Cold Blood (Lone Star Mobsters Book 4)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “Why?”

  “I’m gonna show you somethin’. This ain’t about sex, but I understand what you went through.” Justice stood and pulled down his jeans and then his boxer briefs. His cock was half hard, but when Justice lifted the staff to one side, Etta noticed a wound on his scrotum. It was so slight, she hadn’t noticed it before. Then again, she’d been very distracted at the time.

  “You were stabbed?”

  He laid a hand on his leg. “Yeah, by the dickhead who did this to me, Jeff. He punctured one of my balls. I can still have kids, but my chances are literally cut in half. I might’ve died if the cavalry hadn’t arrived later on that very night. I was already weak, and my leg was infected.”

  “I’m sorry.” Once again, they had more in common than she had realized. “Were the men who did this ever found?”

  “Oh yeah.” His smile was smug. “The Navy SEALs tossed their asses in Gitmo, but ol’ Jeff didn’t make it.”

  Etta shared his glee. She didn’t feel a bit bad for their plight.

  “What happened?”

  “He pulled a weapon, and the SEALs had to put ‘em down.”

  Etta bet there was a bit more to the story, but didn’t ask. And she was glad Jeff was no longer among the living because at least Justice had some measure of closure.

  “Could you ever forgive Jeff, assumin’ you wanted to, I mean?”

  “I don’t, and no, I couldn’t. Ever. Some people don’t deserve our forgiveness. What about you, can you forgive Grady?”

  She shook her head. “I did everythin’ I could to let go of it. I talked to my preacher, a counselor, my friends, but I can’t let it go, and I never will.”

  “There’s no rule sayin’ you have to.” Justice laid down again, staring up at the ceiling. “Now, I reckon it’s my turn, to share.”

  Is he gonna let me in this time?

  “I came clean with Trick, and I don’t wanna hold anythin’ back from you. Are you up for it, right now?”

  “I am.” And then Etta listened, as Justice told her everything about Afghanistan.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three weeks passed, and things were better but not back to normal yet.

  For one thing, Etta hadn’t gone back to work. Her supervisor put her on paid leave until the end of the month.

  She was slowly getting her life back together. Etta had gone to Wal-Mart, armed with a charge card, and bought replacement clothing. The items weren’t as nice as the ones she’d had, but at least she had something to wear.

  Etta had also gone to one of her group sessions and met up with Bonnie afterward for dinner. Bonnie had wanted to kill Grady herself, but then urged her to let Justice handle the situation.

  Etta still hadn’t made a decision.

  She also attended her weekly burn unit appointments. The following sessions were excruciating.

  Dr. Bennett said the process would minimize scar tissue and give her skin a more normal appearance while allowing sensation to return in her arm. They always gave her a painkiller beforehand, but it didn’t help much.

  She had two choices, and neither one of them appealed to her. Learn to live with a Freddy Krueger arm, or stick it out, so she continued going back for more.

  This particular afternoon, the doctor had unwrapped her arm, and she couldn’t help but focus on the mottled skin. It resembled a sickly alien body part attached to her shoulder, all purplish pink and stippled. The doctors assured her, it wouldn’t be as noticeable eventually, but Etta had difficulty believing them.

  It was easy to pretend the skin was ordinary when it was wrapped in a thick layer of gauze. Whenever she came to the doctor’s office, she couldn’t lie to herself.

  And worse, they were going to “harvest” skin from her butt and put it on her arm. Etta hated the term because it sounded like a strange new farming practice. And wasn’t it a zero-sum solution? Because then she’d be missing skin on her ass.

  But every time Etta felt like throwing a pity party, she thought about burn victims whose scars were more visible. In the waiting room, she saw dozens of them. At least, she could wear a long sleeve shirt, and no one would notice her injuries. Things could be much worse.

  “Etta?” Justice asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “Come on, you’re going to the ocean with me.”

  Etta frowned. “The Gulf of Mexico is a hundred miles from here.” It sounded tempting, though, she’d rather be anywhere than in a doctor’s office waiting to be filleted like a trout.

  Justice had volunteered to take her to the appointments, which she appreciated. Afterward, she was sore and had trouble gripping the steering wheel. Etta tensed as the doctor gathered the equipment she needed.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He grasped her good hand and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I know what it’s like to endure people hurtin’ me. At least they’re tryin’ to make it better, hold on to the thought, it’ll get you through this.”

  “Okay.” She braced herself.

  “Clutch my hand when it hurts. I’m right here with you and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He placed her hand on his chest. “Feel my heartbeat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now I want you to picture the waves. Can you hear the surf rollin’ in? Poundin’ against the shore?”

  No, she couldn’t.

  Any moment, the doctor would begin, and she could feel it coming. Etta thought the anticipation, the dread, made it even worse.

  When the debridement began, she squeezed his fingers. His larger hand enveloped hers, surrounding it. Etta focused on the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

  The scalpel scraped along her raw flesh, and it was agony. She gritted her teeth, trying to bear it without screaming her head off. This was even more painful than Grady slicing into her back.

  Justice gripped her hand tighter. “Come on, I want you to focus.”

  Eyes screwed shut, she nodded. “All right.”

  “I’m with you, every step of the way. You can do this, we can do this. Right?”

  “Right.” Etta held onto his faith because it was all she had.

  Then she let Justice take her to the ocean.

  In her mind’s eye, they stood on a long stretch of sand. Overhead, she could hear the seagulls calling, and Justice’s voice taking her far away from the ache in her forearm.

  It was almost working. Don’t think about the scalpel. Yet, she could sense it on the edge of her consciousness.

  “Are you here with me?” he asked.

  “Almost there.” She gritted her teeth as the surgical instrument dug into her skin.

  “I’ve got somethin’ to distract you.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes were still squeezed shut.

  “Come to Perdition with me tomorrow night, and I’ll introduce you to the club.”

  Since she’d spent time with Justice, Etta was no longer scared of the bikers. They seemed like upstanding citizens when compared to the man she’d been married to.

  “Sounds like fun. Think they’ll like me?”

  “I know they will, because I do. And since we’re talkin’ about it, I never shared my proposal with you.”

  “No time like the present.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  And his distraction worked because she wasn’t in pain for the rest of the session.

  ***

  The next day, Etta went back to work.

  For weeks, she’d been itching to get back to the trenches, if only to have some sense of normalcy. When she arrived at her desk, she found a thick stack of messages from clients and spent the first couple of hours returning calls.

  As she sat at her desk, the tension coiled deep inside eased a bit. Like everything else she’d survived, Etta would get over this eventually. She was slowly moving on, returning to her ordinary life.

  Around four thirty in the afternoon, she went to Tyler’s place. She’d been looking forward to the home visit all day. She’d scheduled it for last, so she had more time with him.<
br />
  After greeting his foster parents, she found Tyler playing with an inchworm on the back patio. It crawled up and down his bare arms. Every now and then, Tyler gently grasped the insect and corrected its path.

  “Hey, Ms. Jameson.” He held out his finger. “Did you meet Squirmy?” The bug stood up, wiggling back and forth, as though greeting her.

  “Hey, Squirmy.”

  “He’s my new pet.”

  Tyler would’ve preferred a dog or a cat, but his foster parents probably had their hands full taking care of him, let alone an animal.

  “They told me your arm got burned.”

  “Yeah, but I’m alright.” She touched the gauze-swathed arm.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “A little bit.”

  He nodded, eyes wide. “I got burned, and it hurt pretty bad.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “I remember.”

  His mother had held his hand to a lit stove as a punishment for disobeying her. She’d been high at the time and gave a half-dozen excuses for her behavior. None of them explained away the cruelty.

  “It got better though.”

  “Yup and mine will, too.”

  He tilted his head. “Did your mom hurt you?”

  “No, but let’s talk about you. Tell me how preschool’s goin’.”

  And she sat and listened to Tyler rattle on about story hour, cheesy fish crackers, and how high he could count. Etta enjoyed every second of it. He was a remarkable child, and anyone would be blessed to have him.

  She would be blessed to have him. Etta had nearly died, and it was high time she lived, made her dreams come true, and motherhood was at the top of the list.

  Justice told her the miscarriage wasn’t her fault, and he’d been right. She shouldn’t take the blame for Grady’s behavior.

  That’s when she decided.

  Etta would petition the court to become Tyler’s foster parent, and then she’d push for adoption.

  So now she had a proposal of her very own for Justice.

  ***

  Since Etta had gone back to work, Justice did too.

  Butler had volunteered to watch Mary, while Justice had taken care of Etta. When he got to the Cobb mansion, he found Mary packing in her room.

  “Oh, hey, Justice.” She gave him a one-armed hug because the other was full of clothing. “Will told me what happened. How’s Etta doin’?”

  “Fair to middlin’, but she went back to work today.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear she’s doing better.” She lifted a brow. “I also heard she was staying with you…?”

  “Why, yes, she is.” Justice beamed.

  He liked sleeping beside her, sharing her meals, and waking up next to her. Justice wished he’d gone ahead and bought a house. The trailer was cramped for two people. Hell, it was a bit too cozy for one person.

  “Wow. I’d better get on the road. Love’s in the air around here. First Dix, then Byron, followed by Jasper and Vick, and now you. I ain’t got the time for a nap, let alone love.”

  “Are you leavin’ already?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I start classes on Monday.” Mary seemed happy to be going back to Harvard, and he couldn’t blame her. She belonged in Boston, instead of this snake pit.

  “What about your safety at school?” Justice watched as she meticulously folded T-shirts and put them in a suitcase.

  “Granddad hired a private security company to keep an eye on me.” Her lips twisted.

  Justice didn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want hired goons following him around all day either.

  “He ain’t sendin’ one of the boys with you?”

  She shook her head. “He couldn’t spare anybody. Though, if I had my way, I’d be takin’ Jasper with me.”

  “I bet Vick wouldn’t go for it.”

  She snickered. “Not so much, so I’ll deal with the rent-a-bodyguard instead. Maybe the worst is behind me.”

  They hadn’t figured out who’d been after her. Justice doubted they’d give up so easily, but he didn’t say so.

  “Well, call me if you need anythin’, day or night.” Justice meant it, over the past few weeks he’d grown fond of her.

  “I will.” She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t suppose you’d be willin’ to tell me what’s really going on here…?”

  “No can do, but nice try.” Justice thought the joking tone would discourage her from asking more questions about things he couldn’t answer. “Okay, tell me what kind of weapons you have.”

  “Weapons? Um, does a number two pencil count?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll tell you what, let’s take a trip to Hell, and we’ll visit my friend’s shop.” Steele had an impressive inventory.

  “What does he sell?”

  “Inferno Firearms has it all. I think we’ll start with some mace, and we’ll go from there. Consider it a back-to-school gift.”

  When Justice was finished, she’d have her own arsenal.

  Watch out, Harvard boys.

  Chapter Twenty

  Everything about Perdition shouted biker bar.

  Etta lived in town but steered clear of the Horsemen, Pretty Boy notwithstanding, so she hadn’t hung out there. For the first time since the accident, they rode on Justice’s bike. He took it easy, so she didn’t have to hold on to him quite as tight. Etta was still working on her grip.

  He shut off the engine after they pulled up. A couple dozen bikes surrounded the building. Even from the outside, she could hear raucous, male laughter, along with AC/DC’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.

  She took off her helmet and placed it across the handlebars.

  “Well, we’re at the bar. What’s your proposal?” The curiosity was driving her nuts.

  “All in good time.” Justice wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “As a heads up, me and the brothers ain’t on the best of terms, right now.”

  “Because you’ve been workin’ with Beauregard?” He nodded. “Sure you wanna go in there?”

  “Yeah, might as well get this show on the road.”

  So they walked inside. The building had been a warehouse and maintained a rough, industrial feel. The vaulted ceiling sported two large exposed steel beams, and a pair of antique Harleys were suspended from them on chains.

  A long, lacy string of ladies’ panties wrapped around the walls, along with the occasional framed poster of a naked chick draped over a motorcycle. Think on your Sins, the club motto was painted in blood red across the surface of one large wall.

  It was a cross between a honky tonk and a frat house.

  Dear Lord. What did I get myself into?

  ***

  Axel waited for Justice at the corner of the bar.

  He pointed to the back hallway, where the boardroom is located. And then he stalked off, assuming Justice would follow.

  Justice escorted Etta to a barstool, and she hopped up. Pretty Boy was manning the bar this evening.

  Justice flagged him down. “Two whiskeys, please.”

  Pretty Boy grabbed a pair of glasses and filled them up.

  “Can you hang out here for a second?” he asked Etta.

  “Sure. Is there gonna be trouble?” Her eyes were wide.

  “Nope, I’m just gonna talk with the Prez.” It wouldn’t be fun, exactly, but Justice wouldn’t classify it as trouble either.

  Pretty Boy flung a towel over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Justice. I’ll keep her company until you get back.” He set the drinks down.

  “Thanks, brother.” Justice strolled down a long hallway through two double steel doors into a boardroom. The doors had been stamped with the image of a stallion’s head, along with the club’s name. A quote from Revelations had been carved into the long oak table dominating the room: Behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him. To match it, another Bible quote in a frame hung on the wall: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and des
troy my brothers.

  Justice wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiments.

  Axel wouldn’t have used the boardroom unless this was an official talk. On second thought, he should’ve discussed guarding Mary with Axel, but he’d always found begging for forgiveness worked better than asking for permission anyhow.

  Axel waited for him at the end of the conference table.

  “Can I help you?” Justice asked, as he pulled out a chair and sat.

  “From what I heard, you’re too busy helpin’ Beauregard.”

  “Yeah, well, you told me to take a break from the club.” Justice made air quotes with his fingers. “So I did.”

  “I didn’t mean take up with Beauregard and the rest. I wanted you to clear your head, back off the weed.”

  “Yeah, well, I did what I needed to. And, for the record, I’m clean and sober.”

  Axel scrutinized him. “I’ll be damned, you are.”

  “All I’ve been doin’ is watchin’ Tucker Cobb’s granddaughter. Nothin’ illegal.”

  “Maybe, but you could’ve worked for anybody else.”

  “I took the first offer I got. And don’t you dare give me any shit about it. We’re in this mess with the mafia because we’re keepin’ your momma safe.”

  It was a low blow. Justice had no trouble going to bat for Eddie. Like the rest of the brothers, he loved her something fierce, but he wouldn’t let Axel take the high road on this one.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But nothin’. Like it or not, and I don’t, we’re tangled up with ‘em now. Might as well make some cash on the side. It ain’t like I started runnin’ guns. This is under the radar.” Since the club had nearly been decimated by the FBI back in the day, the brothers deliberately kept a low profile. “And maybe they ain’t so bad, some of ‘em, at least. Beauregard’s a dick, but I don’t mind Ten so much.” Even if he had a spooky way about him.

  Axel sneered. “You thinkin’ about joinin’ up?”

  “Fuck no.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready to be back with my brothers. When’s my break over?”

  Axel was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking it over.

  “I’ll see you at the next meetin’ and don’t be late.”