Page 68 of Lone Star

“Excuse me?”

“No one knows us around here,” Axelle said. “We coulda walked in back there and acted like we wanted to buy off those guys. But with you along.” She finally turned her head and offered what was almost an apologetic look. “Everyone knows we’re in good with the Dogs. Might as well be walking around with targets on our backs.” She looked to Eden. “This isn’t the way you normally do things.”

Eden sighed. “I know.”

Then why bring me?Michelle started to ask.

But someone rapped hard on her window.

They all jumped.

Axelle breathed out a fast, “Holy shit.”

It was Jinx, bent at the waist, his bearded face just beyond Michelle’s window, mouth set in a flat, stern line.

Michelle pressed a hand over her racing heart. “Shit. It’s just Jinx.”

Eden cranked down her window and said, “Can we help you?” with masterful iciness.

He ignored her, gaze pinned to Michelle. “Are you outta your mind right now?”

“Was I under house arrest?” she bit back.

He stared at her a moment, and she could feel it building, the speech he was about to give her about putting herself in danger, and going off without an escort, and how upset Candy would be when he found out. Felt it building, and wanted to scream.

But when he finally spoke, he said, “If you’re gonna go against your old man’s wishes, did you ever think I might want in on it?”

~*~

Soft. The word cycled through Candy’s head in a loop, mocking him. The roar of the engine and the wind wasn’t enough to drown it out. Even just a few years ago, he wouldn’t have missed something as dire as the cartel moving back into his territory. Murdering people. Stealing their market.

What else were they doing under his nose? Trafficking sex slaves? Drug mule kids? Was there a countdown clock ticking on a massive drive-by that would claim innocent families?

He remembered lying on the side of the road, the pain more like a coldness – one that crept and crept, stealing all the heat from his finger and toe tips and rushing inward. Remembered Michelle standing over him, haloed in sunlight, terrified but fierce.

They were married, now. Had one baby and another on the way.

His stomach ached. If he’d been soft – if that was the reason for this – he felt far from it now.

By the time they pulled in at The Oasis, he’d packaged his rage into something sleek, hard, and useful. An electric thrill down his spine he hadn’t felt in a while.

The lot was maybe a quarter full, so they parked up front, along the sidewalk, bikes lined up in a perfect row. Candy didn’t realize he was outdistancing the others until he got to the door and glanced back over his shoulder. Albie and Fox were at least ten paces behind, Reese and Ten back even farther, and surveying their surroundings. Candy waited long enough for Fox and Albie to catch up, then tugged open the door and stepped into the club’s dim interior.

The Oasis needed remodeling in a major way, its black carpet, black tile, and pink neon smudgy, sad, and outdated. But he supposed no one came here for the ambiance.

A center stage dominated the entire back wall, three catwalks leading out from it into the smoky, dark den where round tables offered a view of the dancers. A handful of patrons were scattered across the room, most of them sitting alone, and only the center catwalk was lit up, the girl on it dressed up like a nurse, down to a tiny skirt, stockings, and heels.

A bouncer leaned back against the wall just inside the entryway, eyes at half-mast, posture lax; half-asleep. He clocked their cuts, though, jerking upright, whole body going tense. He stepped forward as Candy halted to scan the room, his voice low when he said, “Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble in here today.”

“Good, ‘cause there won’t be any,” Candy said, staring at him until he took a step back. “Benny here?”

The bouncer’s tense expression melted into a grimace. “He’s in the back with Kimmie.”

“Cool. We won’t be long.”

A hallway lined with black velvet curtains housed the private rooms. Light – low and red-pink – showed beneath the curtain at the very end, and the faint thumping of slow, rhythmic music floated from there, muted by all the velvet and carpet.

Carpet that muffled their approaching footfalls, too.

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