Page 50 of Snow in Texas

Pup’s eyes widened. “He does?” He glanced at the chains, then back at Colin. He wasn’t the sharpest tool by any stretch, but he’d figured out that something was amiss. Clearly, if any one of them was in trouble, he expected it to be the guy humping Candy’s sister, and not himself.

“Pup,” Candy said, “what did I say?”

Blue stepped up on the other side of the scrawny prospect and patted his shoulder. “Do what he says, kid. It’ll be alright.”

Pup started to shake, a noticeable trembling of his chin.

“You deaf?” Talis asked, and grabbed the guy by the forearm, tugging him forward.

“Ack!” Pup squawked, startled. He stumbled forward a step, and Jinx drew up on his other side, taking a grip on that arm. “What’s going on? What did I do?”

“Shit,” Colin muttered. His stomach tightened; this was just…wrong. There were two brothers he might enjoy seeing strung up between those trees, but Pup was an idiot child with biker dreams. He didn’t deserve this.

Just like Jenny doesn’t deserve to get hurt, a small voice in the back of his head reminded. He took a deep breath and told his stomach to settle down. The club was brutal? So was life. Time to get over it.

“Jesus,” a voice said quietly beside him, and he realized it was Blue. When he glanced over, the grizzled old biker was shaking his head. “One man.” He wasn’t addressing Colin; was watching Talis and Jinx haul Pup up to the gap between the trees. “How isone manstill giving us such hell?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Colin answered: “When one man has a brother with the ATF, that changes things a little.”

Blue looked at him sharply, expression cautious. “Yeah. It does.”

The stainless cuffs snapped together with aclink. The chains had been set high, so Pup’s arms were cranked up above his head and fully extended to the sides. It looked painful. In the bright glare of the headlights, his skin radiated with an unhealthy sheen of nervous sweat. His teeth chattered, Colin could see.

Shit.

Candy propped a hip against the front fender of the truck and folded his arms, the picture of relaxed authority. “Okay, little Pup-Pup. I’m gonna ask you some questions. Answer them honestly and quickly. Understand?”

“I…”

“Understand?”

Pup’s teeth snapped together as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now. Let’s start simple. What’s your name?”

“N-Nick Goodwin.”

“Right.” Candy nodded. “Okay. When did you begin prospecting for us?”

Pup swallowed again and dampened his lips. The muscles in his arms were twitching with the strain of being held at their unnatural angle. “About…about three months ago.”

“You don’t know exactly?”

He bit his lip. “Three months, one week, five days ago.”

Shit, Colin thought. He would have had to consult a calendar to know how long he’d been here. This kid was hooked. He was dedicated.

To something.

“Why did you want to join the club?” Candy asked.

Pup’s eyes flicked to the dirt, then back up, expression pained…and not just in a physical way.

“Yeah, you told us before,” Candy said. “Tell us again.”

The prospect took a deep breath. “I always liked motorcycles. My uncle was in a club–”

“What kind of club?”

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