Chapter 5: Rock Bottom

I’ve been completely played! My blood boiled with embarrassment as I realized how thoroughly Marcus had outmaneuvered me.

Whatever cash Marcus had stashed was long gone. He was flat broke, and so was I—again.

When we got tossed out of the inn, I wanted to crawl into a hole. The humiliation stung worse than the wind whipping down Main Street.

"No money and still want the penthouse! Ha!" The desk clerk laughed, tossing our bags out like yesterday’s trash. Then he dumped a bucket of dirty water at the door. It splashed across my boots and Marcus’s jeans, soaking us in a cold reminder of our new place in the world.

Marcus’s ears turned red, lips pressed tight, silent. He stared straight ahead, pride burning hotter than my anger.

Figures. Even the rich can go broke overnight. I guess I finally had something in common with Marcus Carter.

I scratched my head, thinking, if I ditched him now, I’d be out everything. The town felt smaller than ever, everyone’s eyes burning into my back.

No choice, I had to ask for help.

Lucky for me, I have friends everywhere. Even in this backwater county, I knew someone. My phone was full of numbers from every truck stop, summer camp, and county fair from here to the state line.

"Walking past my place and not stopping in? You too good for old Benny now? Don’t mind the missing arm, you just say the word, I’m with you." Benny’s smile was missing a few teeth, but it was warm as ever. He pulled me into a bear hug that left me breathless.

That night, old Benny threw his arm around my neck and we drank cheap whiskey together. The bottle was half-empty before we even started talking about the past. The old screen door slammed, and the kitchen was thick with the smell of fried onions and Benny’s wife’s casserole cooling on the table.

The liquor burned all the way down. I patted his back and didn’t say much. The silence was comfortable, two old friends sharing the weight of hard times.

At the table, Benny’s wife glared and scolded, "Rachel’s a grown woman now, what are you doing hanging all over her?" She wiped her hands on her apron, eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

Benny, already tipsy, pointed at Marcus and blurted, "This is Rachel’s fiancé? After watching him all night, I gotta say, he’s not good enough for our Rachel. If we didn’t owe you big, no way would we let Rachel get stuck with a spoiled rich kid." Benny winked at me, but his words stung more than I cared to admit.

Benny’s wife’s face changed, and she knocked him out cold with a rolling pin. The thud was as loud as Benny’s snoring.

She smiled apologetically at Marcus: "Don’t mind him, honey. He talks nonsense after a few drinks. It’s late, you two should get some rest." She shooed us toward the guest room, her voice softer than her glare.

She dragged Benny away.

I nursed my whiskey, eating salted peanuts one by one. The taste brought back childhood memories of lazy afternoons and laughter.

After Benny lost his arm and retired with his wife, I hadn’t tasted peanuts like these again. There was something comforting in the simple food, something that felt like home.

Marcus sat on the bench and barely touched his food. He pushed his plate around, lost in thought. Benny’s wife was from the Midwest—her cooking was heavy and salty, which a guy like Marcus probably couldn’t handle. I smirked, knowing he was out of his element.

"Go to bed early. Tomorrow I’ll buy two horses. In five days we’ll be in Savannah." I finished my drink, the burn settling in my belly.

Marcus looked up at me, his dark eyes reflecting my face. There was a question there, but he didn’t ask it.

Dang, that was the first time Marcus had really looked at me like that. The intensity of his gaze made me shift in my seat.

He said, "I’m not going to Savannah."

I crossed my arms and grinned, "We’re almost there, why not go?" I tried to keep it light, but my heart skipped a beat.

Marcus said calmly, "The sheriff in Savannah is my uncle. I was going to rely on him for protection. But now I see my uncle’s been in your camp for years. Lately, crime’s been everywhere. The city keeps sending money to fight it, but nothing changes. In Savannah, it’s even worse. Now I get it—it’s not that they can’t stop it, it’s that my uncle doesn’t want to."

"The world’s been upside down for years. Cops rob, outlaws give to the poor. Can you even tell who’s a criminal and who’s the law anymore?" I pressed my hunting knife to Marcus’s throat and said, "Listen, golden boy, I’d drop that blade in your sleeve if I were you. Mine’s faster." My voice was low and fierce, a warning and a promise.