Page 103 of Lone Star

Dinner was brisket, beans, cornbread, and braised carrots. Plates were cleaned, beers were drunk, and the ever-expanding group of witnesses were shuffled into dorms.

Michelle held a sleepy TJ on her lap, her chin resting lightly on the top of his head, content to let the idle conversation wash over her. She noticed Reese and Ten eating on opposite sides of the common room, both of them alone and hunched over their plates in near-identical poses, eating like men concentrating on refueling their bodies rather than regular, hungry boys enjoying a good meal.

She watched Albie and Axelle sit side-by-side, elbows brushing, sharing private looks again and again.

Eden and Fox, across from one another, exuded the same shark-like energy; they were a perfect match.

“Soon as we get listening ears outta the way,” Candy murmured when she tipped her head sideways to rest against his shoulder, “we’ll talk shop.”

That was her cue, then. She gathered herself to stand.

And Candy put a hand on her knee. “No, stay. Darla can put the kids to bed.”

She glanced toward him, startled. “She can?”

“Yeah, I already asked her.”

As if on cue, Darla appeared, hands out already, fingers flexing in grabby motions. “Come see me, little man,” she cooed, and TJ went right to her.

Michelle felt a maternal tug in her gut.I should do that. But Candy squeezed her knee.He’s okay. My place is here right now. She glanced up at Candy again, still disbelieving, and he gave her a rakish, if tired, grin.

Jack went along willingly with Darla, too, she saw, and Jenny looped her arm through Colin’s where they sat smushed together in a wide recliner.

All their “guests,” to use the term loosely, were gone. Nickel bussed away the plates and set to refilling glasses. The twins dragged some tables together in the center of the room, a makeshift echo of the long table in every MC chapel

Candy patted her knee one last time and stood. “Alright, everybody, let’s listen up.” His voice wasn’t loud, but commanding and presidential. Over at the bar, Nickel switched on a radio, and directed its speakers toward the hallway that led into the back of the house. Thwarting eavesdroppers with bad bro country. “A lot happened today. But we learned a lot, too. I know most of you know what’s going on, but I want to get all of us on the same page.

“For starters, Jinx and Melanie Menendez are in the hospital overnight – and Jinx for longer, probably. I left Cowboy and Gringo there on guard duty. We’ll handle it in shifts, and I’ve already got a call in to Ghost to see if anyone from another chapter can come into town and offer us backup. Last I heard from him, Cali’s on the way.” There were a few relieved murmurs.

“Today we learned that we’re dealing with Los Chupacabras cartel. They’re pushing coke, scripts, designer party drugs, and they’re trafficking girls and women, too. Everything you can move, they’re moving. Jinx met a guy named Luis at Sandoval’s, and both Melanie and the Sandoval’s receptionist, Gwen, confirm that he’s at the head of the organization – he talks about his father being the boss, and they’ve not seen him.

“Then we’ve got this ‘Holy Father’ shithead drugging and killing people as a distraction.”

“Maybe he’s the dad,” Colin said, brow furrowed. “Like a joke, huh? Holy Father is actually the father?”

“Could be,” Candy said.

“I doubt it,” Fox spoke up. “Whoever he is, they won’t want him to lead directly back to the cartel. He’s a smokescreen – a sacrificial lamb to draw heat off the trafficking.”

“Gwen gave me the names of the trucking companies they’ve used,” Eden said.

Candy nodded, and Blue stood, a roll of paper in his hands that he spread out across the tables: a map of the city. He pulled a red pen from behind his ear.

“Henderson’s, Pascal’s, Ready-Set, and Rapid,” Eden recited, consulting the slender notebook she kept in her pocket, and Blue circled the locations on the map.

“Pick-up address?” he asked.

Eden read that, off, too, and Blue let out a low whistle when he circled it. “That’s Doc Gilliard’s place.”

“Shit,” Candy muttered. “How many people have they got under their thumb?”

“Who?” Albie asked.

“A retired cardiac surgeon. His wife was sick, and when she was dying, he had this big ol’ gaudy mansion built for them outside of town. It’s huge: gardens, a pool, like, three garages. When she passed, I think he filled the void with cars,” Blue said.

“It’s private out there,” Talis said. “Plenty of room, and no one to see them move product in or out.”

“He’s got that one big industrial garage,” Candy said. “It’d hold a lot of something.”

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