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  UNDER THE GUN

  THE BLACKMORE AGENCY: BOOK FIVE

  CAROLINA MAC

  Copyright © 2018 by Carolina Mac

  UNDER THE GUN - 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-988850-49-8

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  To my writing family who keep me going.

  Three things cannot be long hidden: The sun, the moon, and the truth.

  ―BUDDHA

  CHAPTER ONE

  July 3rd.

  HIS NAKED reflection stared back at him from the mirror over the vanity and he wasn’t pleased with what he saw. His weight was down, and if he didn’t get back to the gym for regular workouts, any ten-year-old kid who wanted his wallet could take him out. Damn good thing he didn’t have to pass a physical.

  Blaine stepped closer to the mirror, pulled back his long, damp ebony hair and turned his head slightly to examine the vertical scar close to his left ear. He ran his index finger over the puckered skin like he’d done a thousand times before and to what end?

  Why can’t I remember where this came from? Must have bled like a motherfucker when it happened. The way it’s healed tells me I didn’t have stitches. Why not?

  He dressed, left Farrell asleep in the next room, and headed to the kitchen for coffee. Each time he entered the newly renovated kitchen a contented feeling surrounded him—almost the warm and fuzzy family feeling he sought and yearned for. Almost.

  He and Carm had picked everything out together—the tiles, faucets, appliances, colors, all of it, and still it was taking a long time for this house to feel like home. Too long. Maybe it never would.

  Maybe my home will always be with Annie.

  A full pot of Panamanian blend sat on the warmer waiting for him. Carm was usually up earlier than him, just her nature. She’d always worked hard—migrant work, factory work—little bits of information about her past he’d gleaned here and there. She spoke so rapidly in Spanish he rarely caught it all, but it didn’t matter what her life was like before, she had become precious to him and he had vowed to make her life better.

  The mother of his dead girlfriend, Fabiana, fate had thrown him and Carm together and she’d become a second mother to him. They were forever bonded by Fabiana’s memory and the pain of her tragic death.

  Annie would always be first in his heart, but there was room for Carmelita too. Lots of room.

  Lexi whined at the back door as Blaine filled his coffee mug. He splashed in a little cream and limped down the hall to let the dog out. The bullet wound in his leg was healing at a snail’s pace. If some asshole tried to take him on the street, he was easy pickins. Didn’t have a prayer. Couldn’t run and his reflexes were shit.

  The second he opened the door for the dog, the July heat hit him in the face like a sucker punch. Today would be unbearable for humans, but Lexi didn’t notice. She bounded off the porch and ran to the back fence to join Carm. A huge Newfoundland dog he’d rescued from the pound, she was smart, loyal and good company. Since his breakup with Misty, Lexi was his constant companion. Blaine had done little else besides mope at home, nurse his leg and watch football with Farrell.

  He eased down onto the top step and watched Carm pull weeds out of the flower bed along the fence. While he waited for his coffee to cool a little, he lit up a smoke and reflected. Grateful for the two weeks off he’d afforded himself, his main priority would be a personal quest. He wanted—no, needed—to find out more about his biological family.

  After his parents had been killed in a car accident, Blaine had awakened under the bleachers in the Odessa fairgrounds with no recollection of how he’d arrived there. It was high time he found out.

  His only link to the past had surfaced recently by pure chance. A man named Arlo Maznik had spoken to Blaine’s partner, Jesse Quantrall, and raised a few probing questions. Arlo had known Blaine’s father, Ricardo Blackmore, and held onto issues surrounding his friend’s death. Issues, that for Arlo Maznik were not resolved.

  Blaine needed another meeting with Maznik and today was the day. He finished his coffee, keeping his eye on Carmelita and gave her a shout out in Spanish as she stuffed more weeds into her yard-waste bag. “Take a break, Carm.”

  She grinned and walked towards him, her dark complexion even darker from her hours outdoors. She worked tirelessly, indoors and out and never complained about the heat.

  He patted the step next to him and she sat down pulling off the purple gardening gloves he’d bought her the day before. “You’re working too hard, and I can’t help you with my leg like this.”

  She laughed. “I’m not working hard. Not hard enough.”

  “Let the gardener do it when he comes. That’s what I pay him for.”

  “We don’t need him,” she argued, “and I don’t like him. He’s old and lazy.”

  Blaine chuckled. “He’s not lazy—more like methodical—and we do need him. I want a lot more trees down that side.” He pointed. “We need more shade.”

  The sound of a large truck clouded the peacefulness of the morning. Carm stood on tiptoe, pulling herself up to a little more than her five feet trying to see over the lattice privacy screen that blocked the view from next door. “New people,” she said in Spanish.

  “Oh, yeah? Moving in already?” Blaine struggled to his feet. “Hope they’re good neighbors.”

  FARRELL LEANED on the front porch railing, smoking and keeping an eye on the crew moving in next door. Not a commercial mover—the new arrivals had rented a Ryder truck.

  Jesus, Blacky’s gonna fuckin freak when he sees this lot.

  Farrell had moved in with his foster brother the week before. They worked together and spent most of their time together and Blacky had offered, so what the hell. Annie wasn’t happy about it, any more than she was happy that Blacky had his own place now. She wanted all her boys to live at home… forever.

  I miss Annie so much, I feel like puking most of the fuckin time. Is that what it feels like to grow up? Fuck it.

  He butted out his smoke and went back inside. Blacky and Carm were in the kitchen, Blacky sitting at the table with his bandaged leg elevated on a chair, and Carm busy making breakfast.

  “Get a look at the new people?” asked Blaine.

  “Yeah, I fuckin saw them all right.” Farrell headed to the stove, squeezed Carm in a bear hug making her squeal, then filled a mug with coffee.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Farrell sat down opposite Blaine and reached for the sugar. “Rental truck with a few sticks of second-hand furniture being unloaded by more than a half dozen gangers. Big bike trailer hooked on behind the truck.”

  Blacky struggled to his feet. “Are you kiddin me? I’m gonna take a look.”

  Farrell sho
ok his head and held up a large calloused hand. “Don’t. Let’s eat breakfast first, then we’ll go over, introduce ourselves and size them up.”

  Blaine blew out a breath. “How in hell are we gonna live here with a bunch of gangers next door?”

  Farrell shrugged and thickly spread strawberry jam on four pieces of toast. “We’ll think of something.”

  ANNIE PERCHED on a stool in her massive kitchen trying to think, a glass of Lone Star on the granite counter top next to her notepad. Tomorrow was her annual Fourth of July picnic and she didn’t have the heart for it this year. Everything was different. Thinking back, she could see some horrendous choices she’d made. Choices that fucked up her marriage to Jesse, her relationship with Blaine, and now Farrell had moved into Austin to Blaine’s house too.

  “Mommy, are you crying?”

  She didn’t even realize that her six-year-old was standing beside her, watching her. What kind of mother was she anyway? She should be shot.

  “Nope, not crying. Trying to make a list of everything I need to do for the picnic tomorrow.”

  “Will it be fun?”

  “Let’s hope so. We haven’t had much fun lately, have we?”

  “My Daddy died,” said Jackson. “That makes me sad and I miss him. I take care of Pye for him while he’s in heaven, but I haven’t had fun since we took Daddy to Vegas in the airplane to get him buried.”

  Annie jumped off her stool, knelt on the floor and took Jackson in her arms. “My poor baby. You miss your daddy so much and I wish he was here for you. You’re just as sad as I am.”

  “I’ll be better tomorrow when Lucy comes home from her Gramma’s house.”

  Annie smiled at him. “You sure will. Then you’ll have fun again. Games and baseball—all the things you and Lucy do together. I love you, sugar pop.”

  Jackson ran off to play and Annie felt ten times worse than she had before. Jacks missed Race so much and he was probably the only one on the planet who did. She grabbed her phone when it signaled. Text message. Linc.

  “Hey, Annie. In Austin tonight. How about dinner?”

  Annie stared at her phone and mumbled to herself. “That is a bad thing waiting to get worse. Don’t do it, girl.”

  “Where?”

  “How about Logan’s?”

  “Time?”

  “Eight?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “You made me very happy.”

  Annie pressed end and cursed under her breath. “You won’t be happy too fuckin long.”

  AT FOUR, BLAINE and Farrell left for Dallas. The day had been wasted watching the thugs move in next door. Mirror images of themselves before they had been rescued from the gangs they were in by Annie. The crew moving in next to them spelled trouble with a capital ‘T’. Blaine and Farrell had been two of the lucky ones—marked for death, rescued and given a chance to turn their lives around, both of them had pulled it together with Annie’s help and encouragement and were on the other side of the law now. Cops.

  Well, kind of cops.

  “Where are we meeting this dude you need to talk to, Blacky?”

  “The Brazilian Steakhouse. Heard good things about their meat. I think you’ll like it, bro.”

  “Yeah? I like grilled meat.”

  Blaine reached over and programmed the address into the nav system as Farrell drove through the city. Dallas was bigger and busier every time they visited.

  “Long way to go for dinner,” said Farrell as he parked in front and gave Blacky’s keys to the valet.

  “It’s important for me to talk to him.”

  Farrell nodded and held the door while Blaine navigated on his crutches. “I know it is. I’m just bitchin to hear myself because I’m bored if I’m not bustin some jerk’s ass. I live for the work. Hope he has more info for you.”

  Arlo Maznik had already arrived and had a beer on the go when the hostess seated Blaine and Farrell. Blaine reached over and shook his hand.

  “Happy to see you again, Blaine. You’re walking better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Slow healing, but after we wrapped up our last case, I took a couple weeks off to speed things up.” Blaine introduced Farrell then ordered a round of drinks.

  “After our conversation in the hospital,” said Arlo, “I began thinking back over all the time your father and I had spent together to see if anything popped out at me, and there wasn’t much, I’m sorry to say. Ricardo never talked about his past or his family or your mother’s family and there were no pictures or photographs of anyone in the house in Abilene—except the three of you, of course.” He grinned at Blaine. “You were the star of almost all the framed photography.”

  “I wonder where those personal affects would be today, or if they were sent to the dump by someone preparing to sell the house?” asked Blaine.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

  “More than seven years ago. Chances are the same people don’t even work at that realtor anymore.”

  “Maybe the lawyer’s office had people clear the house,” said Blaine. “That’s an avenue I can explore.”

  Farrell tipped up his draft and finished it. “All you need is one person who still works at the real estate company or the lawyer’s office, bro—one person who remembers who cleaned out the house.”

  “I guess so. A long shot, but I’m an investigator,” he grinned across the table at Arlo, “I could investigate.”

  THE ENTIRE TIME Annie dressed for her date with Linc Bolivar, she berated herself for accepting.

  Why am I letting myself in for more trouble and pain? Bikers bring nothing to your life but tragedy. And I should know, I’ve married more than my share.

  The July evening would be hot, but the restaurant would be cool. She slipped a turquoise cotton dress over her head and shoved her feet into a pair of matching boots. A couple of silver bangles, some lip gloss and a shot of Light Blue and she was as ready as she was going to get. Like it or don’t.

  This is a one-time dinner. I’m not getting involved with another biker as long as I live. I can’t.

  Jackson was tucked into bed with Sarah watching over him. “I shouldn’t be late, Sarah, but if you get tired, sleep in the guest room.”

  “Okay, Mrs. C.”

  Sarah and her mother had been with her for years—since she was married to Russ Coulter and they still called her ‘Mrs. C.’

  LINC BOLIVAR sat at the bar at Logan’s, waiting for her. He cleaned up well and was almost as good looking as his older brother Sam—and Sam was no slouch in the looks department. Linc’s long dark hair hung shiny and loose to his shoulders, just touching his plain black t-shirt. Both his muscular arms were solidly inked shoulder to wrist. From his bar stool, he was watching for her in the mirror behind the bar and grinned when he saw her coming towards him. He turned and stood up. “You’re right on time.”

  “Do I get a point for that?”

  “You have enough points already. You can’t go higher than a ten. Let’s get a table.” He took her hand in his and his touch was surprisingly gentle. He glanced at her dress and asked, “You ride your bike?”

  “Drove my truck.”

  The hostess showed them to a table and he shook his head refusing it. He glanced around and pointed, “How about that booth back there?”

  “Sure, okay.” She led the way, seated them and left them with menus.

  He sat across from her, staring. “You are so beautiful you leave me speechless.”

  Without thinking, Annie reached across and touched his hand. “Thank you, Linc. That was a lovely thing to say.”

  “I was surprised when you said you’d come—surprised but happy. Then I got to thinking about it and I thought you might be playing me and not show up.”

  “The thought crossed my mind, but here I am.”

  “Here you are, and I don’t know what to do or say. I’ve never known a woman like you, all gorgeous and put together and yet...”

  “Yet?”

  “Women in
your category don’t often give guys like me the time of day.”

  “I’m in a category?” She giggled.

  “You know what I’m taking about, girl. You’re miles above me class-wise, and still you talk to me.”

  “No one is above anyone else. They just think they are.”

  Linc nodded and pondered the thought. “What do you drink?”

  “Lone Star draft—large.”

  He winked and held up two fingers for the server.

  “Why are you in Austin?” asked Annie.

  “Business.”

  “And what kind of business does The Rule have in Austin?”

  “Opportunities. Vince sent me to check things out. We might expand out of Nevada and into Texas.”

  “Vince Cabrelli wears the ‘P’ now?”

  Linc raised a dark eyebrow. “You know Vince?”

  Annie shook her head. “Nope, but I know who he is.”

  “He moved into top spot after my brother was gunned down up in Round Rock.” Linc’s voice took on a tortured tone and Annie stared hard at the menu.

  “Let’s order,” she said. “I’m starving.”

  The server returned with the beer and Linc let Annie order first. “I’ll have the same,” he said, “but double up on the fries and make my meat rare.”

  “You in town alone?”

  Gang members are never alone. VP probably has three with him.

  “No, but I’m here alone with you. I don’t want any of my boys around.”

  Annie nodded and took a long pull on her beer.

  At least he didn’t lie about it.

  His cell signaled a message and he ignored it. “Tell me about your kid—the one that looks like a ganger and says he’s a Texas Ranger.”

  “Why?”

  “It bothers me and I can’t figure why a gorgeous woman like you would adopt a ganger. How old are you anyway?”

  “Not a polite question. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine.”