Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1)

by Lauren Gilley

He gripped her waist and prepared to set her off his lap.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders, eyes flaring. “Colin.”

  He paused, knowing his expression was tight, unable to refuse her, though. That was the scary part – had she asked him to go running after her ex-husband, he would have done so in an instant, cheerfully running his Bowie knife through the bastard’s head gator-style. But she was holding him back, and that was harder to take.

  “What?” he asked, voice gruff.

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to…I didn’t mean that you…well, anyway, there’s been enough bloodshed on my account around here. I don’t want you to get all tangled up in my stupid family business.”

  “Why not?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Because like I just said, it’s my stupid family business.”

  “He could have killed you, Jen,” he said, tone harsh. He became aware he was squeezing her waist and forced his hands to relax. “That’s not stupid. If someone tries to kill you, don’t you think I’m going to do something about it?”

  He didn’t know what to make of the look that crossed her face, the little flare of panic. “That was a long time ago,” she said, just above a whisper. “And we’ve only slept together one time–”

  Okay, enough of that shit. He circled his arms around her and pulled her up tight against his chest, quick enough to draw a gasp from her. “Twice,” he said. “One night maybe, yeah, I’ll give you that. But two times.”

  He was close enough to see the little rash of gooseflesh break out across her chest; felt her nipples tighten to hard points against his pecs. Her gaze softened, and the tip of her tongue darted out to dampen her lips. Her voice changed…for the better.

  “You promised three times, remember?”

  He was still fighting-mad, but that only seemed to heighten the sudden rush of heat that blasted through him.

  “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

  His hands slid up the soft skin of her back and beneath the curtain of her hair, took a firm grip on the blonde waves. He pulled her head down to his, and her mouth was already open and pliant when he kissed her.

  A hot, feverish kiss. One without barriers or shyness. No hesitance of exploration. He took her mouth and she melted against him, sighing with a breathy, feminine sound that got him instantly hard.

  She was straddling his hips already and she ground against him, seeking, asking. She probably wanted on top; wanted to fuck like this, sitting up in bed. Yeah, he could see her as an on-top kind of girl.

  That wasn’t going to happen right now.

  He rolled her and pinned her wrists up above her head with one hand, all in the span of a breath.

  “Holy shit.” Her eyes flashed bright with surprise.

  “What?”

  “That was…really fast.” Then she grinned and wriggled her hands lightly against his hold. “I hope that doesn’t mean anything else is gonna be fast.”

  He nudged her thighs apart and settled between them, leaned low over her, the force of his weight pressing her wrists deep into the mattress. The surprise in her gaze melted to pure hot lust. “A bit of advice, sweetheart,” he said, and knew the grin that sliced across his face was dark. “I’m not anything like that asshole who hurt you.” And for some reason, mentioning the guy hurt him, a sharp twinge under his breastbone. He shook it off, leaned lower, so his lips were just touching hers when he said, “But don’t ever mistake me for a gentleman.”

  He entered her on a hard thrust. Her head kicked back against the sheets, mouth opening, eyes fluttering shut. She was no actress, and she loved it, lifted her hips in silent, desperate offering as he settled in and found a rhythm.

  Each of her inhalations became shorter, more breathless. She was close, so close, trembling and straining beneath him, when her eyes opened to slits, bright as blue fire as she stared up at him. Reassuring herself it was him, searching his face.

  Colin released her wrists and her arms came around his shoulders, nails anchoring in the skin at his back. Her eyes closed again and she sighed, that final ecstatic sigh that accompanied the strong fisting of her sex around his cock.

  He dropped his face against her damp throat and joined her.

  ~*~

  After, it became apparent that food was necessary, his stomach growling so loudly it made Jenny shake with silent laughter. It was five til five in the morning, which meant Darla wouldn’t be making breakfast yet and the clubhouse should be a ghost town. With great reluctance, Colin climbed out of bed and stepped into his jeans.

  “Any special requests?”

  Jenny was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled up over her chest, her hair a wild golden mess across her shoulders. Gone was the nervous, cynical woman he’d met just beyond the door at the bar a while back. Her smile radiated softness, its sleepy curve content and vulnerable. She was absolutely beautiful.

  “There ought to be some leftover potatoes with ham. I wouldn’t say no to a little of that.”

  “Potatoes and ham,” he said, nodding. “Gotcha.” And then, because he couldn’t help it, he stepped up to the bed to kiss her one more time.

  He felt one of her hands against his face, the touch fleeting and gentle, but full of affection. Shit. She was good stuff.

  He left her smiling in his wake, stepping silently out into the hall, easing the door shut. He was big, but he was barefoot, and he’d grown up knowing how to creep through the cypress forests of his youth. He made it to the common room without making a sound.

  He was turning toward the kitchen when the lights behind the bar came on.

  He jumped. “Jesus Christ…”

  Candy, fully-dressed, stood behind the bar, in the process of pouring himself a Scotch. His eyes were on the amber liquid as it purled up the sides of the glass. “Morning, prospect. Sleep well?”

  Colin froze. Did he know? He probably did. Had they been loud? Shit. No, wait, Jen was a grown woman and she…ah, hell. Shit was right. Shit, shit, shit.

  Candy’s head lifted, his expression heavily shadowed, jarring sharply with the pleasant lift of his voice. “So. Swamp boy. You having fun fucking my sister?”

  Yeah. Shit.

  Seventeen

  Colin

  Candy poured a second glass. “Have a drink. Take a load off.” He glanced up, grinning sharply. “’Course, guess you already did that.”

  “Candy–”

  “Nah. Don’t talk to me until we’re drinking.”

  Colin waited until there was a glass of Scotch in front of him, and then threw it back. He’d been pleasantly sleepy when he left the dorm, but now felt wired and awake. Without being asked, Candy refilled his glass and he sipped at that a little slower.

  “You and Jenny,” Candy said.

  Colin shrugged. “I won’t deny it. Yeah. Me and Jenny.”

  The big blonde Texan studied him a long moment. “I know my sister well enough to know that she doesn’t enter into things lightly.” He snorted. “Or let things enter into her lightly.”

  A tasteless joke for a brother to make, and Colin glared at the man. “If you’re trying to suggest I did something to her against her will–”

  “Of course not. To tell the truth, I’ve been waiting on this moment.”

  “Then why do you look like you want to break that bottle on the bar and stab me in the face with it?”

  “Because she’s my sister, and she’s been through hell,” Candy said. “And even if I was orchestrating this, it doesn’t mean I have to like it all that much.”

  “Orchestrating?”

  “I’m just one man, and I’ve got lots of obligations. I want someone to look out for Jen.”

  “You psychic?” Colin asked, bristling with anger. He felt used, even if that made no sense. “You knew you’d bring me out here and I’d fall for her?”

  “Fall, is it?” Candy grinned, the expression wrong and dark, humorless. “Well, that’s better than I thought.”

&n
bsp; “Candy.” Colin sighed. “What the fuck? If you want to tell me to be good to her, to not hurt her, fine. Hell, I’m about ten seconds away from tracking down her ex and running a pickax through his eye.”

  Candy grinned, widely, genuinely this time.

  “But I don’t know what kind of game we’re playing here. I’m a prospect, yeah. But I like your sister. I like her. And I respect her. If that’s not allowed, then you can have this now.” He grabbed for the cut he wasn’t wearing, but Candy seemed to read the gesture.

  Candy’s head tipped back, expression turning thoughtful. “Riley killed my father, you know.”

  Colin felt a sudden grab in his stomach, another urge to do violence for his girl. Shit…yeah, that was Jenny, at this point. She was his girl, until she insisted otherwise. “No. I didn’t know.”

  Another long, blue stare. Then Candy nodded. “Finish getting dressed and meet me out front. It’s time you met Crockett.”

  ~*~

  They rode for several miles, the dark landscape a blur around them. Finally they turned down a road cornered by two dueling gas stations – Jamie’s and Swafford’s, by their signs – and dotted with modest homes dressed in wood siding. Candy turned his bike in at the driveway of a small rust-colored place with cream trim, and dainty lace curtains in the windows. “His daughter’s old place,” he said as they dismounted and doffed their helmets. “He moved in here after she died.”

  Shit.

  Colin nodded, taking note of the man’s solemn mood.

  “A service does the lawn,” Candy explained as they went up the front walk. “And a girl comes to cook and clean for him. He don’t do much.”

  Candy hadn’t figured a single man had maintained the porch swing, flower pots, and front door wreath himself, but didn’t say so.

  Candy plucked a key from the center of the wreath, unlocked the door, and let them in. They stepped right into a living room that smelled faintly of sweat and air freshener. He could see the efforts of the cleaning girl: tidy stack of magazines on the coffee table, surfaces dusted, carpet recently vacuumed. But signs of slob had started to creep in: dirty dishes and glasses stacked up on the end table beside the recliner, a pair of abandoned boots in the middle of the room.

  “Wait here,” Candy instructed, and disappeared deeper into the house.

  Colin did as told, but decided not to test the ancient recliner with his weight.

  While he waited, he checked his phone. Not that he was expecting any word from Jenny. Nope. Not expecting. What was she doing back at the clubhouse? he wondered. Had she dressed and started her day early? Gone back to sleep? Was she lying beneath the covers, naked and waiting for him?

  The last was the least likely option, but it was his favorite, so he put that image up at the front of his mind while he waited.

  Candy was gone a while, and when he returned, he walked behind a man he appeared to be steering with a hand on each shoulder. There was a light on in another room, the kitchen probably, and its dim glow had enabled them to see the room upon entry. It wasn’t enough illumination now, though, as Colin struggled to get a read on the shuffling figure in front of Candy.

  “Prospect, turn on some lights.”

  He found two lamps that he clicked on, over by the TV, and by that time Candy had the man settled in the recliner. The lamplight shone full on his face, and it was a study of echoes.

  Firm, blunt features, broad forehead, thick headful of white hair and a jaw that retained some semblance of youthful definition. He was elderly, that was obvious, but not in a shriveled, liver-spotted way; a big, strong, vital man, painted over with age.

  That was Colin’s first impression. And then that impression tipped sideways and began to slide, as if melting.

  There was something wrong with this man. Something in his dark eyes, his expression – disconnected. A strong man’s face pulled at a weak man’s soft and uncertain angles.

  He’d seen this phenomenon before, in his mother’s mother, and it had been as unsettling and sad as it was to behold now: dementia.

  Candy kept one hand on the man’s shoulder. “Crockett,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “This is our new prospect, Colin. He’s Felix’s brother, from NOLA. You remember Felix?”

  Crockett’s smile came on slowly, and he nodded. “Felix. A big boy, that one.”

  “Yeah, so’s his little brother.”

  Colin felt his skin tighten and prickle as Crockett’s gaze passed over him. “He don’t look so little to me.”

  Candy laughed; it was an indulgent laugh. “Nah, he doesn’t. Colin, this is David Dandridge. Crockett. Our president.”

  If someone had told him this was a dream sequence, he would have believed it. Of all his nebulous theories on the absentee president, this had never been one of them.

  “Good to meet you, sir,” he said, and didn’t know whether to shake his hand, or not. He decided he had to, and stepped up, extending an awkward hand.

  Crockett looked at it a long time before accepting. His hand squeezed Colin’s once – strong, bone-crushing – and then went limp and fell back into his lap.

  Candy said, “Our Colin here’s becoming a favorite of Jen’s. I think she wants to keep him as a pet.”

  Colin flexed his hands, making a note to return the insult later.

  Crockett’s mouth lifted in an absent smile. “Jen? Little Jenny? How’s she doing? She’s such a pretty thing, your sister.” He twisted so he could look at Candy, expression saddening. “And she’s always so unhappy, since you went away to New York. That wasn’t real nice to leave your sister behind.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Candy agreed. His eyes came up to Colin. “Go wait outside, prospect.” An order and not a request. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “It was good meeting you,” Colin offered as he left, but Crockett didn’t seem to hear him. As he went through the front door, he heard Crockett say, “Tell me about Riley. How’s he doing? You know he never meant to make you so mad…”

  Colin let the screen door slam and sat down heavily on the top step.

  The sky was lightening to the east, a pale lavender with a few stars clinging to its edges. A car started farther down the street, something with a deep rumbling engine, a truck maybe. Across the street, an armadillo rooted through the flower beds, bold as anything.

  Candy was a long time, and Colin was almost asleep sitting up by the time the VP sat down beside him on the step. Colin jerked, startled, and glanced over to see Candy brace his elbows on his thighs and release a deep breath toward the street.

  “That an armadillo?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oughta shoot that fucker.” But that clearly wasn’t part of the morning’s plan. He turned his blue eyes on Colin. “Crockett founded the Texas chapter,” he said. “He came from Tennessee originally – hence the name Crockett – and he set up this chapter when it was most needed. Built it up from scratch, got a mean reputation going. It was legendary, what he did.”

  Candy sighed. “Got a smoke?”

  Colin lit one on his own lip and then handed it over.

  Candy nodded his thanks and continued. “My old man was his VP. He was like our uncle, growing up. And then…” His gaze grew faraway. “He started changing before I went off to New York. Just small things, but they were there, and we ignored them. Who cared if he forgot his keys once or twice? Was it really important if he started reminiscing too much about old shit?

  “I didn’t know Riley was working on him, leaning on him, trying to steer the club a different way. And under Dad’s nose, too.

  “I was told my father died in a bike crash.” His eyes flashed with remembered pain, a persisting violence. “Jud Riley killed my father, and damn neared killed my sister. And Crockett, when I got back…Jesus, Crockett isn’t even there anymore.”

  “So why not force him to step down?” Colin asked. “Take the president chair yourself?”

  He smiled grimly. “While Riley was pulling the puppet
strings, Crockett came to some significant understandings with the local law. And the state troopers. There’s not a cop in Texas that would slap a Dog in cuffs. And if there is, his decisions can be overridden by the higher-ups. We do big business here, but all of that’s dependent on Crockett being president.”

  “Wow. Shit.”

  “Yeah. Shit. And you saw the man. I can’t just have him at the clubhouse. I can’t let the hangarounds or the new prospects see that he’s…” Candy’s voice faltered. “I wanted to put a bullet in his brain, for what he let happen,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t make myself do it.”

  Because he still loved the man as an uncle. And because you couldn’t blame someone at that kind of disadvantage. Respect for his VP filled Colin. Yes, he could respect the man telling him this story. How could he not?

  “So why bring me in on the secret?” Colin asked. “I’m just a prospect.”

  Candy gave him a long look. “Because I think when you went to Knoxville, you had every intention of killing your brother. And you didn’t.”

  Colin felt his brows go up. But he couldn’t deny the accusation, not with total honesty.

  “I think you can understand where I’m coming from,” Candy continued, “maybe better than anyone. And I smell a fight brewing. I’m gonna need more understanding guys on my side.”

  An amused light came into his eyes. “Also, because I think you’re going to fall in love with my sister, if you haven’t already. And that means I’ve got serious leverage over you.”

  Colin frowned.

  “Know that if you hurt her in any way, I will castrate you. And then I’ll really get started.” He stood, knees cracking. “Your brother may be the best, but he doesn’t have a patent on torture.”

  Eighteen

  Jenny

  “Your brother wants me to go somewhere with him,” Colin had said, tugged on his t-shirt and cut, and left her again. Going back to bed hadn’t been an option.

  Jenny had slipped into the sanctuary, showered, readied herself for the day, and was in the kitchen cracking eggs when Darla showed up to make breakfast.