“Candy,” she tried to protest.
“And I’m sending a security detail with you to work tomorrow.”
“Oh Lord.” She rolled her eyes.
“Fox and the new guy.”
Her scalp prickled. Her mind immediately rejected the idea. “Colin?” she asked, outraged.
He smiled. “I see you two’ve met. Good, that’ll cut down on introduction time.”
“Absolutely not,” Jenny said. “I don’t want that big idiot harassing me at work all day.”
Candy’s smile widened. “Not harassing. Guarding. C’mon, he’s Felix’s little brother. Who’d make a better guard dog than that?”
“Half-brother,” she corrected, remembering Colin’s insistence in the parking lot. “And I can promise you he’s nothing like Mercy Lécuyer.”
Candy chuckled. “Yeah. Sure. Blood always comes through, in the end.” Their father used to say that, and Jenny wondered if he remembered that, if it was an intentional reference, or if the words had just become a part of his vocabulary. “You’ll take Colin tomorrow,” he said with finality. “If a man can hunt an alligator, he can take care of a shithead ex-husband.”
~*~
Colin
Security detail. It beat the hell out of digging for scrap parts and mopping floors. And it meant he’d get to spend all day trying to figure out what the hell was up with Jenny Snow.
“Do you know your way around a gun?” Fox asked, yanking him back to the moment at hand. The Englishman had a matte black semiauto in one hand, the magazine in the other.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t shoot all that often, but I’m a decent shot.”
Fox passed over the gun and the mag. “Put it in,” he said, accented voice too serious for Colin to piece together a suggestive joke in response.
The little bugger had turned the magazine the wrong way, hoping to trip him up. Colin righted it, slid it home until it clicked, and glanced over with a gimme a break smirk. “I’m from the swamp. I’m not stupid.”
“Never said you were.” It was eerie how flat and unreadable the man was. “But with an attitude like that, you’ll never get your patches.” Before Colin could respond, he said, “Keep that one, I’ve got others, and let’s go.”
Outside, dawn was just breaking, and Jenny waited for them behind the wheel of her Jeep, face set in an unhappy but resigned expression.
“You ride with her,” Fox said, heading for his bike, “and I’ll follow.”
Colin decided he needed a bike, and soon. Riding shotgun was so not his style.
Resolute, he walked to the passenger door, half-surprised to find it unlocked, and glanced across at Jenny before he climbed inside. “Morning.”
“Morning.” She didn’t look at him.
“Do I get to know why I’m tailing you today?”
“Candy’s orders.” She turned and gave him a halfhearted, crooked smile. “There’s a free lunch in it, though.”
He guessed that would have to do.
Eight
Candy
“You know I’m gonna ask it,” Jinx said, and Candy smiled grimly to himself.
“Yeah, I know.”
“You gonna explain it?”
“I guess I will.”
Jinx shrugged, the tattoos on his bare arms rippling. He studied his fingernails as he scraped dirt from beneath them with his switchblade. He was curious, but he wasn’t going to be an ass about it. Disinterested in all things, that was Jinxie.
They sat on their bikes, boots braced in the pale dirt, waiting for the razor-wire gates up ahead to roll open and release Jud Riley out into the world. It was five til; they’d arrived early.
Candy took a deep breath and let it out, feeling tense and tired. “You’ve met Mercy’s old lady?”
Jinx might have grinned, but it was always hard to tell with the beard. “She wasn’t his old lady when I did, but yeah.”
“You know the story.” Because they all did. The tale of the overly devoted foot soldier and his princess had become a part of Lean Dogs lore. Once upon a time Ghost Teague had been struck with the brilliant idea of finding a personal guard for his daughter, and he’d seen all the markers of obsession and need in a young Felix Lécuyer. “Anybody else woulda done his job with Ava, but he wouldn’t have…”
“Fucked her?”
“Thrown himself in front of a bullet for her,” Candy corrected. “Ghost ain’t never had to worry one second about his girls.” He glanced meaningfully at his best friend. “I’m tired of being worried about Jen.”
Jinx finally lifted his head. “I think you’re always gonna worry about Jen, brother.”
“Yeah.” And didn’t that suck? “My point is, though, that it’d be nice for her to have someone who was invested. Someone besides me.”
Jinx made a noise that might have been a chuckle. “You’re an evil genius, ain’t you?”
“I like to pretend.”
The soft crunch of tires pulled their attention. A late model shit-brown Impala came to a halt fifteen feet away, the tint-free windows offering a clear glimpse of the man behind the wheel. Bad blue suit, skinny tie, cheap sunglasses. Straight out of a bad eighties cop movie, that was Elijah Riley.
“My pal,” Candy said.
“I’ma try to hold you back, brother,” Jinx said with a snort, “but I ain’t ever been any good at that.”
“Try a little harder.”
The driver door of the Impala opened.
“Oh, he’s not getting out of his car,” Candy said.
A booted foot reached out, touched the ground.
“That asshole is not getting out of his car.”
“Seeing is believing,” Jinx said on a smothered laugh.
A second foot, and then Riley stood, surveying this barren stretch of land. Expression smug, he shut his door and headed over.
“I know he’s not walking over here,” Candy said, loudly.
“Oh, but he is.”
“I just know that asshole’s not gonna try to speak to me.”
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Agent Riley said, hands going in his bad-blue-suit pants pockets.
Jinx folded his arms and put on his formidable face.
“Pinch me, Jinx,” Candy said. “I wanna wake up from this nightmare. There’s an ugly dickhead standing in front of me.”
Of the two Riley brothers, Judson had received the lion’s share of the good looks. By comparison, Elijah was square-headed and uninspiring to look at. His smile was made worse by the grimace that hid behind it. “Good to see you’re as charming as ever, Snow. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”
Candy snorted. “I know it’s hard for you, but try not to play dumb. You know damn well why I’m here.”
“I can promise you my brother doesn’t give a shit about your little club.”
Candy grinned. “God, you are dumb.”
The agent’s brows flicked together over his sunglasses.
“I’m just saying. If a man gets kicked out of the club he’s been running, he’s gonna be out for blood.”
“You think awfully highly of your club.”
“You think awfully highly of your brother.”
They all heard the gates unlatch, and turned that direction.
Two officers pushed aside the heavy wire gates, and there, standing in the center, grocery sack full of his personal belongings, stood Jen’s ex-husband, Judson Riley. Former VP of the Amarillo chapter of the Dogs. Former right hand man of Crockett. Former friend to Candy.
Locked up for spousal abuse.
Candy’s gut clenched tight. Hate was a strong word, but in this instance, it was the right word. He’d left Amarillo seven years ago to spend time developing the Canadian/US gun pipeline with the New York chapter, leaving behind a happily married sister and a competent club. He’d come back when Jen’s voice cracked over the phone and he’d realized the horrible lie she’d been living. Riley had known he was on his way; he had beaten Jenny to within an inch of
her life. Candy had found her unconscious in a dorm room, face a mess of bruises, suffering a fever from the infected knife marks along her arms.
He’d taken her to the hospital himself, sat by her bedside for three nights, until she was awake. Then he’d had Riley arrested – he’d held Jenny’s hand as her voice shook and she stammered out her tale to the police. And then…then he’d started cleaning house, one jackass at a time. He hoped to God no one ever took a backhoe to the flat stretch of land out behind the clubhouse; there was more than one body to dig up.
Riley halted, hand tensing on the handles of his bag, face blanking over with surprise as he spotted Candy and Jinx.
A handsome man, Riley. An evil man.
Elijah walked forward to meet him. “Brother,” he said, and pulled his younger sibling into a tight embrace.
Riley’s eyes never left Candy.
The two brothers, one outlaw, one ATF agent, walked to the unmarked car, eyes downcast.
“Hey,” Candy called when they were near.
Elijah kept going, getting behind the wheel.
Jud halted, head lifting in a reluctant way. His stare was black, full of hate.
“I don’t need to tell you,” Candy said, “that you need to go away and never be heard from again. But I’m telling you anyway. I don’t ever wanna see your face again, Riley. None of us do.”
Riley stared him down a long moment, expression unreadable. “Tell your sister I said hello,” he said, finally, climbed into his brother’s car, and was gone.
Nine
Colin
He was bored. The first hour, as Gabe’s was just opening up and the staff was in the morning scurry to take the chairs down and set out fresh rolled sets of silverware, he’d been delighted to watch Jenny hurry back and forth, heels of her boots clicking sharply across the boards. Her boots were white today, with large red roses on the uppers and toes.
How many pairs of boots did she have, he wondered. And what did they cost?
He asked Fox about the price and he shrugged. “You can get a pair at Walmart. But what Jen’s got? Between two and five-hundred.”
“For just one pair of boots.” He whistled, decided her a brat, and slouched down in his chair.
The breakfast crowd had been entertaining up to a point. But now it was almost lunch and the boredom was setting in.
Finally deciding he had to ask even if he’d be denied an answer, Colin said, “So why are we here?”
Fox shrugged and sipped his sweet tea. “Because Candy asked us to be here.”
“Okay, maybe you were asked, but I was ordered. And it’d be cool to know what or who I’m supposed to be looking out for.”
The look Fox sent him was faintly patronizing.
“What? I’m just saying.”
Fox shook his head and turned away. “Watch Jenny. If someone tries to jump her, I’d say it’s a safe bet you ought to respond.”
“You’re just helpful as shit, aren’t you?”
“Careful, prospect.”
Fuck me.
The door opened again, then again, light beaming across the floor in strobe fashion as one after the next after the next lunchtime regular began to filter in. A sudden strong smell of sautéed onions announced the official changing of the menu.
Boot heels clipped toward them and Jenny arrived with a pitcher of tea to refill them, and heaping hot plates of potatoes with gravy, chicken fried steak, and wilted greens.
“Here boys, before it gets too late,” she explained, setting down their food and topping off their drinks.
“Thanks, love,” Fox said.
Colin said, “I’ve been wondering something.”
She lifted her brows.
“How much do those boots cost?”
She made an exasperated sound and turned away.
“Hey, I’m just curious. I wanna know how expensive you are.” He laughed when she tossed her hair in a clearly dismissive gesture.
“Idiot,” Fox said.
The restaurant filled up with bodies and voices, and they attacked their lunches silently. Fox only ate half his potatoes, slid the plate over, and Colin scooped them onto his own plate.
As he shoveled in food, he glanced regularly up at Jenny, working the counter with her bright smile pinned in place. She seemed easy and relaxed with the customers, not tense the way she was with him. Still, he detected a scrap of something raw beneath her surface, an odd light in her eyes that shouldn’t have been there.
He guessed needing a security detail would do that to a person.
Between one bite of steak and the next, something changed. Colin stiffened, fork hovering in the air, as he registered the scene across the room.
Jenny had her hands on the cash register, fingers curled tight, white as bone at the knuckles. Her body was frozen; he couldn’t even see her breathing, her chest unmoving. Face caught between fight and flight, blue eyes huge.
Fear. Cold and intense.
Across the counter, a man in a blue suit smiled at her in a way that turned Colin’s lunch to lead in his gut.
“Who’s that?” he asked, swallowing down steak that tried to stick in his throat. He set his fork down, made a reflexive reach for his waistband and the borrowed gun hidden beneath his cut.
“Ah, shit.” In a sequence of fluid moves, Fox was on his feet and headed for the counter.
Colin was sitting on the far side of the table, but beat the Englishman to it, arriving at the front counter first, planting a hand down and putting himself in the suit wearer’s face.
“Hey,” he said, voice heavy with his native accent.
“Oh God,” Jenny whispered, and his eyes flicked to her, saw the naked terror on her face and wanted to strangle someone.
Then back to the guy in the suit, his square, unattractive face and sloppy haircut.
The man reared back before cool professionalism slid into place. He had cop written all over him, but not in the way of the troopers back home. Colin had had plenty of run-ins with New Orleans’ finest in his youth, but they’d been solid blue-collar hardworking types, doing their jobs, giving a swamp rat kid a break when they could. This man possessed none of their good ol’ boy charm. This one stank of fed.
Even so, Colin got the best of him, surprised him, for that half a second before he pulled himself together. “Excuse me, I’m ordering,” he said. “You’ll have to go to the back of the line.” He turned back to Jenny, dismissing Colin.
“Right. Yeah. Jen, who is this?”
“Uh…” She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and straightened her shoulders, visibly forcing the panic from her features. “This is Agent Riley. ATF.”
ATF. Oh shit.
He grinned and layered on more Cajun charm. “Pleased to meet you, agent. You know, I’m kinda glad I ran into you. There’s something I always wanted to ask a federal agent.”
Fox arrived behind him and stepped on the heel of his boot in clear warning.
Riley let his eyes move down to the prospect patch stitched to the breast of Colin’s cut and then back up, lip curled. “Funny. There’s nothing I ever wanted to ask a white trash biker piece of shit.”
The restaurant went silent. Riley’s voice had carried, and suddenly, no one in Gabe’s was speaking, maybe not even breathing, silence broken only by the muted clatter of the kitchen.
Grin still firmly in place, Colin said, “Jenny, is he the reason I’m here today?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“Jen?”
“No,” she said on a deep exhale. “He’s not.”
Maybe not, but he’d rattled her regardless.
Colin took an exaggerated step to the side, so he was out of the way, but still at the counter. “Alright then. You take his order, baby, and I’ll just stand right here and make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”
“Shut up,” Fox hissed behind him. “I’m not bailing you out later, stupid yank.”
Colin braced his hands on the edge of the co
unter, still smiling like an idiot, and didn’t budge. Let Fox try and drag him away; he dared the asshole.
Jenny took another deep breath, cracked her knuckles, and poised her fingers above the register. Her voice was dim. “What can I get for you?”
Slowly, the chatter resumed, starting up slow like frightened crickets after a storm, then swelling back to a normal volume. Amidst the noise, Colin couldn’t hear what Riley said, but he saw him lean forward, just before he took his food, and whisper something to Jenny.
~*~
Agent Riley didn’t stick around, but Jenny couldn’t seem to shake his visit off. Fifteen minutes after he was gone, Colin watched her untie her apron, trade places at the register with another girl, and head out the back staff door. She was taking her break, and she probably wanted to be alone.
Too bad.
He gave her a twenty second head start, then followed, ducking down the rear hallway and through the exit into a dirt-paved back lot where the staff cars and dumpsters threw heat mirages into the clear afternoon sunlight. There was a rickety wood bench with peeling paint, and that was where Jenny sat, pitched forward at the waist, working her fingers together in nervous twitches.
Colin decided not to spook her. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, waiting beside the bench for acknowledgement.
She tossed him a fast glance, expression still shattered from before, and sighed. “Why not.”
He thought the wood slats might give beneath his weight, and perched carefully, mimicking her posture.
She stared out across the lot, gaze distant, lower lip trembling each time she inhaled.
Colin fished his smokes and lighter from inside his cut and offered them. “This always helps me when I’m shook up.”
She didn’t hesitate, pulling one out and lighting it up. “Thanks,” she said as she exhaled. “Shit, I haven’t smoked in a long time.”
“I knocked you off the wagon,” he lamented.
“No, I can handle just the one.” And she set about savoring it, slow drags, holding the smoke for long moments before releasing it.
Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) Page 4
