Page 48 of Lone Star

Candy felt his brows go up.

“For RCs in general. I don’t like when they brush up against our territory. They always wind up sticking their noses where they don’t belong, they get hurt, and then it’s us slugging it out with whoever they pissed off.”

Candy nodded. “Noted.”

“But Jack liked Pacer, and you’ve honored that relationship. I respect that. It’s honorable.”

Candy blinked in surprise.

“And besides, at this point, I don’t think it’s about Pacer anyway.”

“Doesn’t look it.”

“Someone wants the Dogs pushed outta the limelight.”

“Yeah. What else is new?”

Eighteen

Michelle spent the day on the mundane around-the-house chores she always tended to save for later, preferring to work on business. Jenny pitched in, unasked, and they worked in brisk, efficient silence, Jenny already handing over the duster before Michelle could ask for it; Michelle unhooking the vacuum cord from around a chair leg before it could tip it over. Jenny tackled the bathrooms, and their harsh chemical cleaners, and kept trying to urge Michelle to sit down, fold laundry, polish something – quieter tasks she could do off her feet.

“I’m not a bloody whale yet,” Michelle complained, aiming for harsh. But Jenny just laughed and patted the top of her head.

Candy called at lunchtime to check in, voice laced with worry. He and the boys were out turning over stones, searching for answers.

The whole situation just felt…pointless.

Felt like they were sitting around, waiting, biding their time until the next disaster.

She hated it.

“Mama, TJ’s trying to eat my truck!” Jack complained, stomping over in an aggrieved huff.

“What have I said about that?” Jenny said calmly, folding a blanket over the back of the couch. “Tell him –sweetly– that we don’t eat toys, and ask if he’ll stop. If he won’t, I’ll take it from him.”

Jack made an unhappy sound. The truck in question was a huge, baby-safe Tonka thing. Jack had been very generous witheating; more like slobbering on one of the fat tires.

Both boys were on the rug in front of the TV, toys and blocks scattered around them. Jack was normally in preschool, but given the club situation, Jenny had kept him home, and it had been…challenging, to say the least.

She looked down at the boys now, and watched Jack kneel on the rug across from TJ, brows knitted comically. “Don’t eat my truck,” he said, lower lip jutting out.

Jenny sighed. “Jack, you know that’s not how we ask nicely.”

At another time, Michelle would have been onboard with lessons in sharing, but right now, she just wanted to avoid a tantrum. She leaned down, took the truck from TJ, set it down, and then plucked TJ up into her arms.

“Mama!” he protested, legs kicking.

“Oh, here, you didn’t have to do that. Need me to take him?” Jenny asked.

Ordinarily, she would have accepted the offer gladly; as wordlessly as they’d worked around the sanctuary all day. They more or less co-mothered the kids, never hesitating to wipe a nose, kiss a boo-boo, or deliver a necessary reprimand.

Even now, she wanted to push TJ into Jenny’s arms and take a step back. Take a deep breath.

Because she was breathing hard, she realized, suddenly. Her shoulders shaking; her whole body tight with tension. Sheachedeverywhere, sore not just from a day of hard work, but from holding herself rigid throughout.

She wanted this to stop. This madness with people running her off the road. The feeling of being pregnant, and tired, and queasy, andhelpless.

God, did she feel helpless. Folding laundry and dusting tables while there were people out there trying to harm her family.

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