Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

Through the chain link fence surrounding the enormous gravel and dirt area, he could see there were easily hundreds of people milling around, slowly walking down the rows of booths and tented areas as they looked at the random things put up for sale.

He was supposed to find this nameless guy in this?

Flo was fucking insane. Jo was insane too if she was going along with this idea.

After paying the two bucks and getting his change, he followed the directions of the bored teenager in the reflective yellow vest to the parking area. Clay checked where the exit was and carefully parked in a way that he could pull straight out. If this ended up being anything like his other encounters with these bastards, he was going to need a quick escape.

Standing beside the bed of the truck, Clay took in his surroundings. The sky was a bright, clear blue overhead, and the sun was already heating the air enough to chase away the early morning chill. People from all walks of life were milling about, scrutinizing items, and haggling over prices. There was a peaceful tranquility to the day. As if it were an average spring Saturday and there weren’t murderous monsters lurking somewhere in the aisles.

And very likely some poor guy who was their target.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Clay started toward the first row of booths. His eyes skimmed over the vast array of shit spread out before him. Clothes, weapons, tools—both new and old—piles of gleaming gold belt buckles, stacks of tire rims, children’s toys with some still in the original packaging. It was a cornucopia of random stuff.

Clay had spent years moving from place to place. To do that effectively, it meant he had to downsize. If it didn’t fit in his duffle bag, he didn’t keep it. Which meant losing his car wasn’t a big deal. The vast majority of his possessions had already been in his bag, which was chucked into Jo’s truck that fateful night.

He kept moving in a slow shuffle with the rest of the people. He tried to take in everyone while at the same time trusting his gut. Flo hadn’t told him whether this guy was selling stuff at the flea market or shopping. Hell, he could have been the bored teenager in the yellow vest for all he knew.

The sun beat on the back of his neck and arms, uncomfortably warming them. When was the last time he’d spent any amount of time out in the sun? He could use a tan. His last several jobs had been at bars. Night work. He wasn’t seeing the sun unless someone paid him.

But it was nice to be outside even if he was surrounded by people.

This guy had to be here somewhere.

Not that Clay was looking too hard.

Not that he could look too hard.

He might have spent longer than necessary at the booth selling the Oakley knockoffs, but he hadn’t had a decent pair of sunglasses in a bit, and summer was fast approaching.

With a sigh and the full five hundred burning a hole in his pocket, Clay turned to continue. He figured he was about halfway through the place. He’d go to the end and work his way to the truck. If he didn’t spot the guy by then, there was a good chance Clay had missed him. Jo and Flo needed to give him a little more in the way of information if he was going to locate this person.

But Clay didn’t need to take another step.

There was a guy standing about three booths away, watching him with a very confused look on his bearded face. His bright-red hair curled past his shoulders and danced as the breeze passed over the flea market. His legs were spread slightly, as if he were bracing for an attack, but he didn’t make an aggressive move toward Clay.

Clay could guess what had him spooked. He felt it too. There was a small curling energy that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. But it wasn’t negative or even painful. It was…familiar. Like Clay’s brain was screaming that he knew his man. Knew him like he knew his own mother. But closer. As if they’d already shared a lifetime of laughter and fights and fears.

Seeing this man brought a wellspring of bittersweet joy that he couldn’t explain. He knew this man, and everything was better because they’d found each other.

Very slowly, Clay lifted his open hands to his waist, trying to indicate that he meant the guy no harm, before he took a step closer.

The hint of a smile lifted one corner of the guy’s mouth and he did the same. Sure, they both probably looked fucking ridiculous, but Clay was starting to accept that everything in his life was ridiculous now.