I heard the smack of the pool balls and cringed. For some damn reason tonight, it was like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. I finished off another cold beer and slid my glass to the edge of the bar where Pecker waited with an open hand. He grabbed the glass, spun, filled it back up, spun again, and slid it to me. A little foam and beer leaked over the edge. I grabbed the mug and threw it back like it was my last drink.

“Good day, huh?” Pecker asked.

“Wonderful day,” I said.

“That one’s on the boss-man,” Pecker said.

I looked back and saw Tate shooting pool with Max.

“He’s picking up the entire tab,” Pecker said, regaining my attention.

“Kiss-ass,” I muttered.

Pecker laughed. “Trouble in the paradise of St. Skin?”

“You’re not getting bar gossip out of me, Pecker,” I said. “But you can get me something to eat.”

“I’m not a fucking waiter.”

“You own the bar.”

Pecker reached under the bar and grabbed a small, grease- and fingerprint- stained menu. It was handwritten and laminated. Everything was cheap, just like the bar and just like Pecker. But Little Mikey’s was a staple in Hundred Falls Valley. A place to kick back, relax, forget about the day, and try to avoid trouble.

Except sometimes, trouble came looking for you.

* * *

I stood at the side of the pool table as Tate lined up his shot. “Eight ball, corner. Then you owe me twenty bucks, Max.”

“No chance,” Max said. “You’re drunk, and the angle is…”

Tate shut his eyes like a cocky bastard and took the shot. The eight ball flew into the corner, and the cue ball stood still. A thing of beauty.

“Fuck,” Max said. He reached into his pocket and threw a folded twenty on the table.

Tate looked at me. Then he said, “Max, take your twenty and go get us a round. The three of us.”

“Thought you were picking up the tab,” I said with a smirk.

“I am,” Tate said. “Playing pool, taking everyone’s cash.”

“God forbid you part with your own money.”

Tate laughed. “You’re in rare form today, Maddox. Any reason why?”

“Nope.”

“Hey, about that shit that went down with us,” Tate said. He put his pool stick on the table, made fists, and leaned on the table. The glow of the light above the table cascaded across his face. He looked like a biker about to set up a murder. “That was a few days ago. We’re solid on that, right?”

“You mean you choking me?”

“You mean you almost chasing away Hazel?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Okay. Are we good?”

“We’re good,” I said.

Tate nodded. “I’m doing this for good reason. I spent my life losing my memories, Maddox. Don’t ask what that exactly means, okay? But this thing we’ve built. This fucking business. I mean, if I signed the TV deal, it’s seven figures. Fucking millions, just waiting.”

“Is this your way of ‘capturing the essence’ before you let some suit and tie executives tear us apart by hiring writers to appeal to the masses while they sit on their couch and watch us tattoo people and fight each other?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Tate said. “So do me a fucking favor and don’t bother Hazel. Anything that’s really private to you, leave home.”

“Not a problem, Tate. In fact, I haven’t talked to her since all that went down. She’s been almost avoiding me.”

“Then you should be smiling,” Tate said. Then a devilish grin climbed across his face. “But you’re not.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off when Max returned with three beers. He put them on the pool table.

I grabbed one and nodded to the table. “Pecker will freak out if he sees mugs on the table.”

“Pecker doesn’t leave the bar,” Max said. “I bet he has a piss-bucket back there.”

“So that’s the lovely smell in the air,” I said.

Tate and Max laughed.

I looked around the bar. And as luck would have it, my eyes locked for a split second with the biggest asshole in town, a guy named Dirt. I could tell he was in a bad mood. He threw his pool stick on the table he was playing on. He had two of his boys with him and four women. That meant it was time to show off a little. See who had the bigger dick.

Honestly, I should have just walked out of the bar right then and there. But it was Tate’s fault. Fucking bringing up Hazel and that bullshit. I couldn’t believe she was throwing me the cold shoulder. Fucking ignoring me. Yeah, I wanted her to leave me alone, but I didn’t think she actually would.

In other words, I wasn’t in a good mood, and if Dirt wanted to get his jaw cracked, I was the man to do it.

Dirt took the first step toward me.

“Company,” Max announced.

“Shit,” Tate said. “Maddox…”

“Shut up, Tate,” I said.

Dirt had a problem with all of us. He and Cass tangled too many times. But ever since Cass settled down, Dirt had his eyes on me. Like some punk bully in grade school, he needed a smack to the jaw to remember that he wasn’t the biggest and baddest person in the bar.

“What’s with the look?” Dirt asked. “Huh? You want to fuck one of my ladies here? Or is it me? I know that about you, Maddox. I see the way you act. I bet you’d like to fuck with me.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Dirt asked. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” I said. “You’ve got two women hanging on you, and you’re worrying about me? I’d walk away, but I’m a little nervous about turning around. Might get you hard.”

“Oh, you’re fucking dead,” Dirt yelled.

He charged after me.

I moved out of the way and pushed him across the floor, watching him barely keep his balance. Max and Tate hurried to get close to Dirt’s two boys to keep the fight fair.

I stood and watched as Dirt turned. He got close enough for us to exchange a few punches, which is exactly what the doctor ordered for me.

I let him get the first hit in, then I paid him back with a right to the jaw. He fell into the pool table and lost his backward trucker hat. He threw his own right, and I grabbed his arm. He quickly threw his head at me, smashing his forehead off my right eye. I felt like my eye socket exploded for a second. I let him go, and he swung with his left hand, getting me good in the cheek.

“That’s right, bitch,” he said. “You take it.”

The way he said that made him sound like someone else. An image flashed in my mind. An image of an old friend taking a swing at someone. The way we always used to fight. We never backed down from anyone or anything. We didn’t even need a reason to fight. But the way he always fought…the way his voice growled and the way he always called someone a bitch…the way her eye was bleeding before she jumped…

I let out a noise that was like a groan, growl, like the sound a bull snorting through the nose before charging.

My hand shot out at Dirt, and I got him by the throat.

“Maddox,” Tate called.

I let him go.

“Yeah, listen to your master. Puppy dog bitch.”

I turned and grabbed a pool stick. My plan was to wrap that thing right across the side of Dirt’s head. And if I had done that, he would have either died or been out long enough that he’d wake up in a week or two.

I swung the pool stick without really thinking.

What I didn’t expect was someone to catch the thing, saving Dirt’s ass.

It wasn’t just someone either.

It was a cop.

“Fuck,” I said.

“How about we go have a talk outside, Maddox?”

* * *

Smack was a real asshole. He got that nickname because he’s known for smacking people around. He loved to take his abilities to the limit, always pushing the bar. So when he caught the pool stick in the air I figured he would hit me with the pool stick. Instead, we just dropped it. He grabbed my hands and walked me to the back of the bar.

I couldn’t remember ever seeing Smack in normal clothes. It seemed he lived to do the job.

Not tonight.

He was in jeans and a black t-shirt.

Another surprise was that he had ink.

Tribal tattoos all the way down to his wrists.

I had to hand it to him, he looked like a total badass.

Outside, he walked me forward and then with a grunt, he pulled and spun, swinging me around, smashing me against the back of the bar.

I kissed the building, a hot pain in my shoulder and my face scraping against the worn-out brick.

“Swinging a pool stick?”

“It was Dirt,” I said. “Nobody gives a shit about him.”

“The paperwork, Maddox. You have any idea how much paperwork I’d have to deal with?”

“You love paperwork though, don’t you?”

Smack let me go and stepped back. “Yeah, I love my job.”

I turned around and grabbed my shoulder. “Mind if I finish my beer?”

“Maybe.”

“What’s with the dressed-down look? And since when do you have ink? Did you get that done at St. Skin?”

“No, I didn’t get it done at St. Skin. I’ve had these for years. And I was working an undercover thing. Got any other fucking questions?”

“You seem interested in me.”

“Look, I’ll cut right to it. There was some activity in your old stomping grounds.”

“Oh?”

“You know the area. The woods. The creek. The paths. The ridge.”

The ridge.

My heart sank a little.

“What about?”

“I was wondering if maybe you could give me some pointers. Where things could be hidden. If there’s a way to get to the other side of that ridge, across the river. I want to tie things up neatly. Before anyone else dies.”

“Anyone else?”

“You were there. You know the story.”

“The story?”

“About that girl who got high and thought she could fly.”

I felt my throat tighten. “What did you just say?”

“High and fly,” Smack said. “You know about that. There was a rumor she committed suicide. I say fuck that. Fucking teenagers. I don’t want that to happen again. And if I clear out…”

I lunged at Smack.

I grabbed his shirt and swept my fist across his and took him down.

He didn’t expect the move.

I was hovering over him, in complete control. I wasn’t sure if he had a gun on him or not. I didn’t give a shit.

“High and fly?” I growled. “High and fly?”

“Jesus, Maddox…”

“I don’t care if you have a badge or not. You know nothing about that. Nothing.”

I pushed Smack and forced myself away before I did something stupid.

I walked away.

That was the fucking problem. I never opened my mouth because I wanted to respect her final wish. I still had the note. I read it more times than I should have. To the outside world…fuck the outside world. Fuck Smack.

I got into my truck and drove home.

I wandered around my house for what felt like hours.

Then an idea came to me.

A quick online search brought up Hazel’s photography business.

Her cell number right there on the screen.

I sent her a text message.

You want to know about that picture you took? Because if you step into that world with me, sugar, there’s no stepping out

It sounded like more of a threat, but it was the naked truth.

I threw my phone on the table and ran my hands through my hair.

There I was, in a dark hour, alone. And instead of grabbing a bottle of whiskey, I grabbed my phone to text Hazel.

Hazel with the green eyes.

What the fuck was this woman doing to me? Why did she matter?

My phone buzzed a few seconds later.

Her response?

There’s nothing you could make me step into that isn’t already as dark as where I am now…