Chapter 1 Damion Archer stepped out of his car and slid on a pair of sunglasses. The sun was glaring, and most people were dressed in either bikinis or shorts. He was in his full suit. No one stopped him. No one dared as he made his way into the abandoned cabin on the lake. Old County was an interesting place to live. First, it had absolutely no law enforcement. Why? Simple-people were not willing to give up their lives for anyone in Old County. Not that it was completely full of bad people. There were locals who had absolutely nothing to do with the shit going on around them. There were good, innocent, sweet people in the large town of Old County. Damion wasn't one of them. Neither were the men who stood outside the cabin door, holding shotguns, ready to take down anyone who dared to step inside, apart from Damion of course. Now, because law enforcement refused to have anything to do with Old County, there was a problem. Rules still needed to be followed. Order had to be enforced, and because of that, Damion was considered the man in charge. He was the one that got shit done. He kept everyone at bay and stopped outright war from breaking out on the streets. He did this by any means possible. Stepping into the cabin, he saw the man covered in sweat, and the scent of blood, shit, and urine strong in the air. The only light was provided by a few windows with several broken panes of glass. "Tommy, this is not a good look for you," he said. "Mister Archer, I swear to you, I didn't do anything. I swear. Please, there has been some kind of mistake." The man started to cry, and the strangest thing was, if Damion hadn't seen the tapes, he still wouldn't have believed him. Damion also had a knack for bullshit. He could smell it a mile away. "Mistake? You're accusing me of making a mistake?" Damion asked. He stepped a little closer. Tommy was tied to a chair, and the moment he got closer, he saw him literally wet himself. It was totally his own fault. His reputation wasn't exactly a good one. He wasn't a nice man, and never claimed to be one. He was cruel and did what he had to, in order to get shit done. Like now, if he didn't handle Tommy, the Guns were going to wage a war with the Wrights. Might not sound so great, only both families brought a shit-ton of wealth to Old County-through the money they paid Damion to allow them to continue producing and distributing their drugs, along with some of their porn. This was how it worked. Families or gangs were able to do whatever the fuck they wanted within the town of Old County, without the law breathing down their neck. There was always a price for doing business. They had to pay their way, and that money went back into town. It funded the schools, the local community, and allowed people to thrive. Of course, it was hard as fuck to get out of Old County the moment they got in. There were a lot of fights that included guns. Damion had simple rules: Stick to your lane, be respectful, stay away from kids for everything, and women had a choice. If any rule was broken when it came to the locals of Old County, Damion dealt with it. Anyone who wanted to expand their business without consulting him broke the rules. Anyone who thought they were above him got fucking killed. It was as simple as that. He was not a good man. He was a bad man, willing to do whatever it took to keep everyone in line. Which is why he had Tommy in his cabin today. Tommy broke the fucking rules. Tommy was a twenty-five-year-old asshole who thought it was cool to start sleeping with a fourteen-year-old girl. Now, to some people, a girl knew her own mind at fourteen. Only, that fourteen-year-old girl was related to the Gun family, or gang. Tommy was part of the Wrights, and shouldn't have been anywhere near the girl. Damion knew this was not true love, because it had also been brought to his attention that Tommy liked young girls. There were at least five girls, under the age of eighteen, all of whom were pregnant. Not only was that a problem, this little shit had also decided to upload his ... time with those girls on the Internet, on some kind of dark web. Now, that added up to multiple Old County rules broken: - First, a Wright invaded Gun turf without permission. - Second, he had fucked an underage girl, in fact, several of them. - Third, he had broken into another area of business without consulting Damion, and allowing him to make the decision. - Four, he broke all the fucking rules by looking at a minor and involving kids. Tommy was not going to make it out of the cabin alive. "No, no, I'm not saying you're wrong." "That is what a mistake is, Tommy. It is a polite way of saying it is wrong. You're telling me I'm wrong. So, why don't you tell me what it is about fucking children you think is right?" Damion asked. There was a sob. "She wanted it," he said, sniffling. "Oh, so we're going there. She wanted you, an older man, is that right?" "I ... I would have said no, but she begged and begged, and all I did was give her what she wanted." Damion looked at him, and with each word he spoke, his anger built. This was not the first pervert he had to deal with, and he imagined it wouldn't be his last. "Is that right? She begged. They all begged. You want me to go back to the Gun family and tell them that?" "I didn't do anything wrong. She was asking for it, and I gave it to her." Damion had heard enough. Pulling out his knife, he held the man's neck and stuck the blade in, holding him still as he twisted the blade. There was no time to talk. "The Guns will not accept anything other than your death, and that is exactly what they are going to get." He looked into the man's eyes, not stopping until the last of his life had ebbed away. Once he was done, he pulled the knife out, wiping the blade on the man's shirt. He turned to a man known as Fisher. "I want his body sent to the Guns, and you tell the Wrights the deal is done, and they owe a debt I intend to collect." Case closed. The problem was settled and done. Leaving the cabin, he made his way back to his car, and before he climbed in, he looked down at his shirt and jacket, which were stained with blood. This would not be the first, nor the last. The cleaning crew was already there to take care of business, and he removed his shirt and jacket, checking his pants to make sure they didn't have blood on them. One of the women took the blade, cleaned it, and handed it right back to him. There was nothing he could do about the girls that were pregnant. That was their own families' problem, but he had just gotten rid of a pervert that walked the streets. **** Vicki Reid tried not to get too happy about seeing Damion Archer enter the diner. She knew exactly who he was, what he was capable of, and knew everyone in Old County feared him. She should probably fear him as well, but there was a tiny problem-she liked him. He was the only person who talked to her with respect and didn't treat her like trash or think she was like her mother. She was not at all like her mother. Although she did try to love her mother, it was hard. Annette Reid was one of the town's ... whores. She didn't like to work for a living and often treated men as if they owed her something. No one owed her mother anything. She spread her legs for anyone who would take her, and then, when they got bored, she made scenes and spectacles. Vicki tried her best to do what she could, but her mother was a force that refused to go quietly. The best solution was to hope she stayed in her drunken stupor, but even that was hard. Currently, Annette was missing. This also wasn't unusual for Vicki. She was used to her mother randomly going missing for weeks or even months at a time. Most often she came back pregnant and would complain about the supposed father. It was a nightmare, but it was one she was constantly trying to escape. Getting out of Old County was not easy. Once you saw the shit that happened on a daily basis, getting out was next to impossible, even if you were just a civilian. The one benefit to being a civilian was that it gave you an added layer of protection. You had a job to do to keep the town running smoothly, which was why she worked in the diner as a waitress, and she was a damn good one too. One of the best the Old County Diner had. At twenty-two years old, she had built a reputation amongst the customers. They knew she was the daughter of Annette Reid, but that was all she was. She was nothing like her mother. There were some assholes who liked to think she was a whore in the making. She had never had a boyfriend, never had sex with anyone, and kept to herself. She didn't flirt, or allow any man to think he had a chance with her. To some, she was a good girl. To others, she was a prude. Either way, that suited her. No one else was allowed to deal with Damion. No matter what section he was in, he always demanded she serve him. Vicki didn't know why he did this, but Tank, the owner, told her that whatever Damion wanted, he got. Martha, another of the waitresses, glared, but wouldn't serve him. This was because when Damion came in, Martha refused to listen to Tank's advice, and attempted to serve Damion. That had ended in disaster, and Martha in tears. Damion was a particular customer. He liked his coffee done a certain way, and his food presented in a particular way. Vicki was more than happy to serve him. He was friendly to her, which she also knew was weird, because he was not a friendly man. She had no doubt the man had killed someone since the last time she had seen him, but that no longer came as a shock to her in Old County. This is why civilians couldn't leave either. They had seen too much. Leaving put you at risk. She didn't know if anyone had ever made it out alive. Even though she had spent most of her time craving a life away from her mother and Old County, she knew it was never going to happen. This was where she was stuck, so she made the most of it. "Good morning," she said, putting on a smile. "What can I get you today?" Damion looked up and his gaze moved to her hair. This was also not a shock to everyone. "What's with the eighties hair?" Damion asked. Vicki touched her side ponytail and smiled. "Betsy promised me today that my hair would help me find my Prince Charming." Her five-year-old sister Betsy had won the hearts of most people in town. She was a sweet girl with a soft smile, and she never had a bad word to say to anyone. Even the families, or potential gangs, liked Betsy. She seemed to be friends with all the leaders, or heads of the families. When she was out selling lemonade to raise money for a charity, everyone stopped by. Betsy told everyone she wanted to be a hairdresser and work in a salon. Everyone thought it was cute. Vicki didn't know how her sister had gotten into the hearts of most residents of Old County. She was loved, and for Vicki, that was a blessing, seeing as the little girl had a serious case of wanderlust. She was always wandering out and about. Their mother was not a good parent. It was up to Vicki to take care of her, along with her other siblings. Betsy had done her hair today, and pulled it into a side ponytail, with the cutest little scrunchy that had a bunch of sharks on it. So cute. "She did, did she?" "Yep, and seeing as a five-year-old knows everything, who am I to complain?" she asked. Damion laughed. "Now that is cute." She offered him a smile. "Do you want the usual?" "Where is Betsy right now?" Damion asked. This was unusual. He rarely took time to make small conversation. "She's at school. Well, I am hoping that is where she is. Even the school can't seem to get her to stay within school grounds." She clicked her tongue and hoped that Betsy stayed in school. There hadn't been a call to the diner yet, so that was a plus. Damion smiled, and it seemed to transform his whole face. Vicki couldn't remember if she had ever witnessed him smile or even look happy. "So, what can I get you?" Vicki asked. "Make my coffee the usual, and tell Tank I want the breakfast without any shit on it." Vicki smiled. "And while you're at it, tell him I want your company as well." This made her look up at him across her notepad, not sure she had heard him right. "Pardon?" "You heard me, and tell Tank if he has an issue with it, to come and see me." Vicki had no choice but to do as she was told, so she made her way into the kitchen where Tank was flipping sausage. He was a large man, covered in tattoos, and he didn't take shit from anyone. He also loved to make good food. She gave him the message and Tank waved his fingers at her to go. "Are you sure? I mean, it is the breakfast shift." "Trust me, Damion wants your company, he gets your company, and don't go asking too many questions. Any of the girls or customers got an issue, tell them to talk to Damion." And that was it. After fixing Damion's coffee, Vicki made her way over to his table, then took a seat. "Did you make coffee for yourself?" he asked. "Uh, no." "Then go make yourself some coffee, and tell Tank to get you a breakfast ready as well-my treat-and tell Tank he gets what he wants." She quickly did this, and Tank's glare morphed into that of a smile. She had no idea what Tank wanted, but either way, it had made him one happy man. With her coffee in hand, she sat down at the table opposite Damion and didn't have a clue what to say. "It has been hot, hasn't it? Crazy weather we're having." If she didn't have any clue what to say, it was always best to go straight to the weather. Damion looked at her. "Do I make you nervous?" "Yes and no. I have no idea why you would want my company," Vicki said. "Do you like dancing?" "Uh, I have never gone dancing." "Friday night, I'll pick you up at seven and take you dancing." "I can't, not Friday. I mean, I would love to go, but I don't have a babysitter and no one wants to help me, so I'm taking care of my brothers and sisters." "I'll take care of that. Be ready on Friday. Do you have dancing clothes?" "I don't know what dancing clothes are," Vicki said, feeling a little out of sorts with this whole line of questioning. "I'll send you clothes." He took a sip of his coffee. "You get this right every single time. Why is it so hard for anyone else?" "I have no idea," Vicki said. "So, are you having a good day?" "It is improving now. Business had to be dealt with to keep the peace." Vicki nodded. She had a feeling business meant hurting someone. "Tell me, Vicki, did you always imagine yourself in Old County?" Damion asked. "I was born here. I have never been anywhere else, and we both know once you're in, and you've seen stuff, there is no getting out." "Would you if you could?" Vicki shrugged. "I think about it from time to time, but I don't know what is out there for me. At least I have a good job here." "But you still live at home with your mom, and I have a feeling if it weren't for the kids, you would have moved on, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Why don't you leave? The kids are not your responsibility. They're your mom's. If you left, she would have to deal with them." "They're my family, and you don't walk out on family." Damion looked at her strangely, and Vicki didn't know if she had said the right thing or not. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!