by Cara Carnes
The Sip and Spin was a hellhole dive with a built-in laundromat. It’d been trouble since the day it opened and was also where Rachelle Garrett, Riley’s best friend, had waitressed until recently. She was the reason they were looking into the Marville situation. “Rachelle say anything yet?”
“Nope. I’m thinking her being out here is more out of desire than necessity.”
Dallas had thought so the first day she’d arrived, and his brothers had expressed their concerns several times since then. The woman had set her sights on hooking up with one of them—it didn’t seem to matter which one any longer. Somehow that fact had flown well below Riley’s radar. Little sis didn’t take too kindly to women using her to get closer to them. She didn’t trust easily and tended to scrape women like that off.
But Rachelle had gotten under her skin, and Dallas and his brothers weren’t willing to upset that friendship, not without a hell of a reason. They’d handled grabby women before. They’d deal with her and her brother, Cliff, at The Arsenal.
But Rachelle not saying what was spooking her in Marville was officially a problem now that tires were getting slashed. Someone was pissed and not afraid to gain their attention to make their point known.
“I’ll have a word with Rachelle, see if I can get more. Riley okay?”
“She’s pissed.” Jud smiled. “She’ll be a hell of an investigator once we knock off a couple layers of that sass.”
“Still not sold on training her, but I’d rather be involved than trust someone else to do it.” Which was the only reason Dallas had been working with Riley on hand-to-hand combat techniques the past few weeks whenever he was around. Jud was helping, as was everyone else.
Slashed tires could mean anything, especially in a small town like Marville, where the only entertainment was making trouble. But he wouldn’t stand aside and let Riley get in over her head, not when he could help. He knew the town and those running it—or had back before the military. Before The Collective.
Hunger and his resolve to help Riley with Marville sent him to the mess hall. Even though the hour was late, the tables were filled with people, most of them from the Warrior’s Path Project. His gaze swept the area as he muttered his frustration and tracked the lithe blonde heading his direction.
Rachelle Garrett was trouble in all caps. Nolan and Jesse appeared at his side as the woman flounced to a halt within touching distance. A chill spread through him as her gaze crawled appreciatively down him. A glint appeared in her eyes as she offered the same, slow perusal of Nolan, then Jesse.
Both brothers grunted their disinterest and did a half-turn that drew their attention elsewhere, into the room. Dallas did the same. Rachelle was Riley’s best friend. No way in hell any of them would tread that ground, even if they were interested. Which they were definitely not.
“I’m sorry you didn’t find him,” she offered, her voice pitched high and shrill. Like nails down a chalkboard, it droned on. “Let’s go grab a beer. You can unload your worries and relax. I’ll take your mind off it.”
The lustful glance meandering from his face to his crotch gnawed the lone strand of his patience. He didn’t have time for Rachelle’s bullshit. Then he recalled what Jud had said a few moments ago. They’d made no progress in Marville, and the woman standing in front of him had offered very little in the way of usable data. Riley had moved her best friend out to the ranch because “she was terrified.”
Clearly there was more than one definition of terrified in play. Dallas glanced at Nolan, then at Jesse. Both brothers wore frustrated looks as they took a step backward.
“I’m thinking it’s time you and I have a conversation, Rachelle.” He waited a few beats, until her gaze latched onto his. Anticipation glinted in her gaze. He tracked her swallow. “Tell me about Marville.”
“Why? Riley and Jud are looking into it, right? That doesn’t concern you.”
“Anything to do with Riley concerns me,” Dallas said. “Her tires got slashed, so I’ve decided to help Little Sis out with this one, keep myself focused on something other than what I can’t control.”
Nolan grunted and slapped him on the back. “Good, was going to suggest it. Riles and Jud could use your help.”
“This is ridiculous. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing to do.” Rachelle’s hair swished around her angelic face. She licked her lips and looked at them all. “I don’t know anything.”
“Then why are you scared? Why are you hiding out here?” Nolan asked. “We’ve been more than patient, but Riley’s on someone’s radar. We’re wading in.”
“This is all so embarrassing,” Rachelle whispered. A tear tracked down her cheek.
Dallas’s gut clenched at the sight. He hated when women cried, especially when it was a move to take control of the situation. He recognized the tactic. Arms crossed, he waited out the waterworks.
Lighten up. She’s not Marla. This isn’t a play, a mission, or an op. She’s not The Collective. She’s your little sister’s best friend, and she’s terrified out of her mind.
He’d been burned by more than Marla, though. Dallas had learned not to trust the hard way and almost lost Dylan as a result. His heart ached at the thought, but he dragged his focus back to the woman before him.
When none of them moved to console her, Rachelle sniffled and swiped at her cheeks. “You’re worse than that man.”
“Jud?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah, him. He keeps grilling me like I’m a criminal with something to hide.” Rachelle flopped into a chair and sighed dramatically.
“Seeing as you haven’t given us anything in the way of data, I can see how he’d assume you’re hiding something,” Dallas said. He reached over and took her hand. She latched on quick. “Give me something to go on. I swear I won’t judge, and it’ll stay between us. But we need to know what’s going on.”
“It’s not my fault. I told her she was stupid. She’s always been stupid, stirring up trouble when there’s no reason.”
“Who is she?”
“My sister, Kamren.”
Rachelle had a sister? He glanced over at Nolan, whose gaze had narrowed.
“She’s in trouble?” Nolan asked.
“She is the trouble, always has been.” Rachelle swiped her eyes again. “She runs with the Marville Dogs, you know. Hell, her best friend’s brother runs them from prison, or something.”
“Daniella.” Dallas let the name tumble from his lips as his mind recoiled from the memory of his rebellious teenage years. He’d once been tight with Daniella’s older brother, Dominic.
Back then they’d been a bunch of bored punks drinking booze, smoking, and street racing. He’d heard the Marville Dogs were heavily into drugs and underground activities now, but he hadn’t been over to Marville since he’d been back. There’d been no reason.
Now there was.
If little sis had gotten on the Marville Dog’s radar, that meant he’d have to weigh in, warn them off, and maybe make a trip to Huntsville, where Dominic was in prison for murder, and have a word. The list of potential moves listed in his mind as he waited out Rachelle’s silence.
“What’s your sister into?” Nolan asked.
“No clue. She’s never around. She’s crazy.” Her gaze widened as her voice lowered. “She scares me.”
Drugs or gambling. Since the Marville Dogs were heavily into both, she’d have access to both through Daniella. Son of a bitch. He rose.
“Sit your ass down and eat,” Jesse ordered as he appeared with a plate of food. “It’ll wait.”
Dallas glared at his brother, then glanced down at the food. His stomach pitched as his mind wandered to the fact that his son was out there. Somewhere. Had he eaten? Was he cold, hungry, and tired? Was anyone taking care of him?
“Sit your ass down and eat,” Jesse repeated, this time in a tone that signaled he’d shovel it into Dallas’s mouth if necessary.
Dallas’s mouth fractured into a grin. He almost welcomed an ass kicking or t
wo. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t hurt so much.
2
A picture might be worth a thousand words, but since Kamren Garrett couldn’t read, that didn’t mean much to her. She thumbed through the newest supposed evidence she’d gathered and ignored the catcalls coming her direction from the Sip and Spin. A brisk wind whipped through the parking lot and into the open windows of her battered pickup truck.
There’d be a storm tonight, which meant she’d probably be better off crashing at the house rather than sleeping in her truck bed. It wasn’t like anyone was out at the old farm anyway, seeing how Riley Mason had dragged Rachelle and Cliff over to Resino.
The Arsenal.
Kamren swallowed and let the impact of the name strike her center mass. Riley’s six brothers were back from military service or whatever the heck they’d been doing. Talk around the tri-county had the lot of them flying around in capes like the new-age Superman, Thor, and Iron Man rolled into one.
No, they were more than that. They always had been as far as Rache was concerned. For Rachelle they’d been salvation. A way out of hell.
Kamren couldn’t fault Rachelle for wanting more than the piece-of-shit house on the outskirts of Marville they’d been raised in. Little sis had done good for herself. She’d gotten an associate’s degree and had decided to be a vet tech. How cool was that?
Truth told, Riley had been more of a sister to Rachelle than Kamren.
He’s dead. None of this will bring him back. Why would you want it to? Why does it even matter? Let it go.
Rachelle’s words from months ago echoed in Kamren’s mind, as they frequently did late at night when exhaustion and hunger demanded her attention. When day bled into the bitter, bleak darkness where slumber fed memories, bitter reminders she’d failed Rachelle time and time again. And Cliff.
Her mom.
Her dad.
The last two were dead now, not that anyone except her cared. She sealed the thick, worn envelope shut and shoved it into her tattered backpack. Sooner or later she’d have to admit this was beyond her. Like so many things. Maybe she was too stupid to figure anything out.
Maybe Rachelle was right and there wasn’t anything to figure out.
Kamren stared at the entry to the Sip and Spin. Though exhaustion demanded she spend a few hours getting much-needed rest, she knew sleep wouldn’t come until she’d checked in with her best friend. She’d dodged calls for days now. Weeks.
She exited the vehicle and headed into the small building. The entirety of Marville had shown up tonight. Washing machines and dryers whirred and spun around the edges of the bar. Laundry baskets sat in a large heap in the corner nearest the door. Every table was filled. Empty beer bottles overflowed the tables as she headed toward the bar.
The bartender froze in a half turn. Angry daggers shot from her dark brown eyes. Yep, it was worse than Kamren expected.
“Where is she?” Dani demanded.
“Thanks for the welcome home, best friend. Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Kamren forced a melodic tone despite the tense undertone whipping from her friend.
Dani slammed four beer bottles down on the bar. Her long, straight black hair tumbled past her shoulders in a riotous mess, much like the woman herself. They’d been best friends since kindergarten, but that didn’t mean much in these situations, the ones where the ravine between the secret lives they led became too cavernous for friendship to straddle.
“I’ll ask again. It’s been weeks now. Enough is enough. Where is she?”
Kamren ignored the question since the entire town knew the answer. She couldn’t fix what’d happened a couple months ago when Riley rolled into town with her posse and carted Rachelle off to the Mason ranch, The Arsenal. Whatever it was, it may as well be on Mars. No one could touch that place or the men running it. All she could do now was hope Riley’s move didn’t backfire. Otherwise everything Kamren had worked on the past sixteen months would collapse and she’d be dead.
At least Rachelle’s safe. That’s all that matters.
“Get her back here, for your sake and hers,” Dani clipped as she slammed a beer on the bar. “I can’t weigh in on this, not when the Masons are involved.”
“They aren’t involved. Riley came and picked up her best friend. Do you really think any of her six brothers give a damn about Marville?” Kamren took a sip of the beer and hoped the many ears listening believed what she said, even if it was bullshit. The Masons didn’t ignore trouble, which was why no one in these parts much cared for them. “I’ve scoped out The Arsenal. Hell of an operation, but all about private government contracts and big international shit. When have the Masons ever given a damn about Marville or anyone in it?”
“You’d better hope that’s the case. Folks are nervous, the sort I can’t contain—not even for you.” Dani’s voice lowered. “Lay low and let the dust settle.”
“You know that’s not an option. I’m close.” Sixteen months of investigation into her father’s death. “Once I find the right thread to pull, the truth will unravel.”
“It’s all the wrong threads you’re pulling that are the problem. My brother’s crew has kept quiet out of respect to me, but that respect only goes so far.”
Given the fact Rachelle was hunkered down with the Masons, it was more likely they didn’t want to rattle that particular hornet’s nest. She glanced over at the table where Dani’s cousin held court. “This isn’t about the Marville Dogs, Dani.”
Javier Salazar had taken control of the local gang when Dani’s big brother went down for murder. Though Dom held firm leadership from his prison cell, his cousin was unofficially in charge. That bastard was ten shades crazy and a hundred layers of asshole.
“The MDs own Marville and everyone in it,” Dani spat. “Back off and lay low.”
“Is that a friend asking or an MD demanding?” Kamren stared her defiant friend down.
She took in the tattooed bulldog holding a bone with a lone bead of blood on her best friend’s chest, just above the swell of her breasts. The bloodier the bone, the deeper the person’s loyalty. Dani had earned that bead when she was fourteen, the same year her brother went away for murder.
Kamren had never found out what really happened that night, not that it mattered. It was the night she lost her best friend. The husk who remained was more Marville Dog soldier than anything.
“It’s whichever one keeps your head down and out of other people’s business.” She wiped the bar down. “Tell your sister to get her ass in here tomorrow night or she’s gone. Lonnie’s pissed.”
Lonnie Haskell spent the majority of his life pissed. He was a human slug whose sole accomplishment in life was being the twin brother to the local sheriff. Business at the Sip and Spin and the not-so-legal underground gambling empire he and the Marville Dogs ran cemented Lonnie’s success in Marville, thereby proving even useless slugs could succeed.
“I’ll take her shifts. That’ll keep Riley and her brothers out of Marville, right?”
“I suppose so.” Skepticism sharpened Dani’s gaze as it slid to where her cousin and his crew were. “You talk to her yet?”
“No. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“Bullshit. She gets whiplash scrambling to the bank when you send money.”
“She needs it more than me.” Kamren waited a couple seconds. “You been out to the farm?”
“A couple times, but Riley’s been snooping, out there tending things like she’s little Bo Peep. Figured I’d let her take it on, seeing how she’s a know-it-all, do-it-better-than-all Mason.” Dani slammed a beer on the bar. “Drink, then get the hell out. I don’t need your trouble in here.”
Still persona non-grata, even with her best friend. Great. Kamren snagged the beer and took a heavy pull. She was two swallows in when she sensed the shift in the area around her. An awkward, heavy silence descended—which was odd enough within itself. Marvillians loved their tunes and revelry, especially on Friday nights.
The scuff of
thick soles across the floor too near her awakened pinpricks of unease along her spine. Tension coiled within her muscles as she set the bottle down and glanced in the mirror behind the bar. Dani was nowhere to be seen.
But it was the fierce intensity within the newcomer’s blue gaze that demanded her attention. Tall, muscled, and lethal. The description translated to one name boomeranging within her mind. Mason.
She didn’t know which, since she, unlike the other citizens within the tri-county, hadn’t honed her knowledge of all things Mason like it was a religion. She recognized the thick, dark hair and rugged jawline easily enough. She was uneducated, not dead.
Whoever he was, his gaze remained on her longer than she liked, as though he saw through her facade and recognized the slight tremble in her hands as her pulse quickened. Why was he here? Was something wrong with Rachelle? Cliff?
Questions listed in her mind, but any move on her part at this juncture would be a weakness, one she couldn’t afford to show in front of Javier and his crew. Dani may have been bitchily blunt, as she typically was when dishing truth, but she’d been spot on. The Marville Dogs were more than agitated by her activities of late.
It’d been the primary reason she’d left a few weeks before, deciding to follow leads up in Austin rather than hang around town and mourn all the dead ends she’d hoarded. They’d warned her to back off weeks ago, and she hadn’t. Now that she’d returned? Well, it likely wouldn’t sit well, and the man behind her had just made it ten times worse.
Having a Mason prowl into the Sip and Spin like he had every right to be in Marville Dog territory was tantamount to declaring war. A war she wanted no part of, mainly because she was already in a battle no one realized existed. Until she figured out who’d killed her dad, nothing else mattered.
Except for Rachelle and Cliff. They were all she had left now. She’d do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant declaring war on Javier and his crew. Was there a reason they were so nervous?
Likely not.
They just didn’t like people meddling in their business. And she’d dived deep in their shit, so much so she stank from what all she’d uncovered. Funny how following people around gave so much insight into their secrets.
