Page 174 of Lone Star

Albie had an ugly, desperate thought: he hadn’t scented itbefore. None of them had. No one had ever suspected what that birth certificate had revealed. How could they have?

How could they win now when they’d been stumbling around up until now, blind and stupid?

Candy said, “Luis said his father was the head of the Chupacabras. Does that mean you’re a cartel boss?”

“No. No, that’s just a joke of his. He’s – he’s got a weird sense of humor.”

“Yeah,” Mercy said, approaching from the other side of the table, drawing Cantrell’s shivering, terrified attention. Mercy was Candy’s counterpoint here, relaxed, easy, smiling – but it was one of his sinister half-crazy smiles, and there was nothing comforting in the size of his arms – or of his fists, which he rested lightly on the table edge. “Nothing says ‘haha’ like a room full of sex slaves and a buncha dead bodies.”

Cantrell closed his eyes, throat convulsing as he swallowed. “He’s very disturbed. Luis is – there’s something wrong with him. He…I don’t know. I wanted him to sit down with a psychiatrist, but–”

“But you decided to help him murder a buncha people instead,” Candy said. “Got it.”

“I didn’t – I didn’t help. I just–”

“Lied to us, arrested us, and let innocent women suffer. No, sure, but you’re notguiltyof anything. Where’s Luis now?”

“I don’t know.”

Very calmly, Mercy walked down to the end of the table, and unlaced Cantrell’s shoe.

His eyes flew open. “No! Wait! I really don’t!”

Mercy drew the shoe off, humming to himself, and then the sock. And with a deft movement broke two of Cantrell’s toes with an audible sequence of cracks.

He screamed. Anyone would have. Arched up higher off the table and shouted, “I’m not lying! Please,please!”

Mercy gripped another toe.

“Please! I have no idea where he is now!”

Candy looked at Mercy, and nodded.

The rest of the toes followed.

When Cantrell’s bitten-off screams had trailed into wet, shuddering breaths, Candy leaned down and said, “I believe you.”

“Candy,” Blue said. He sidled up to take Mercy’s former place at the table, expression stern.

Candy met his gaze, only a heartbeat, but then Blue nodded and eased back a step. Candy had been challenged lately, Albie knew. Brothers pressuring and doubting him from all sides. No one was challenging now, not when his fangs were out and all his muscles coiled for violence.

Cantrell panted up at him, face white with shock, rivulets of sweat running down his cheeks and temples. “What?” he asked, weakly.

Candy patted his chest. “I believe you.” Almost soothing. “But that’s also bullshit, because you’re holding out on me. Explain it to me. From the beginning.”

He hesitated, wetting his lips, eyes flicking back and forth across Candy’s face.

Mercy started to unlace his other shoe.

“Wait! No, I…” He took a breath, and then seemed to sag down into the table. Like he let go of all the tension he’d been holding; a physical bleeding-away of resistance. “Okay, okay.”

“The photos I found,” Fox spoke up, “show you with him when he was about five or six. But you didn’t stick around much longer after that, did you?”

“No.” A low, defeated voice, and no hesitation this time. “I didn’t – that photo was taken right before I went back home. I went to Mexico before I started college, a summer vacation, my senior trip, and I met Marisol, and I brought her home with me. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. And we had Luis…” He sounded wistful, though a deep groove marked the skin between his brows. “But Marisol wasn’t happy. She wanted to go back. I quit my job, and we moved again. Once we got back to Mexico, that was when I finally realized that Mari’s father worked for the cartel – he was one of the officers. When things got rough, I tried to take her and Luis back home with me. I wanted to build a life for us back here.”

“She wouldn’t leave?” Candy asked.

“No.” He shook his head, and Albie thought the gleam of wetness in his eyes had nothing to do with physical pain this time. “She wouldn’t, and she wouldn’t let me take Luis, he was only five, and I…”

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