A Little Texas

He stopped arguing with himself and pulled into an empty lot, pressing the answer button. “Rick.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Yes, I’m having a nice day. And you, Justus?”

“Skip the bullshit. You’re in Vegas. You’ve seen her.”

Rick grimaced. “Yes, I’ve seen her.”

“And?”

“And I think she’ll come to Texas, but I can’t be certain. She’s not what I expected.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Kate. He should let the man draw his own conclusions about his biological daughter. Don’t involve yourself. Keep your distance. The less said, the better.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s…salty. She won’t be pushed around easily.”

“So she is my daughter.”

Rick’s gaze roamed the lot surrounding his car. It was empty. Yellowed weeds poked through zigzag cracks. Boards covered the windows of a vacuum cleaner repair shop and a series of blue graffiti marked the boards. Staking territory. The number thirteen was displayed prominently, as was the letter M. He’d parked on Sureño turf, the street gang that had once been his sworn enemy. “You keep saying she’s your daughter, so why go through all this? Just give her some money. You owe her at least that.”

But Rick knew why Justus wanted Kate to come to Texas. He’d lost Ryan three years ago, then he’d had the stroke that nearly killed him. His wife, Vera, clung to the past, drowning herself in grief. Things were bad at Cottonwood. Justus needed deliverance. He thought he could get that in Kate.

“I need to see her. For proof.”

Just look at her eyes. The words sprang to his lips but he didn’t give voice to them. “I’ll be back tomorrow, with or without her.”

The old man sighed. For a brief moment the silence sat heavy on the line. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

The line went dead. No platitudes about having a safe trip back. No polite farewell. Justus had never used niceties on Rick.

He shifted the car into gear and eased toward the road. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of two young guys crossing the back of the empty lot. Young Hispanic men. Flat-billed caps, thigh-length jerseys, baggy jeans, blue bandanas in pocket. Tattoos covered their forearms. Gang members.

The guys laughed, punching each other on the arm, but their laughter died when they saw him. He could feel them stiffen, grow aware.

He drove from the lot, leaving only sympathy behind. Sadness for a childhood lost. He wasn’t sure if it was for the two bangers or for himself.

His mind cut to the center. The true test was about to begin. Next week, he’d find out if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Reality was he didn’t know squat about rehabilitating gang members. He only knew how to be one.

Maybe knowing the life would be enough.

THE NEXT MORNING KATE PUSHED her sunglasses to the top of her head as she entered McCarran International Airport. She glanced through the sliding doors to where Jeremy sat in her car. She gave him a wave and he saluted before pulling away from passenger drop-off.

She wanted to run after him, tell him he screwed up, he should have to fix everything. But she didn’t. Because Jeremy didn’t care about Fantabulous as much as she did. And because his partner had taken a turn for the worst and was under hospice care. And because that morning, the IRS letter had mocked her from its position on her fridge. She swore it even gave a snicker when she opened the door to grab a bottle of water and a yogurt. Two weeks ago, life had been much easier.

Now she had a mere three weeks to get ten thousand dollars to Wendell.

Or lose her salon.

That made her throat tighten. She tried her best to ignore the gut-clenching thoughts tumbling in her head as she stepped into a security line that seemed to be moving as slowly as the Vegas economy. One step every two minutes. At this rate, she’d likely miss her flight.

She scoured the crowd for the man who’d confronted her in the post office parking lot the day before. She didn’t know if she would see him again. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d tracked her down through the post office box. If she really didn’t want her father finding her, then she should have devised a more anonymous method of contact.

She should have known this whole blackmail thing was a stupid idea. Blackmailing a man who took pleasure in crushing anyone who got in his way—who did that? She knew the answer. Only someone who was desperate. And now look where it had landed her. She’d set something into motion. Could she handle what was about to happen?

A woman tapped her on the shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts, and pointed toward the moving line.

Finally, Kate made it through the checkpoint, reassembled everything in her purse and carry-on, and headed for the gate. The ticket was in her hand. It was one-way, and that made her nervous.

“Kate.”

Her name sounded like a caress on his lips. She turned to face the man who’d shadowed her dreams the night before. He looked calm, as though he’d actually slept. The bags under her eyes sagged lower. “I’d say hello, but you never introduced yourself.”

His lips twitched. “Enrique Mendez, but everyone calls me Rick.”

He offered his hand. She ignored it. “Do you work for Justus, or just stalk random women at post offices for fun?”

Amusement flashed in his dark eyes before his face went blank. “Not necessarily.”

The man was totally vague, but at least she knew his name. “Are you local or are you from Texas?”

His eyes scanned the crowded airport. He took her elbow and started walking toward the gate. “I’m from Texas. I’m flying back with you.”

Kate tugged her arm from his grasp. “I can walk by myself.”

He didn’t react. Simply kept moving toward Gate D-13. She followed, but put space in between them. She studied him from behind as he moved purposefully toward the Delta Air Lines desk. He wore his dark hair clipped close, military-style and had on a black Nike athletic jacket, jeans and hiking boots. The boots didn’t fit the look, but she imagined he didn’t care. They were probably comfortable. Rick was one of those guys.

He stood in line behind two other people. She didn’t bother. She already had a seat on the plane. Instead, she plopped into one of the bucket seats next to a dapper Asian guy reading on a Kindle, parked her stuffed-to-the-max suitcase next to her and watched Rick.

The man who’d made her so uneasy at the post office smiled at the attendant. The dour-looking older lady was forty pounds overweight with a horrible dye job, but she melted like a Popsicle in July at Rick’s coaxing.

She wondered what he was trying to get from her. She also wondered why she hadn’t been treated to such a smile.

The woman nodded, fluttered her lashes a little and took his boarding pass. She studied the screen before her, tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, and looked up with a triumphant smile. She pulled something from a machine beside the computer and handed it to Rick.

The ass had obviously been upgraded.

The woman grabbed the intercom and asked all passengers seated in business class to please begin boarding.

Rick didn’t even glance Kate’s way as he stepped into the line.

Great.

By the time Kate had stowed her carry-on, popped a Xanax and sank into her seat, she decided she didn’t like Rick Mendez one bit. He was chatting with an attractive flight attendant, his legs stretched out in front of him, while Kate had the sharp elbows of the guy to her left to look forward to. Not good.

She blew away the pieces of hair hanging in her eyes and settled into the not-so-comfortable seat. She had forgotten her iPod, so she’d spent her last bit of cash on a book at Walgreens. She hoped the legal thriller could take her mind off the jitteriness she felt at sitting inside the metal bird of death. If that didn’t do the trick, the medication would likely kick in to soften takeoff.

She didn’t like to fly. She did it when she had to, but only when it was absolutely necessary. Given a chance, she’d have elected to put the top down on her VW convertible, flood the car with her new Pink album and set out for Texas. Nothing better than the wind in her hair, but it was the end of January and she didn’t think icicles forming on her nose would be a good look.