Page 72 of Ransom
His phone was lighting up on the nightstand. Three messages, then four. Mateo's name on top. Then Cruz's. Then a photo from Linc that even sideways from across the bed I could tell was a horse.
He stood up off the bed and walked to the bathroom without looking back. The shower turned on. Steam curled under the door.
I stayed where he'd left me, on my knees on the motel carpet, his taste still in my mouth, my own cock hard and ignored against my thigh. I sat back on my heels and looked at the bathroom door.
Whatever that was going to cost me, I was already looking forward to it.
I got up off the floor, stood on legs that worked just fine, and followed him in.
Despite Winston dragging hisfeet, we still managed to make it back to the ranch by noon.
Sierra met us on the porch with a wooden spoon in one hand and a dish towel over his shoulder. Pearl shouldered out behind him before the screen door could shut, ears up, tail at half-mast. She made it to the top step and wagged her tail.
"Hey, boys. How was the drive?"
"Not bad." I shut the truck door and tugged up my jeans. "Joe here?"
"At the kitchen table," Sierra said with a nod.
Pearl trotted down the porch steps and went straight to Winston, who was still on the bottom step. She shoved her head under his hand without breaking stride. Winston laughed and crouched to scratch behind her ears.
"He behavin' himself?"
"Course he is. Otherwise, he wouldn't be sittin' at my table. You know I don't tolerate riffraff and roughhousin' at the table, Ransom." Sierra glanced past me at Winston with Pearl nowflopped on her back at his feet, four legs in the air, getting her belly rubbed. "There's coffee on if you want it."
Winston didn't look up from the dog. "Appreciate it, Sierra."
I crossed the porch and pushed the kitchen door open. The whole room turned to look at us.
Joe sat on the bench side, his back to the wall, hands flat on the wood. His nose was swollen, both eyes blackened, his split lip stopped bleeding sometime that morning. He looked about as content as a raccoon in a landfill, sipping his coffee.
"Lanza," he said with a polite nod.
I stayed in the doorway. "Joe."
Rafe sat at the head of the table with his reading glasses on and a yellow legal pad in front of him, half-marked. He folded the glasses and set them on the pad.
"Ransom. Winston. Sit down."
I took the chair to Rafe's right. Winston dropped into the seat beside me and stretched his legs out. Joe watched him the whole way down.
"Joe and I have been getting acquainted," Rafe said.
"That's what I was afraid of," I said.
"I think we've got enough dirt on Rex to last two lifetimes now. None of it actionable legally, though." Rafe tapped the legal pad and glanced at Winston.
"In Texas, we have a saying," Winston offered. "If God don't see it, it didn't happen."
"That a Ranger saying or a Valverde saying?" Joe asked.
"Bit of both."
"Never heard it."
"Well, you're hearin' it now," Winston said. "I didn't come all the way out here to put Rex in front of a judge. That man's too slippery. Put him behind bars, he'll run the place from the inside. I don't want that. I want him gone. I'm fixin' to support whatever plan y'all come up with that gets him gone."
Sierra set a coffee mug down in front of Winston without breaking stride. "So the badge isn't going to be a problem?"
