Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) (21 page)

Thirty

Jenny

The first few nights were the hardest, for reasons she didn’t want to think about. Namely that she was more attached than she ever would have thought possible.

              Maybe that wasn’t such a terrible affliction. If Ava was right and Colin was capable of being a very involved husband…

              Not that she was thinking about rings and vows.

              Shit.

              Sometimes she really hated herself for being such a fan of commitment.

              In any event, the urgency of longing faded as the days melted into weeks. Still there, but stowed carefully inside her in a way that wouldn’t prevent her from going about her day.

              Days like today.

              “Cletus,” she said, praying for calm as she faced off from one of the twins in front of the washing machine. “What did you put in here?”

              He shrugged and gave her one of his mostly blank stares. “Nothin’ but my clothes.”

              She leaned over and peered down into the machine. It had been screaming when she passed it in the hall, out of balance and knocking so hard the whole unit had scooted forward a few inches across the floor. “Yeah, but what was on your clothes?”

              Without apparent shame, he said, “Wet concrete.”

              A lot of it, apparently, which was currently gray sludge in the bottom of the machine.

              She took a breath and kept her voice even. “And how did you get that on your clothes?”

              “I fell in it.”

              She lifted her brows, inviting further explanation.

              “Catcher and me was–”

              “You know what?” She held up a hand. “Changed my mind, I don’t want to know. Just clean this out as best you can and maybe we can salvage it.”

              That was doubtful. Thank God she and Candy had a machine in the sanctuary.

              Thank God she had a private bathroom back there, too, because that’s where she sprinted, just in time to lose her meager lunch of saltines.

              The problem with morning sickness, she reflected afterward, was that it didn’t just strike in the morning, but afflicted her all day long. Her stomach gave her a brief spell of quiet around three most afternoons, but would turn on her with a vengeance an hour later.

              She rinsed her mouth out and checked her reflection. She looked haggard; pale and droopy-eyed, and not herself. If Candy could see her right this minute, he’d know something was off. She managed to smile a little, thinking about his array of facial expressions when she told him. She ought to tell Colin ahead of time, so he’d have his running shoes laced up tight.

              Thinking of them – both her boys – made her smile, and then wilt with loneliness. Did she love the club? Yes. But without Candy and Colin around, the antics and idiosyncrasies of the rest of the guys were more exhausting than they were entertaining.

              With a quick mental pep talk, Jenny left the sanctuary, only to bump into Talis out in the hall.  “Oh.” She pulled up short, more rattled than she should have been. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

              He tilted his head and studied her, but the gesture was nothing like Colin’s puppy-like, quizzical stance, which she thought was cute and charming. This was like having a buzzard decide if you were dead enough to eat yet. If she was totally honest, Talis had always made her uneasy. She trusted him with her safety, trusted his loyalty to the club. But she could find no inroads to connect with the man. Sometimes, sharing the same cause and pledging loyalty to the same people wasn’t enough to bridge any kind of friendship.

              “You alright?” he asked, voice low and gruff as always. He gave the impression that he didn’t like talking, the words seemingly reluctant, always.

              She smiled. “Fine. What’s up?”             

              His head titled the other way, the same study at a new angle. “Ginger,” he said.

              “What?”

              “Ginger,” he repeated. “When my…” He cleared his throat and it sounded painful. “When Tracy was pregnant. She chewed ginger, said it helped with feeling sick.”             

              Jenny sucked in a breath. “How did you know?” Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and her palms itched, a sudden prickling beneath the skin.

              “I could just tell.” His eyes dropped away from her. “You should try it.”             

              Had it been anyone else, Jenny would have threatened violence to keep him quiet about the matter. But she knew Talis wouldn’t share the news with anyone. And his halting, raw mention of his ex-girlfriend touched her.

              “How’s Chloe?” she asked of his daughter, voice softening.

              He nodded, eyes bright but guarded…and sad, oh so sad…as they lifted. “She’s good. She’s real smart. Doing good in school.”

              “That’s good, Frank,” she said, daring to press a brief, comforting touch to his arm. “Do you get to see her often?”

              He shrugged. “Some.”

              Poor man.

              Then he remembered why he’d been looking for her. “Gringo found something he wants you to look at.”

              “Yeah? Okay, lead the way.”

              Gringo was with his best friend Cowboy, the two of them standing at the edge of the property, against the ten-foot chain-link, razor wire-topped fence. Jenny suppressed a smile when she spotted them. They were currently arguing the merits of the ombré turquoise paint job on a bike Cowboy wanted to buy.

              Friends since childhood, they were dark-headed, handsome bookends. Cowboy was Mexican, and had christened his best bro with his club name Gringo, commenting, “He was the stupidest white boy we ever saw in the neighborhood. And the bravest.” They’d prospected together, been given their patches together, and were rarely out of earshot of one another.

              “What’s up, boys?” Jenny greeted as she and Talis joined them.

              “Cigarettes,” Cowboy said, dark face troubled.

              Gringo pointed to a small pile of butts that lay just on the other side of the fence. “I counted seven. Somebody stood there a while.”

              Jenny crouched down to get a closer look, and a chill chased across her skin. The goosebumps were almost painful. She knew exactly what this meant, but she said, “Have you talked to everyone else? Was this Blue. Or Pup? Or…” She tipped her head back and saw three alarmed faces behind her. She sighed. “We need to check the camera footage.”

~*~

Colin

He’d been in Knoxville a month. A month of long-distance phone calls and sleepless nights tossing on a lumpy dorm mattress. He missed his girl. He wanted to feel her weight settle against his side when he closed his eyes at night; see the new subtle changes in her body as the baby took root and began to unfurl, real and baby-shaped in her belly. He needed to lay hands and eyes on her so he could convince himself that fatherhood wasn’t the scariest prospect in the entire world.

              It was his last night in Tennessee, all the dramas turned down to simmer, the immediate dangers past. While Candy and Fox and Jinx enjoyed one last night with the groupies at the clubhouse, Colin had a dinner invitation. He knocked on the Lécuyers’ back door with a knot in his gut.

              He heard the lock disengage and his brother opened the door with a baby in one arm.

              It was the younger one, Cal. The blonde one. Colin had first spotted his hair a few weeks ago and thought Ava must have stepped out on her man. But Cal had Mercy’s eyes, no mistaking it, if a little wider and more innocent with babyhood.

              “I hope you’re hungry,” Mercy greeted, waving him in. “Ava went nuts with the food.”

              “I heard that,” Ava’s voice floated from beyond the mud room.

              Mercy rolled his eyes with a grin, and whispered, “She’s turning into her mother. Only most times, I’m too afraid to tell her that.”

              “Is that a bad thing?” Colin thought of Maggie Teague, hot and too young for her husband, something terrifying lurking beneath her Southern aplomb.

              “Nope.”

              He crossed the threshold and passed through a wall of warmth; the air of the house seemed to enfold him as Mercy closed and relocked the door. Warm and lively, bursting with cooking smells and the faint tang of leather, here where the coats were hung up. Little Cal stared at him, bold and guileless, the deep brown eyes very much like his own.

              “Come on,” Mercy said, and clapped him on the shoulder with his free hand. “Let’s go get a beer.”

              “Okay.”

The mud room led into the kitchen. Sizzling in a pan, fragrant curls of steam, golden light glowing through the window in the oven door.

He still found Ava attractive in an unnerving way. She was older than her years, sharper and more subtle than her young exterior would suggest. Something feral and Ghost Teague in her eyes. She was barefoot, in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, thick locks of hair coming down from her ponytail.

“Hi, Colin.” She put a hand on her older boy’s dark head and kept him where he sat on the floor as she cracked the oven door to check the contents. Rich, buttery smells poured out of the opening before she shut it again with a satisfied nod. When she straightened, she turned to face him fully, giving him the Ghost-eye. “Hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A grin tugged at her lips. He hadn’t ever called her “ma’am” before. Clearly, she liked the show of respect.

Mercy popped Cal in his baby swing and went to the fridge. “I’ve got Michelob, is that alright?”

“It’s fine.”

It was when the cold beer hit his hand that it washed over him. All of it. This modest house with crayon drawings on the fridge and food waiting in hot dishes; the children who looked like their father; clever, pretty wife; a marriage. A family. A home. This was life, right here in this kitchen. Felix Lécuyer, robbed of his blood family, had clawed his way out of the swamp, and built himself a new life. The girl he loved, the children they’d had together, a home and a job and a place in the club.

Mercy hadn’t wasted any time trying to bullshit himself. He wanted love, wanted loyalty, wanted stability.

The man Colin had called father had tried to take that away from Mercy. Had forced him to choose. But how could any man give all of this up for the sake of a former friendship?

If a man he’d called friend threatened to take away Jenny, his unborn baby, his chance at a real life? Would he lay aside his shotgun?

No. No way in hell.

Colin understood, then, as he breathed in the thick scent of cornbread and Mercy frowned and asked if he felt alright. He would have shot his own father – real or fake – if it meant keeping Jenny safe. Their baby. Their future.

“Shit,” he whispered, and that was when the shaking started.

The beer fell out of his hand, and shattered at his feet.

~*~

Ashamed, he took the rag from Ava and knelt to mop up the mess he’d made. New beer in hand, he sat down at the table with them, and knew, judging by their expressions, that they understood something had happened in his mind. But they weren’t going to acknowledge it unless he wanted to.

              Dinner was pan-seared pork chops, salad, cornbread, and pinto beans. Mercy had made the beans, he said, proud of his handiwork and the amount of bacon and onions he’d used.

              Colin ate in silence, feeling like more of an asshole by the second as he shoveled in his sister-in-law’s home cooking. Yes, that’s who she was: his sister-in-law. And she tactfully steered the conversation with Mercy toward neutral, everyday stuff.

              At least she did until Colin finally set his fork down, plate empty save a last smear of grease. Then she turned to him and said, “How’s Jenny feeling?”

              Colin choked. Mercy reached over and gave him a helpful thump on the back.

              “He told you?” He jerked his head toward Mercy.

              Ava smiled. “Jenny did, a few weeks ago when she called me.”

              “Okay…”

              “I didn’t tell anyone,” she assured. “She just wanted to get my opinion.”

              “On what?” he and Mercy asked at the same time.

              Ava glanced between them, smiling. “Oh, nothing.”

~*~

Jenny

All the security footage was recorded digitally and saved on flash drives. Catcher was swallowed up by Candy’s captain’s chair at the office computer as he plugged the drive in and pulled up the recordings.