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“Not until we run some scans on it. Ever heard of anthrax?” he chastises.

“They said no anthrax. If they wanted us dead, they'd shoot us.”

Randi's dark brows rise up her forehead. “See, no anthrax. Give it to me.”

“I'm not betting your life on the word of some Russian who blocked us into a dark alley just to talk.”

“You really need to see the good in people, T.”

“I will when they give me something to go on. Now if you don't mind, let's get back in the SUV where it's safe and get you to your daughter.”

“Ah fuck,” she exclaims. “Taeler. I… with all this and Trouble in trouble, it… come on, let’s go. We can figure out the Russian’s cryptic meaning later.”

Storming to the SUV, she yanks the door open and climbs in, giving me a nice view of her jean-clad ass.

“Benson, a word.” Rolling my eyes, I turn to face Tank. “Don't make me regret this, you asshole. Sarah's right, I can't stop you two, but I can ask—no, order you to keep it between us. She doesn't need the extra negative publicity if it gets out, and from what you told me the other night, neither do you.” His focus shifts from me to over my shoulder. “She know about the deal you made?”

Chunks of hair slide across my forehead as I shake my head. “No, and she won't. I'll tell her about my deal with Jessica but nothing else.”

Tank's large mitt of a hand slaps my shoulder and tightens. I fight a cringe at the pressure to my joints. “Hope you know what you're doing, man. This could get ugly quick if things go south between you two.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I attempt to stare through the dark tint to the one woman I've ever needed.

“It’ll work out, Tank. Stop your fussing.”

With a huff, he gives my shoulder a shove, making me teeter slightly off balance, and strides to the driver side.

“It has to,” I mutter to myself.

Chapter Twelve

Randi

Tiny's ostentatious squeal of laughter has every set of eyes in the restaurant trained on our table—again. He’s not the only one drawing the attention though. Oh no, I’ve been responsible for some of the looks too. And not happy ones either. Each time I've made eye contact, only scowls with an occasional middle finger added in for emphasis have been shot back.

Strange. I'm in Texas, my home state, and yet everyone seems really pissed at my presence. We ended up here, much to T's displeasure, after the hour-long debrief and cry session at Hoodwink—the debrief between the guys and Taeler’s agents, the crying all me and Tae. The shop hasn’t changed a bit. The nostalgia of walking into my old employment, the sound of tattoo guns and smell of antiseptic, added to my rolling emotions.

“I'm just glad I got to see you again, Rand.” Returning my focus back to the conversation, I smile at Tiny. “Never thought it'd happen.”

“Yeah, well, me either.” My gaze shifts around the restaurant. “It's strange being back in Austin. When I graduated, I didn't think I would ever be back. Nothing pulling me here, you know.”

“Ouch.” Tiny clasps both hands over his massive chest with a fake cringe. “You saying I'm nothing, doll?”

I shove his shoulder, which does nothing but hurt my palm. “You know what I mean. You knew I was just passing through.”

“How did you end up working for him again, Mom?” Taeler interjects.

I shrug and take another bite of the mouthwatering brisket. My eyes flutter closed as the flavors explode across my tongue. Texans have perfected the BBQ-making technique. At least this place has.

I'd like to say the flavors and sounds bring back fond memories, but they don't. As good as the food in this place is, at the time it was way beyond my measly food budget. I could never justify spending a day’s worth of allotted food money on a single meal.

The rough paper towel scrapes across my sauce-covered lips as I attempt to look less like a slob while I inhale the food in front of me.

“I needed a job so I could eat,” I say with a shrug. “The student loans and scholarships only went so far. I applied to a bunch of different places but never heard back. One day I was walking past the shop, noticed his Help Wanted sign, and walked in.”

“I thought she was fucking with me,” Tiny breaks in. “This twig of a woman, arms loaded down with books, cracked glasses—”

“You make me sound pathetic,” I grumble, shoving around the bits of creamed corn left on my plate with the plastic fork.