Page 67 of Lone Star

Twenty-Five

“The Holy Father?” Fox asked into the phone. The others, standing around him, all made the same face, brows climbing. Save Reese, who just stared at him in that unnerving way of his, and Ten, who rolled his eyes.

“Apparently,” Eden said on the other end of the line. “Bit of a flair for the dramatic, I suppose. Then again, you do have a friend namedCandyman.”

“I do,” he said, lightly. “Anything else?”

“Our Holy Father, whoever he is, is linked to the Chupacabras.”

This time, Fox felt his own face do something complicated and disbelieving. The others edged in a step closer in response. “Hold on.” He put her on speaker. They stood on the side of the road, in the unpopulated spot where Michelle had nearly been run off the road, and managed to turn the tables on her attackers. The truck had been towed away, but a bit of yellow tape snapped from the branch of a mesquite tree, and you could see the fresh wounds in the earth where it had lain. “Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and tinny; a sudden gust of wind tried to snatch it away, but her answer was clear. “Your boys Jesse and Eric at Citgo say the good Holy Father is either a part of, or at least working for the Chupacabra cartel.”

Candy stared hard at the phone. “That’s not possible. We pushed them out of Texas.”

“I killed their boss myself,” Fox added.

“Yes. And it isn’t as if bosses can be replaced,” she said, dryly. “I’m just reporting what I know. I’ll check in if I learn something else.” The call disconnected with a beep.

Fox stared at the phone a long moment, until the screen went black. When he lifted his head, he realized Candy and Albie had been doing the same.

“Fuck,” Candy finally said, dazed. Then, frowning, “Fuck. The cartel? Fuckingshit.”

“We don’t know it’s them,” Albie said, sounding cautious.

“Aw, shit, of course it is,” Candy said, turning away from them, kicking a rock in a show of uncharacteristic annoyance. His feet were as strong as his fists, apparently, because the rock sailed a long, long way into the distance, disappearing before it came back to earth. “How did I not see this? What–” He scrubbed a hand up the back of his head, fluffing the wheaten hair there, biceps bunching up so thick Fox thought the sleeve of his jacket might split.

“At least it wasn’t your hard work gone to waste,” Fox muttered, refusing to call his tonebitter– though it definitely was. Sue him: he was damn proud of the Chupacabra hit he’d carried out.

Candy whirled around. “What was that?”

“Nothing. If it’s them, then we need to be more aggressive about this.”

Candy stared off across the open stretch of field a moment, jaw set. Then he nodded. “Yeah.”

~*~

“Well, that’s done,” Eden said after she’d disconnected the call. “Any thoughts on where the boys will go with that information? Because it will be more efficient for us to search for additional leads elsewhere.”

Michelle didn’t answer, instead said, “You didn’t tell him I was with you.”

Eden twisted around so she could peer into the backseat, head tilting so she glanced at Michelle over the rims of her sunglasses. “Of course not. Your fellow would just come rushing to us and ruin the whole afternoon. They’re very white knight, these bikers.”

Axelle snorted. “Verycontrolling.”

After talking to Jesse and Eric, they’d piled back into the GTO and left the Citgo – only to go a half-mile down the street and pull into the bustling, shiny new BP so they could make a plan. An oil tanker trundled past them, engine nearly-deafening.

Michelle frowned to herself a moment, thinking. “They’ll have someone they go hunt down. Someone who they think will know something about the cartel. So far, all our regular dealers won’t say a word.”

“If the cartel is moving product, someone knows which channels they’re using,” Eden said.

“Yeah, but they’ll be smarter than those boys back there. They won’t talk.”

“Hmm.” Eden tapped the edge of her phone against her lips. “I wouldn’t mind having a chat with this FBI fellow Candy mentioned.”

“He’ll be staked out at Amarillo PD, I guess,” Michelle said, “but if we leave here, and go straight there, Jesse and Eric are good as dead.” When Eden lifted her brows, she said, “If they have eyes on us.” She suppressed a shiver.

“No offense,” Axelle said, “but we really shouldn’t have brought her.” She was facing out through the windshield, but hooked a thumb over the backseat to point at Michelle.

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