Tex waited a little while before stepping back out to the barn and mounting up again. He had business in town, but he didn't want Jessie to be a part of it. Not yet. She'd hate him if she could hear her thoughts, but he just wasn't entirely sure of her yet. He was sure of her commitment, of her resolve, but there were plenty of hotheads who couldn't pull a trigger when push came to shove, and plenty of mild-mannered everyday folk who would do it without a second thought. You just couldn't tell until you were looking down a barrel and making that decision.

 

Did he want her to be the person who could pull the trigger? Did he want her to stay on the right side of the law? He wasn't sure, but he did know that he wanted to give her plausible deniability until the very second when it was no longer an option. Ultimately, what he wanted was for her to make the choice. If she took the shot, he wouldn't think less of her, he would just know something about her. If she couldn't, well, that was fine, too. He'd be there to make sure it got done. That was the point of having a backup.

 

He waited a solid fifteen minutes, then headed out. The bikes were mostly cleared out of the barn; Take had probably taken the club south for supplies. They'd been avoiding doing much business in Castello – part of maintaining their low profile, keeping the Racketeers from realizing what was going on.

 

He drove into Castello, but instead of heading down the main drag, where he theoretically could have bumped into Jessie at Delilah's Do, he went around the outskirts of the town, heading to the cop shop from the north. He wouldn't be heading directly into the precinct headquarters, either; Eddie was too smart for that. Even in his businessman drag, Tex stuck out like a sore thumb. None of the Racketeers would recognize him, he was positive of that, but the cops; cops were different. Cops were trained to notice things, and they'd see through his disguise in a heartbeat.

 

He was supposed to be a bad guy scared into going straight, and he was selling that image with everything he had. It would work well for the upcoming moves, but if the cops smelled it on him, they'd be all over him, and that was exactly what he did not need.

 

Eddie—Detective Eduardo Pedroza—was sitting at the same little table in the same little twee tourist cafe as the last time. Eddie was solidly built. He was too much muscle to be called stocky, but he had a chest like a barrel and arms that came from lifting, legs that could run a marathon. He wore a tight beard along his jawline, a brush of scruff over his upper lip, and his dark hair was only just starting to thread with white at the temples. His skin was a warm, light brown, and his broad face kept a neutral expression as he glanced over at Tex.

 

Tex walked past the off-duty cop and ordered himself a mocha and a chocolate chip cookie. He hated mochas—he didn't even like coffee all that much, but when he did drink it, he wanted it black—but it went with the image. He accepted the cup, dropped his change into the tip jar, and then looked around the cafe.

 

The place was jam packed, and Eddie's table had one of the few empty seats. Tex walked back, cleared his throat to get the detective's attention, and then gestured at the chair. "Place is pretty full," he said. "Would you mind if I sit here for a few?"

 

Eddie shrugged. "Don't mind at all," he said, taking a moment to pull his newspaper and his cellphone back towards him so that Tex could ostensibly have some room on the table. He snapped the paper up so that he could read it, then said, "She fell for it?"

 

Tex nodded, sipping his disgustingly sweet beverage. He hated milk. His bones would hate him for it some day, but it tasted horrible. "Hook, line, and sinker," he said. "She's in. She'll get me the space at Delilah's shop."

 

"You're sure?"

 

Tex pulled out his phone and opened up his guilty pleasure app. The cafe had set up a lure, and there was a pocket monster on his screen in moments. "Completely. I'm not going to say she'd do anything I wanted, but she understands."

 

"How much did you tell her?"

 

"Enough to get her interested, not enough to get us in trouble. Clearly. I'm not new at this, Eddie."

 

Eddie coughed, and there was a sharp pain in Tex's shin, which had to come from a sharp dress shoe smacking into the space between the shin and the lower leg bone. Tex had to fight to hide the wince. He had no idea how Eddie pulled that shit off without looking; the man insisted it came from being oldest in a passel of kids, and being the one in charge of keeping them in line. "Did you fuck her?"

 

"What? How the hell is that your business?"

 

"Because it puts both of us in danger if you did, asshole," he said. He glanced over the paper and shook his head. "You puto. I cannot believe you fucked her."

 

"Shut your mouth," Tex said.

 

"Amateurs. Keep your penis in your panties, for Christ's sake. I am not going down like a dirty cop because you needed to chase tail."

 

"Hey," Tex said, his tone a little sharper. "Do not talk about her like that."

 

Eddie's expression changed, but he didn't look any happier. "Great. You don't just want to screw her, you love her to? Do I need to remind you what we're doing here?"

 

"Nope," Tex said. "I'm clear on what this is. Are you?"

 

"Just so long as she fell for it," Eddie reiterated, snapping the paper again.

 

"It's in the bag, old man," Tex said. He finished his horrible drink, then stood, dropping the disposable cup into the trash on his way by.

 

His guts twisted at the idea that he'd lied to Jessie. She didn't deserve this. She was so clearly willing to help him, so willing to go all the way with this, but the things that were coming up next—he had to lie to her to get what he needed. He couldn't take the risk that she'd say no.

 

His father used to say that it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. He hoped to God that would turn out to be true.