Anvil novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: Pour Floor

Tucker's POV

The foundry had been dead for ten years, and it still smelled of hot iron.

I came across the yard at midnight with Danny's box in both arms and my cut in the saddlebag on my bike.

I wore a plain gray jacket and carried no weapon.

That was what Rhett had asked for, and I wanted him to believe he had it.

Behind me, in the dark by the east door, Lizzie stood where Dutch had put her.

I did not look back at her once.

If I looked, Rhett's men would look.

The pour floor was one long room with a roof full of holes and a rusted crane hanging over the middle.

Someone had set two work lamps on crates, and the light made everything yellow and thin.

Rhett stood under the crane with his hands in his jacket.

Five Hollow Dogs stood around him.

In the middle was their president, a thick man with a gray braid down his back and a ring on every finger.

I had last seen him seven years ago on a bar lot in the rain, kneeling beside his sister's son.

"Brother," Rhett said. He smiled at me. "Right on time."

"Where is she?"

"Safe. Outside, in the van. Nobody's touched a hair on her head."

"I want to see her."

"The box first."

"Her first."

The Dogs president spoke for the first time.

His voice was low and slow.

"Set it down, Anvil."

I walked to the middle of the floor, bent my knees and set the box on the concrete.

I took one step back, and then another.

The president knelt and opened the lid.

He lifted a pale yellow strap, thumbed it, and held it up to the lamp.

A man behind him whistled.

"All of it?" Rhett asked.

"Looks like it," said the president. He looked up at me. "Seven years, and you bring it to me in a box."

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