The Jealous Kind (Holland Family Saga 2)

“Don’t bet on that, man.”

“Then who tried to burn her?”

“Believe me, if I find out, there’s going to be some guys hurting real bad.”

“How much do you want for the gun, Loren?”

“Nothing. It’s not for sale. Does Valerie know about this?”

“No, she doesn’t. I don’t want you telling her, either.”

“You’re not giving the orders. Who killed Grady Harrelson’s old man?”

“Why ask me?” I said.

“Because you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. Because you’ll probably end up popping the wrong guy.”

“I need the gun. Will you give it to me or not?”

He held me with his stare.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

“It’s a big line you’re stepping over, Broussard,” he said.

“That’s another thing that bothers me about you, Loren. You call people by their last name.”

“If you smoke somebody, they visit you.”

“Who visits you?” I said.

“Dead people do. It’s not like in the movies.”

“You’ve killed somebody?”

“Shut up.”

“You offered me the gun. Now honor your word or don’t.”

I could see the heat go out of his face.

“Let me get an umbrella,” he said.

“How are your guitar lessons coming along?”

“Don’t change the subject. You don’t want to go to Gatesville, man. I never talk about it because people won’t believe me. It’s worse than Huntsville, especially in the shower or the toolshed, you get the picture?”

“I don’t get you,” I said.

“What?”

“Your drawings and your model planes are works of art. With your talent, you could be anything you want. Ever think about going to Hollywood? I’m not putting you on.”

He gazed out the window at a garbage can rolling down the street in the rain. “Your father is an engineer or something. You live in the good part of town. You’re a musician and you go steady with the most beautiful girl in Houston. But you’re coming to me for a drop so you can wax a lamebrain like Vick Atlas? I grew up in juvie and Gatesville. I’m the guy needs straightening out?”

“What’s a ‘drop’?”

He shook his head. “I’m going to hate myself for this the rest of my life. Follow me.”