Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

“I’ll disown you!” he screamed as she walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll sell this house to the syndicate and you won’t get a penny!”

Lauren glanced back over her shoulder. “Go ahead. I don’t want your money.”

Striding out into the hall, she headed upstairs to call Tori. Maybe it was time she took a serious look at the Axelrod house. The thought of staying here much longer was more than she could stand.

Stella waited until the afternoon of the next day. When Prescott hadn’t called her by 3:15, she carried out her ultimatum.

Once she’d made up her mind, the rest was easy. All it took was three anonymous phone calls—one to an investigative reporter at the local TV station, one to the campaign headquarters of the opposing party, and one to the state attorney general’s office. Stella had laid a careful money trail that could be followed by anyone with the interest and know-how. She’d also made sure that none of the cash she’d given Prescott was traceable to her.

In a way, she knew, she was killing the golden goose. But Garn Prescott could no longer be trusted. Besides, he wasn’t the only influential man Stella had on a string. The rest would be put on notice that nobody crossed Stella Rawlins. The only trouble was, none of them were in a position to help her brother.

She wasn’t through with the congressman. He would have to be silenced before his shame turned to fury. That was why, as she was leaving the diner, she’d placed a tracking signal device under the chassis of his big white Cadillac. It paid to think ahead.

She was still working out the details of Prescott’s end—mainly finding somebody to do the job now that good old Hoyt was gone. But right now her most urgent concern was saving Nick.

She’d called a lawyer friend in Lubbock who’d promised to drive down first thing tomorrow. But when she’d described the evidence against Nick, he hadn’t given her much hope. Her poor, innocent brother was being held without bail, and she was running out of options.

Now it was almost midnight, and the last customers had cleared out of the Blue Coyote. With Nick in jail, Stella and the waitress had been running nonstop. It was time to go home and try to get some rest. But Stella had a pounding headache and her feet, in their red high-heeled boots, were screaming. Needing a few minutes of peace and quiet, she sank onto a chair, popped the tab on a can of Dos Equis, and lit a Marlboro from the pack she’d laid on the table.

Her clenched nerves were just beginning to unwind when a tall shape blocked the overhead light. The waitress pulled out a chair, sat down across from her, and slid a cigarette from the pack. “D’you mind?” she asked, pulling a pink plastic lighter out of her bra.

Stella shook her head. She didn’t especially like the woman, but she’d worked hard tonight and done a decent job. Marie, that was her name.

Marie lit the cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Promise you’ll hear me out. I think I’ve figured out a way to save your brother.”

Marie took a long draw on the cigarette. This was it, time for the biggest gamble of her life. Facing Stella was like staring down a hungry tigress, but this was no time for a show of nerves. Her life would depend on playing it cool.

“First, I have a confession,” she said. “I’ve been working under my married name. My maiden name is Marie Fletcher.”

Stella’s penciled eyebrows shot up. “You’re—”

“I said hear me out. Yes, I’m Lute’s sister—and the sister of Coy Fletcher, the man who was shot on the Tylers’ ranch. That’s why I’m the one person who can help you.”

“Do you know who killed that man?” Stella asked.

“That doesn’t matter. All that really matters is that Nick didn’t do it. That’s what we have to prove.”

“Go on.” Stella leaned back in her chair and blew a smoke ring.

“Let me tell you a story. Then you can decide if you want me to tell it to the sheriff.” Marie dragged on the cigarette. “I’m not saying it’s all true. But if it does the job, that doesn’t matter, does it?

“To start with, Coy was a mean, low-down s.o.b. Back in Oklahoma he was in a lot of trouble, with the law and with lots of other people. Lute had told me this was a good place to make money, so I decided to come here to Blanco Springs. Coy wasn’t invited along, but he came anyway and set up a little weed farm on some land that belonged to our cousin Sky.”

“That hot, black-haired cowboy who works for the Tylers, right?”

“Right. But Sky’s not part of this. He’s straight arrow all the way.”

“So what happened with Coy?”

“Back in Oklahoma Coy hung out with a biker gang—bad news, all of them. When we left there I was hoping those scumbags wouldn’t know where we’d gone, but I was wrong. One night, after the place was closed, they came pounding on my door. They said Coy owed them money and threatened to cut me and worse if I didn’t tell them where he was. I knew they’d do it, so I told them where his camp was—figured he deserved whatever they meant to do to him.”

Stella leaned forward, her green eyes burning like lasers. “Good story so far, but what about the gun?”

“I’m getting to that,” Marie said. “They made me let them into the bar. I was too scared not to do it. They took a case of beer from the back, and one of them—he was wearing gloves—checked the cash register for money. When he didn’t find any, he opened the drawer, found the Glock, and took it. After that, they finally left.”

“I see.” Stella’s eyes had narrowed to catlike slits. “And you didn’t speak out sooner because—?”

“Because I was scared. If you knew I’d let those bikers in the bar, I was afraid you’d fire me, or even have me arrested.”