Page 141 of Lone Star

Gwen said, “I’m sorry,” and ducked her head.

The door banged open, and standing between the jambs was one of the two kids from the gas station. Jesse, she thought. He held a gun, its muzzle trained on her.

~*~

“I never saw the girls, man,” Benny said, relaxed now, talking so quickly it made note-taking difficult. “Some of the guys, they would come into the club when I was working, and some of ‘em were real shitheads. This one guy – Carlos Something, I think? Whatever. He’d always come sit right next to me, and lean over and whisper in my ear, like. It was creepy.”

“I bet,” Axelle deadpanned.

He went on, oblivious. “He kept saying that if I thought the girls in the club would good, I should see the ones he could get me. I was like, ‘Dude, are you a pimp?’ And he was like–”

Rapid footfalls from the back hallway caught Michelle’s attention. When she lifted her head, and saw who was approaching, time seemed to slow. To stretch out like taffy. Later, when she remembered these next few moments, all of it would be a shaky blur. But the heat of it all, the cascading tumble of details stood out, each one distinct, razor-edged and perfect.

Eric, from the gas station, stalked forward from the mouth of the hallway, lifting a gun as he did so, leveling it on the back of Benny’s head. His face was dark with anger, brows drawn low, mouth a grim line. Not just angry, but murderous.

Beside her, Axelle gasped, and sat up straight.

Michelle sucked in a breath. “Look–” a warning, an alarm, a call for help. The first note of it lifted Albie’s head, caught Jackal’s attention, had Talis pushing away from his post against the back of the sofa.

“–out!”

She lunged to the side a fraction of a second before Eric fired.

Benny was grinning when it happened, when the bullet entered the back of his skull, one last glimpse of that sideways smirk that he must have thought women found alluring. One last smile for a pretty girl he was trying to manipulate, and then his face erupted in a shower of red.

Michelle closed her eyes; felt the hot, wet spray of blood and brain stripe up the side of her face, and then she was falling. Hit the floor hard on her left shoulder, the breath knocked out of her. She heard two thumps, even as the crack of the gunshot echoed inside her head.

Heard the scrape of chairs, and a half-dozen wordless, furious shouts.

“Drop the gun!” Albie barked. “Drop it now!”

It landed on the hardwood with a clatter.

Michelle cracked her eyes opened – the right was gummy with blood, her vision clouded by it. With her left she saw Benny’s lower half beneath the table; saw his boots, and his jeans, and the piss darkening the fabric, its ammonia stench burning her nose. Beyond she saw other scuffling boots, as Albie and Talis and Jackal raced to apprehend Eric.

She craned her neck and saw Axelle, stomach-down on the floor, but alive, her head lifted, her gaze searching and frantic, gore splattered across her cheek.

Michelle opened her mouth to say her name, and that was when she heard gunshots from outside the clubhouse, a quick volley. Heard a loud, rushing, roaring sound, getting louder, louder, louder–

And then, just like Benny’s face – the wall exploded.

~*~

Gwen staggered up and out of the chair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, voice wavering and tear-choked. She went to Jesse, who caught her around the waist, and shoved her back behind him, pushed her back out into the hallway.

Jenny sat rooted, gaze trained on the gun in his hand, disbelief and fury fighting for supremacy in her chest. How in the hell was this happening? How dare that stupid little shit threaten her!

Beside her, Eden sat stiff and erect, hands white-knuckled on the pad of paper, fingers twitching. She wanted to reach for a gun, Jenny figured, because that was her first instinct: grab a weapon and point it back. Nevermind if she got shot in the process: a threat like this was intolerable.

“What are you doing?” Eden asked, voice only a little tight.

Jesse shifted the gun’s aim toward her, and then back, swapping it between them, as he edged backward out of the room. Gwen disappeared.

“Was this the plan from the beginning?” Eden asked. “Were you plants the whole time? All of you?”

“No.” Jenny’s pulse throbbed in her ears, her throat, her wrists. “Nobody’s that slick. They lied to us, though. They called the cartel for help.”

“Loyal to them,” Eden said. “Why? Are they that frightening?”

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