Chapter Ten
Please let this be short and to the point.
After a terrible morning, Vick wanted to get back to the office so she could tap away on a keyboard in peace and quiet, but Byron had called an emergency meeting. Since she’d called Dix after her run-in with the agent, Vick guessed it was her own darn fault.
Lone Star staff meetings were held at Jumbles which specialized in used merchandise. Personally, Vick was a Target girl, but the store was real popular with locals.
Compared to the rest of the shops on the strip, Jumbles looked, well, junky. A black guitar lettered with the store name hung above the awning, which had seen better days. At one time it’d probably been white, but it’d faded to a rusty brown. Nearly everything in Texas got coated with prairie dust, and it had to be wiped off every so often.
All the goods were piled up. One old bookcase held door knobs balanced on wooden slats. Two shelves had mismatched dishes—plates, cups, bowls, teacups, canisters, and other items were stacked precariously on top of one another. Vick worried she might bring it all smashing down by getting too close.
On the wall, hung two old longhorn antlers and mirrors situated next to dusty, still life paintings. One unraveling straw basket contained a collection of what looked like old maps.
This place brought out her OCD tendencies. Vick wanted to walk through the aisles with trash bags, tossing items in as she went.
At the front counter, stood Moss Mosby. Back in his prime, he’d been a hitman, but now considered himself “retired.” He had thick salt and pepper hair, a trimmed beard, and full lips. Mossy was sixty-six years old, tall and still fit. He made it a point to walk three miles every day. This morning he wore a pair of ragged jeans, and a black V-neck shirt. A swirl of black ink adorned his clavicle. Around one of his wrists, he wore a leather cuff.
“Hey there, darlin’.”
“Hey, Mossy.” Vick attempted a smile.
“Pretty thin’ like you should be out enjoyin’ yourself, not cooped up in a room with a bunch of ornery cusses.”
Since Mossy was an old school gangster, he’d had trouble accepting a female member of the outfit. As far as Vick knew, she was the first. Though, she didn’t quite consider herself one of the fellas, she didn’t even have one of their telltale tattoos. All the members had a star tattoo flanked by a pair of pistols.
“Aw, don’t worry about me none. I love spendin’ time with such a handsome assortment of men.”
When all else failed, she turned on a touch of southern belle charm. In her experience, it got men all befuddled, until they forgot what they’d been going on about. Vick had learned the trick as a teenager, and it’d never failed her.
As a cam girl, she’d managed men through a mixture of sass and flirtation. More than one client had told her he’d appreciated her backbone. Privately, she thought men liked women who put them in their place, albeit in a flirty, yet feisty fashion.
While Mossy didn’t want her in the outfit, at least they agreed on the no cussing issue. Sitting next to Mossy at the counter was a tall Mason jar with the words “Curse Jar” painted on the front.
Since his wife had died, he’d gotten some outlandish notions in his head. While she’d gone “upstairs,” Mossy was convinced he’d be headed to the other place. He’d stopped drinking, smoking, and swearing. He also fined other people for cursing, especially for taking the Lord’s name in vain.
To placate him, Vick put a quarter in the curse jar.
One brow lifted. “But you didn’t swear.”
“Yeah, but I really wanted to this morning.” Vick kissed his cheek. “See you in a few.”
Vick walked down the hall to the boardroom. She crossed to the sideboard and grabbed a cup of coffee. Unlike the junk shop out front, this space was pristine with a mahogany table and leather chairs. It looked like a meeting room in any other legit business, except for the star and two pistols which had been engraved in the center of the table.
On the walls hung several spooky quotes. Vick supposed the menfolk liked to beat their chests.
“Before all else, be armed,” by Machiavelli. “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt,” by Sun Tzu. “You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone,” by Al Capone.
Unlike the Italian mafia, the Lone Star boys had a more fluid organizational structure. The members weren’t all connected by blood, though some people like the Beauregards were.
Most potential Lone Star members offered themselves up as soldiers and worked their way up the ranks. Except for Vick, she’d taken her place without any grunt work. It literally paid to have a special skill set.
She sat near the head of the table and snatched a butter pecan cupcake from the pink pastry box. Pastries were a tradition at their functions.
Vick glanced around the room. Ten, Rebel, and Salty Mosley had already walked in.
Salty was Mossy’s son and looked like a forgotten member of ZZ Top with his long, rusty-red beard and loud taste in fashion. Today, he wore a flame orange suit which made him look like a gigantic highlighter.
Just then, Jasper strolled in the door. Vick’s gaze flew to her cupcake, and she studied the icing as though fascinated. He didn’t approach her, though, and Vick didn’t know whether she was grateful or pissed off.
And this is why it doesn’t pay to fool around with co-workers.
Jasper grabbed a seat on the opposite side of the table, and Rebel took the chair next to his. Rebel was in his late twenties with dark hair and eyes. He wore an ill-fitting Walmart sort of navy blue suit, but she’d take it over Salty’s getup any day.
She slid a glance at Jasper, who opened his mouth, and then shook his head. They had a discussion coming, but she was glad to put it off, if only for a few more minutes.
“Why’d you grow a beard?” Ten asked Salty.
As per usual, the question had come flying out of nowhere. No one knew what kinds of things rattled around in his cryptic noggin. Vick didn’t spend much time with Ten, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“Chicks dig the whiskers.” Salty stroked his facial hair.
“Why?” Ten frowned.
“Cuz, it tickles their sensitive skin.” His lips twitched.
Gross.
Ten frowned but didn’t comment further.
Lord help me.
Sometimes, she suffered from too much testosterone exposure. Working with a bunch of knuckle-dragging Neanderthals could be exhausting. Every now and again, she wished, the outfit had hired more women, if only because she needed reinforcements.
Brax Beauregard, Hayden Swift, Colt Dawson, Will Butler, and Raleigh McCoy all filed in and took a seat. Byron and Dix were right behind them.
Brax looked a lot like his big brother, only he didn’t have the mobster street cred. He’d recently gotten kicked out of school for petty theft and generally being a great big jerk. Vick wasn’t a fan of his either.
“Okay then, let’s get this party started.” Byron sauntered to the front of the table and then went through the usual order of business—liquidity in the accounts, upcoming projects, and such. And then he rubbed his hands together. “Now for the real reason, we’ve assembled this mornin’. Vick had a run-in with our friend, Agent Hawthorne.”
She could feel Jasper’s gaze like a weight on her shoulders, but Vick ignored him.
“And since he’s popped up a couple of times, I think it’s fair to say we’ve got ourselves a problem.” Byron turned to her. “You’re gonna get up close and personal with him. Comb through every database you can sneak into and don’t stop diggin’ until you find some dirt.”
“Will do. I’ll see what I can find.”
It wouldn’t be easy. Since the WikiLeaks disaster and other data breaches, the government had beefed up their cyber security. Even if she did get through, Vick doubted she’d find much. They had dirty FBI agents on the payroll, but Hawthorne didn’t strike her as one of those. No, he seemed to be the sort of man on a mission. She’d be willing to bet, he had something personal at stake.
“Excellent. And I want all y’all to report any contacts that you have with Hawthorne.” Byron eyed everyone in the room. “Hawthorne don’t need any other reason to come after us. So be fuckin’ careful. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and make sure you ain’t bein’ followed.” Byron stared down Rebel and Brax, the two newbies.
Hello, the weakest links.
“Next up.” Byron pointed to her.
Vick frowned.
“Why were you meetin’ with the Four Horsemen in Sugar Daddies?” Byron narrowed his eyes, and everyone swiveled to look at her. She felt like some kind of creature being examined under a microscope.
Oh, fudge. Vick twisted in her chair.
How had he known? Surveillance cameras? Did Byron have someone tailing them? Had Walk sold her out? Or maybe the rumors were true, and the Beauregard family had made a bargain with the devil himself. Byron had an otherworldly intuition about these sorts of things.
Vick searched for a plausible lie and came up dry. So, she said the first thing that popped into her head.
“People, um, eat breakfast, and I was bein’ nice.”
They stared at her as if she’d lost her fool head. They hated the bikers, and the feeling was mutual.
“And here I thought I’d been explicit. All contact with the bikers comes through me.”
“I’m datin’ one of ‘em.” Uh-oh. Shouldn’t have said that. Yet, it seemed like the only plausible excuse.
Jasper gasped, and the rest of the group turned to gauge his reaction.
Now, I’ve gone and given’ everybody another juicy piece of gossip.
“That a fact?” Byron asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“And which one caught your fancy?”
Vick shut her eyes. Why hadn’t she prepared? She should’ve practiced believable stories in front of the mirror until she had it down pat.
“Uh, Justice.” Only because Ace is a pain in the buttocks.
“Did you know about this?” Byron asked Jasper, who shook his head.
Meanwhile, Dix wore his patented you’re full of it expression.
If only she could tell the truth.
Jasper watched her with steely eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was hurt. Or angry. Or jealous.
Why am I gettin’ the stink eye? He’s the one who said kissing me had been a mistake.
She’d have to see this charade through. Too late to back out now.
“It’s recent, and I didn’t feel comfortable sharin’.”
Byron nodded, but she could read the questions in his eyes. He didn’t buy her story.
And after she convinced him, she’d have to break the bad news to Justice at their get together tomorrow morning.
Won’t that be fun?
***
“You got a minute, Vick?’
Byron stood beside her truck, tapping his foot impatiently.
Vick groaned. “Not really.”
“Too bad, I ain’t askin’.” He snatched Vick by the elbow and pulled her toward his SUV, then shoved her in the passenger seat.
“Hey. Stop manhandlin’ me. You could’ve asked.” Her skin itched where he’d touched her like she’d developed a case of the cooties.
“My way works better.” Byron hopped behind the steering wheel and then locked all the doors from the control panel.
Uh oh.
“Anythin’ you wanna tell me, darlin’?”
“Don’t use endearments, they’ll get you nowhere. I won’t fall for your masculine wiles.”
Byron didn’t even smile. “Ain’t usin’ any wiles. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m spoken for. I’m simply given’ you an opportunity to tell me the whole truth.”
Vick sighed. “I did.”
“Why’d the agent wanna talk to you in particular?” Byron twisted in his seat so he could watch her face.
She took a deep breath. “Don’t know, you’d have to ask him.” She kept her tone even and didn’t shy away from his scrutiny.
If she didn’t seem sincere, he’d drive off with her, and she’d never be seen or heard from again. It was merely the reality of the world she lived in, and Vick accepted the consequences.
Byron mulled it over a moment. “I’m thinkin’ he figured you’d be more vulnerable than the rest of us. You got somethin’ to hide?”
And you don’t? Who knows how many skeletons Byron had in his closet? Not metaphorical ones, either.
But Byron hadn’t ascended to this level of power without a healthy dose of paranoia. Mafia members jockeyed for position, and everyone watched their own backs against a threat from one another and law enforcement.
“Yeah, I commit cyber crimes for the mob.” She didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm.
“Don’t you worry none, I’ll follow up with him.” His smile was cruel.
“I hope you do and tell him I don’t appreciate bein’ waylaid at the Winn Dixie. Besides, didn’t he roll up to your house and threaten you too? I got the feelin’ he’s testin’ us.”
“True.” Byron’s shoulders relaxed, and Vick breathed easier. “You get the sense the feds are about to spring a trap?”
“Yeah, he’s rampin’ up to somethin’ big. Hawthorne knew stuff about my past.”
“Which stuff?”
“Talked about my daddy walkin’ out on us.” It was a half-truth.
Byron winced. “So, they’re combin’ through records. Buildin’ a RICO case?”
“Possibly.”
“Maybe one of our friends should check in with him.”
Having lawmen on the payroll made things a lot easier. Nobody wanted to be caught unaware, even though it was an expensive proposition. They passed along interesting tidbits and looked the other way if need be.
Dix knocked on the passenger side glass, and Vick screeched.
Chuckling, Byron unlocked the doors. “Why so jumpy?”
“Because you’re extra spooky today.” Her nerves were shot. When she got home, Vick vowed to pour herself a big honking glass of wine.
“All part of the job.”
“Y’all havin’ a party, and you didn’t invite me?” Dix slapped a hand on Byron’s shoulder, and the other man grunted.
“Boy, am I glad to see you.” Vick leaned over and kissed Dix’s cheek. Byron watched the interplay with a frown.
“Thought so. Everythin’ okay in here?” Dix asked.
“For now,” Byron said.
“Good. Vick didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” Dix cast a sly smile in her direction. “Now, why didn’t you say anythin’ about datin’ the biker? What’s his name again?”
She rolled her eyes. “Justice.”
“Accordin’ to my source, you two didn’t look like a pair of lovebirds,” Byron said.
“Which source?” Vick was sick of being stalked.
“A secret one.” Byron thrust his chest out.
“Now which one is Justice?” Dix stroked his jaw. “Remind me.”
Vick grumbled under her breath. “He’s the one who used to be a Navy SEAL.”
“I see. So, you’ll be bringin’ him around the office then? I’d like to meet him.”
“Me too.” Byron raised a brow. “Formally, at least.”
“Why? Neither one of you is my daddy.”
“We’re curious is all.” Dix shrugged.
“And we wanna make sure he’s good enough for you. Unless there’s somethin’ else you’d like to tell us?” Byron asked. “Maybe a detail or two which slipped your mind?”
Not gonna happen.
“Nope. Gotta run. See ya later.” Vick slipped out the door and slammed it shut.
Somehow, she’d gone and made this situation worse.