I thought of Stella Gunn’s husband, Kai “Mace” Mason. He played double-duty as her bodyguard (though, if you talked to Mace about this, it wasn’t a duty in his eyes except one that had the adjective “husbandly” before it). He also ran a company of bodyguards and they were highly sought after because they were seriously good at what they did.
Lacey used them.
Dad used to use them.
I would have thought of them but Deke had wasted no time setting up a posse of local badasses to watch over us, and since he had, I didn’t need to.
And I’d met Mace’s old employer, Lee Nightingale. I knew his wife better because she was a really good friend of Stella Gunn. But I’d met a number of Lee’s friends too, these guys were also his crew, and they were arguably more badass than Deke and Tate were.
I thought of all this as I watched Deke stop squirting mustard on toast to look at me and give me a negative shake of his head.
“Well, Mr. T—” I started.
“One other thing, Justice, before we discuss.”
“Okay,” I replied.
“Lieutenant Keaton has shared that Mr. Hightower already has some locals providing such security services. I was at first opposed to this idea but Keaton said this crew is being led by a Tatum Jackson. From what I could discover in the short amount of time I’ve had to look, Jackson has a skillset that would make troubling the men at Nightingale Investigations with sending out bodyguards unnecessary. They can still search for Bianca. However, if you wish Mr. Jackson to lead this local crew, I’ll need to contact him for billing purposes.”
At that, Deke spoke.
“Tate won’t want paid.”
“Lonesomes do not offer markers,” Mr. T informed him instantly. “No Lonesome owes anybody anything.”
This was true.
This was Mr. T’s way which was, according to him, the only way.
“Tate, nor any of the boys’ll want markers either,” Deke retorted. “They’ll be doin’ this for Jussy. She lives here. She’s one of our own. We take care of our own. So don’t contact Tate and ask him to bill you. It’ll piss him off.”
Although I liked the idea of being one of their own, I cut in at this juncture because I was obviously a Lonesome and Mr. T had taught me well.
Don’t owe anybody anything.
“I can actually pay them all for helping me out.”
Deke’s annoyed gaze went from my phone to me.
“That’s not the point,” he returned. “You wanna do somethin’, this gets done, buy ’em each a bottle of their favorite hooch. You offer anything else, straight-up insult, Jussy.”
I grinned at him and watched with great interest as his attention dropped to my mouth, and for some reason, for the first time in a while, his expression didn’t grow annoyed (or, at that point, stay annoyed) when he saw me smile.
His face softened and his eyes warmed when they returned to mine after I started talking.
“Apparently, I have things to learn about mountain man badasses.”
“We’ll get you there,” he muttered.
My heart skipped a beat.
We’d get me there?
As in me…and him? That we?
We would get me to understanding mountain man badasses?
Why would I need to do that if I didn’t have one of my own?
In other words, what the hell did that mean?
Deke turned back to his mustard and did this speaking.
Not to me.
To Mr. T.
“And got a friend on finding Bianca. Know the Nightingale crew. They’re exceptional. Wouldn’t know the outcome of a faceoff between Deck and Lee Nightingale or any of his men. Just know my boy Jacob Decker will not fuck around and he’s already on the job.”
Okay.
Uh.
How did Deke know Lee Nightingale?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Then again, trouble made a permanent home in Carnal, taking residence most recently at my forest oasis. And from what I knew, Lee Nightingale was a fan of besting trouble.
So that might have been it.
“Then I’ll need to speak to this Jacob Decker,” Mr. T said to Deke.
“I’ll get Jussy to text you his phone number,” Deke replied, slapping cheese slices on the toast, still talking. “Want Jussy at her house tomorrow. Work to do there. Joe Callahan needs to get started on his gig. And she needs to get back in that saddle. We’ll be there from seven on. She’s not leavin’ my sight so she’ll be there until I knock off at six. You want lunch or dinner with her, we sort somethin’ but she does that not leavin’ me and not in town. I want her in a contained area where she’s low on visibility, not just because of this jackoff but because she doesn’t need any type of attention while this shit is happening, which she’ll get bein’ Jussy. But mostly it’s because of this jackoff. She has eyes on her I can’t control, it’ll be after this asshole is behind bars.”
Through that, my heart skipped many beats.
Dozens.
“Agreed,” Mr. T replied and I turned surprised eyes to the phone.
Not anyone ordered Mr. T around. Not Dad during an artist’s tantrum, not Granddad during the same.
And no one took care of the Lonesomes but him.
No one.
“I’ll be at Justice’s house at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Mr. T continued. “Justice has reported to me the state of her house and I can imagine she does not yet have a kitchen. Do you need me to bring breakfast?”