Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) (20 page)

              Nostalgia stole over her, a fast press of it against her skin, like a hug. She smiled. “Crockett gave him his nickname. He tore this guy to bits in a sparring match, a long time ago. The guy swallowed half his teeth afterward, and Crockett said, ‘You better watch your teeth around the Candyman, boys!’ It stuck immediately.”

              He shook his head, gaze growing faraway. “Jesus. I’ve never seen anybody punch like that.”

              “Most people haven’t.” She gave him a shove. “Come on, let’s go clean you up.”

              In the bathroom, she closed the toilet lid and sat him down on it, rummaged around in the cabinets for alcohol, ointment, and cotton balls.

              “Question,” she said as she laid the supplies out on the counter. “Was the other guy bigger than you?”

              Colin pressed his lips together – at least, he tried to. The split tugged and he stilled. His face colored, though, bruises flushing with sudden darkness. “He had a friend,” he defended.

              Jenny bit back a grin and loaded a cotton ball with alcohol. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Mostly,” she teased. “And the cops didn’t show up.”

              When she reached to dab at the small abrasion along his cheekbone, he stopped her, one massive hand closing over her wrist. His knuckles were battered, she saw; Candy might have the meanest swing in Texas, but those big hands of Colin’s had doubtless done their share of damage.

              “Jen?”

              “What?” she asked, quietly, voice tender.

              “Does it bother you that I’m not as badass as your brother?”

              Her eyes stung with sudden tears. She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “No, sweetie.”

              He made a happy sound, like humming in his throat.

              Jenny dabbed at his face with the alcohol. “So what did you guys do tonight?”

              “Distracted your ex-asshole’s brother.”

              “Yeah? How’d you do that?”

              “Jimmied into his car and left him a present.”

~*~

Agent Elijah Riley

Eli was late. He arrived at the precinct for his meeting with the Amarillo PD chief with bloodshot eyes and an unsteady stomach. When his informant failed to show up last night, he’d ordered a drink. And another, then another. Possibly another. He’d overslept his alarm this morning, fumbling out of bed while bright Texas sunlight streamed through the vertical blinds.

              Hair still damp from the shower, hungover and reeling, he crashed through the chief’s office door and threw himself into the room.

              Chief Camden was on the phone and covered the mouthpiece with his hand, scowling up at Riley. “What the hell, son? You drunk or something?”

              “Or something,” Riley muttered. He dropped into the nearest chair with a deep exhalation.

              “Yeah,” Camden said into the phone. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks.” He hung up and then eased back in his chair, bone-thin frame creaking – or maybe that was his swivel chair. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.

              Riley made a face. “Long night.” Actually, it hadn’t been. After six drinks and a microwavable dinner, he’d fallen face-first into bed and stayed that way. He was wired as all hell worried about Jud. The idiot had caught wind of some drug deal in Odessa he wanted to ambush, and so far, Elijah hadn’t been able to convince him to lay low. The stress of worry was eating at him; so was the drinking.

              “You brought the file?” Camden asked, narrow face turning sour.

              “Yeah.” Riley pulled it from his briefcase. In the past seven years, the years his brother had spent behind bars, he’d begun keeping careful tabs on the Texas Lean Dogs, which was no easy task, given the way the club never seemed to get themselves caught on camera. They were slick, Derek Snow’s lot, which was part of the reason it had been so difficult gaining local law enforcement’s cooperation when it came to fudging the rules a little and investigating various club members.

              He’d amassed a file. At the moment, he had no grounds for picking up Derek and his boys on federal charges. But lots of small local infractions were being overlooked. The club had some sort of inroad with the cops, he’d long since realized. But Camden seemed straight-laced and no-nonsense. With his arsenal of notations, perhaps Riley could –

              “What the shit is this?” Camden asked, gray brows scaling his forehead.

              “I’m sorry…what?”

              The chief turned the file toward him on the desk, contents fanned out.

              Riley almost puked right then and there. His carefully-taken notes and few surveillance photos were gone. In their place were the types of photos no grown man ever wanted to be caught in possession of.

              “Is this some kinda joke?” Camden asked.

              Yeah,
on him
. He did puke then, all over his shoes.

Twenty-Nine

Two days later, Fox headed south for Odessa. The call came in to Candy’s cell at eleven-fifteen that night. Riley and his boys were picked up by PD with their hands full of ill-gotten scripts. With Agent Riley in hot water, and his brother in lockup, Fox returned, smugness coloring his normally implacable features.

              The day after that, a four-man crew left for Knoxville.

~*~

Jenny

They still hadn’t told anyone. It was starting to make her crazy, the waiting. But she didn’t like the idea of sending her brother and her man off together on a road trip right after she’d dropped the baby bomb on Candy.

              “Darla made sandwiches for y’all to take,” she said, standing over Colin as he crouched on the floor of his dorm and crammed clothes haphazardly into his backpack. “Peanut butter, I think.” She was making small talk to try to keep the swelling knot of dread at bay in her belly. It wasn’t working.

              “Okay.” A handful of long-sleeved shirts, sleeves trailing, was shoved down into the bag. “How cold’s it gonna be up there?”

              “It can get kinda chilly this time of year. And the weather changes suddenly. Be sure to take layers.”

              “Yeah.”

              “And don’t forget your phone charger. You don’t want to have to bum one.”

              He paused and sat back on his heels, head lifting. He smiled at her. “You know, this isn’t my first field trip…”

              “Call me ‘Mom,’ and die.”

              He chuckled. “I’ve traveled all over the country, baby. I can handle riding up to Knoxville.”

              “But see, that’s the thing about relationships. It’s in the fine print that I have to make sure you pack extra socks and remember your toothbrush.”

              His normally sharp grin softened into an expression that melted her insides. “You’re worried about me.”

              “Well duh. You’re kind of an idiot,” she said, and felt her own sappy, stupid smile curve her lips. She sat down on the edge of his bed. “Are you gonna be okay seeing Mercy again?”

              He shrugged and glanced away, resumed packing. “Not like it’s a social visit. It’s work. We’ll make do.”

              “You want to know what I think?”

              “About me and him? Not really.”

              “I think this is a good opportunity for you guys to make a fresh start.”

              “Did you not hear me say ‘not really’?”

              “Hey.” When he sighed and made eye contact, she said, “Think of it as a fatherhood exercise. Letting go of some of that stubbornness.”

              “Oh, and you’re not stubborn at all.”

              “Women are allowed to be,” she said, then laughed. “I’m serious, though.”

              “So am I. I won’t start any shit with the guy.” He made a face.

              “What?”

              “Last time I did that…he beat my ass.”

              She worked hard not to smile. “He’s a scary dude.”

              He made a part-agreeing, part-disgusted sound.

              He finished packing too quickly, and then was on his feet, shrugging his backpack into place and looking like the world’s tallest middle schooler.

              Jenny’s throat tightened. She really, really didn’t want him to go. It was never fun to wave any of the boys down the road, but this time, it was painful, and personal, saying goodbye. She was no fool; if Knoxville needed backup, then there was danger afoot. And wherever there was danger, there were often dead or arrested bikers.

              It must have shown on her face. Colin looked at her, head cocked to the side. “Are you that worried?”

              She nodded, not wanting to speak and have her voice crack. Then she realized she had to. “Not to make you paranoid, or anything.” She knew her smile was pitiful.

              He stepped in close and drew her closer still, hands on her waist. “It’s gonna be fine.”

              “Until you run your face into someone else’s fist.”

              He grinned. “You know, it’s kinda flattering. You being all upset like this.”

              She was tempted to slug him in the arm. Instead, she took his lean, dark face in her hands and kissed him. “Be safe.”

              “You too.”

~*~

Candy was in high spirits. He always liked a good Knoxville trip, and he especially liked thinking about someone else’s problems for a while, and leaving his own behind. A chance he wasn’t afforded often.

              “Don’t do anything stupid,” Jenny told him as she stood beside his bike, watching him tug his gloves into place.

              He rolled his eyes and slipped his shades on. “Look, save that kinda talk for your boyfriend over there. Me? I don’t do stupid. Just as a general rule.”

              “Uh-huh. Tell Mags and Ava and the other girls I said hi.”

              “Sure.” He grinned. “But those aren’t the girls I’m interested in.”

              “Man-whore,” she accused. Then sobered. “But seriously, Candy, watch out for Colin.” She imagined him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. “I’m worried about him, being back together with Mercy like that. He’s your prospect, so watch his back for me, okay?”

              He twisted to look over at Colin, straddling his bike and ready to go, watching the two of them. Candy sighed. “You know,” he said in a low, thoughtful voice. “I brought him here for you. I wanted you to have a bodyguard.” He turned back to her. “I didn’t think you’d actually like the guy.”

              “Me neither.”

              “Try not to get too lonesome without him.”

              Jenny kissed the top of her brother’s blonde head and then stepped back.

              Helmets were donned and engines were started.

              “Hold down the fort!” Candy called, and she nodded.

              She caught Colin’s eye as he pulled out of the yard, a hand ghosting unconsciously to her stomach.

              He smiled for her, but she saw the faint glimmer of deep fear in his eyes.

              With a series of snarls and growls, the bikes left the property, kicking up thick drifts of dust that swept across her face and left grit behind. She tasted the earthiness of it on her lips when she wet them, lingering, straining to see the four Dogs wink out of existence along the horizon.

              She stood there until long after they were gone; after the dust had settled, and left the morning blue and clear. A faint breeze stirred her hair and brought the promise of uneasy things. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and walked slowly back to the clubhouse.

~*~

Colin

Lean Dogs’ clubhouses might as well have been franchises. They all had their unique points, particulars of their region, but they all had a common room, bar, kitchen, and plenty of dorms. At the end of a long, cold day of riding, Colin didn’t care about the aesthetics of the Knoxville clubhouse, only that the whiskey was good and somewhere down the hall, a semi-decent mattress awaited him.

              The Knoxville president, Ghost, was terrifying in his own special way – Colin guessed that was a presidential requirement. With gravity and an enviable amount of poise, the man outlined the problems the Tennessee Dogs faced. Problems that made the Riley brothers look like child’s play.

              Throughout the conversation, Colin felt his brother’s gaze.
Half
-brother, he reminded himself firmly. Somehow he’d forgotten just how wide Mercy’s shoulders were; how dark his eyes seemed in the dim light, how narrow and sharp his face; he’d forgotten the way his voice rolled like Cajun-flavored smoke through the room, touching everyone’s ears. Mercy was one hell of a presence, the kind that made Colin feel young, dumb, and small.

              Glad to have the initial meeting out of the way, Colin sipped his whiskey slowly, eyelids flagging. If he had much more to drink, he might slide off his stool, but it was worth it to ease the aches in his arms, hands, and back. He’d never been on a ride that long before, and he’d thought someone might need to crowbar him off his bike earlier.

              “Join you?” An English accent asked at his elbow, but he knew right off it wasn’t Fox.

              A glance proved that it was Charlie’s older brother, the Knoxville VP, Walsh. Their faces were different, since they were half-brothers, and Walsh was golden blonde to Fox’s deep brunette, but they had the same eyes. Big and eerie blue and narrowed to a look of constant boredom and superiority. Must be their father’s eyes, then.

              “Sure.”

              Walsh climbed up on the next stool with a chilled bottle of Smirnoff in his hand. He leaned across the bar to snag a glass and sat back to pour himself a generous drink. “How’s Texas?”

              His hand itched for his phone. He’d ducked into the bathroom before to call Jen, but she hadn’t answered. He wanted to hear her voice. Assure himself that she was okay.

              “Texas is good,” he said, absently.

              “Ah. There’s a girl there, then.”

              Colin shot him a sideways look. “Did you talk to your brother or something?”

              Walsh snorted, mouth flicking up at the corners in a bare smile. “About as much as you talked to yours. Just an observation. I don’t see what a Cajun would find to like about Texas, unless she had big blue eyes.”

              Colin reached for his glass. “Does being psychic run in your family?”

              “You’d have to ask my father about that. And he hasn’t been spotted in months.”

              Colin’s phone rang and he grabbed for it quick. “’Scuse me, I gotta take this.”             

              Walsh gave him a knowing look and faced the back wall.

              It was Jenny, and her name on his screen was an instant relief. He’d started to have visions of disaster, waiting on her to call back. “Hey, baby,” he answered in a rush, surprised by the hard thump of his pulse. He slid off his stool and headed down the back hallway. “You alright?”

              “Mmhm. I was in the shower when you called. You guys made it?” She sounded sleepy. He could imagine her skin scrubbed pink and clean, still warm from the water. Envisioned her shorts and tank top, bare toes wiggling down between the sheets. He felt a sudden, hard tug, a longing to be stretched out beside her, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

              “Colin?”

              “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. We made it fine. Just having a drink and then I’m gonna turn in.”             

              “I miss drinks,” she said wistfully. “Have one for me.”

              He warmed from the inside out, thinking about her reason for not being able to drink. The sensation was chased by a quick jolt of fear. A shiver of apprehension. Shit. He wasn’t ready to be a dad, he so wasn’t. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I will.”