by BA Tortuga
Colt knew things. Scary things. Wonderful things. Gianni had stories that would curl a civilian’s hair.
“I’ll come out tomorrow. Then you can fire me, and I can go off the rails.”
“Fair enough. Today, though, we’ll just be old friends.”
“I like that.” Their food arrived, and Gianni was glad as hell to see Xavvy actually eat. Alcoholics drank their calories.
There weren’t any shakes; there weren’t tremors. No florid skin. He thought maybe Xavvy was drinking just to get Chris’s attention. That would be a disaster….
He shook his head, moving his elbows off the table to pick up knife and fork. Oh God. Biscuits. Gravy. Sausage and eggs. Uhn. That was one thing he had in common with his papà; they both loved American breakfast.
“You look like you’re going to just devour that.” Xavvy’s grin was wicked as hell.
“I am. Been a while since I was even in Texas, let alone Deep East.” He dug right in, getting everything, including the potatoes, on his fork. Heaven.
“Yeah.” Xavvy bent to his breakfast again, eating with quick, efficient motions.
Gianni chuckled. That burrito with queso instead of chile gravy wasn’t even on the menu. Xavvy was a fine local contact. He was a hero, no matter what trouble he was now. Xavvy was a hometown boy, to the core, even more than Chris, maybe.
“Stop staring at me,” Xavvy muttered. “I’m not broken.”
“I know that. I can’t turn off agent brain. You get that.”
“Uh-huh. Let it go, or I’ll bash your agent brains in.”
“Shut up. I’m trying.” He was sure he was very different to Xavvy too. They would get used to each another again.
“Uh-huh. You most definitely are that.”
“You sound like Old Mrs. Feezel.”
“Fuck off.” Xavvy flipped him off and got smacked on the head with a menu as Alice walked by.
“Language, mister.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Xavvy actually blushed.
“Oh, I like it.”
“I have a menu for you too, son,” Alice muttered darkly.
He fluttered his eyelashes at her. “Mio?”
“You-o.” She laughed and swatted near him, not really on him.
“No fair. She actually whacked me.”
“Well, I’m the good one.” Actually, Chris had always been the good one of the three of them, but Gianni figured he was more charming. He was unquestioningly the prettiest.
“Dick.” Xavvy actually stuck out his tongue.
Gianni kicked him under the table.
“Ouch! You little bitch.” He made kissy faces.
“That’s me. I fight dirty.”
“You always did. Always. You remember when you and me were smoking dope in the barn and Chris walked in on us?”
“Oh, I thought he was gonna try to beat us to death.”
“Uh-huh. Party pooper. Still. He’s so tight a lump of coal wouldn’t even fit up his ass to become a diamond.”
“Yeah? Good to know. I like ’em tight.”
“Not even for you, Stallion.”
“No?” God, Xavvy was pulling out every awful nickname from school. Chef Boyardee. The Italian Stallion.
“Nope. Trust me.” Oh, his Spidey senses were tingling. There was a story there. He would find out what it was eventually. Or Colt would. One way or the other. Still. God.
He was going to lose his mind juggling all these balls.
Good thing he was used to keeping a hundred lies straight, right?
He changed the subject. “Did I tell you Jerilyn hired a new foreman? I think you knew.”
“Yeah, got a pregnant wife, not a local. Rodeo guy.”
He leaned over the table a ways. “Preggers girl is his sister, and I slept with him a while back.”
“Not public knowledge.”
“No.” He winked. Why not share that with Xavvy?
“Was he good?”
“Stunning.” His body tightened a little at the memory.
“Rock on. I expect reports. Pictures. And don’t tell me your tech guy won’t have you wired for sound.”
“Oh God, he wanted to wire me today. It wouldn’t surprise me to see him sitting outside with a parabolic mic.”
Xavvy chuckled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “If you’re listening, tech guy, I need video.”
They had a good laugh at that, and Gianni just let himself relax. He wasn’t going to get this again until the sting was over, so he was going to enjoy the fuck out of it.
And maybe he would have to get some pancakes for dessert.
Chapter Ten
“ANSWER THE fucking phone.” Bonner was bouncing on his toes, hiding in the back of the horse barn. “Come on, Micah. Answer.”
“Yo. Bonner! Dude! Where are you?” His best friend and traveling partner was pure weirdo surfer dude. Gave great head, was totally into roping, coolest guy he knew. Total butthead. Bonner adored him.
“Oh my God. Micah. I’m in so much trouble, man.”
“Where are you? I can come get you.” Micah was always good to him.
“I can’t. I just… I can’t even begin to explain the fucked-upedness of this. Bri’s pregnant. With twins!”
“What?” Micah sounded appropriately stunned. “Is she getting married?”
“No, the baby daddy is a no-show. He’s a fuck.” Like a crazy biker fuck.
“Oh shit, man. Can I help?”
“I won’t rule it out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Lord.”
“Tell me, man. I got my hands-free, and I’m in the truck.”
“Okay, so I told Bri I’d help, and I got me a job as a ranch foreman. A big ranch. Like a King Ranch big ranch up near Mount Pleasant.” And he was totally in over his head. Utterly fucked.
“And you got the job? Who hired you?”
“Yeah, I know, right? Miss Jerilyn is like this guy’s auntie, and…. Micah, man, I met him today. I hooked up with him over spring break when I was just out of high school.” For a weekend Gianni had turned him inside out.
“Oh Lord have mercy. Is this the Italian guy?”
“Yes!” He’d never… not ever felt anything like that before or since. He’d never let anyone touch him so deep, make him beg, make him…. His thoughts scattered. “I don’t think he remembers me.”
“Well, shit, I’m sure you look different.” Micah sighed. “What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I mean, man, they think Bri’s my wife, that the babies are mine.” He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten himself in this mess. He sure as shit didn’t know how to get out of it.
“The money must be damn good.”
“You have no idea. And housing, and since Bri is pregnant, the housekeeper is sending casseroles, so we’re not buying food. Twins, Micah.”
“Dude. They’re not yours.”
“I know!” But they were his responsibility, somehow. “My mom was such a fuckup, man. I can’t just leave those babies to starve.” Bri wasn’t there to hear him. He hoped she straightened up and became a great mom, but her track record was so bad….
“Yeah, but… dude! What are you going to do?”
He lit a cigarette, the damn thing shaking so hard he had to chase the end with his lighter.
“I have no idea. What if he remembers? What if he finds out I’m lying?”
“Then you head to California. I’ll meet you there. We’ll stay at my mom’s. She likes babies.”
“I—okay. Okay, Micah.” He took a deep, deep breath. He had options. He had friends. “You’re good to me.”
“Hey, we’re buds, right?”
“We are. How’s the riding?” Bonner missed the rodeo like a sore tooth.
“Eh. I’m thinking about going home and roofing for a few months. Saving money.”
“Yeah? That slim pickings?” Bonner asked.
“Right now? It is.” Micah sighed. “Me and Levi broke it off. Well, I broke his teeth; he broke two of my fingers.”
“Oh, buddy, that sucks. Sorry.” He wasn’t. He didn’t like Levi at all, but he knew Micah had been all over the guy. So he would commiserate.
“Yeah, but what are you going to do? He was a cheat and a liar.”
“Get yourself tested, that’s what you’re gonna do.” Bonner didn’t want his friend getting sick.
“I never let him go bareback, but yeah. Another reason to go home for a bit. Not a tour doctor, you know?”
“No. God no. Where… where are you?” Close enough to stop by?
“I’m in Houston, man. I can come say hi.”
“Yeah? Before heading to Cali? I would love that.”
“I can be there in the morning. My fingers hurt like a bitch, and I’m going to stop and take some pain pills, get a hotel room, a steak.”
“I get that.” Sore roping hand was a bitch. “Be safe, man.”
“Tell your sister I’m sharing the bed with you, not her.”
He hooted. “I’ll let her know.” They had a guest room, and he would let sore-hand man sleep alone. He just needed a friend.
He just needed to work this shit out.
Micah snorted. “Okay, bud. Tomorrow.”
“You know it. I’ll even buy the beer.”
“Score! I’ll text.”
They hung up, and he leaned back, sucking on his cancer stick. Shit. Shit, he’d damn near died when he’d walked in and seen that face.
He’d been a teenager, just barely legal, and Gianni had turned him every which way but loose. Bonner still woke up sweaty and, uh, damp, just dreaming about it. This was going to be a nightmare until the man went back to… wherever.
Somewhere Exotic, Italy.
He wanted to just….
Oh, who was he kidding? He wanted to hump Mr. Cesare’s leg like a naughty puppy. Then he wanted to roll over and let the man fuck him until he screamed.
Gianni was a fucking force of nature. A hurricane or a tornado.
Something that left you scoured out and breathless.
He stubbed out his cigarette, jumping when a voice came from behind him. “I was just about to tell you those things would kill you.”
The big guy. Kody? He was new too.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I quit about a hundred times.”
“It’s a hard thing. You’re young for quitting that many, huh?” Kody smiled, showing him a liniment bottle. “One of the mares has a pulled foreleg. Not bad, but she’s hurting.”
“Oh damn. Lemme see. She just pull up lame?”
“Yeah. Just today. Hank was exercising her in the ring.” Kody led the way to the mare’s stall, and she whinnied plaintively at them.
“Listen to you, mama. You get yourself banged up?” He pushed into the stall, jabbering under his breath, talking to calm her so he could doctor. Thank God this, he understood.
Kody handed him the liniment after he felt the swelling. “She’ll need the vet if it’s not down by tomorrow. Miz Jerilyn says these horses are her life.”
“It ain’t like these folks are stressing the vet bills. I’ll definitely call.” He shared a grin. “Log it for me if you have to. Shhh. It’s okay, girl.” He surprised himself with how much he felt like he was doing, like he was cowboying up. There were all these moving parts, and he was going to get to know all of it.
“You have a good way with her.” Kody sounded pleased, if surprised. Bonner wasn’t offended. A lot of roughstock guys had never actually touched an animal they weren’t riding at an event.
“Thanks.” He knew he couldn’t ride forever. He worked at ranches every chance he got. Any experience was good, but this job might carry him over into something really permanent. If he could just hold it for even six months….
The mare nudged him with her shoulder, reminding him to pay attention when he was in a stall with an animal. “I hear you. I bet you’re right as rain in the morning, huh? If not, I’ll call the vet.”
She nibbled his hat, and Bonner laughed. “I know. Now you want a treat, huh? How about a handful of sweet feed?” These were some spoiled horses. He loved it.
“I reckon you’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure what Kody meant, but whatever. He appreciated the nod of approval.
“Thanks.” Hell, maybe Kody meant the horse. He straightened up, moving to one side when Kody offered the mare her handful of feed. She damn near knocked his ass down.
Butthead. He pushed her and slipped out of the stall. “Mr. Cesare wants to ride Buck tomorrow. Have you been in the tack room to check things out?”
“No, sir. I need to get in there too. Colt and some of the boys are going roping Saturday. If you’d like to come….”
“Yeah? I might. I got a roping buddy coming on his way through.” They could rope, him and Micah. The man was a whiz, even with broken fingers. It would be a hoot.
“Cool. I do love the roping pen.” They shared a smile of perfect understanding. “Tack room?”
“Yeah. We’d better.” Bonner had the keys on his belt. Apparently Miz Jerilyn kept some expensive shit in there.
Last thing he needed was to kill the boss with a broke cinch.
Chapter Eleven
GIANNI DROVE the ancient Chevy out to Chris’s place, hunting grilled meat. Chris was living in his folks’ house, so Gianni wondered where they were. Surely he would have heard if they were dead or something. Chris was older than him and Xavvy, but not that much.
Smoke was trickling up from the back, so he pulled around, behind the pecan trees.
Chris waved at him from next to the grill, his gimme cap shadowing his face.
Chris was a match for Xavvy size-wise, white-blond and blue-eyed where Xavvy was dark.
God, he’d pay to watch a fight between them. Xavvy would probably take him up on it too. Gianni parked before hopping out to saunter over to Chris. “Smells good, buddy.”
“Burgers and dogs. Hey, Boyardee, how you been?” Chris gave him a big bear hug.
“Ugh.” He hugged back, though, pounding Chris’s shoulder. “Good. How are you, man?”
“Eh, same shit different day. Have a sit. Beer?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He grabbed a beer out of the cooler Chris had indicated. Shiner. Nice. Better than the Lone Star they’d consumed as kids. He planted his ass in a lawn chair. The place was just the same—a neat little ranch, classy, but not McMansion, everything kept up, freshly painted, deck clean, grill shiny. “So did your folks move to Florida?” He hoped to God they were alive. If not he sounded like an ass.
“Mexico. They’re living in a condo on the beach, eating ceviche and sucking margaritas. Mom has a pool boy named Jorge.”
“Holy shit, man.” He stared. “Your momma.”
“Tell me about it. My ever-so-proper mother called me to ask me how to roll a joint the other day, man.”
“Jesus.” He barked out a laugh. “Well, good for them.”
“I guess, yeah.” Chris sucked his longneck down, tanned throat working. “You liking being home? How’s your people?”
“They’re good. It’s weird being back, man. Especially with a task force in tow.” He rubbed the beer bottle over the back of his neck.
“Yeah. I’ve been hearing all the gossip. New cowboys. New staff. Town’s buzzing.”
“Good. I want them all excited.” He needed it, in fact. Gianni had to play lord of the manor to someone.
“You going to throw a big cookout deal?”
“At some point, yeah. I have to get to know the team a little better first. Just in case.”
“You got a fine group. Your super sent me a jacket. Privately, here at the house.”
“Tom’s all right.” And a sneaky bastard.
“Yeah. It’s good to be local and friends with the crazy foreigner running the sting.”
“Shut up.” He swigged at the beer. His folks had taught him to drink wine at a young age. His Texas friends had taught him about beer. His Texas friends had taught him a lot of lessons that he’d never wanted to forget.
; Chris beamed at him, clearly tickled to have gotten one up on him.
“Had breakfast with Xavvy this morning.”
Oh, that earned him thunderclouds. The scowl was immediate and deep.
“He wants to go under with the biker gang,” Gianni added.
“He’s an idiot. He’s going to get himself killed.”
“You gonna blame yourself if he does?” He wasn’t going to go any easier on Chris than he had on Xavvy.
“Fuck off, John. You don’t know shit about me or Xavier. He’s a ticking time bomb.”
“Yeah. I think it’s best to give him some work. He’s bored.”
“He’s broken.”
Gianni raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you turned him down?”
“Fuck you. He didn’t know what he was doing, man. He was drunk and hurting.”
“Huh.” He reserved judgement on that. He thought Xavvy had known exactly what he was doing. “So what about you? You gonna run for sheriff?”
Chris shrugged. “I guess. What else can I do?”
“Well, you could look to another law enforcement agency. The Rangers, the DEA….” His background check said Chris was the senior deputy when the sheriff and undersheriff retired due to a sex scandal. He didn’t want the damn job.
Gianni saw a flash of desperation in Chris’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
“So, do it. You have the qualifications.” When Chris glared, he grinned. “Yeah, I’ve seen your whole resume, backgrounds, everything.”
Chris flipped him off. “I don’t like Xavvy in with those assholes. They ain’t locals.”
“I know.” He sobered. “He’s insistent.”
“He’s dangerous. He’s… a wild card.”
No, Colt was a wild card. Hell, Colt was a nuclear explosion waiting to happen. “I’ll keep him reined in.” This was a clusterfuck waiting to happen.
“Buddy, this is a giant assfuck and you know it.”
“Yeah. I know.” He shook his head. “Jesus, Chris. This is huge. My operation, but also the drug operation. Did you know they were moving product through here?”
“No. I mean, I suspected they were distributing—but low-level shit. Nothing like what y’all are talking about. This sort of shit is hard-core.”