Jinx’s gaze was fixed to the side of his face; he could feel it. “You know who specializes in this sorta thing.”
“Yeah.” He smirked, thinking of Kingston Walsh. “But I know his prez can’t afford to spare him right now. Not with what they’ve got going on in Knoxville.”
“He’s not the only one in that family with a head for numbers.”
“He’s the only one on this side of the Atlantic.” He shook himself all over. “Alright, whatever. We’ll worry about that after all this is done. Go round up the boys.”
~*~
“What was the informant’s name again?” Candy asked.
“John Jeffries,” Fox said. He leaned against the tailgate of the truck, looking bored.
“And he’s got sway with Riley?”
“The last eight calls in his phone were to the man. Yeah. Sway.”
Candy almost grinned when he asked, “What’d you do with him?”
“Found a nice spot. Sunset view.” The Englishman shrugged. “Hard digging, lots of rocks. No one’s likely to find him anytime soon.”
“Jesus,” Colin murmured. “You killed the guy?”
“No,” Fox deadpanned. “I told him all about our little plan and bribed him quiet with sweets.” He shot a withering look over his shoulder at the prospect. Then looked at Candy. “This one’s brain damaged.”
“Nah,” Candy said, shooting Colin a grin. The big Cajun was a little pale-faced. Or maybe that was just the moonlight. “He’s just a big sweetheart, is all.”
“Fuck you,” Colin said, without feeling.
“Y’all shut up,” Jinx said.
Candy gave Fox a nudge. “Make the call.”
They were parked well off the road, amid scrubby grass and tumbling bits of paper trash, behind a long-abandoned gas station. The moon, fat and white, poured cool light down over them, casting facial expressions and gestures in theatrical relief against the glowing backdrop of sandy soil.
Standing in the center of their small circle, Fox pressed the dead informant’s phone to his ear. When he spoke into it, his voice left his lips dripping with an authentic Texas accent, nothing like his usual London flavor.
Goosebumps shivered down Candy’s arms, and the way Colin stiffened told him the prospect was reacting to the sound too. That was their Fox: full of deadly little surprises.
“I need you to meet me,” Fox said, Texas-accented voice breathless, panicked. “I found something out about the Dogs, like you wanted me to.” A beat, while Agent Riley talked, then: “Nah. I can’t say it over the phone. What if somebody’s listening?” More agitated, edging toward fear: “Just meet me, okay?” He gave the address, said, “Hurry. I’m freaked the hell out.” And disconnected.
Cricket song rushed up to fill the silence. The empty windows of the gas station gaped at them, silent in their shock.
Colin cleared his throat and said, “How many accents can you do?’
“Every accent,” Fox said. “He’s going to be there in five minutes. We should get ready.”
~*~
Colin
The Armadillo was bursting with thirsty patrons. Cowboys and girls in impossibly short denim skirts drifted in clusters between the tables and across the dance floor. The usual sawdust muskiness of the bar was polluted by a miasma of perfume and cologne, low notes of fresh sweat breaking through in bursts. He and Colin had a narrow booth crammed up under a stuffed longhorn steer head, its glass eyes reflecting the neon above the bar.
“Why’s it so crowded?” Colin asked.
“Half-price domestic night,” Candy said, taking a long slug of his Miller on draft. “Look. There he is.”
They had a good view of the bar, and bellying up to it now was Elijah Riley, out of place in his bad fed suit. He scanned the stools alongside him several times, frowning. He was looking for John Jeffries, and he wasn’t going to find him.
“Poor dumb bastard,” Candy said, almost sounding sincere.
Riley claimed a stool and kept looking. The bartender went past him twice without stopping.
“Can’t even get a beer,” Candy said. He drained the last of his, and as if by magic, their waitress reappeared with a fresh one.
“Sure you boys don’t want something to eat?” She did a dip and a swivel as she set the new mug down and plucked up the old one, smile flicking between the two of them. She was cute: brunette and a little thick through the hips, her skin smooth and tan, cheeks pink with a healthy flush. Her lipstick was magenta, but it worked somehow.
Candy’s eyes traveled over her in an expert sweep, hitting all the sweet spots. He smiled. “Nah. Not right now, sweetheart.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.” She gave them a show as she twitched back to the bar.
Candy might have watched her, but Colin only had eyes for Riley. “How long you think he’ll stay?”
“Not long.” Candy reached for his new beer. “He’s too proud to wait around on some junkie to show up. I told Jinx and Fox they had five minutes tops.”
“Is that enough time?”
“For them? Oh yeah.”
Some shitty pop-country number started up on the sound system and every female in the place whooped in delight. There was a mad rush to the dance floor, and for a moment, the bar was obscured.
“Shit, I can’t see him anymore.”
“Don’t need to.” Candy had his phone out and showed the screen to Colin. “They’re done.” He drained his beer in three efficient swallows. “Let’s go.”
Colin hustled to follow.
They skirted the edge of the dance floor where a whole lot of drunken female ass shaking was going on. Colin spared the action a glance as they passed, and said a silent thank you that Jenny didn’t seem the type attracted to this scene.
Distracted, he didn’t realize Candy had pulled up short until he slammed into the guy. It was like running into a parked car. One of Candy’s elbows jabbed him in the stomach and all the air left his lungs in a rush. He gasped and staggered to the side, trying to catch his balance.
“Shit,” Candy muttered. “What the hell?” But his attention, Colin noticed as he straightened, was fixed on the man standing in front of him. Men, actually. Three of them. Riley’s friends they’d met here before. The one asshole was still wearing his CAT trucker cap.
Automatically, Colin’s gaze shot to the guy who’d harassed him before, the one who’d pressed into his personal space. The man gave him a dark, contemptuous look that Colin was happy to return.
“Cooper,” Candy said, and Colin recalled that was CAT’s name. “Trolling for the next ex-Mrs. Coop?”
The man’s face contorted with anger. An automatic, childish reaction. “Yeah,” he shot back. “Heard your sister was looking for somebody new to call ‘daddy.’”
The jab hit Colin’s brain like a sledgehammer, smashing at logic, composure, restraint. Just one line, and his vision misted over with red. Too quickly he imagined his girl, pinned down on her back, this jackass with his stupid hat poised above her. It was a mental image that took his breath…and replaced it with undiluted fury.
That’s what love was, he supposed. The absence of all thought. The total, devastating provocation of even benign threats.
Candy turned toward him slowly, face placid. “I’m sorry, prospect. I didn’t intend for us to get arrested tonight. But I think you’ll understand why I gotta beat the shit outta this guy.”
“Yeah. I want in on it.”
“Sure.” Then Candy turned back, deliberately, as if in slow motion.
Cooper was expecting the strike, and he probably thought he was ready for it.
He wasn’t.
Colin wasn’t even ready to witness it.
He’d never seen anyone throw a punch like that in his life. Candy was a big, strong man, but the force of the hit defied all physical probabilities. One second Cooper was preparing to duck, the next he was laid out like a fence board on the floor, twitching like he’d been electrocuted.
“Do you know why they call me Candyman?” Candy asked them, shouting to be heard above the music, voice strange.
Cooper groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. He spit blood…and three teeth, gleaming white against the dark floor.
Candy laughed. “’Cause I’ll take every tooth outta your goddamn head.”
“Holy shit,” Colin breathed.
“Who’s next?”
The two idiots blinked at them a moment. Then one lunged forward – the one Colin wanted a piece of.
He caught him around the waist and used his own considerable size and forward motion to knock the man back. Behind him, he heard Candy laugh again.
The crazy, terrifying monster.
~*~
Jenny
She heard and recognized Colin’s footfalls out in the hall before he opened her bedroom door without preamble and let himself in.
“Oh my God!” She tossed her book onto the quilt and scrambled to her feet. “What happened to your face?”
He attempted to smile, but it opened the split in his lip and blood dribbled down his chin. He winced instead. “It ran into somebody’s fist. And then the side of a table. And the floor.”
“Baby,” she murmured, rising up on her toes and hovering her fingertips over the darkening bruise on his cheek. “What were you…” A thought struck, and she sucked in a breath. “You didn’t–”
“No,” he said, anticipating her question. “Candy and I ran into some of his friends at the bar. They started it.”
She frowned at him. “So glad you could finish it with your face.”
“You should see the other guys.”
“Yeah. I bet.”
“No.” He halted as she tried to push him out of the room. “Your brother.” He gave her a look of such seriousness, she would have laughed if she didn’t know exactly what he’d seen earlier. “When he punched that one guy. Have you seen him do that?” His brows lifted, eyes comically bright with horror and admiration.
Nostalgia stole over her, a fast press of it against her skin, like a hug. She smiled. “Crockett gave him his nickname. He tore this guy to bits in a sparring match, a long time ago. The guy swallowed half his teeth afterward, and Crockett said, ‘You better watch your teeth around the Candyman, boys!’ It stuck immediately.”
He shook his head, gaze growing faraway. “Jesus. I’ve never seen anybody punch like that.”
“Most people haven’t.” She gave him a shove. “Come on, let’s go clean you up.”
In the bathroom, she closed the toilet lid and sat him down on it, rummaged around in the cabinets for alcohol, ointment, and cotton balls.
“Question,” she said as she laid the supplies out on the counter. “Was the other guy bigger than you?”
Colin pressed his lips together – at least, he tried to. The split tugged and he stilled. His face colored, though, bruises flushing with sudden darkness. “He had a friend,” he defended.
Jenny bit back a grin and loaded a cotton ball with alcohol. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Mostly,” she teased. “And the cops didn’t show up.”
When she reached to dab at the small abrasion along his cheekbone, he stopped her, one massive hand closing over her wrist. His knuckles were battered, she saw; Candy might have the meanest swing in Texas, but those big hands of Colin’s had doubtless done their share of damage.
“Jen?”
“What?” she asked, quietly, voice tender.
“Does it bother you that I’m not as badass as your brother?”
Her eyes stung with sudden tears. She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “No, sweetie.”
He made a happy sound, like humming in his throat.
Jenny dabbed at his face with the alcohol. “So what did you guys do tonight?”
“Distracted your ex-asshole’s brother.”
“Yeah? How’d you do that?”
“Jimmied into his car and left him a present.”
~*~
Agent Elijah Riley
Eli was late. He arrived at the precinct for his meeting with the Amarillo PD chief with bloodshot eyes and an unsteady stomach. When his informant failed to show up last night, he’d ordered a drink. And another, then another. Possibly another. He’d overslept his alarm this morning, fumbling out of bed while bright Texas sunlight streamed through the vertical blinds.
Hair still damp from the shower, hungover and reeling, he crashed through the chief’s office door and threw himself into the room.
Chief Camden was on the phone and covered the mouthpiece with his hand, scowling up at Riley. “What the hell, son? You drunk or something?”
“Or something,” Riley muttered. He dropped into the nearest chair with a deep exhalation.
“Yeah,” Camden said into the phone. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks.” He hung up and then eased back in his chair, bone-thin frame creaking – or maybe that was his swivel chair. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.
Riley made a face. “Long night.” Actually, it hadn’t been. After six drinks and a microwavable dinner, he’d fallen face-first into bed and stayed that way. He was wired as all hell worried about Jud. The idiot had caught wind of some drug deal in Odessa he wanted to ambush, and so far, Elijah hadn’t been able to convince him to lay low. The stress of worry was eating at him; so was the drinking.
“You brought the file?” Camden asked, narrow face turning sour.
“Yeah.” Riley pulled it from his briefcase. In the past seven years, the years his brother had spent behind bars, he’d begun keeping careful tabs on the Texas Lean Dogs, which was no easy task, given the way the club never seemed to get themselves caught on camera. They were slick, Derek Snow’s lot, which was part of the reason it had been so difficult gaining local law enforcement’s cooperation when it came to fudging the rules a little and investigating various club members.
He’d amassed a file. At the moment, he had no grounds for picking up Derek and his boys on federal charges. But lots of small local infractions were being overlooked. The club had some sort of inroad with the cops, he’d long since realized. But Camden seemed straight-laced and no-nonsense. With his arsenal of notations, perhaps Riley could –
“What the shit is this?” Camden asked, gray brows scaling his forehead.
“I’m sorry…what?”
The chief turned the file toward him on the desk, contents fanned out.
Riley almost puked right then and there. His carefully-taken notes and few surveillance photos were gone. In their place were the types of photos no grown man ever wanted to be caught in possession of.
“Is this some kinda joke?” Camden asked.
Yeah, on him. He did puke then, all over his shoes.
Twenty-Nine
Two days later, Fox headed south for Odessa. The call came in to Candy’s cell at eleven-fifteen that night. Riley and his boys were picked up by PD with their hands full of ill-gotten scripts. With Agent Riley in hot water, and his brother in lockup, Fox returned, smugness coloring his normally implacable features.
The day after that, a four-man crew left for Knoxville.
~*~
Jenny
They still hadn’t told anyone. It was starting to make her crazy, the waiting. But she didn’t like the idea of sending her brother and her man off together on a road trip right after she’d dropped the baby bomb on Candy.
“Darla made sandwiches for y’all to take,” she said, standing over Colin as he crouched on the floor of his dorm and crammed clothes haphazardly into his backpack. “Peanut butter, I think.” She was making small talk to try to keep the swelling knot of dread at bay in her belly. It wasn’t working.
“Okay.” A handful of long-sleeved shirts, sleeves trailing, was shoved down into the bag. “How cold’s it gonna be up there?”
“It can get kinda chilly this time of year. And the weather changes suddenly. Be sure to take
layers.”
“Yeah.”
“And don’t forget your phone charger. You don’t want to have to bum one.”
He paused and sat back on his heels, head lifting. He smiled at her. “You know, this isn’t my first field trip…”
“Call me ‘Mom,’ and die.”
He chuckled. “I’ve traveled all over the country, baby. I can handle riding up to Knoxville.”
“But see, that’s the thing about relationships. It’s in the fine print that I have to make sure you pack extra socks and remember your toothbrush.”
His normally sharp grin softened into an expression that melted her insides. “You’re worried about me.”
“Well duh. You’re kind of an idiot,” she said, and felt her own sappy, stupid smile curve her lips. She sat down on the edge of his bed. “Are you gonna be okay seeing Mercy again?”
He shrugged and glanced away, resumed packing. “Not like it’s a social visit. It’s work. We’ll make do.”
“You want to know what I think?”
“About me and him? Not really.”
“I think this is a good opportunity for you guys to make a fresh start.”
“Did you not hear me say ‘not really’?”
“Hey.” When he sighed and made eye contact, she said, “Think of it as a fatherhood exercise. Letting go of some of that stubbornness.”
“Oh, and you’re not stubborn at all.”
“Women are allowed to be,” she said, then laughed. “I’m serious, though.”
“So am I. I won’t start any shit with the guy.” He made a face.
“What?”
“Last time I did that…he beat my ass.”
She worked hard not to smile. “He’s a scary dude.”
He made a part-agreeing, part-disgusted sound.
He finished packing too quickly, and then was on his feet, shrugging his backpack into place and looking like the world’s tallest middle schooler.
Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) Page 17