Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Javy had dark eyes and his hair was all white, with a distinct widow’s peak. He resembled Fox Uno. They shared the same weathered skin and deep-set eyes fenced off by age lines. He had the faded curves of a tattooed word on his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt, and in all the time she’d known him, she’d never gotten a good look at it or felt comfortable asking what it said. If he had other tattoos, she wasn’t aware of them, and she had seen him in shirtsleeves that had revealed his bare arms, veined and muscled from years of hard work. He wore only one ring, a chipped blue stone, on his left hand. He put his mug down and patted her arm with that hand, a father reassuring his daughter. She couldn’t remember her own daddy ever doing that, but it didn’t make her feel any better now.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, taking his mug of coffee and whiskey back up.
Again, another non-answer, but it was all the answer she needed.
The truth was there in his eyes, as dark as those of the trophies on the walls.
He had believed Zita, and that’s why he’d stayed up guarding them.
It was why he was walking around his kitchen armed, and had turned his small house into a fortress.
He’d believed every goddamn word she’d said.
FIFTY-FOUR
When the Bronco pulled into the yard at first light, Johnnie yanked Eddy off the couch by his hair.
“Who the fuck is that?” Johnnie asked, dragging Eddy to the window. The others—Ringo, Roman, and the rest—were just awake but moving fast, too, each of them posting up on a window and the back door. All armed. It was early, real early, and it was taking Eddy’s brain a moment to fire, like an old engine trying to turn over, and it didn’t help that he’d been deep in the middle of a dream he couldn’t remember now.
Eddy didn’t recognize the truck.
“I said who the fuck is that?”
But Eddy did recognize the driver, when he got out of the Bronco.
—
“WHAT THE FUCK IS DANNY FORD DOING HERE?” Johnnie asked. There was near panic in his voice, like an electric current running through his skull. Eddy could feel it all the way down through the hands holding him up by the window.
“I got no idea. None.”
“Johnnie, what do you want us to do?” Ortiz asked. He was the only one who didn’t have his gun drawn. The others looked ready to shoot the deputy—Ringo looked in love with the idea—but not Ortiz.
Eddy watched Johnnie think, tiny wheels turning in his head—throwing sparks, generating more of that high-voltage current.
Johnnie’s hands were still trembling.