Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) (22 page)

              Jenny stood behind the chair, arms folded, worrying at a fingernail with her teeth. Talis, Cowboy, and Gringo crowded into the small room with them, shrinking the walls down and thinning the air.

              “Y’all are making me nervous,” Catcher said, craning to look over his shoulder.

              “Just find the guy,” Gringo said, smacking him in the back of the head.

              “Shit. Okay, yeah…”

              It didn’t take long to find him. The relentless stretches of nothing were broken by the approach of a hoodie-wearing man who camped out by the fence and smoked for a couple hours in the middle of last night.

              “Can’t tell anything about him,” Cowboy said. He made a sound like he wanted to spit, then thought better of it.

              Jenny hugged herself a little harder. “He was staking the place out.”

              “Or waiting on someone,” Talis put in.

              Neither option was fun to contemplate.

Thirty-One

Colin

“You need to bum a smoke?”

              “No. I’ve got some.” Colin pulled his pack from his pocket and dropped into the offered patio chair. It was cold out here, the grass already shiny with frost in the security light, but he figured smoking in the house around the kids was a no-no. And he figured Ava wouldn’t be shy about explaining that to him.

              Mercy lit one up and took his own seat, blowing smoke up into the clear, black sky.

              “Y’all’ve got a big yard,” Colin said. “Plenty of room for when the kids get bigger.”

              “Decent grass in it, too.”

              “Bermuda?”

              “Uh-huh.”

              “That’ll be good in the summertime.”

              “That’s what I figure.”

              “This is weird, isn’t it?” Colin asked.

              Mercy shrugged. “Little bit.” Colin could hear the man breathing, the quiet expansion of massive lungs. “Seen your mom lately?”

              His dinner rolled over in his belly. Mom. She’d told him about Remy – Remy the elder, and not the baby in the bathtub inside – a few months before. She’d set a plate of hot biscuits down in the center of her contact-paper-covered kitchen table and waited until his mouth was full before she covered her face with her hands.

              “God…Colin…” she’d gasped. “I shoulda told you a long time ago. I shoulda! But I never did say it out loud. Larry had to know – all he had to do was look at you – but I thought, if I said, if I told you, he’d leave me.”

              The biscuit had lodged in his throat and he’d choked for a bit to find his voice. “Told me what?”

              “Larry wasn’t your daddy,” she’d admitted through gapped fingers, crying. “Remy was. Remy Lécuyer.”

              There had always been a photo of Larry and Remy in the hallway outside the bathroom. He’d gone to it, Evie calling after him, trying to tell him the sordid story. He’d squinted at the grainy photo, his own ghostly reflection lurking in the glass.

              Larry O’Donnell had been Irish, pale, broad-nosed and narrow-shouldered.

              Remy had been tall, strong, dark, French features and Cherokee coloring, hair blue-black in the sunlight of the picture. That nose – that French aristocrat nose.

              Colin’s nose.

              “I haven’t talked to her since she told me,” he said before he could catch himself. This wasn’t the person he wanted to admit things to – his brother, of all people.

              He waited for a reprimand.

              Mercy said, “Dee told me. The last time I saw her before she died. I tried to smother her to death.”

              Colin stopped breathing.

              “But Ava stopped me.” Mercy made a face and flicked his half-smoked cig down onto the concrete. “She kicked the bucket anyway, not like I had to do it.” His eyes looked black when they lifted. “I just wanted to.”

              The wind stirred the branches of the pear trees, the bare limbs rattling together, groaning.

              “Ava says all of it’s ‘misplaced,’ the way it makes me feel.” He put a hand on his chest. “That it’s not my fault, or your fault, and I shouldn’t let it change my memories of Daddy.”

              What a strange thing it always was to hear a man of Mercy’s size call his father
Daddy
. Like a child trapped somewhere inside the monster.

              “What does Jenny say?” Mercy asked.

              Colin cleared his throat. “That we ought to try to get along better.”

              “Smart ladies we got.”

              “Yeah. We should probably listen to them.”

              “Yeah, but then we’d never live it down,” Mercy said…and grinned.

~*~

Jenny

She’d forgotten all about Colin’s dinner with Mercy and Ava until he called her just after eleven. She was wide awake, reading in bed in the fruitless hope that a story would ease the strain of worry. She answered her phone after the first ring. “Hi, sweetie. You back at the clubhouse?”

              A beat passed before he said, “You alright?”

              “Yeah. Fine.”

              “Then why do you sound like that?”

              “Like what?” She drew her knees up, suddenly impatient and somehow more worried.

              “Like you’re out of breath.” His voice hardened. Suspicion? Worry?

              Jenny forced herself to relax. “I’m queasy,” she lied – since she wasn’t at that moment – “and the deep-breathing helps.”

              “Ah.” She heard him unclench, all the way from Tennessee. “Sorry.”

              “Perks of mommyhood.” She went back to her earlier question. “So you’re back from dinner?”

              “Yeah.”

              She chuckled. “Why do
you
sound like
that
?”

              “’Cause I wanna come home.”

              Warmth stole across her skin, rushed to all her dark corners. She was silent too long, as she cupped the weight of his words and hugged them close.

              “Jen?”

              “You said ‘home.’ You want to come home.”

              “Uh…yeah. I guess I did.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s what it is.” She heard his smile, the way the curve of his lips lifted his words up at the end.

              Jenny pushed the chainsmoker from her mind, snuggled down into her pillows, and said, “Tell me how dinner went.”

              “Ugh. Fine…”

Thirty-Two

Jenny

“How long?”

              “Two hours,” Catcher said. He had a tray full of butts at his elbow on the desk and Jenny suspected he hadn’t slept at all last night.

              She sighed and pushed her damp hair back. “And the same as before? He just stood there?”

              “Yeah.”

              On the computer screen, she watched the chain-smoking, hoodie-wearing visitor work through yet another cigarette before flicking it down to the sand.

              “He’s waiting on something,” Catcher observed, voice guileless and quiet. To say he was the sharper of the two twins would have been true – but generous. His eyes, veiled with confusion, flicked up to her with their usual silent plea for explanation.

              Jenny sighed. “I think you’re right. The question is what, though.” Or who. “Candy and the guys are on their way back today.” Colin had texted earlier to let her know they’d be home before nightfall. “I’ve got some errands to run, so can you do me a favor and keep an eye on the camera feeds? If that guy shows back up, Talis needs to know about it.”
And run his face through the chain link like a can of Play-Doh
, she added to herself.

              Catcher nodded. “Okay.”

              She patted his shoulder and left him to his gadgets, going to find Talis before she headed out.

              The sergeant at arms was supervising Pup’s efforts to collect the scattered remains of a busted garbage bag out along the street.

              “Someone musta chucked it out of a truck,” Talis said, and spat on the ground to show what he thought of such laziness. “Bastards.”

              Pup plucked up something that he held to the sunlight, then gasped, dropped it, and scrubbed his hand down his leg, gagging.

              “Use the gloves,” Talis called to him.

              The prospect scrambled to pull them from his back pocket and put them on.

              “Poor idiot,” Jenny said affectionately. She turned to Talis. “I’m heading out for a little while. Pick up my check, do some shopping, run groceries to Crockett.”

              He gave her a sharp look. “You’re going alone?”

              “I was planning on it.”

              “Shit. Gringo and Cowboy went–”

              “I don’t need Gringo and Cowboy,” she assured. “I’m armed. It’s fine.”

              He didn’t agree. “Take the prospect, then.”

              She snorted. “Because he’s so capable?”

              “Use him as a human shield. Whatever. Just don’t go alone.”

              He wasn’t going to yell, stamp his foot, and insist, but arguing with the man would be useless.

              “Pup,” she said, “forget about the gloves. You’re with me.”

~*~

Colin

His belly growled with anticipated unhappiness as he plucked a Slim Jim off the rack and moved down to add bagged cheddar popcorn to his late lunch of junk. He already had a root beer under one arm, and a pack of gum for after.

              He heard Candy come up beside him.

              “You done?”

              “Yeah.”

              There was a long line, the people ahead of them at the register ranging from harried mothers with sons demanding gum and candy, to tired-looking cowboys in saddle-worn jeans.

              Colin settled in to wait, rolling his shoulders, trying to flex some of the tension from his back.

              “You anxious to get there?” Candy asked, voice innocent enough, but his gaze direct. Assessing.

              Colin saw no wisdom in playing it cool at this point. “Yeah. We’ve been away a long time.”

              Candy nodded. “You miss her?” It was faint, but unmistakable, the edge in Candy’s voice. That thread of violence that would come unraveled if Colin said the wrong thing. It had faded while they were in Knoxville, but on the road back to Jenny, it had returned full force. A man who wouldn’t tolerate dishonesty when it came to his little sister.

              “Obviously,” Colin said. “You think I missed that shithole you call a clubhouse?”

              Candy grinned and smacked him affectionately on the shoulder. “Good.” He laughed. “Maybe she’ll even be glad to see you, who knows.”

              He was well used to the ribbing at this point, but they’d been on the road since before dawn, and he was sore all over, tired, and about to eat an indigestion-inducing lunch. So he said, “She does like me, you know.”

              Candy, amused and surprised, gave him a sideways smile. “I know she does. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna give you shit about it.”

              Like an idiot, Colin pressed on. “I’m serious about her, you know.” His voice softened as he thought about their phone call last night, her warm sleepy laughter as he’d talked about having a smoke with Mercy.

              “Yeah, I figured.” Suspicion, now. “Trust me, I’d have broken your jaw by now if I thought you weren’t.”

              “Yeah, well…” He had to tell him, Colin realized, dread hardening in his belly. Had to tell him now. He couldn’t go back to Amarillo and let Jenny break the news, risk Candy losing his head in front of the rest of the club, embarrassing Jenny, making her cry. Shit, no, she couldn’t cry about this. Colin couldn’t stand the idea that she might be made to feel bad about this.

              He took a deep breath. “Candy, there’s something you need to know.”

              The man’s golden brows lifted.

              Another breath, massively insufficient, given the way his head spun. “Jenny…Jenny and me are gonna have a baby.”

              Candy didn’t react for one…two…three seconds. Then frowned with comical confusion. “Jen’s pregnant?”

              Colin’s lungs wouldn’t work. “Yeah.”

              “You got my sister pregnant?”

              “I did, yeah.”

              “So my sister’s gonna have your little swamp spawn?”

              “She is.”

              Colin waited, and waited, and wai–

              The punch snapped his head back on his neck, scattered stars across his field of vision. Several people in line swore. The woman gasped, and her kids said, “Awesome!”

              Was he dead? He must be dead. His whole head had exploded and gone spraying across the store. Except, that couldn’t be true, because he felt his face swelling, his jaw inflating; tasted blood in his mouth where he’d bit his tongue.

              Candy’s murderous hand landed on his shoulder and dragged him in close, supported him. His voice, dim as though coming down a tunnel, said, “It’s alright, he just lost a bet is all,” to the people around them. He sounded cheerful, just as he did when he leaned in to whisper in Colin’s ear. “Congrats, you big idiot. That was your warning shot. Fuck this up somehow, and dirty diapers are gonna be the last of your worries.”

~*~

“That was a love tap,” Jinx decreed when he saw the damage.

              Unable to frown because of the pain it caused, head ringing, Colin swallowed the aspirin Fox handed him and closed his eyes. Already the initial shock of the blow had faded, but he was going to hurt for days, no doubt.

              “You shoulda kicked him in the balls,” Fox suggested, sitting down on the curb where they were having their junk food meal. “Then you wouldn’t have this problem anymore.”

              “Nah.” Candy crammed half a Hershey bar in his mouth and spoke around it. “That’s part of the deal, keeping Jen happy. If she decides to castrate him, that’s her business.”

              The others chuckled.

              Colin waited for the anger to set it…but it didn’t. The man with a penchant for knocking out teeth had just sucker punched him, and his friends were laughing about it…but for the first time it felt like they were laughing with him. Maybe. Hopefully.

              “Knowing my old man,” Colin said, voice muffled by the swelling in his jaw, “I’ve got a half-sister out there somewhere. You can knock her up, and then I’ll sledgehammer you in the face. We can call it even then.”

              Candy laughed, a real laugh, eyes dancing. “Now there’s an idea, prospect.”

~*~

Jenny

Pup grew visibly happier and more relaxed as their outing progressed. The poor kid; it must be hard to bounce back as one of the guys after you’d wet yourself in front of them. The whole thinking-he-could-be-a-mole thing had to have been a downer, too.

              “What would you use that for?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the large white vegetables laid out beneath the misters.

              She read the label. “That’s daikon. And I have no idea.” She snapped open a plastic bag and began filling it with green beans. “You wanna go grab me a pack of bacon? That’s the last thing on the list, and then we can head to Crockett’s.”

              “Sure.” He jogged off to do so, too-large prospect cut flapping against his back.

              Grocery shopping wasn’t her favorite activity – was it anyone’s? – but she was glad she’d gotten out of the clubhouse for a reason other than work. Sitting in her room and planning what she’d say to Candy was a recipe for anxiety. But of course, she couldn’t totally shake thoughts of her brother’s reaction, even while selecting broccoli.

              The worst part of it all was that she wasn’t worried for herself. Candy wouldn’t be a problem. He might ask her what she’d been thinking, scrub his hands through his hair. But at the end of the day, he’d be a loving and devoted uncle to her child. But Colin? Candy might be ready to boot him from the club. Or worse.

              It was the “or worse” that worried her the most.

              Suffice to say she wasn’t looking forward to explaining things to her brother.

              Pup returned at an awkward gallop, bacon clutched triumphantly in one hand. “Got it.”

              She smiled at him. Would motherhood be so different from looking after the young ones? No. She didn’t think so. “Awesome. Let’s go check out.”

~*~

She knew something was off the second they pulled up to Crockett’s house. An itching in her palms, a prickling up the back of her neck, cold weight in her stomach. Everything was as it should be, the landscaping tended by the company that always took care of it, Crockett’s old station wagon in the drive, dim beneath a layer of dust. But a sense of great wrongness vibrated off the place, an aura she swore she could see.

              Pregnancy paranoia?

              She didn’t climb out of her Jeep right away, but sat, hands on the wheel, contemplating the front of the house.

              When Pup knocked on her window, she leapt.

              “Whoa, sorry,” he said as she buzzed the window down. “You alright?”

              “Fine…” She rubbed at her bare arms. “You’re armed?”

              “Yeah.” He lifted his cut to show her his piece, and his brows knitted together. “Should I be worried?”

              “No. There’s nothing…” She bit her lip, completely at a loss. She couldn’t shake the sense of unease, but had no proof that anything was actually the matter.

              She had a .45 in her purse, though.

              “I’m just being weird,” she said, and killed the engine.

              There was never much sense buying Crockett too many groceries at a time. He wouldn’t cook for himself most days, and let the produce in the fridge go bad. So Jenny and Darla took turns buying him enough for a few meals, making them at his house, and stowing them in the fridge along with some long-lasting staples like cheese and sausage.

              They had two big paper bags of food and she handed both of them to Pup, noting the way his skinny arms strained beneath the burden.

              “You ought to lift weights,” she told him pleasantly. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, but the boys will give you less shit if you beef up a little.”

              He looked wounded, but said, “Yes, ma’am.”

              It was on the porch that she realized exactly what had been bothering her. A big potted fern sat beside the front door, and it was scooted about three inches to the left, the scrape of paint and dribble of dirt on the porch boards signifying it had been slid to the side. And where was the extra key that was kept beneath the pot? Gone.

              She pulled her gun and turned the knob. Unlocked. The usual cool air and dusty smell of Crockett’s home rushed to greet her as she stepped inside, Pup crowding up behind her with the bags.

              “Jenny,” he whispered as he saw the gun in her hand.