Cold Blood (Lone Star Mobsters Book 4) Page 5

  Tucker made it a point to donate to several charities. Like Beauregard, he gave off an air of sophistication and respectability, which was all a front for his illegal activities.

  “You’re one of Byron’s bikers?”

  Justice gritted his teeth. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but yeah, my club works for him occasionally.” Under duress.

  “And you agreed to protect my granddaughter.”

  “Yup, I signed on to watch Mary durin’ the day.” Because I’m a glutton for punishment.

  “Excellent, and I got the evenin’ shift covered.” He tapped the gun at his side. Tucker was in his late sixties with gray hair, blue eyes, and a thin build. “I understand you were a SEAL.”

  “Still am.” The job had marked him for life. Or death. He’d always be a SEAL, deep down in his bones.

  “Then you know how to handle yourself.”

  “I do.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Just so we understand one another, if somethin’ happens to my granddaughter, you won’t live to regret it.”

  Good luck comin’ after me, dickhead. I’m thirty or so years younger and in much better shape.

  “Gotcha. Where is she?” Justice wanted this conversation over.

  “Upstairs, readin’ like always.” He smiled. “I can’t get that girl’s nose out of a book. She’s a very studious young woman.” Tucker locked eyes with him, trying to stare Justice down, but he refused to blink. “And she’s a real beauty, too.”

  Okkkaaay.

  “Beauregard mentioned she’d just graduated.”

  “Yes, she’s only twenty-one.”

  Justice didn’t envy the little twerps who wanted to date her. Tucker probably had them pissing in their pants.

  While Mary Cobb was of legal age, it didn’t mean she had maturity. He’d never been a cradle robber. Justice liked his woman full-grown. When he was her age, he’d been in the Navy for several years.

  “And she’s just startin’ out in life.”

  “Exactly, and I don’t want anythin’ or anyone to derail her progress.”

  “Well, she’s a might young for my taste.” All he could think about was Etta these days. Everyone else paled in comparison.

  After a moment, Tucker nodded. “As long as it stays that way.”

  Not a problem.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll go introduce myself.” He hooked a thumb at the fancy pants stairs.

  “Have at it.”

  Justice headed upstairs and then down a maze of hallways that would put a labyrinth to shame. Eventually, he heard Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” coming from a room.

  Justice found a young woman lying on her bed. The door to her bedroom was ajar. Her place was black and pink, an unusual combination. A black chandelier hung from the ceiling. Three huge bookcases filled the room, and all of them were stuffed to the gills. A stylized M decorated the back of her pink desk chair.

  A thick book lay open on her lap, and a legal pad rested beside her. Her granddaddy was right to kick up a fuss. Mary had a heart-shaped face, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. Tucker probably had to beat the boys off with a stick.

  She glanced his way. “Hey. You’re the new bodyguard?”

  “Yup, pleased to meet ya.” He took a seat on the trunk at the end of the bed and offered his hand to her. “I’m Justice.”

  “Mary Cobb.” She shook it. “Got a last name?” Mary frowned. “Or a first one, actually.”

  “Landon Page, but call me Justice.”

  “And you don’t work for my grandad?”

  “Nope. This is a temp job. Lately, I seem to be moonlightin’ as a bodyguard.” Maybe he should hang up a shingle in town, and start himself a business.

  “Are you any good?”

  “You better hope so. You’re up shit creek without a paddle if I suck at this.”

  She giggled, and Justice found himself liking her already.

  “Doin’ some light readin’?” He gestured to the book.

  “Yeah, I snagged an early copy of the syllabus. Well, syllabi is the plural, I think. Anyway, I’m gettin’ a head start on a couple of my classes.”

  Talk about dedication.

  “I heard you were in school. You’re gonna be a doctor?”

  “That’s the plan. I want to be a cardiothoracic surgeon one day.”

  “Impressive.” He admired her drive.

  “We’ll see. I’m a long way off from my goal.”

  “You’re devoted to it, which is half the struggle.”

  In his experience, success took more determination than anything else. The only easy day was yesterday, is an infamous Navy SEAL quote and he’d found it to be true. Pushing himself had always paid off for Justice. Most of the applicants didn’t make it through SEAL training because they couldn’t set everything aside and focus on achieving their objectives.

  So why the fuck am I livin’ in squalor hidin’ from my past? Good question.

  “More like intimidated. A lot of this prep work is about fear. I gotta give med school a hundred and twenty percent if I wanna make it.”

  “I know the feelin’. When I went through BUDS trainin’, I was pushed to my limits every damn day.”

  Both physically and emotionally. Hell Week had been aptly named. Yet the training had kept him alive, showed him how to survive, gave him something to hold onto in his darkest hours.

  “BUDS?”

  “It’s an acronym, short for Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL trainin’.”

  “Wow.” She nodded. “So, can you kill a man with your bare hands or what?”

  His mouth went dry.

  A memory slammed into him, nearly taking his breath away.

  In his mind’s eye, Justice was caked in blood, sticky with it. It was everywhere—coating his hands, smeared on his face, all over the ground.

  And it had somehow soaked into his skin, became part of him.

  “Pull it together, Bulldog, they’re comin’ for us. Everythin’s gonna be fine.”

  “You think so?”

  “Bet your ass I do, soldier, so no worries. You can handle anythin’ for a few days, right?”

  “Right.”

  It was the biggest lie Justice had ever told.

  Stop thinkin’ about Bulldog.

  Justice forced himself to focus on the here and now.

  “Yup, I learned how on day one.” Mary was obviously teasing, and he did his best to brush it off.

  “That makes me feel better. Any idea who’s after me?”

  “No clue.”

  “I’m in the dark, too. About a lot of stuff, actually.” She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut.

  He wondered how much she knew about her family’s illegal activities.

  “So your grandad didn’t share any intel with you?”

  “No, he refused to give me the particulars.” Her lips pressed into a tight line.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Justice needed details about the kidnapping, so he knew what to expect.

  She sighed. “I went to the library the other night and didn’t leave until it was just about to close. I wasn’t payin’ attention, and I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings, but I was carryin’ a big stack of books. A guy came up behind me, and I never saw his face.”

  “Think he was waitin’ for you?”

  After a moment, she nodded. “He knew my name. The man said ‘don’t move, Mary’ as he pressed a gun against my back and ordered me to get into a van.” Mary shivered as though ice water dripped down her spine.

  “How’d you get away?”

  “Dumb luck. The security guard came out for a smoke, and I screamed for help. When the plan was blown, the guy took off.”

  Justice could tell she’d been rattled by the incident, and he couldn’t blame her. Lord only knows what the thugs could’ve done to Mary—held her for ransom, raped her, tortured her.

  At the thought, his stomach churned, and Justice rolled his shoulders, releasing the coiled te
nsion.

  “Did the guard get the plate number?”

  “Yeah, but granddad said it was a fake. I guess Vick checked it out.” Her brow puckered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s got me thinkin’ about my plans. I’m goin’ to Boston any day now, and I’ll be halfway across the country.”

  “And then you’ll be on your own.”

  “Easy prey.”

  “I’m sure they’re workin’ on it, and I promise, no one will take you on my watch.”

  She laughed. “How reassurin’.”

  “Just bein’ honest.” He couldn’t make any assurances about the rest.

  “Vick said you were honest to a fault.”

  “So, Vick mentioned me?”

  “Yeah. You two worked together on a project, right?”

  “We did. How is she?”

  “Fantastic.” Mary smiled. “She and Jasper are movin’ in together next month. Mark my words, they’ll be bringin’ home a bundle of joy from the hospital in no time.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Justice had even made Jasper jealous to spur the mobster into action. He didn’t know what had taken them so long to get together in the first place. It made him think about Etta, and he immediately shoved the notion away.

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Well, since you’re tryin’ to save my neck and all, I thought we’d get to know each other.”

  “Did you now?” He leaned back. “What do you wanna know?”

  “Got a wife? A girlfriend?”

  “Neither.”

  She shut her eyes. “Dammit. We’re both screwed then.”

  “What are you goin’ on about?” He couldn’t follow her logic.

  “People who got a reason to wake up in the mornin’ are better at this. They’re less likely to get hurt or killed.”

  “Where are you gettin’ this? A study?”

  Her brows lifted. “Er, I did a little PubMed research last night. The article doesn’t exactly apply to this situation, but it said people in dangerous professions like policemen or those deadliest catch fishermen dudes have higher survival rates when they have children or spouses at home waitin’ for them.”

  He wondered if this was how Mary coped with scary situations. Did she investigate it from every angle, so she could hedge her bets, and get a statistical advantage?

  “Allow me to put your mind at rest. I might not have a girlfriend, but I got a person of interest, so to speak.”

  “Sexy. She sounds like a suspect in a homicide.”

  Justice chuckled. “Her name’s Etta, and she’s a social worker. We ain’t datin’, exactly, but something’s going on.”

  “I’d say so.” She snickered. “Your eyes light up when you talk about her.”

  Funny. It had been a long damn time since anyone or anything had made him happy.

  Mary rubbed her hands together. “Excellent. We might make it outta this situation intact after all.”

  “We will. I’m gonna keep you safe, Mary Cobb. For the foreseeable future, I’m gonna be your daytime shadow.”

  Justice meant it. Beauregard had been right about her, and he wouldn’t let thugs carry her off. Her granddad was guilty as sin, but she’d done nothing wrong from what he could tell.

  The corners of her mouth drooped. “You’re gonna watch me read and take notes? Because when Jasper guarded me, we had our own groove. He was always within earshot, but he gave me space.”

  “And we’ll do the same thing. There’s no need to be so up close and personal. You’ve got plenty of measures already in place—a security system, a guard house, a fence, cameras.” He’d done a mental inventory of the security protocols on his way in. This place was locked up tighter than Fort Knox, which was excellent news for both of them. “I want you to have some privacy. Since it's daylight and we’re in a house with a fortified perimeter, I can give you a bit more room to move.”

  “Good.” She nodded to her book. “But I should get back to my studies.”

  “Fair enough.” He stood. “I’ll be in the den across the hall if you need me. And if you go elsewhere in the house, I’m goin’ with you. Got it?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”

  Mary was already scanning the textbook once more, as though he didn’t exist.

  Chapter Six

  Three days passed without incident.

  Etta hadn’t heard from Grady. She didn’t know how to take it. Had her fortunes turned or was Hurricane Grady barreling toward her? Maybe he’d decided to do the smart thing and leave her alone. After all, it hadn’t worked out so hot for him last time.

  In the interim, she’d kept busy. Etta had seen Justice a few times. He’d stopped by her house on his motorcycle once, offering to take her for a ride. Etta had declined, even though she’d longed to run off with him.

  And she’d dropped by Hades Diner for lunch. Lo and behold, Justice just so happened to be there at the same time, so they’d eaten together. Etta told herself it wasn’t a date exactly, more like a chance meeting, with milkshakes. The truth is, she’d like to see more of him, even if she couldn’t admit it.

  And then it all fell apart on a regular Tuesday morning.

  When she walked in the office door, Etta found a floral arrangement waiting for her. The pot of succulents on her desk was wrapped in a big red ribbon. Grady used to send her those, right after they’d had a fight. It had been his way of making up.

  Hmph fight.

  The term made it sound as though they were sparring partners. Grady had fifty pounds of pure muscle on her, and he’d tossed Etta around like a ragdoll.

  Forgive me, baby. You know what happens when I get mad. When you goad me, I can’t help myself.

  There’s some screwed up psychology right there. Grady acted as though she’d provoked the beating somehow. As if she were responsible for his abuse. And when she’d been younger, Etta had accepted the blame. Once she was out of the relationship, Etta realized how crazy it actually was, but in the middle of the situation, it was hard to think straight.

  Besides, Grady had a way of twisting her words, playing on her sympathies, and making Etta doubt herself. He specialized in good old-fashioned mindfuckery.

  “Who sent you the plant?”

  Etta jumped. She turned to see one of her co-workers, Gail Sanders, standing beside the desk.

  Unlike the supervisors in her department, she didn’t have an office. Since Etta spent most of the time in the field, she had a cubicle, next to two rickety filing cabinets. Etta considered her car an office and only did paperwork at her desk.

  “Um, somebody I used to know.”

  She playfully arched her brows. “An old boyfriend, huh?”

  “Nope.” Etta didn’t find it amusing. She’d grown to hate the site of the plants. They were called “sticks on fire,” a particular type of succulent, which matched the name. The tips were a pinkish red, and the base was green. The plant literally looked as though it had been set aflame.

  “It’s beautiful.” Gail’s eyes narrowed on her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm all right,” Etta lied. “But um, I have, er, allergies. Wanna take it off my hands?”

  “Well, if you don’t want them, yeah. Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Gail scooped the pot up and hustled back over to her own desk, while Etta sank down into her chair.

  A rush of memories haunted her.

  Near the end of their marriage, she’d called a domestic violence shelter in the middle of the night, while seated on the floor of the closet, the phone pressed against her ear, whispering in the darkness.

  Etta had placed her feet on the door, barricading herself in, in case Grady woke up and discovered what she had planned. The social worker on the line had given her an action list, things to accomplish to ensure her protection.

  Like the lady at the shelter suggested,
Etta had stuffed a duffel bag of belongings behind the couch in case she’d needed to get away from him. She’d placed essentials in there—some money, clothing, important documents like her birth certificate. The first time Etta had escaped, she’d only lasted three days. Grady had wine and succulents waiting for her when she’d returned.

  It had taken a few more stays at the shelter to finally leave, and she’d barely escaped with her own life.

  Maybe she should’ve killed him that last night. Etta had the gun in her hand, her finger on the trigger. If she’d shot him, Etta wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. Grady would be in the ground, and she’d be free. Or maybe she would’ve gone to prison instead.

  Had it all been worth it? Right now, it sure didn’t feel that way.

  This had been a warning shot. He was letting her know he’d gotten out and he’d be paying her a visit soon. Etta made a mental note to check with the IT guy, and see if anyone had been spotted on the security cameras placing the plant on her desk. Etta doubted Grady had been so careless.

  The choice of succulent had been deliberate in more ways than one. While she wouldn’t call Grady a pyromaniac, he had a thing for fire. He used to threaten to burn her alive. As a minor, he’d been charged with setting a little league dugout on fire. He’d only gotten probation and had to attend an anger management camp, but it was the start of a pattern.

  Grady wanted to burn her new life down to the ground. And she vowed to be ready for him.

  ***

  Justice sat in Sugar Daddies, a pink and mint green themed bakery in Crimson Creek. He’d been here once before with Vick. He could’ve gone to Hades, the diner owned by the Four Horsemen, but he couldn’t deal with the whispers and pitying looks.

  Sugar Daddies was a bit girly for his taste, but the locals seemed to like it, which was always a positive sign. All of the pink polka-dotted chairs around him were filled. During his travels, Justice made it a point to eat where the townsfolk did because the grub was always better. He was due at Mary’s place in a half an hour, and he had just enough time to squeeze in a bite to eat.

  Justice sat in a corner booth with a big cup of coffee and a pastry. He was nursing a case of the munchies, and he was about to bite into the sweetest looking cinnamon roll he’d ever seen. It was still warm from the oven and sticky to the touch.