Page 202 of Lone Star

And anyway. It was another few weeks after that before the swing set arrived in the mail and he got it all set up. It was a cold January, but TJ didn’t care, laughing wildly in his toddler swing every time Michelle pushed him. She was bundled up in coat and scarf, her nose and cheeks pink, but laughing in delight at her baby’s laughter.

“You should let me push, baby,” Candy offered, not for the first time.

“Not an invalid,” she called back, sing-song, “just pregnant.”

“You’re stubborn, is what you are.”

“Ha! Saysyou.”

His phone trilled in his pocket, and he groaned as he pulled it out and thumbed the screen. It had been one call after the next with Jaffrey, with the other chapters. This particular dust-up hadn’t been one to settle down quickly. Lots of loose ends, lots of questions. And now the girls were trying to talk him into being evenmoreinvolved. It was a whole mess.

“Hello?” he asked, tone bored. He was getting real sick of Jaffrey at this point…

“Mr. Snow.”

That wasnotJaffrey. But he did recognize the lightly-accented voice on the other end of the line.

Every hair on Candy’s body stood on end; rage flared to life, fire-hot in his gut. He turned away from Michelle and TJ and stalked across the yard, not wanting her to hear. “Luis. Nice to hear from you.” He managed to sound only mildly put-out.

“Hm. I think not. But I suspect you’ll change your mind by the end of this call.”

“Where’d you slink off to?” Candy asked. “You jumped out the window like a little bitch when I kicked in the front door.”

A hollow laugh. It sounded like, wherever he was, it was a close-walled room; no echo, no acoustics, no background noise. “Sometimes the most advantageous thing a man can do is beat a tactical retreat, and live to fight another day.”

“Tactical retreat. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“How’s your wife?”

Candy swallowed a growl. “None of your fucking business.”

“Oh, on the contrary. She’s my business just as you all are my business. I learned some very valuable things about your club in my time spent studying you all. You’re a worthier opponent than I expected, I’ll grant you, but, still. All giants have weak spots. All giants can fall.”

Candy sighed.

“Have you figured them out yet? My tableaus?”

A cold chill washed through him. “Yeah, sure,” he bluffed; it felt like the truth, but like a bluff, too. As much as he hated to admit it, Luis wasn’t your garden variety criminal. Candy couldn’t wrap his head around him – not yet. “You’re a sick fuck, and you like making a big stink about.”

Luis chuckled, almost warmly. Unnervingly so. “My father is from Texas, I was born there – just as you were. I’ve always loved that story, even if my mother hated it: the story of the Lone Star state. The Independent Republic of Texas.”

“I’d imagine you’d have some conflicting emotions about that,” Candy said, tightly.

“Yes. It’s true, given my mother’s nationality. She can trace her family straight back to Spain, did you know?”

Candy didn’t answer.

“Texas,” he continued, “thought itself so brave. So independent. I thought it a fitting metaphor. Five points on a star. A lone star.” Another laugh. “Just as I’m alone. Arebel. Isn’t it thrilling?”

Candy felt a rush of wild panic; a sense of being out of his depth. The enemies he’d faced hadn’t cared aboutideals. Abouttableaus, and metaphors, and theartof it.

An intolerable panic swelled, one he pushed down fiercely. “Listen here, you up-jumped stupid little shit. Your plan? It fell apart. It didn’t work. Your old man’s gonna swing for this, and your whole cartel is dead or in jail. And the ones in jail? Singing like goddamn canaries. Give it up, shithead. You lost. Get over it.”

It was quiet a moment. “Hm,” Luis hummed again, at last. “You know? I don’t think I will. And I think I should warn you: I do have friends. And most of them hate you even more than I do.”

The line went dead.

Candy pulled the phone away and scrolled through the call log. A blocked number.

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