Scott continued, “For the next sixty days minimum, we’re going to be surrounded by four hundred forty-seven pampered and pandered-to egotists who think that they shit rainbows. That’s fine in their world, but this is our world. We stay in our lanes and we don’t give a shit about what they think they have a right to know.” He took his time pointing to each of his senior staffers one at a time. “You make sure that your people understand this. Roger that?”

“Roger that,” they said in unison.

Scott sealed the deal with a single clap of his hands. “Good. Now let’s spitball some ways to open up the flow of information from the outside world.”

* * *

Caine didn’t like being separated from his brother, even if it was by just a few yards. They’d gotten through a lot of tough times over the years by being there for each other. Being brought into the world as the sons of Zeb Foster was a hell of a curse to begin with. In jail as much as he was out, D-Zeb, as he liked to be called, loved his family, but he loved liquor a lot more. His preferred brand was homemade, and the shine made him mean. Caine always suspected that D-Zeb had killed their mother, but he’d never gone to the cops and now it wouldn’t make any difference.

Other children weren’t allowed to hang with the Foster boys, so Caine and Kyle had always been their own team. For a long time, when they were young kids, they even invented their own language, known only to them. They didn’t know they were doing it at the time, but their language allowed them to share secrets that no one else could know.

Kyle was the one who first pointed out the bruises on Mama’s neck and wondered how they could happen in a fall. Hell, even if they’d reported it to the sheriff, the deputies wouldn’t have cared. They’d wonder where’s the harm in a world with one less Foster in it.

Almost literally, they’d always had each other’s backs, and now they had the width of a road between them. They were both bookended by men who didn’t give a shit about either of them. Hell, a couple of hours ago, George was ready to kill them both.

If it was up to Caine, there’s no way either of them would be here right now walking into a gunfight. It was all Kyle’s idea—a way to get people like George and Joey to show them respect. You know, for turning the other cheek and shit like that. Caine figured, to hell with them all. Pushed that hard again, he’d be tempted to join the group that they were hunting for.

Who needs people—who needs a town—that doesn’t want them in return?