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  The other kid took off running towards Bernard’s trailer with Hammer after him. Travis caught up seconds later.

  Basil Bernard stepped out onto his weather-blackened deck with a smoke in his hand. A dull February day but he wore reflector shades all the same. “Trouble, boys?”

  “These fuckin cops are bothering me, boss.”

  “Get inside, Titus.” The kid ran up the three steps and through the door of the shabby trailer. “What’s your bidness here, cowboy cop?”

  “Just came to let you know that we’ll be putting the screws to the East Enders for killing Mr. Fogarty,” said Travis. “Y’all better ready yourselves.”

  Bernard puffed out his chest and strutted across the deck making the boards creak under his boots. “Appreciate y’all dropping by in person to tell me.” Bernard laughed. “Best joke I’ve heard all day.”

  “No joke,” said Travis. “You won’t be laughing when we’re done.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  DOUGIE barely saw Annie all day. First thing in the morning, she brought his breakfast on a tray and had a coffee with him, then she was gone. Either at the barn with the horses or working somewhere on the ranch. He hadn’t been on the tour, so he had no idea where she was or what she was up to. But all day, he’d been anxious to talk to her after the Ranger cowboy said he was her husband.

  What kind of a scam was she pulling on him?

  Declan helped him at dinner time and he made it to the table in the kitchen. After the noise and the hoopla of dinner was over and the cowboys had gone to the bunkhouse, Dougie opened up the subject that was on his mind over a second cup of coffee. “That Ranger guy told me you were his wife.”

  Annie smiled and sat down at the harvest table with him. She poured cream into her coffee with a sad look on her beautiful face. “He likes to say that, but the truth is, he divorced me because of Race.”

  “Race hasn’t been dead too long then,” said Dougie. He drummed his fingers on the table, needing to know details of what happened. “Want to tell me how Race died?”

  Annie shook her head.

  “He was my best friend and I want to know how he died.” He reached over and grabbed Annie’s arm. “Tell me.” His grip was strong, and she had trouble shaking him off.

  “Let go of me. I’m not telling you anything. It’s none of your business.”

  Dougie spit the words out through clenched teeth. “He was my best friend since we were kids and I’m making it my business.”

  “The cops killed him.”

  Dougie nodded. “Why does the cowboy still say you’re his wife?”

  Annie shrugged. “He knows we won’t get back together—not this time. He took his baby back to his ranch because he wants her raised on Quantrall land.” Tears rolled down Annie’s cheeks. “He left me, Dougie.”

  Dougie reached for her again, this time more gently. “If you’re that sad about it, girl, are you sure it’s over?”

  “All the times we’ve tried to make it work, it never has—not once. And it never will.”

  “He’s a fool for leaving you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tuesday, February 10th.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE emptied his second cup of coffee after breakfast, pulled out his phone and notepad and prepared to make phone calls.

  Misty sat down at the table opposite him and smiled. “Have you done anything about N’Orlean, or am I getting excited prematurely?”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I have a murder investigation going on and I haven’t done a damn thing about our reservations. That does not mean we aren’t going. We are going for sure. Just give me a couple days to sort this mess out.”

  “It’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

  “Pick a hotel, sweetheart. Your favorite, and that’s where we’ll stay.”

  “Okay.” She smiled, but her eyes sent a different message. She was disappointed… and in a big way.

  Blaine completed his call to Jesse. “Hey, partner. Can you do me a favor this morning?”

  “Sure thing. What’s up?”

  “Travis brought a kid in yesterday from the East End gang and he’s in juvie holding. Can you go see what you can get out of him—specifically about the boss, Basil Bernard, his real name is Kyle Teckford, and anything about the murder.”

  “These the kids that robbed Mr. Fogarty and killed him?”

  “Possible. Trav got the kid on possession and assault with a deadly. The kid ain’t going anywhere.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Brady Wiggins.”

  “I should be there about nine, nine-thirty.”

  “I’ll tell Chief Calhoun you’re coming.”

  When Blaine ended his call to Jesse, Misty had taken her tea and left the kitchen.

  She’s upset that we aren’t going right away, and damn it, I promised her.

  Farrell shuffled into the kitchen dressed for work with his harness on, poured himself a coffee and sat down. The other three boys came in the front door two minutes later, setting Lexi to barking and bouncing. The four of them were all gung ho beginning a new investigation.

  “Jesse is driving to headquarters to interview the kid that Travis brought in. I want a presence in that trailer park. We are going to squeeze them. Two vehicles at all times. One stays put and one follows if the gang takes off anywhere. First chance we get, we get ears in that den of killers.”

  “Got it, boss,” said Travis. “Should we set up round the clock scheduling with the junkers?”

  Blaine nodded. “Go out to the carriage house and do that. Get Jack to draw up a workable schedule and make sure Lil has a copy. Tell her I want it on the white board and I want to know where everybody is at all times.”

  He turned to Farrell. “See Sue in the lab and get a preliminary from the scene, then join Jesse in the interview or watch through the window. See what we’re dealing with.”

  “Fletch and Hammer, get a map of the east end of the city and canvas the high schools. If you see recruiters or dealers, pick them up and bring them in. If we need more bodies to help out, we’ll get them.” His cell rang, and he grabbed for it. “Cat, what’s up?”

  “Do you have any time today?”

  “Not a fuckin minute unless you want to say something significant about the crack down on city gangs. Then yes, I am at the Grille at noon.”

  Cat giggled. “Bribery. I love being coerced.”

  “Order me a Corona.”

  The boys left, hyped by the hunt, and Blaine received another call. “I’m so glad you called back, Marshall Raney.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t back to you sooner, Mr. Blackmore-Powell, but I was out of town. What did you want to speak to me about?”

  Not having a lot of time, Blaine unloaded the whole saga about his parents and their untimely deaths in a car accident as quickly as he could.

  “I see,” said Raney. “The trouble is, when we delve into things we’re sure we need answers to, sometimes we find out we would have been better off not knowing.”

  “All I want to know is the truth,” said Blaine. “Was it an accident? I can live with that. I have for the past seven years. If it wasn’t an accident and someone is responsible, I want to know that too.”

  “If something negative came to light would you act on it?”

  “Probably.”

  “That’s where I hesitate to help you, son. Our program has to be protected. If others found out that we gave out details—doesn’t matter how long after the fact—would they feel secure? Would they continue to have reason to trust us with their lives and the lives of their families?”

  “Uh huh. I hear what you’re saying.”

  “Let me make a few inquiries,” said Raney. “If it’s something classified, buried deep and better left alone, I want a guarantee that you’ll do just that—leave it alone.”

  “I will, sir. If it’s that confidential, I’ll forget about it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bl
ackmore-Powell. I know you are a man of your word.”

  Bart Townsend’s Farm. East of Austin.

  BART WOKE early like he always did. He had a farm to look after before he went to his day job. He got up, let Biscuit outside for a run, then started the coffee. He let the collie in when he barked at the door then headed for the shower. That’s when it hit him. He couldn’t go to work. There was no work. Herman was dead. Murdered by those rotten, druggie gang kids.

  His life was over, just like Herman’s and nothing mattered any more. He’d make those kids pay if it was the last thing he ever did.

  Filled with sorrow and anger, Bart skipped the shower, dressed in the same clothes he’d worn the day before and sat down at the table with a mug of black coffee. He usually ate a bowl of oatmeal, but he couldn’t eat today. There was a lump in his throat and a sick feeling in his gut and neither one would go away. Herman had treated him good his whole life and now it was his turn to do something for his best friend. He’d find those murdering kids and make every last one of them pay the price.

  Bart drained his coffee, took his shotgun off the rack on the kitchen wall and loaded it. He plunked his straw hat on his head and headed for his truck. “Come on, Biscuit. Let’s go get ‘em.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  DOUGIE sat in the easy chair in his room with his leg up on the matching ottoman after Declan finished putting fresh bandages on his leg. The man was good at his job, he had to give him that. Good to talk to as well. The guy had worked for Annie for years and swore there was nothing better than living and working here on her ranch.

  What was not to like? The food was fantastic, his room better than a four-star hotel suite, and best of all, he was with Annie, the woman he was in love with. Not a little in love—all the way—a nobody else kind of love he’d never felt before.

  Was it enough? Could he give up his old life and never look back?

  Two taps on the door and she stuck her head in. “Feel like getting outside for a while?”

  “Declan had me sitting on the porch to smoke a couple times, but yeah, I could use a change.”

  “I’ll take you on a tour, so you know what’s going on around you, sugar.”

  He smiled at her, his heart full. “I love you. I hope you know that.”

  She leaned down and kissed him. “I’ll be glad when you’re back to yourself, Dougie. You were spoiling me with all the good stuff you’ve got to give.”

  “Don’t make me hard, talking like that, girl. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it today.”

  “I’ll wait.” She winked and held the crutches for him.

  He tried to push up onto one leg and couldn’t do it.

  Annie helped him stand up and get the crutches situated. “How are these working for you?”

  “I’m terrible on them. Circus clown. But I have to smoke, so no choice.”

  “You can smoke on the tour. We’ll take the Kawasaki. Normally I’d take horses. It’s a beautiful ride on horseback.”

  “Shit, do I need to ride a horse to live here?”

  “You do if you’re my bodyguard.”

  Dougie made it halfway down the long hallway leading to the kitchen when Jackson caught up on the run. “Where you going, Mommy?”

  “I’m showing Dougie the ranch and the safe-house.”

  “Can I come? I want to show Dougie where me and Daddy caught the big fish.”

  “Sure, sugar. You can come for the ride.”

  Dougie struggled getting into the red Kawasaki, but with a grunt and a groan he made it.

  Annie drove slowly to make the ride over the rough terrain as smooth as possible. She headed down the back lane, then turned and drove along the well-worn dirt path next to the Colorado River.

  Jackson pointed and gave a holler. “There, Dougie, that’s where me and Daddy caught the lunker.”

  “Lunker?” Dougie chuckled and it hurt his ribs.

  That’s something Race would say.

  Annie pulled up and stopped in front of a huge stone and timber house. “You won’t be able to go in,” she said, “too many steps, but I’ll get some of the boys to come out and say hello to you.”

  “You don’t need to do that, girl. I’ll meet them another time.”

  Before Annie got out of the four wheeler, Dooley came out the front door carrying his guitar. “Hey, boss. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Give me a ride to the music studio?”

  “Sure, baby. Get in the back with Jacks. This is Dougie the Dog from the B team.”

  Dooley ran around to Dougie’s side of the vehicle and stuck out his hand. “No fuckin way, man. Never thought I’d get to meet the Dog.”

  “You a musician, Dooley?” asked the Dog.

  “Yeah, I write songs and I teach whoever needs a lesson. You play?”

  “A little. My guitar is about the only thing I brought with me.”

  “You have to leave your club fast?” asked Dooley? “I know I did, but they caught me all the same. Cut me up like a turkey and I would have bled out if Annie hadn’t got me to the trauma hospital in time. She saved my life like all the rest of us here at the safe-house.”

  I’ve got a lot to learn about her.

  “Maybe I could see the music studio,” said Dougie. “Sounds like something that would interest me.”

  “Of course, you can,” said Annie.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  JESSE said good morning to the Chief, then had one of the Rangers bring Brady Wiggins up from the holding area. He took a copy of the kid’s charges into the interrogation room. Nothing on file. Fourteen years old. This was his first arrest.

  The door opened, and the uniformed ranger, R.J. Perkins, pushed the handcuffed kid into the room. He wasn’t walking on his own. Twisting and turning and doing everything he could to make it hard for the ranger. “There was a dust-up downstairs, Jesse, and this guy got the worst of it.” Perkins gave Brady, who couldn’t weigh more than a buck and a quarter, a shove towards the metal chair and secured his cuffs to the bar.

  Brady’s face was banged up—a cut on his forehead where he’d whacked into something metal—and blue bruising beginning to show below his left eye.

  Jesse nodded his thanks to Ranger Perkins and spoke to the kid. “Nice to see you, Brady. I’m Ranger Jesse Quantrall. How did you happen to get into a fight in your cell?”

  “I was caged up with a fuckin idiot, that’s how. If somebody don’t know how to keep their mouth from running on, I can shut them up.”

  “Your cellmate said something you didn’t like?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Want to tell me what he said?”

  “Do not.”

  Jesse smiled. “Okay, let’s talk about something else.”

  “I ain’t allowed to talk to cops. Club rule.”

  “Club being the East Enders?”

  “That’s right, Mr. Cop. Double EE’s are my brothers, and you don’t talk about your brothers to nobody.”

  “Loyalty is a good quality, Brady,” said Jesse. He tapped the print-out in front of him. “I see here that you’ll soon be fifteen.”

  “So what?” Brady screwed up his face. Maybe he thought it was his ‘tough face,’ but to Jesse he looked like he just hopped the fence at elementary school. The kid cuffed in front of him was a child.

  Jesse smiled. “What do your parents think of you joining the Double E?”

  “Like they would even know or care where I’m at or what I’m doing? Too busy messing around in their own shit.”

  “And what shit would that be, Brady?”

  “My old man drinks until he passes out or starts pounding on Ma. She’s gone most of the time working and it’s a damn good thing she is. Rest of the time she stays out of his way and gets high when she can afford it.”

  “Do you think they might want to know you’re in trouble?”

  “I ain’t in trouble. Boss will send me a lawyer. He said he’d take care of me—same way he’s g
onna take care of all of us.”

  “Haven’t seen a lawyer asking for you,” said Jesse, “but we can provide one if the boss doesn’t come through for you.”

  Brady shook his dark head. “Nope. I don’t need y’all getting one for me. Boss will send a crackerjack. Guaranteed. I’ll wait.”

  “Okay, it’s your call,” said Jesse. “You trust your boss?”

  “Only one I can trust. He made that clear when I joined.”

  “Uh huh.” Jesse leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. “Can I get you a Coke?”

  “Wouldn’t mind a drink.”

  “Be right back.” Jesse let Brady sit alone for a few minutes contemplating his fate, then returned with the can of soda. “Here you go.”

  Brady leaned down and sipped through the straw, his hands chained to the table.

  Jesse sat down on the other side of the table and opened the thin file folder. “Says here you attacked one of my men with a switchblade.”

  “Bullshit. That big motherfucker is lying.” Brady curled his lip and glanced at the mark on his wrist. Birdlike arms and the spot where Travis had grabbed the kid was beginning to turn blue. “What was he anyway? Some army dude?”

  “Marine,” said Jesse. “Deputy Bristol also put in his report that you had enough meth in your pockets to be charged with intent to traffic.”

  Brady shrugged. “He’s a liar.”

  “The lab will measure it and let us know the extent of the charges,” said Jesse. “The arresting officer doesn’t have a scale with him, so he doesn’t know exactly. He has to estimate the amount. Kind of a guess.”

  “He guessed wrong.”

  Jesse shrugged and kept going. “Let’s talk about the big blue barn. Were you there, Brady? Now that you’ve been printed, and your prints are in the system, are your prints going to show up in the prints taken from Mr. Fogarty’s office?”

  Brady stared at his soda can.

  “If your prints match prints from the murder scene, you’ll be charged with murder during the commitment of an armed robbery. I’m sure you know what that means, Brady. That spells death row at Huntsville in big capital letters.”