Page 170 of Lone Star

“The club doesn’t have a gentle reputation.”

He chuckled. “No, it certainly doesn’t. And it’s just as dictatorial as any nation of the world, isn’t it?”

“And your cartel isn’t?”

“My cartel is exactly like your club: a means to an end. The means for the acquirement and maintenance of power by a few, supported by those willing to exercise ruthlessness.”

The game, he’d called it.A dance. She wanted to dismiss all this as philosophical nonsense, but she also wanted to live. “You sound like you don’t like that setup,” she hedged.

He shrugged. “I’ve learned to like it. Or at least appreciate it. You have to if you want to get ahead in life.”

“And you want to get ahead.”

“Ihavegotten ahead.” He made an expansive gesture.

“You’ve gone about it in a really strange way.”

The resulting smile was warm with pleasure. “I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

“But why go to all that effort? Why create” – she nodded toward him – “the Holy Father?”Why cut people’s throats and leave them out like sacrificial offerings, you freak?she wanted to ask.

“I told you I’m very curious about the way the club works. I’ve studied criminal organizations. Conflicts between them are usually comprised of back-and-forth raids on product. Shootouts. It’s all very cinematic and upfront.

“And – don’t take this as too great a compliment – we all know that no one could challenge the Lean Dogs in a cinematic and upfront way and hope to succeed. I realized I would have to wage a psychological war with them.”

He hadn’t beaten them, not yet, but he’d been more successful than he should have been. “Why wage a war at all?”

He leaned toward her, chin resting in his hand, tone conspiratorial. “Because wouldn’t it just bethrillingto slay a giant?”

~*~

Candy did as he’d told the others: kept his head up, his senses alert, scanning every rock and tree and clump of old pine needles, but he couldn’t hear much beyond the triphammer rhythm of his pulse in his ears. His own breaths sounded too loud inside his skull; his skin felt pulled tight, prickling all over with nerves. Every delay – Fox lifting a hand to halt them all so he could listen – tightened the invisible band around his chest.

They had to move! The sun was going down, and they’d lost too much time already, and Michelle was…

No, no. Couldn’t think about that.

He closed his eyes a moment, briefly, a long blink, and tried to take a deep breath. Tried to clear his mind. He’d been so afraid that he’d gone soft; that marriage and fatherhood had weakened his resolve, but he knew now that wasn’t true. It had stripped him like a wire and left him charged and sparking. A threat to his club could be dealt with coldly, efficiently. A threat to his family left him red with rage, murderous and merciless.

He opened his eyes, and Fox was motioning them forward again.

At his side, Blue whispered, “You doing alright?”

Candy didn’t answer. What good would a tersefinedo?

Blue moved in closer on his next careful step, so their elbows nearly brushed. “We’re gonna get her back,” he said, with a confidence meant to be soothing, like he was trying to comfort a child.

What if I don’t? Then what?

Candy gritted his teeth and kept walking.

It seemed like hours, but was really only twenty minutes or so. It was an old, rarely disturbed patch of woods, plenty of underbrush, and old sticks, and leaf litter to create a constant rustling. If there was anyone out on sentry duty, they would hear them coming long before they drew into sight. It felt so –primitive. So pathetic. Creeping along through the forest. He wanted to be on his bike. Wanted to be kicking down doors, and throwing punches, and turning the barrel of a shotgun on his enemies. All sorts of Tarzan fantasies about cutting a path of blood and gore to get to his woman, to take her in his arms and comfort her, protect her. All folly and whim; all useless while he was stepping over old stumps and hoping he didn’t disturb a rattler.

“Wish Jinx was here,” Blue muttered.

“Yeah, well, he’s a dumbass who went off book, so he’s not,” Candy bit back.

Blue let out an audible breath, but wisely didn’t respond.

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