Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) (19 page)

I know you’re scared, and I know you have doubts. But there’s a little of the man I married in your man. Excavate it out of him. Give him a chance. Demand nothing less than his whole heart, and see if he won’t step up and surprise you.

I’m always here if you need someone to listen.

Ava

Jenny laid the phone aside, and wiped her eyes.

Twenty-Eight

Candy

When he first returned home to Amarillo from New York, when the world was upside down, he’d walked into the chapel and run straight into a framed photo of his father and Riley standing together, arms slung across each other’s shoulders, grinning into the glare of the sun. Candy had pulled the photo off the wall, taken it out back, and used it for target practice.

              Jenny thought his crusade against Riley was about keeping her safe. And it was…mostly. But it was personal, too. His sister wanted blood for the abuses committed against her? She’d have to get in line behind him.

              “You’re in your head again, brother,” Jinx observed as he settled into his usual chair. The chapel, empty save for the two of them, echoed back the sound of Jinx’s lighter, the first inhalation of smoke.

              Candy nodded, and his eyes lifted from the spreadsheet he’d been studying to take a trip around the room.

              Everything about it was new. He hadn’t been able to stand the idea that any of Riley’s sloughed-off skin cells still dwelled in the table cracks of this most sacred of MC hallows. He’d taken the sledgehammer to the walls himself, ripped out the old paneling with a crow bar. Demo’d the tile underfoot, wheeling it out into the yard one wheelbarrow at a time. New sheetrock, new photos in new frames, new banners, new flags, new hardwood, new light fixtures, fresh coat of paint. He’d had professionals sand the table down and lacquer it with new varnish. The chair seats had been reupholstered. Nothing of Riley remained. Nothing physical, but the bastard was still alive and well in Jenny’s nightmares, and in Candy’s nagging conscience.

              He glanced back down at the spreadsheet. “We’re not making enough money,” he admitted, feeling raw and tired. “Between replacing the water heaters last month, and making that loan to Tennessee…” He shook his head. “We need a windfall, and soon.”

              He flipped the paper over, suddenly disgusted. “My sister has to work in that damn shithole restaurant. What the fuck? Why can’t I give her a job around here somewhere?” The sense of inadequacy swelled, threatened to crush him.

              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.

              For a second, his friends could do nothing but stare at him, eyes white-rimmed with shock.

              “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.