Page 43 of Snow in Texas

The kid scratched at his pimples. “You’re Jenny’s boyfriend?”

Colin had a feeling Jenny wasn’t ready for labels yet, but in this scenario, he decided a straightforward, simple answer would be best. “Yeah.” He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, more than a little proud. “I am.”

The guy stared at him, eyes glassy. High, Colin guessed. “She don’t ever bring boyfriends around.”

Feeling prouder, Colin said, “I ‘spect she hasn’t had one worth bringing around before.”

The kid frowned. “Why do you always sit in here? You can’t talk to her at home?”

This could go bad fast. In a friendly voice, he said, “That’s not your business, is it?”

The frown deepened. “You’re a foreigner, ain’t you?”

Jesus. “Uh, no. I’m from New Orleans.”

A squint to go with the frown, as the brain child tried to recall where that was.

“You know. N’awlins. In Louisiana.” When no comprehension registered, Colin said, “Christ, man, it bordersthisstate.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m part French, alright? Born and raised in theUSA,” he said with emphasis. It occurred to him he didn’t have to explain himself to this dumbass, and he scowled, frustrated. “Look, if you don’t have anything to say–”

“Jenny got her ex-husband locked up, you know,” the kid said, startling Colin into brief silence.

“What?”

Movement at the door caught his attention; someone coming in just ahead of the dinner crowd. He caught a glimpse of blue, and then the greasy cook spoke again.

“She’s got a bad reputation for getting guys locked up.” He punctuated the statement with a sniff, dashing a hand under his nose.

Someone walking, heading toward the counter.

Colin leaned forward and planted his hands on the table, relishing the way the young man’s eyes went to them, widening when he saw their size. “Okay, I’m gonna say this once.” His voice was hard and heavy, nothing like the voice of the man who had raised him. Maybe this was Remy Lécuyer’s voice. Mercy’s voice. Oh, the irony. “Jenny’s ex was a violent asshole who got what he deserved. I’m not having a conversation about it. Shut up, and walk away. Now.”

A man at the counter. A man…

“Shit!” Colin leapt to his feet and shoved the fry cook to the side. The kid made an alarmed sound and crashed into a neighboring table.

Colin didn’t care. He charged the front counter, just as Agent Riley, in plainclothes, took a grip on Jenny’s arm, cranked it behind her back until she yelped, and hustled her down the back hallway.

Colin chased them at a dead run. A waitress stepped from the break room, and he shouldered her out of the way; he’d apologize later. She hollered. He kept going.

The back door opened with a bright flare of sunlight, Jenny’s face limned in gold, her mouth open as she protested. She was fighting, wriggling, struggling.

Colin hit the door before it shut, drew the gun Fox had given him, and said, “Let go of her, asshole, before I spray your brains across the pavement.”

Riley froze, half-turning toward Colin. He had a gun on his hip, but no badge that was visible.

Jenny’s eyes rolled toward him, white-rimmed and frightened.

In his mind, Colin saw himself closing the distance and curling one of his big hands around Agent Riley’s throat. He imagined the man’s eyes popping; his ineffectual fingers scrabbling at his own.

But he held his ground, gun level and unwavering. Breath heaving in and out of his lungs.

“You got a hearing problem?” he asked. “I said to let go of her.”

Riley kept a grip on Jenny’s arm, but met Colin’s gaze. His own was hard…but not hard enough. He hadn’t expected resistance. Colin saw a fast flicker of doubt, maybe even fear in his eyes.

“This is official federal business, son,” Riley said. “Don’t get involved.”

“That’s the biggest load of horseshit I ever heard.Sir,” Colin fired back. “You arresting her? Taking her in for questioning? Nobody strong-arms an unarmed woman onofficial federal business. This is personal as all hell. So I’ll say it again: Get your hands off her, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

---