Broken Hero

He frowns and takes a sip of his drink. “Hanging in there.”

We fall into companionable silence. We’re in the same boat these days.

It’s not hard to overhear what’s being said in the booth behind me. The men are loud, the music’s low, and Logan and I are both trained to pick up conversations from far away. When I realize what they’re talking about, I’m all ears.

“Did you see the flyers she put up this afternoon? She’s looking for clients, boys.”

“Yeeeees,” one of the men drawl. I recognize the voice: Gavin Whittaker. My hand tightens around my beer. Somehow, boys who were assholes at ten are still assholes at thirty. Funny how that works out.

“Did you get a chance to see her in person?”

Gavin snorts. “Hell yes. Insane little body. The Rhodes might have had a point, going on about her all these years.”

“Though they never told us what she worked with.”

“With good reason! A masseuse… holy hell. We all know what that’s code for.”

They share a crude laugh, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or some amount of innate chivalry, but I turn around. I hit them with a glare that used to make my soldiers quake.

Little Thomas Wiley sees me first and straightens, almost unconsciously. “Hi, Oliver. Didn’t see you there.”

Gavin tips his beer towards me. “Morris! Join us?” But then he catches sight of Logan over my shoulder, with his buzz-cut and unfriendly smile. “Oh, but you already have company.”

I give them a tight-lipped smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion about Lucy Rhodes.”

“Did you see those flyers too?” Thomas asks. He was never really a troublemaker in school, but I remember him hanging around assholes.

“I did.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to get in line, Morris. I’m guessing most of us here will want to sample her services.”Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

“You know, we used to have massage therapists in the Marines.”

“I’m sure you did.” Gavin grins-I want to knock it right off his face. “A girl in every port, right?”

“Licensed, trained massage therapists that worked on overworked muscles and injuries. Tell me, Logan, was that ever enjoyable?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It hurt like a motherfucker.”

“It really did. Miss Rhodes also happens to be a licensed, trained massage therapist. Proposition her at work, and you can bet your ass that the entire town will hear about it. More specifically, I will.”

I can tell that Thomas is uncomfortable, sweat shining on his forehead. The others are squirming in their seats and exchanging glances.

Gavin looks furious. “Who do you think you are, Oliver? Being the mayor’s boy doesn’t make you the mayor himself. A sheriff? Are we in a bad Western movie?”

Logan rises behind me, and I realize that I need to de-escalate this and fast. He’s always had a shorter fuse than me, and he’s had more difficulty re-integrating into society than me.

“No, we’re in Claremont. And we don’t behave like scum here.” I rise too, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Logan. He doesn’t say anything, but his physical presence is enough to make it clear that he’s backing me up.

“We don’t want any trouble.” This time it’s Duncan, Gavin’s younger brother, who’s been following the conversation silently. He worked as one of my farmhands several summers ago. Decent enough guy, considering his unfortunate relation. “We’re sorry, Oliver. It was just some harmless banter.”

“I’m sure it was.” I pause and look at them, one by one. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, boys.”

Logan and I leave the Red Flag and he lets the door slam shut behind us. We walk down Main Street without a destination, both of us jacked up on adrenaline and anger.

“Shit. Who was that guy?”

“Claremont’s resident dick-head.”

Logan snorts. “He’s that, for sure.”

“Didn’t mean to cut the night short like that.”

“Hey, I don’t mind. Got my blood pumping for the first time in days. Feels good,” Logan says. “What about that girl they were talking about?”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “One of the locals’ niece. She got here recently.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no ‘oh’ to it.”

“Look, nothing against your honor, man, but you wouldn’t react that strongly to just anyone.”

I rub my hand over my face. Their words refuse to leave me. Sample her services. “Fuck. I’m going to have to hire her.”

“What?”

“Sarah wants to create a spa section at the ranch and hire Lucy to offer treatments for the guests.”

Logan bumps my shoulder with his. “And for the owner?”

I ignore the insinuation as we head back to the parking lot. “It’ll be amazing for the promo of the site. If we can get another photographer out here, shoot fancy pictures of massage tables and rolled-up towels…”

“And she’ll be away from shits like Gavin.”

“Exactly.”

Logan clears his throat. “Mandy’s good at photography.”

“She is?”

“Yeah. Or she was, at least. When I knew her.”

I throw my arm around his shoulders, my comrade-in-arms, one of the few people on earth who knows exactly what it is to have family and friends look at you and see a stranger instead. I rub his hair, virtue of the two inches of height I have on him, and ignore the punch he sends to my kidneys.

“You’re going to start working at the Ranch, and you’re going to start talking to Mandy.”

He pulls away with a frown, running a hand over his buzz-cut as if I’d mussed it up. “And you’re going to get with the massage therapist,” he declares.