Page 5 of Snow in Texas

“No.” Colin stuffed more cornbread in his mouth and muttered around it. “Never heard it.”

Four

Jenny

She heard the low rumble of voices on the other side of the sanctuary door, but she didn’t knock. All such formalities had long since been disbanded. And no women were ever allowed in the sanctuary anyway; none save her.

Inside, the suite of rooms was dim, lit only by the glow of the massive HD TV affixed to the far wall. The living area was cozy, comfortable, and smelled of cigars, Scotch, and other secret masculine things. Candy was parked in his usual chair, socked feet up on the ottoman. It had to be Fox in the recliner opposite; no one else vibrated that kind of calm intensity through the dark the way Charlie Fox did.

Talk ceased, and their heads turned toward her, just shadows against the TV.

“Boys,” she greeted.

Candy was smoking, a thick tendril of cigar smoke curling above his head. “Where you been?”

She grinned to herself. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah.” He was dead serious.

A soft crinkling of leather meant Fox had shifted in his chair; his attention was fixed on her, she could tell.

She sighed. “Would you two old hens quit worrying? I went to see Aunt Edith. She needed groceries and a little TLC. Is that alright with you?” she challenged.

Candy exhaled with a low hiss through his teeth. “Did you tell her I said hello?”

“Yeah. I told her that her favorite no-good nephew said ‘hey.’”

He snorted. “She always liked me better than you.”

“Says you.” Jenny sighed as she kicked off her shoes and set them neatly in the rack by the door. She’d spent hours with Aunt Edith, organizing her fridge, cleaning her small apartment, playing Scrabble with the elderly woman until Edith had begun to doze in her chair. Her face hurt from smiling and her back was tight from bending low to hear what her aunt had whispered in her small, frail voice. Being Southern meant taking care of your family, and that was no easy task.

“I met your new prospect,” she said as she straightened, an image of the tall, dark-headed man filling her mind.Attractivewas too mild a word. He’d given off that dark vibe that suggested heat, power, and licentious intent. He probably thought of himself as a playboy; she’d detected something more feral and disturbing than that. Somethingdangerous.

“Yeah?” Candy said. “What do ya think?”

“I think he’s gonna make a terrible prospect.”

He laughed. “Too bad you weren’t a boy, Jen. You coulda been my right-hand guy.”

“You’ve got plenty of those, brother,” she tossed back. “Night, you two.”

“Night,” two voices – one Texan, one English – said together.

She was all the way down the hall and just slipping into her room before their conversation started back up again.

“…Riley?” she heard Fox say, and she froze, one hand curling tight on the edge of the doorframe.

It was funny how a single word, just a regular ordinary name, could render a person down to her most elemental, reactionary pieces. But that’s what that name always did. Remembered pain fisted her lungs; all the old bruises were long healed, but they flared hot beneath her skin now, memories seared down to the bone.

“I saw him today,” Candy answered, voice barely audible. He breathed a long, sad sound. “He’s getting out. Couple weeks, probably. Overcrowding or some shit.”

“Christ,” Fox said.

Yeah. Christ.

Jenny couldn’t listen anymore. She ducked into her room and eased the door shut silently, going to the bed and letting it catch her weight before her knees gave out.

Riley. Getting out.

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