Chapter 4 - The Shadow of Marcus Crane
While safe within the fortress of Jude’s estate, the storm brewing outside was gathering speed.
Back at the Fallon ranch, seventy miles away, Wade Fallon paced the kitchen floor like a rabid animal. His left cheek was badly swollen where Macon had slammed him into the dirt, and his eyes were bloodshot from whiskey and unbridled rage.
Darlene sat at the table, wringing her hands, while Sheriff Dawes—a thick-necked, corrupt lawman with grease-stained lapels—sat across from her, chewing on a toothpick.
"I don't give a damn who he thinks he is!" Wade screamed, slamming his fist down onto the oak table, causing the bottle of cheap rye to jump. "He came onto my land, assaulted me, and kidnapped my pregnant wife! You’re the law in this county, Dawes! Put out a warrant! Get the state troopers! Get the FBI!"
Sheriff Dawes sighed, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and inspecting it. "Wade, shut your mouth for five seconds and listen to me."
"Don't tell me to shut up!"
"I checked the license plates on those SUVs, Wade," Dawes said, his voice dropping into a tight, fearful whisper. "They aren't registered to any civilian company. They trace back to a holding corporation in Chicago owned by the Graves family."
Darlene frowned. "Graves? What kind of name is that? Are they cattle ranchers?"
"No, Darlene," Dawes snapped. "They aren't cattle ranchers. Jude Graves is the head of the dark syndicate that wiped out Marcus Crane’s cartel five years ago. He owns shipping docks in Seattle, real estate in Denver, and politicians in Washington. The man commands a private army. If I step onto his property with a warrant, I won't make it back to my cruiser, and nobody in state law enforcement will even bother to look for my body."
Wade’s jaw worked silently, a mix of disbelief and mounting desperation contorting his face. "So what? We just let him take her? She’s carrying my child! My heir! My property!"
"You should have thought about that before you locked her in a dog shed, you idiot," a quiet voice spoke up from the doorway.
Wade spun around. Curtis stood in the doorway, his face pale, his hands shoved deep into his denim jacket pockets.
"What did you say to me, Curtis?" Wade growled, stepping toward his younger brother.
"You heard me," Curtis said, his voice trembling slightly, but holding his ground for the first time in his life. "You treated her like trash, Wade. Mom treated her like a servant. You starved her, beat her, and put her in a freezing box. I watched you do it. I was a coward for staying quiet, but I'm not blind. You got what you deserved."
"Why, you little ungrateful bastard!" Wade lunged forward, grabbing Curtis by the denim jacket and slamming him against the wall. "You side with her? After everything this family did for you?"
"Stop it!" Darlene shrieked, jumping up. "Wade, let him go!"
Wade shoved Curtis away violently. Curtis fell against the counter, coughing, but his eyes burned with a dark, bitter resolution.
"I'm out of here," Curtis muttered, turning toward the back door.
"Go on! Run!" Wade yelled after him. "I don't need you anyway!"
Once Curtis had disappeared into the night, Wade turned back to Sheriff Dawes, a sick, frantic light gleaming in his eyes.
"Dawes," Wade whispered, leaning over the table. "If Jude Graves is untouchable by the law, then we go to someone who isn't afraid of him. Marcus Crane’s old crew... the ones who fled into the mountains after Graves took over. They still operate out of the northern territory, don't they?"
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Sheriff Dawes went dead pale. "Wade, you’re talking about suicide. If Graves finds out you’re reaching out to Crane’s remnants—"
"Graves stole my wife!" Wade hissed. "He humiliated me! I don't care who I have to bring down to get what's mine. Call Crane's men, Dawes. Tell them Jude Graves is in Wyoming, and I can give them his location."
