Page 123 of Lone Star

“Excuse me?” Maddox asked.

Fox sent her his best disappointed look, and hoped she could see the way his eyes sparkled. The twitch at the corner of her mouth said she did. “Fine,” he said, turning back to Maddox. “Based on tonight’s op–”

“Op?” Maddox said, quietly, incredulous.

“We can tell that the cartel is using Dr. Gilliard’s home as a pick-up for their wider shipping needs. They’re getting the cocaine into the country somehow – and obviously sneakily enough that they should just truck it straight on to their wholesale locations – and then using this as a connection point.” He rattled off what Gwen had told them about the local trucking operations, and gave him a brief recounting of what the Holy Father had been up to with his scare tactics.

“Jesus,” Maddox swore.

“They’re going to a lot more trouble than they need to for all of this.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“The most likely answer is to frighten us. The Lean Dogs,” he clarified, when Maddox frowned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Agent, but if the cartel wants to take bold steps into the United States, they know their main obstacle is going to be our MC. We’re the top dogs, no pun intended. They’ll have to wrest control of certain – market sectors – from us. They’ve tried going at us head-on in the past. This time, they’re taking a more creative approach, and my guess is that’s the work of one man in particular.” He described Luis to him. Based on Melanie Menendez, Gwen, Benny, and now Reese’s descriptions, he had a clear mental picture of the man at this point.

“You’re real full of yourself, huh?” Maddox asked, scrubbing at the back of his neck. He glanced toward the bed. “How’s he not dead?”

Tenny lay there staring at him, unblinking, face a pale mask of distaste.

“Just a lucky boy,” Fox said, and saw the fast dart of Tenny’s eyes come to touch him a moment, and then retreat.In more ways than one.

“Christ.” Maddox turned side to side, looking at the ceiling, executing a sequence of nervous twitches and reaches that painted a vivid portrait of a frustrated man about to say something at odds with all his training. “I don’t like this.”

“Getting that down for the record?” Fox asked, mildly.

“Fuck you. Keep taunting federal agencies like this, and you’ll slip one day and get locked up.” He looked momentarily delighted by the idea, before resignation took hold again. “But right now, it’s about the bigger fish I guess, so. Cantrell says you’ve all been cooperating, and that we have to cooperate, too, if we’re gonna catch these guys.”

Fox smiled again. “Excellent.”

Thirty-Seven

“I could get used to this,” Fox said, after they’d sent Maddox on his way. He and Eden walked side-by-side to the elevators; he’d slowed his pace to match hers, surprised that she wasn’t hurrying. “We get to do all the fun parts, and the badges roll in and handle cleanup afterward. It’s genius.”

She laughed. “It’s dangerous.”

“That’s why it’s fun.” He checked the time on his phone, and saw that it was nearly eight. If the clubhouse wasn’t already a kicked-anthill of activity, it soon would be. “Next, I suppose…” He trailed off when he realized Eden had stopped a few feet behind him. He turned back and found her standing with an unexpected amount of tension, her arms folded, feet braced apart, hips cocked, her eyes…

Oh. This was a particular kind of tension.

He felt his brows go up, even as his stomach tightened, and heat crackled along his nerve endings. “Really?”

“The second we get back to the clubhouse, it’s going to be nothing but work.”

“I’d bet good money that somebody found some time for a quick shag last night.”

“Charlie.”

He laughed. His smile felt delighted, true. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

She stalked toward him, her hips swaying, affected, but oh-so-effective, and there was nothing fake about the way her eyes glittered, her pupils already dilated. When she was close enough, she pressed a hand to his chest, and leaned in until their lips nearly touched. Whispered, “If you tell me you haven’t been raring to go since you kicked that guard in the face, you’re a dirty liar, Charlie Fox.”

The heat was unspooling, filling him up. A familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach. “Iama dirty liar, always, but you’re not wrong.”

She grinned, and grabbed the front of his cut. Didn’t have to tug on it, because he followed, hot on her heels, as she ducked into the alcove that led to the restrooms. She paused a moment at the split, looking up at the sign overhead.

“Your choice, love,” he said, and flicked his hand beneath the hem of her jacket in the back, traced his fingertips along the bare skin just above her waistband. Even that slight touch made her shiver.

She took a deep breath. “Right, well, I don’t want any blokes walking in on us.” She towed him through the swinging door into the women’s restroom.

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