Page 31 of Lone Star

She did one last survey of the storeroom, all their supplies arranged according to use, in neat stacks and rows on the metal shelves, and then scanned her checklist. Every item was ticked off in blue pen. Done.

It was only then that she realized the angle of the light coming in through the propped-open back door had changed completely, that she was chilled, a cool breeze funneling inside, and that her lower back hurt like a bitch from standing for so long.

Something brushed gently against the backs of her legs, and she glanced over her shoulder to see that it was a chair. Jinx had TJ perched on one hip, and his other hand had slid the chair gently forward, so that all she had to do was sit down.

“Here,” he said, expression nearly stern. “You’ve been on your feet too much.”

“Playing stand-in husband?” she asked with a laugh, but sank gratefully down into the chair. The relief was exquisite, even though her muscles would continue to whine and protest the abuse for the next eight hours or so. “God. That took a while.”

“It always takes forever,” he said, frowning, bringing his other hand up to help support TJ’s bottom. He was getting big. “You shoulda let someone else do it.”

“You know I don’t believe in delegation,” she said lightly, but Jinx didn’t look amused. “Are you alright?”

“Want down,” TJ said, kicking his legs, and Jinx set him back on the rug where he’d been playing with plastic trucks earlier.

“I’m gonna go shut that door,” he said, and headed to do so. He tipped the delivery driver first, she saw, a quick cash handshake in the threshold before he kicked the block inside and let the heavy metal panel swing shut with a muted crash. TJ ignored the noise, long since used to the loudness that came with growing up with Lean Dogs.

Under the droning fluorescent tube lights, the breeze thankfully cut off, Michelle realized that the rest of the employees had gone, that they were alone in the storeroom for now, and that Jinx wanted to say something to her. Had maybe been wanting to say it all day, if his frown was any indication.

This was another thing she’d inherited from Devin Green, a trait that none of them would name, but which they all relied upon: a kind of sixth sense. Candy had said she didn’t like Melanie Menendez; but it wasn’t as simple as being a jealous, hormonal wife. Something about Melanie tripped a wire in her brain, and that wasn’t a feeling to be ignored.

Maybe anyone could have looked at Jinx now and seen how unsettled he was – or maybe it was just her.

“Jinx,” she prompted quietly.

“It’s nothing,” he said, shrugging, attempting a smile. Even at his happiest, his smiles were a bit grim; this one was downright frightening.

“No, it’s not,” she said, quiet but firm. “What’s bothering you?”

His attempted smile fell away – he looked better when he was being his surly, serious self; his beard betrayed the tautness of a clenched jaw beneath. He stared at her a long moment, and she swore she could see the debate waging in his head. He’d not been her biggest fan when she first arrived; save Jenny and Darla, the club had operated too long as nothing but a gang of bachelors; most of them were unused to leaning on women; unused to trusting them with sensitive subjects.

She liked to think that he respected her now, but she didn’t expect a genuine response.

He surprised her, though. “They haven’t made contact, yet.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Whenever someone tries to rattle our cage” – he walked forward, closing the distance between them, until he stood at the edge of TJ’s rug – “they make some big display, and then they reach out. It’s like ‘See what I did? Give me what I want, or I’ll do it again.’ There’s areasonfor killing somebody.”

She thought of her own experience with killers, and had to agree, nodding.

“The people they’ve killed aren’t people we know. Scaring Pacer I get, but then to jump to spooking us–”

“Wait. Scaring Paceryou get?”

He gave her another considering look. Another debate warred within him. Then his gaze hardened with resolve, and he said, “Pacer’s a dumbass.”

She stared at him, unflinching, waiting for further explanation.

After a moment, he gave a short, sharp nod. It struck her as a gesture of respect. Things might never be warm between them, because he wasn’t a warm man, but he thought her trustworthy, now. That was something. That was really all she needed, here.

“He’s a dumbass,” Jinx continued, “and he’sweak. Candy told you he tried to prospect back when he was younger?” When she nodded, he said, “Jack could tell straight off he wasn’t Lean Dogs material, and cut him loose. That was the right move, but he shoulda cut all ties, instead of letting him hang on.”

“Not everyone’s cut out for one-percenter life,” she said, frowning. “And all clubs have friends at the fringes. Nothing unusual about that.”

“Yeah, but those friends aren’t supposed to start wars with other outlaw clubs and need their asses bailed out.”

Her brows went up.

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