Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) (4 page)

Seven

Jenny

It was a cloudless sky tonight, as the sun prepared for its dramatic descent. Jenny leaned back in her wicker chair and propped her feet up on the matching footstool. Her one feminine place in this clubhouse, the back porch off the sanctuary, with her unobstructed view of the sunset. She sipped her glass of cheap merlot and felt it start to work in moments, the warm release of tension in her veins.

              The door behind her creaked open and heavy boots clomped across the porch. She didn’t need to turn her head to see that it was her brother sitting down in the chair beside her; no one else would dare.

              “It’s gonna be a good one,” Candy said, gesturing to the sky.

              “Uh-huh.”

              It was quiet a beat, and Jenny sipped more wine, feeling acutely the weight of things unsaid. Candy liked his sunsets alright, but he liked beer and dancing girls and a game on the TV a whole hell of a lot better.

              The sky began to pink, orange at the edges, buttery yellow above.

              Candy took a deep breath. “The other night when Fox was in here.”

              Jenny tensed.

              “You heard, didn’t you? About Riley.”

              She felt his gaze against the side of her face and drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s getting out.”

              The chair creaked as he shifted, turning to face her fully. “Jen.”

              She took a long slug of wine and held up a hand, trying to ward him off.

              “Jennifer,” he pressed. “I promise you that he won’t touch you. Not even a finger. I swear.”

              Such vehemence in his voice, enough to bring tears to her eyes. She shook her head, nose buried in her glass. “You don’t get it,” she murmured. “You don’t know–”

              “Hey.” He leaned across the gap between the chairs, getting in close to her face. “You’ve been around here longer than me, I grant you that. But I’m the Dog, Jen,” he said gently. “I’m the one who gets to call shots. Hell, I’m the VP now. Riley can’t touch you. Not without going through me and all my brothers first.”

              Jenny drained her glass and turned to him slowly, angry heat wrapping around her throat, flaming in her cheeks. “Do you think that’s what I’m worried about?” she asked.

              He stared at her, mouth tightening.

              “I’m worried,” she said, words precise and snapping, “about the fact that you took his patch, forced divorce papers on him, and threatened to have him killed in the joint. I’m worried that the evil sombitch is going to come after
you
, Derek.”

              “That’s not gonna happen.”

              “Oh, it’s not? Just like that? Just because you say it won’t? Riley has friends. That’s the most evil part about him – the way he manipulates people into caring about him. He’s been stewing for seven years, dreaming about getting his club back. The second he gets out, he won’t waste ten seconds worrying about me.
You’re
the target this time around, I can promise you.”

              Candy sat back, sighing loudly through his nostrils. He was angry with her now. And he was doubting; she could see it in the way his golden eyebrows pinched together.

              “Riley’s got no friends inside the club,” he said after a moment. “As far as all the Lean Dogs are concerned, Texas belongs to me and mine.”

              “And Crockett,” she added.

              He sent her a sharp look. “Stick it, Jen.”

              “I’m just saying.”

              “Crockett knows that things are going well these days. He knows the clubhouse looks better and we’re making money. He won’t fuck any of that up just for old times’ sake.”

              She wanted more wine; why hadn’t she brought the whole damn bottle out here with her? She at least ought to get up and go get more.

              But she stayed in her chair, twirling the glass around by its stem between two fingers. “You ought to be president,” she said quietly, and watched her brother flinch, physically pained by the words. “You’re doing a good job, and Dad would have been so proud.”

              He lifted a hand, a gesture she knew meant
leave it at that
. He didn’t like to talk about Dad. Jenny liked to; she needed the memories to stay alive in their conversations. It helped to numb the loss. But Candy was the opposite, wanting to bury it all so he didn’t have to go through the what-ifs again and again.

              She changed the subject. “So when’s the big day?”

              He nodded, seeming relieved to get away from all things Dad. “Tomorrow.”

              “Shit.” Her breath caught in her throat. It was one thing to talk about it happening, another to know that it was just hours away.

              “I’m gonna be there,” he said. “Me and Jinx. We’re gonna make sure he finds his way home alright.” A fast, feral grin suggested things she was better off not knowing.

              “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.