The Terms of Release (12 page)

“I didn’t. I was fucked-up, bad. I…. Me and Angel had been in a bad fight that night. Bad. He’d been cheating on me and was with this dealer. I wanted to go home and was going, one way or the other, with the truck. We got into it about that. That truck, man, it was all we had, and it was worth something. At any rate, I was screaming and crying and high, threatening to kill him if he didn’t give me my keys when the blue lights showed. We all scrambled like cockroaches, but I was too fucked-up to drive off, keys or no.”

“Oh God. No wonder they pegged you. But what happened at the house? It blew up?”

“Uh-huh. Few hours later, I was passed out in the back of my truck, waiting to take my keys back one way or the other, and I heard it go. Soon as I figured out what the whoosh was, I ran in, but… it was too late. Too hot. There was fire eating the place up already, like a fucking monster. It was over.” Sage shrugged, moving carefully. “I should have run, but I didn’t. I just stood there staring. At the end, I was in jail, five people were dead, one of them your cousin, one of them a three-year-old girl.”

“Christ.” A three-year-old. “One of the people who owned the house? Their kid?”

“Yeah. Angel was sleeping with the guy, Luis. His wife was Brenda, and the baby was Josie. They kept her in a little room in the back. I didn’t know the other dude, Jack his name was. Vietnam Vet, at least they said so at the trial. I’d never seen him before.”

Win kissed the top of Sage’s head. “I’m sorry, babe. That sucks, all around.”

“Yeah. It did. I fucked up, bad, and I have to pay for that, I guess. I was high, stupid, and my heart was broke.”

Win shook his head. He couldn’t agree with that. “You paid more than you deserved, babe. We’re all stupid at that age.”

“Yeah. I said I was sorry a million times, but it’s only words.”

“No, you mean it.” That was important to him, that he knew Sage was truly sorry all that shit had happened. That Sage knew he knew. Whatever.

“Hmm-mmm. Do you think it matters?”

“I think it does somewhere.” He chuckled. “I have to. I became a cop, right? I’m an eternal optimist.”

“I like that about you. I don’t think I’m an eternal anything.”

“I think you’re a tough nut, babe. A survivor.” Win was beginning to realize what Sage had gone through, and he was amazed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Sage smiled, and fuck, it was pretty.

“There you go.” They leaned on each other, and Win thought he might be pulling as much strength from Sage as vice versa.

By the time Bruce Willis started blowing shit up, they were both laughing, and Win was remembering how much he’d loved this movie. It was almost like going back in time.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if it had been him Sage had hooked up with, all those years ago.

That way lay madness, right?

There was no going backward, and he had right now, with a relaxed, dozy cowboy in his arms. So, that cowboy was all beat up, and Win knew things were going to go downhill fast once he started an official investigation.

So, nothing in life was perfect.

S
AGE
SAT
at the dining room table, looking at the macaroni and cheese in front of him. God, that looked amazing. No one made food like his momma. She knew how much cheese to add, and she’d put ham in it this time. She’d sautéed his greens, too, instead of making him eat a hard salad.

He did love her for that.

Rosemary and Greg were sitting there, Rosie quiet as a church mouse with her swollen belly and thin cheeks, Greg grinning like a piranha. Asshole was a predator. A predator with a bruise the shape of a rifle butt on his jaw and bruised-up knuckles on his right hand.

Sage counted to ten. He hated that fucking son of a bitch.

“You want a blender, Sage? Your mouth’s lookin’ sore,” Greg said.

“Nope.”
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

His daddy frowned down the table. “That’s enough.”

“What? Everyone knows he got his ass handed to him.”

“Greg, honey….” Rosie winced.

“You shut your mouth.” Momma half stood, slapping her hands on the table.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, he’s a goddamn queer pussy, not hitting back, standing there with his hands up protecting his pretty face instead of fighting like a man.”

“That’s enough.” Sage stood and put his napkin on the table. “Outside.”

It was bad enough the fucker was giving him shit at Momma’s table, but the asshole had obviously been there, helping those creeps beat him down.

“Sage.” His sister reached for his arm. Not Greg’s, he noticed. He also noticed the bruises on her arm, four of them. Fingers. It was time to remind a certain son of a bitch what being a man was about.

“Stay here, Rosie.” He met Greg’s cold eyes, feeling about as settled as he could be. “Outside. Right now.”

Greg sneered and stood, jerking his head. “Sure, Pussy-man.”

Sage met Daddy’s eyes, and Momma wrapped her hand around Rosie’s wrist when she tried to stand. That was right.

This was his to deal with.

They headed out the back door to the yard, Sage’s ears pricked for Greg’s footsteps. He wouldn’t let the man get the drop on him, but he’d be damned if he gave that smarmy fucker the satisfaction of thinking he was scared. Sage kept his shoulders back, his head up, shaking with the need to teach Greg a lesson.

He turned, catching the sucker punch he knew Greg would throw. Christ, the man was a moron. It stung his palm a little, but not near as much as it hurt his knuckles when he slammed them into Greg’s glass jaw.

Oh fuck. That felt good.

The blow to Greg’s midsection was for the motherfuckers who had poured bleach in his eyes his first week in. The connection to the bastard’s nose was for the day he was kneecapped in the yard. And when he kicked Greg square in the balls? Shit, that was for him.

Just for him.

The whole thing took maybe a minute and a half. Sage stood, looking down at Greg, who rolled on the ground, clutching his nuts. “Still think I’m a coward, you limp-dicked, woman-hitting son of a bitch?”

When Greg didn’t answer, Sage kicked again, the impact jostling him.

“I’ll kill you for this,” Greg finally wheezed. “I’ll kill your sister.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, boy.” Daddy’s voice cracked like a whip, and the sound of the rifle cocking was even bigger. “Son, step away.”

“Yes, sir.” He backed off, not at all willing to get shot.

“You get off my property,” Daddy snarled at Greg. “You ever touch either of my kids again, and I’ll shoot you.”

“What?” Greg stared at him, eyes huge. “What the fuck?”

“You heard me, you sack of shit. I been waiting for this day.” Daddy sounded damn near gleeful. “Now, git. My food’s getting cold.”

Greg climbed to his feet, slow as hell, that puffy face twisted up in rage. “Set your fucking house on fire.”

“You come within five miles of Redding land, you fucker,” Sage growled, taking a step closer, “and I’ll show you what happens to men in prison.”

Greg broke under the weight of his stare, under the threat of Daddy’s gun. The man ran faster than he looked like he could.

Sage looked at Daddy. “You ready to finish supper?”

“I am. I never turn down your momma’s mac and cheese.”

“Me neither. It’s my favorite.” He met Daddy’s eyes. “You think he’ll go to the police?”

“Shit, no.” Daddy held the trigger and gently released the bolt, uncocking the rifle. “I think he’s a fucking coward, and he knows you and Adam Winchester are… you know.”

“I hope so. I—I won’t go back, Daddy.” Not for anything.

“I’ll shoot him first.” Daddy grinned. “I’m old and sick. They won’t put me in jail. Come on, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rosie was sitting at the table, tears running down her cheeks. “What am I going to do?”

He sat. “Eat macaroni.”

She glanced up at him, her lower lip quivering. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. You eat macaroni, you get your head on, you make a plan. You’re not on your own, girl. That man of yours is a fucker and a prick, and I may have ruined his babymakers for life.” It had felt good too. Sage felt better than he had in years.

Rosie looked at him, and then her mouth twisted and she chuckled. “Really?”

“You know it, Sister.”

She laughed a little more, the sound watery as hell. Lord, she looked younger already.

Sage sat, and Momma dished him out another spoonful of mac and cheese. He breathed deep, letting the tension roll off his shoulders. Greg wouldn’t go to the police. He couldn’t. That man would never want anyone to know the gay prison boy had beat him down. Daddy was right. And he’d proven, he thought, that he wasn’t afraid to fight. That Momma and Daddy and even Rosie could depend on him.

He wasn’t a pussy. He wasn’t a bad man.

He was a fucking cowboy.

Rosie was staring at him. Momma had her head down, a smile curving her lips. Daddy just looked puffed up and proud.

Him? He wanted to call Adam.

Sage ate his supper instead. There would be time to talk to Adam later, when he was alone.

“I
SWEAR
to God, Win, I don’t understand you.” His Aunt Linda had cornered him at the bar, the monthly family dinner at Culpepper’s one he couldn’t avoid this time around. He’d been hiding out, waiting for his mom and his cousin Cheri to get there, when Linda had spotted him.

He raised a brow. “You’ve said that since I was five.”

“Your uncles have both told me about how you’re taking up with that Redding boy.” She glared at him, sloe eyes sharp as a tack. “He’s trouble. A bad seed.”

He sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. Aunt Linda was eighty-two, and that alone deserved respect. “It’s my life, Auntie.”

“And I want you to have a good one. If you lie in trash, son, you start to stink in your bones.”

“You think?” He didn’t bite his tongue, but he pressed his lips together.

“I do, and you’re a good boy. Just watch yourself.”

“I’ll watch my back, Auntie.” It would be his uncles stabbing him there, but he wouldn’t say it.

“Adam! Baby!” And there came Momma, barreling in like a force of nature. “Linda, let me have my boy.”

Auntie Linda harrumphed but stepped aside. Win grabbed his mom and hugged her hard, so happy to see her no one would believe he’d had lunch with her two days ago.

“Hey, baby.” She smooched him. “How’s it going? Come walk with me.”

“You bet.” He twined his fingers with hers, his relief almost ridiculous.

“So, how many of these asshole relatives of yours have given you grief today?”

“Oh, I been hiding.” He was always amazed at how he sounded so much more East Texas after being with his family for five minutes.

“I don’t blame you. How’s your friend doing? Better?”

His friend. Like Momma didn’t know Sage’s name. He supposed she had to make some concessions to the family.

“He’s better. He had a few rough days there.”

“I sent his folks a fruit basket. Hear the sister moved back home.”

“Yeah.” Lord. Sage had called him late last Sunday night to tell him about the family dinner. Win had been keeping an eye out for Greg ever since.

Hell, he’d gone with Rosie to get her things from Greg’s house. Their momma had encouraged Rosie to file a restraining order. That was going to be a mess, especially once the baby showed up, but shit would come out in the wash.

The best part was Sage looking more settled in his skin. Win was all for that, no matter what else happened. The man had needed some confidence. Sage was at Bulldog and Wilma’s this week at night, feeding the animals, watching the house and the garage.

Win grinned. Bulldog had an amazing TV.

“What are you grinning about, Son?” Momma looked like pure evil. “Also, do you want to go shopping after supper?”

“Shopping for what?” Had he missed something she’d said?

“There’s a Target. The mall’s only fifteen minutes away….” She grinned at him. “We’re two whole counties away from home.”

“Oh.” Yikes. “Uh. Well, if you need someone to carry bags….”

“Sound a little less like you’re volunteering to get neutered.”

Win chuckled. “You know I love you.”

“I am aware, yes sir.” His momma arched a perfectly manicured brow.

“How about I agree to shop if I need an escape here?”

“Works for me.” Momma winked. “We could run now. Go eat at El Chico.”

He opened his mouth to agree when his Uncle Teddy walked up. “Our table is ready.”

Damn it.

Win bit back a sigh. Teddy was Angel’s daddy, and he rarely sought Win out. That he was doing it today meant he had an agenda. Oh hell, maybe the man just wanted to have supper with Mom. She was his sister.

“Goodie.” Mom grabbed his arm. “How’re you, Teddy? Having a good week?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on who you talk to.” Uncle Teddy stared at Win. Hard.

Win grinned. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, damn it. Not a thing. He walked his mom to her chair and held it for her.

“Thank you, Son. So, Ted, have you taken over anyone’s family farm this week?” Oh, Mom was on the offensive, getting out there with the fork and knife before they even got salads.

“Not yet, no.” Teddy raised a dark eyebrow. “Been thinking of calling in a few markers.”

“Because, damn, you need more land to let go to seed.” Mom grabbed her water glass. “Have you considered buying land down south? Somewhere on the beach?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Lana?” Teddy scoffed a little.

“God, yes. You’re a mean, grouchy old fuck with a hard-on for money.”

Everyone at the table cackled, including Win. He wondered what Teddy had been like before becoming a bitter old man. Win couldn’t remember, because Ted had been that way long before Angel had died.

They ordered dinner—a shitload of steaks with a couple of chicken breasts for those watching their weight. Mom ordered a filet. Win got a sirloin with a potato and a salad. He worked out pretty hard.