Under the Gun Read online

  The server brought the food and Linc was quiet while he polished off sixteen ounces of beef.

  He has better manners than most bikers. Maybe he had a mother.

  The server returned and inquired about desert. Annie declined, ordered coffee and Linc ordered an Irish coffee.

  He leaned forward and said in a whisper, “Since we first met, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I want us to be… like…”

  Annie raised an eyebrow and waited for it.

  We’re not going to be anything more than we are at this moment. Wait for it.

  “Like… solid. We tell each other stuff, you feel what I’m feeling, and we never lie. Like that kind of a deal.”

  “Relationships like that take time and effort,” said Annie, “and they can’t be one-sided. Both people have to give it all they’ve got. In my experience, I’ve never known a biker who had the goods for the long haul.”

  “I do.” His face said he wasn’t kidding. “I know I do.”

  Annie watched him with interest and sipped her newly arrived coffee. “Why do you want a relationship so badly? Aren’t you busy with the club?”

  “Damn right I’m busy, and I’ve never wanted a relationship before—the last thing I’ve ever wanted is some bitch riding behind me. Not until I met you. You’re on my mind every minute and I can barely function.” He shook his head and grinned. “I sound like a fuckin case.”

  “Do yourself a huge favor, Linc Bolivar. Find somebody else.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fourth of July.

  CARM had filled Blaine’s mug for the second time so he wouldn’t have to move his propped-up leg to get more coffee. She was flying around the kitchen in high gear making her special burritos for the picnic at the ranch in the afternoon.

  “Gonna be super hot out there at the ranch, Carm,” said Blaine, “Supposed to be one ten in the shade.”

  She shrugged and kept on working.

  Farrell dragged himself into the kitchen wearing only a torn pair of jeans. He wrapped both arms around Carm, held her fast and kissed her neck until she hollered obscenities in Spanish. Still laughing, he slumped onto the chair opposite Blaine. “I could hear those assholes next door partying until three or four. If they do that tonight, I’m gonna go over there and blow their nuts off.”

  “Who the hell are they?” asked Blaine. “Better if they’re just a bunch of wild kids and not tied into a club. If they’re Banditos or Angels, they won’t be living next to me.”

  “Never know,” said Farrell, “might just be wannabees. We can put the fear into them.”

  “Do you think they bought the property or they’re renting from the person who did?”

  “Nah,” said Farrell, “can’t see a crew like that owning the property. Must be renters.”

  “Fuck, I don’t need more trouble,” said Blaine. “I’m gonna contact the new owners.”

  “Forget about it. Today is Mom’s picnic and we want to have fun. All the Quantrall boys will be there and Neil is home for the summer. We’ll do some hard day-drinking and forget all about the new neighbors.”

  Blaine nodded. “Yep, I need to catch up with Jesse and toss a few back.” His cell rang on the table beside him and he checked the screen then said to Farrell, “It’s Travis.”

  Farrell curled his lip and fairly growled out the words. “Tell him to fuck off.” He jumped up from his chair and stomped across the kitchen to get coffee.

  Blaine felt like saying exactly that, but he didn’t. He’d give Travis a chance to explain why he’d decided to take an unauthorized leave from the Blackmore Agency. “Hey, Trav, how’s the campaign going?”

  “It’s going. Day after day, town to town, in the fuckin heat.”

  “No more problems for Doctor Rodriguez?”

  “Nope. None, and that’s why I’m calling. I want to apologize for deciding to stay with her instead of coming back home to work when I was supposed to. The danger has passed, just like the man said. Figure you weren’t too happy about my decision.”

  “Nope. I wasn’t happy, but we haven’t had anything pressing, and I’m staying off my leg for another week, so I guess there’s no harm done if you’re back by Monday.”

  “Thanks, Blacky, I thought my ass might be fired by now.”

  “Almost. I was fixing to fire you, maybe tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for giving me a break. Don’t know where my head is at. I’ve been a bit messed up lately.”

  “Uh huh. Does Ginny know you’re leaving the campaign trail?”

  “Not yet, but she doesn’t need me hanging around.”

  “I thought you might be doing more for her than hanging around?”

  “I thought that at first, but it didn’t turn out that way. She’s too focused on becoming Governor of Texas to let an affair mess her up, no matter how bad she wants it.”

  “That what she said?”

  “Umm… sort of.”

  Blaine tried not to laugh. Travis was hurting. “Get your ass home, bro.”

  “Thanks, boss. I mean that.”

  Farrell sat down to a heaping plate of bacon and eggs and eyed Blaine to see if he was going to share what Travis had said. “Is he getting it on with the doc?”

  Blaine chuckled. “He might have been more enthused about that possibility than she was. He’s heading home and coming back to work.”

  Farrell pointed his fork at Blaine. “I’ll kill the fucker if he pulls one of those dick-rated decisions again. He’s supposed to be my partner.”

  LINC BOLIVAR occupied Annie’s thoughts as she worked through the morning getting ready for the picnic. Guests were scheduled to arrive around three, and she wasn’t nearly ready.

  He didn’t put any moves on me when he walked me out to my truck last night. Surprising.

  She checked her phone to see if she’d missed a text and noticed the time. “Shit, it’s past two-thirty,” she hollered.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. C.” said Rosalie, as she put the finishing touches on a huge bowl of potato salad, “we’re almost ready.”

  Annie heard a truck and pulled back the curtain over the kitchen window to take a peek. “Blaine and Farrell are here. They can help us.”

  Farrell held the door open for Carm and Mary carrying containers of burritos, and then Blaine limping through with his crutches. “We came early, Mom,” said Farrell, “in case you need us to do stuff.”

  “Sure do.” Annie hugged her boys, then greeted Carm and Mary. “Come on in and grab a stool. I’ll get us all drinks.”

  Farrell’s first serious girlfriend, Mary Polito, was a petite brunette with short hair, dark eyes and a big smile. A crime reporter for the Statesman, she also moonlighted as media liaison for the Blackmore Agency.

  “I’ll get the drinks,” said Farrell, “you do what you need to do with the food. That’s what’s important.”

  Mary giggled. “Farrell likes to eat.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” said Annie.

  “Jesse is here,” hollered Blaine, and hobbled out onto the porch to greet his partner.

  THERE WERE five Quantrall boys, and once upon a time they could all fit into one of the blue Quantrall trucks—the ones with the Appaloosas painted on the doors—but not anymore. The family had expanded and now they needed three trucks—two with car seats.

  Tyler parked close to the porch, so Jesse wouldn’t have far to walk. His older brother, who looked enough like him to be his twin, wasn’t driving yet after his recent heart attack. Jesse eased himself out of the truck and Annie felt tears burn behind her eyes as his obvious weakness drowned her in a sea of guilt.

  She had ruined their marriage and caused Jesse so much stress, he almost paid with his life. The burden of what she had done consumed her. Jesse could only watch his brother unbuckle Charity from her car seat and carry her into the house. He couldn’t even lift his own child, and it was all her fault.

  Jesus, can I keep it together?

  Jesse opened his arms for her
as he walked into the kitchen. “Thanks for having us, Ace.”

  How could I have given up a man like Jesse Quantrall?

  FARRELL DROVE back to Austin after the day’s festivities wound down. Mary rode shotgun and Blaine sat with his leg stretched out across Carm’s lap in the back seat.

  “I had fun today, Farrell,” said Mary. “I love riding when I get the chance, and the Appaloosas y’all have are so beautiful.”

  “It was cooler riding the trails through the pine woods,” said Farrell. “One of my favorite parts of the ranch.”

  “I couldn’t ride out with y’all,” said Blaine, “so I spent the day with Jesse and Ty. Charity is big enough now to play with Lucy and Jackson.”

  “She’s trying to stand up,” said Mary. “She’ll soon be walking.”

  “Nice to catch up with the boss,” said Farrell. “Hope to hell he takes care of himself a little better this time.”

  “For sure,” said Blaine, “we need him to work—at least once in a while—on interrogations and the like.”

  Farrell flicked on his turn signal. “I’ll drop you and Carm off, then take Mary home.”

  “That’s fine,” said Blaine. “That was a big outing for a wounded soldier like me. I’m beat.”

  Farrell turned the corner and his headlights illuminated about twenty bikes parked on the neighbor’s lawn. Blaine’s lawn had been pressed into service for the overflow. “Jesus Christ look at that,” hollered Farrell. “We gotta do something.”

  “We will,” said Blaine. “Don’t get excited.”

  He and Carm got out of the truck and heard Farrell hollering out the truck window. “Be right back, bro. Don’t go over there without me.”

  FEELING THREATENED by the biker invasion, Carm was upset and spewing out a world of worry in rapid Spanish. Blaine’s Spanish was adequate and had improved a lot, but when Carm was upset or excited, he fell behind on the translation.

  After reassuring her and getting her settled in the house, Blaine stood watch on the front porch, leaning against the wall in the shadows, smoking and listening. As a precaution, he’d shoved his Beretta into his waistband. His Ka-bar was always in his boot… in case.

  Music blared from inside the house and there was lots of shouting and laughing. It seemed pretty much like any normal party. Maybe they were having a housewarming and didn’t think to invite their new neighbors.

  Twenty minutes later, Farrell returned from Mary’s. He roared into the drive, parked behind Blaine’s truck and jogged up the porch steps. Reaching for the door handle, he sucked in a quick breath when he saw Blaine standing in the shadows. “Anything happening?”

  “Not much. Sounds like a regular party.”

  “Should we call APD?”

  “Let’s wait on it. See if they disperse without any trouble.”

  “Your call, bro. Want a cold one? I’ll bring a couple out.”

  “Sure.”

  AFTER THE GUESTS left and Lucy and Jackson were tucked in, Annie crashed on the sofa in the great room. Jackson was elated that Lucy was back from her holiday at Mack’s mother’s place in Victoria. Lucy had come to her by pure chance when she’d rescued Mack from a biker gang down near Victoria. The bikers he was hanging with at the time, threatened his life and he made a run for it, holding his three-year-old child in front of him on his Harley.

  Annie grabbed up the remote but checked her phone for messages before turning the TV on. She hadn’t bothered with her phone since noon, she’d been so busy.

  Linc. The number of messages made her smile.

  Ten after one: “Thanks for last night. Never had a better time.”

  She giggled. “Eating dinner was a good time?”

  Two fifteen: “No answer from you. You must be busy.”

  Four twenty: “Just tell me if you don’t want to talk to me. I have to go back to Vegas in the morning. Hoped to see you.”

  Six thirty: “Heading back to Logan’s with my boys for food. I can meet you anywhere.”

  He thinks I’m pissed at him. “I had my family picnic today. Missed your messages. Sorry.”

  “I thought the worst. Need to see you before I go back.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Moved from Logan’s to a sports bar called The Yard to watch the game.”

  “I’ll come there.”

  “Text me from the parking lot and I’ll come out.”

  “Don’t want to be seen with me?”

  “That ain’t it.”

  I know that’s not it, Linc. You don’t want your boys to see me. Been down this road before. One too many times.

  ANNIE DROVE to Austin with the windows down and the CD player blasting out all her favorites—a disc Neil had spent hours making for her. Twenty minutes later, she parked at the side of the bar, stayed behind the wheel of her truck and rethought her decision. She should have said no. Why in hell did she come here? Now he’d think she was interested and she wasn’t.

  She texted. “Red Ram with duallies.”

  Not even a minute passed and Linc opened the passenger door. “Nice fuckin truck. You got horses?”

  “I do.”

  “So much for me to learn about you.” He flashed her a grin and she thought he’d lean across the console and try to kiss her, but he didn’t.

  “Or not.”

  “What’s that mean?” Instead he reached for her hand and held it gently.

  “We’re not a good idea—you and me.”

  “You’re the best idea I’ve had in my whole shit life.”

  Annie let go of his hand and gripped the steering wheel. “Here’s the thing. The only way I would consider seeing you is if you quit the club. I’ve had way too many bad years and I’m not going that route again. Can’t consider you otherwise.”

  “What? Is that the shit you’re laying on me?” Even in the dark cab of the truck, Annie knew Linc’s face was flushed with anger. “That’s impossible,” he hissed.

  “Uh huh. Now you see my point.”

  “You’re kissing me off at the get-go, and I haven’t done more than touch your hand?” He sounded like he might cry.

  Annie jumped out of the truck, ran around and climbed in the passenger side. She straddled him, her arms circling his neck and her chest pressed against his. She placed her open mouth over his and shoved her tongue in his mouth.

  Linc groaned, his strong arms pulling her tighter to him, his rock-hard erection pushing against her leg. She reached down, stroked him twice through his jeans and he came with a growl.

  When he released her, she hopped over the console and slid down behind the wheel. “Now we can break up.”

  Linc was still breathing hard. “No fuckin way we can break up now. You got me, girl. I’m going down.”

  “I’ve got to go home. I have a sitter. Text me.”

  “Can you give me another minute? I can’t go back inside like this.”

  Annie giggled. “Sure. Take your time.”

  “What the hell would I do if I wasn’t in the club?”

  “Figure it out.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  July 5th.

  FARRELL woke at the crack of dawn and he could feel it. His throat was dry, his chest squeezing him and cutting off his oxygen, and his gut ready to hurl. The silence of the early morning was loaded with splotches of red. He’d been having these weird vibes for a while, but there was no way in hell he was telling anybody. Most of all, Blacky, because his brother wasn’t over the Misty thing—her being a fuckin psychic n’all—Blacky would think he was being played.

  He grabbed his jeans from the floor beside the bed, pulled them on, then checked for his smokes and his phone. His SW hung in his holster on the hook behind the door. “Uh huh.” Always loaded and ready to rock, Farrell shoved it into his waistband and headed down the steep stairs in his bare feet.

  He punched the security code into the panel at the front door and shut off the alarm—no need to wake everybody up.

  There might be a nee
d.

  His heart beat double time as he pushed open the front door and eased his lanky frame onto the wide porch. His head was cranked to the right. Ready.

  No bikes. Not one. Why didn’t I hear them start up?

  He crossed the dewy grass in long strides, stepping over the empty long necks and crushed cans, his feet and the ragged bottoms of his pant legs wet and cold. He wished he’d worn boots. He stood in front of the house that used to be Misty’s and stared.

  House feels empty.

  “What the hell’s going on? Something is. I can fuckin feel it,” he said out loud. Fighting the repulsion, he felt in his gut, Farrell mounted the porch steps and peered in the bare front window. “Holy fuck.”

  He galloped down the steps, back across the wide lawn that fronted both houses, almost tripping on the wet, frayed bottoms of his jeans and bolted through the front door out of breath.

  Carm stuck her head out the kitchen door as Farrell booked it through the front hall and up the stairs. “Que pasa ocurriendo?”

  “Bad stuff, mi Corazon,” he hollered over his shoulder.

  Lexi jumped to her feet and gave out a loud woof when Farrell came barreling into Blaine’s room and surprised her. “Need you next door, bro. You’ll want to look at the scene before I call it in.”

  Blaine threw back the duvet and hauled himself to the side of the bed, his long black hair flopping in his face. He pushed the strands out of the way and focused on Farrell’s face. “How bad is it?”

  “We better call Calhoun.”

  “That bad?”

  GETTING DRESSED was a pain in the ass—more of a pain in the leg—dragging his jeans over the bandage nearly sent him around the bend. He should be wearing fucking shorts—if he had any. Never wore shorts—didn’t suit his image.

  Navigating the stairs with one crutch inspired cursing with every step. Carm had developed a habit of standing at the bottom of the stairs watching him, in case he fell. What good could a tiny woman do if he came crashing down, ass over ender? He’d flatten her.

  At the bottom, he paused to catch his breath. Having to view a crime scene without his first morning coffee—impossible. He turned to Carm and said in Spanish, “Traveler, Carm. Emergency.”