Deploy (2 page)

Declan gave up cussing the sky, and decided to hurry his ass up and finish landscaping the flower beds as he was told to do. At this point, he wanted to be gone before the storm hit. The one that was bound to fall from the sky, a day late and a dollar short,
and
the one that would happen if Murdock Souter said one fucking word to him—or worse, if he saw him touch or speak to Justice Rose.

Declan would never admit it to anyone, but he’d had it bad for Justice since before he could remember. Since she was a knock-kneed, tangled hair tomboy skipping her grandfather’s church services to climb trees or go fishing in the river. Nolan was the first to follow her when he was no more than seven, telling all his brothers she was his ‘take.’

‘My take’ is a phrase all Rawlings’ men used when they were in a crowd and spotted a girl they wanted. The phrase had been around for generations and held more weight than one would think. But then again, words and rules as such were needed when it came to their family. It was too big, with too much aggression without such things—it was never good.

It didn’t matter that Nolan and Declan decided girls were gross not long after Nolan had called ‘take’ on Justice, and didn’t see all the benefits of girls until they hit middle school—Nolan had said it.

Over the years Declan asked him if he was ever going to withdraw and Nolan would just grin and shake his head. Meaning it was a bad deal that Declan knew what Justice Rose’s lips tasted like,
really
bad.

When Justice would skip the sermon on Sundays more than one Rawlings always followed her and when they did they’d tease her about being a bad girl, and she’d spout, “I heard it already, he’s been preachin’ those words for days. ‘Sides that, he says I’m an angel anyhow, and angels have to fly.” 

She was her grandfather’s girl until the day he died when she was fifteen. She had never been her father’s girl, not even when she was little. He was always the one who came after her when she ran off, and he was never happy about it.

There were more than a few bad rumors about him that had lasted for years, ones that said the face he had as the town alderman was a joke. He was a white collar drunk with a short temper; both issues only became worse when his wife hit the road when Justice was two—with a Marine who was only in town because his buddy was a Rawlings and invited him to the annual Rally.

Declan had always been worried about Justice and questioned if all the bruises on her came from her tomboy ways when she was a girl.

As a teen, after her grandfather passed, he seriously questioned them. Not the bruises he could see, because they were few and far between, but the pain in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if they were coming from her dad or that asshole Murdock who was always around her place.

Murdock’s dad and hers were friends, good friends, and were quick to push Justice and Murdock together, which made Murdock’s head all the bigger and put a divide between Justice and the Rawlings’ clan. Nolan was the only one who was real with her on a daily basis.

Declan knew he’d end up shredding Murdock, so he kept his distance. Their younger brothers were in different grades and on different halls so they never really saw her, not that Declan knew anyhow.

Their older brother Tobias was too busy turning into their dad to notice—not that anyone could blame him. His adventure with the Marines only lasted five years before he fell backward out of a helicopter, moments before it exploded, and ended up with a rod in his spine and back home in Bradyville. 

Even though he told himself not to, more than once Declan glanced over his shoulder toward Justice, who always had a book open across her lap and her headphones on. Each time he looked her way, though, she wasn’t paying attention to her book or Murdock who must have been pitching a hell of a game from the sound of things—no, those baby blues were always on Declan and each time he caught her, she’d blush and look away.

The girl had ripped his soul out and stripped it into a million pieces when he was twelve, and again when he was fifteen. How? Easy. She’d kissed him then acted like it never happened, which left him grateful he had never fessed up to Nolan that he had violated his ‘take’—a claim that should
never
have counted in the first place.

Declan doubted their first kiss was much to write home about. They were fishing, and it took him all day of waiting for his brothers to be looking in a different direction long enough for him to kiss her cheek—she turned her head in the middle of it, though, and he felt her sweet lips against his.

They didn’t speak for months afterward. He was sure he hated her for the longest, at least until his grandfather finally asked him what the hell was up with his attitude and Declan asked him why girls acted like they wanted your attention only to ignore you once they had it. He laughed and said, “Son, if she’s ignoring you then she’s got it bad, trust me. And if you’re mad about it, then you have it bad, too.” Then he reached to tousle Declan’s dark locks. “You’re too young for that nonsense. Go on and play some ball.”

Declan didn’t get it, not then and not now.

At fifteen it was a different story. He still had no idea how she ended up there, but she made it to one of the Rawlings’ Rallies. Most kids their age always made their own campfire by the river and shot off fireworks and told crazy stories. They either ended up four-wheeling through the woods or fishing in the dark.

Somehow Declan found himself alone with Justice on a blanket under the stars, and against every grain of loyalty he had in him, they went beyond an innocent kiss. He couldn’t tell you who leaned in first, who kissed back, just that once it started, it was damn near impossible to stop. But he did. He kept telling himself he was going too far too fast with her. And his daddy along with hers would kill ‘em both. Sometimes fear goes a long way at the right and wrong times.

Before then he’d made out with girls, and since then there had been far more girls who had taken him way past innocence, but she was the only one he remembered every detail about, from the touch of her flesh to the taste of her kiss. He could still remember the smell of her hair; strawberries and champagne.

They ended up breaking apart, basically running to opposite sides of the campfire when his brothers approached on their four-wheelers. For the next day or so he never found a second to talk to her without Nolan around, and when he did, she was back to ignoring him.

He didn’t see her for the rest of the summer, not even at church. And when school started back up he was in high school and she wasn’t. He crossed her path at football games, though. She’d smile shyly, maybe talk to him in a group, but that was about it. Her daddy was never far, and if he was Murdock was right there.

Her freshman year they were back on speaking terms, but it was still tense between them, neither one could hold the other’s stare long. Declan would have found a way to forget she existed if her name was not
always
on Nolan’s lips.

As far as Declan knew they hadn’t hooked up, they just had a lot of classes together—all the smart classes—and her locker was right next to Declan and Nolan’s. Murdock’s was on the other side of her, which is where the fight went down that Declan was serving time for.

Murdock had said something Nolan didn’t like, and Nolan introduced Murdock’s head to the locker. The ass ended up having to get three stitches across his brow, and his daddy was all about filing charges on Nolan, which would have been easy for him to do because he’s the Sheriff.

But then all the kids, even the baseball team, started ragging Murdock for running to his daddy to keep him safe, and the charges vanished; the six detentions didn’t. All of that went down nearly two months back and to this day, Declan still grins and taps the dent in the locker every time he passes it, wishing it was him that got one good punch in.

Declan didn’t like a lot of people, but he usually got over it, or at least found a way to deal with it—except for Murdock. Some people just have that look in their eye, one that tells you to watch your back.

Speaking of...

He was just about to break his stolen stare with Justice when his instinct took over; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Murdock had adjusted his stance. Instead of aiming his pitch at the coach working with him, he aimed the ball right at Declan. Obviously, he thought it would be amusing to see Declan dodge the pitch he was firing, which meant Declan would not give him the gratification.

Instead—he caught it.

All at once it felt like the entire field was staring down the pair of them. They were waiting, knowing very well this baseball game could turn into a wrestling match at the drop of a dime.

A Souter and a Rawlings were in a standoff.

What they didn’t know was Declan had self-control, and he had priorities. The Sheriff had been itching to take down any one of them for making a fool of his boy, and Declan standing up now would give him every right to—which would, in turn, keep Declan from the date he had been counting down to for over a year now.

Troublemakers do not belong in the Marines, simple as that.

Declan hadn’t even bothered to flinch—he should’ve. Murdock was known for his fastballs. Every catcher had to ice their hand after working with him.

Declan would be a liar if he said his hand wasn’t burning, but he’d be damned if he’d look weak now. Instead, he dropped the ball in the mulch at his feet as his stare dared Murdock to come and get it.

Murdock offered a pissed shake of his head then went back to warming up. The crowd whispered among themselves, somewhat disappointed they didn’t get front row seats to a quarrel that never ended between those two families.

Declan couldn’t help it, his gaze moved to Justice, and there he found a shy curl of her lips waiting on him.

Looking at me like that is dangerous, girl,
he thought. He’d just stopped himself from a fight, adrenaline was pumping, and it was bound to go somewhere. Her smile was tempting without the provocation.

“That fucker is asking for an ass whooping, all but wearing a fucking sign.”

Declan looked over his shoulder and sighed, knowing the smile Justice was dishing out wasn’t for him.

Just behind him was Nolan, Tobias, and the youngest of the five brothers, Boon.

Each Rawlings boy seemed to be cut from the same mold: tall, broad shoulders, leading to a narrow waist, and layers of taut muscles. They all had dark hair and skin that was kissed by the sun. It was their eyes that set them apart, the way they carried themselves in general.

Out of all the Rawlings, Declan’s brood was thought to be the most reckless, mainly because they grew up without a momma.

She’d hit the high road long ago. Some didn’t blame her; others shamed her just the same.

Declan’s mother married his father when she was seventeen because Tobias was on the way. By the time she was twenty-four, she had five boys. At thirty-two—when their dad came home from his last deployment and they actually spent a year under the same roof—she decided she wanted a life of her own and vanished in the night. They might get a card from her at Christmas now and again.

Her actions, in some ways, caused the Rawlings’ boys to distrust women in general, question their promises. More so, Declan, than any of them. He was close to his mother; even as a child he knew she was too young and carefree for the lot she had dug herself, but still...mommas shouldn’t leave, and his did.

Chasen Rawlings, Declan’s father, made do the best he could after she was gone. But since he owned and operated the only bar the Roughnecks pulled up a stool in, it was hard.

So much so that Tobias, in a way, was both a brother and a father to the boys, mainly because he was very aware of the bullshit they were pulling and did his best to keep them out of it, even taking the rap for shit he didn’t pull.

When he was away, it was Declan’s job to do so with the younger boys.

Tobias was the biggest, and he’d done nothing but pack on more muscle since he graduated and signed the dotted line. Even now, on leave, more than likely about to be honorably discharged, he was still fit as hell. He was determined to not let one rod in his back stop his life at the age of twenty-four.

Tobias spent his days either at their grandpa’s shop or their daddy’s bar, and if not there he was doing something to stay fit. Day in and day out he had been coaching Declan, running him through the hell he was about to go through.

It wasn’t all physical exercises either—Tobias was in his face pushing every button he had, all in the name of growing even thicker skin, grasping even more control. At this point, Declan was sure basic training would be a vacation, even though Tobias swore he hadn’t seen anything yet.

Tobias’s clear blue eyes shined in the sun as he glared down the ball field. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and reached to scratch the near constant five o’clock shadow that accented his strong jawline. His brow was tensed in question, or rather, deep evaluation.

Declan knew from the look in his eye he had already thought of ten ways to kill Murdock and anyone who wanted to stand with him. Tobias would not let anyone take a sucker punch in his presence and God help anyone who thought to take one at one of his kid brothers.

“How old is he now?” he asked whoever knew the answer.

“Seventeen. I got this,” Boon who was the baby, barely sixteen, said.

His hair hadn’t darkened the Rawlings way just yet but was on its way, just like his build was. He had the height and the muscle—he was working on toning up.

Boon knew it would be a life or death matter before Declan threw a punch this close to boot camp, and that Nolan couldn’t because for sure the Sheriff would come after him. And if Tobias did it would be even worse because he’d be hitting a kid. Those Souters liked to hide behind their laws and rules—asshats. If there was a loop in the law, they’d find it and swoop in and take shit like cowards.

Declan gave Boon a hard glance then barely shook his head. Youngest or not, Boon was the wildest and the hardest to deal with.