time they’ve been able to beat the Badgers since we moved here.”
“Why is that?”
“Carver High,” he said. “Big old farm boys from inland. They breed ’em hard and tough. It’s been said they come out of the womb in shoulder pads.”
“But you don’t believe that,” Cooper said with a laugh.
“The important thing is, they believe it,” Mac said. “I have to gather up kids. See you around?”
“Yeah, probably. I won’t head out without giving you a call, how’s that.”
“Good enough. I can at least give you directions out of here.”
Cooper let the majority of the crowd disperse; the line of cars and buses leaving the parking lot was moving real slow and he was parked at the back of the overflow lot. He had a bad feeling he was going to be left to forage for food back in his trailer. The crowd was likely headed for the few eateries in town. The kids might be headed for the beach, but that didn’t worry him. After a game like that, he was happy for them to have a place to celebrate.
There was a lot of horn honking, yelling, cheering and general enthusiastic mania going on. Cooper stood right where he’d been sitting, watching it all for fifteen or twenty minutes. He was at the fifty yard line, about ten rows up. The Badgers were headed for their buses; the lights in the stadium were cracking off one by one, leaving him in the shadows. He was surprised to find that attending a high school football game in a little town, not even his town, was the most fun he’d had in a while. He’d been sweating under his sweater and jacket, that’s how much the tension of the game got to him. Other than joining his family at nieces’ and nephews’ events on rare occasions, this was a first for him. At least since his own high school experience, which had been a little like Landon’s. Except he hadn’t been a quarterback.
He sat down for a minute, elbows on knees, looking out at the dark field. He thought for a moment what it must be like to be Mac—the law of the town, at the heart of the town, surrounded by all this excitement and connection, friends, family and something pulling at him every second. For a second he was envious, even though Cooper could go skiing in the Alps next week if he felt like it and Mac definitely could not. Mac was probably saving for college.
Cooper was happy to see that things might not be as bad for Landon Dupre as he thought. The kid played a good game and there was no question he had the town’s support. They thought they had themselves a football hero.
There weren’t many people left. The concession stand was closed up. There were a few groups standing around in the parking lot, probably making after-game plans. The field was dark, the bleachers deserted, the Badger buses gone. Cooper felt a little silly. Before he could think about why he was sitting there getting all nostalgic, he told himself that by now the lines for a pizza or a Big Mac wouldn’t be so long. He headed toward the parking lot.
He was out of the stadium before he heard voices. He couldn’t hear the words but he could tell by the tone that these voices weren’t celebrating or having fun. There was some kind of trouble—an argument of some kind. He told himself to keep going. It could be a drug deal gone bad; it could be a parent/teenager situation. But he stopped walking and listened. A hard, demanding, abusive voice; an answer that he understood—no! Just one word. No. That was all it took and he walked toward the voice.
They were under the visiting team bleachers. In the dark he couldn’t be sure of the number, but he thought it was four or five. Boys. Big boys. At least equal to him in size. He walked softly, wishing he had a gun, then relieved he didn’t—that’s how people get killed, misinterpreting some situation in the dark of night.
“I told you exactly what to do!” a guy said.
“And I told you that wasn’t going to happen! I don’t trip! I don’t fumble.”
Landon!
Cooper walked a little faster. Ten long strides under the bleachers brought them into clear view. Two guys holding Landon’s arms, two guys facing him, one doing the talking. “You don’t want to push this. I’m the team captain! You do what I tell you to do.”
“Lose the game,” Landon said. “You don’t see that as wrong?”
“We wouldn’t have lost! I had to get in that game, asshole, and with you showing off all the time—”
“Hello, boys,” Cooper said. He leaned against a strut, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just congratulating Dupre on his game?”
The boys holding his arms immediately let go. That’s when Cooper noticed a trickle of blood running down the corner of Landon’s mouth. He didn’t get that in the game. It was fresh.
“What are you doing here?” their ringleader, who Cooper now knew to be Jag, demanded. “You some kind of pervert, hanging around the high school after dark, under the bleachers?”
Cooper laughed. He rubbed a hand over his head, giving a lazy scratch. “Okay, let me see if I have this right. You’re about to kick the shit out of your quarterback for winning a game instead of fumbling, tripping and throwing it so you could get in the game in his place, and you wonder if I’m a pervert? Son, I’m going to save you a lot of trouble. Dupre, let’s go. I’m hungry.”
“Who is this dickhead?” the kid asked.
Cooper had to be a little impressed. He did ask it with a great deal of authority.
One of the boys who’d been holding Landon leaned toward Jag and said, “He owns the beach now.”
Jag was shocked for a minute, but then he laughed. “Well then, excuse me, your eminence. You actually own that shit hole on the beach. Well, hell, I guess you must be pretty important.”
Cooper frowned. “Dupre,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“We have business,” Jag said.
“Not anymore. You’re all done here.”
Jag stepped forward and got right up in Cooper’s grill. He jabbed a finger into Cooper’s chest and said, “We’re talking to Dupre. And you. Are. Excused,” he said, giving a singular jab with each of his last three words.
Cooper looked down at the finger, then up at Jag’s face. Then he leisurely grabbed that offensive finger in one hand and bent it back until the kid yelped and went down on one knee. Jag tried to wiggle out, but it was useless. With the other hand Cooper grabbed a handful of the kneeling kid’s hair. He looked over his head at Jag’s posse. “You’re going to want to get him out of here,” he said. “You really don’t want to get into it with me. I hate bullies. Hate fighting. But if I have to fight, I know every dirty trick.”
He released Jag with enough of a shove that he fell backward. Then he met Landon’s eyes.
“Let’s go,” he said again, in a controlled voice. “Now.”