Ring of Fire (20 page)

Nate shook his head. “Damn. As though anything is secret in this town. But I gotta tell you, both Erin and I needed last night. Hell, Sam, you must feel the same way. You weren’t there, Connor, at least in the flesh, but Hollywood and I had the experience of a lifetime two nights ago.” He whistled in amazement. “In the BoundaryfuckingWaters of all places.”

Sam nodded in agreement.

“That we did, bro,” Sam responded. Then, turning toward Connor, he added, “And your outrageous cousin shocked the hell out of this city slicker
and
the boys from the DEA. Can’t say he didn’t warn us. He taught us the proper way to blow shit up, a lesson none of us are likely to forget.”

After their laughter died down, Nate allowed a heavy sigh to escape his lips. Seeing Connor’s frown, Nate spoke up.

“Sorry, Cuz. What could be better than Minnesota Spring sunshine and a day warm enough to hang out in swim trunks and drink beer with my buddies? The last thing I want to do is spoil this beautiful day with business.”

Connor didn’t let Nate’s attempt to cover his anxiety slide.

“Especially when that business involves the most unsavory element of our little burg, huh Cuz?” Connor’s frown deepened, obviously wanting to talk about what was front and center in all of their minds.

“Tell me, Nate. How did Jeb keep getting worse and worse? You know him better than anyone. When did he become a homicidal maniac?”

Nate shrugged. “The ‘bad’ was always there. It’s hard now to remember that there was once some good. At least the guy was charming as hell. He sure charmed me. At one point in my young life I would’ve followed him anywhere. He was a good-looking, fast-talking son of a bitch who could’ve played basketball
or
football for any college in the country. But as the Chief said, the ‘bad’ ran too deep. I’ll admit I was shocked when I got back from overseas to hear that Jeb was up to his ass in that white supremacy shit. The drugs didn’t surprise me. Only I assumed he’d be an addict not a dealer.”

Nate snorted, reconsidering his understatement. “Hmm. A dealer? Is that what you call someone who has a multi-million dollar international business in drugs?”

Sam shrugged.

“I think you call the combination of his political views and his enterprise ‘dangerous as hell.’ “

Connor spoke up. “What’s he gonna do now, Nate? You have to be worried.”

“Of course, I am. I’d be crazy not to be. But Jeb’s got to be more worried than I am. The
La Familia Muerte
just lost a significant sum of money and is unlikely to take the loss graciously. I’d say Jeb has a couple of days at the most to make good on the loss. And unless the guys we have tracking him are full of shit, no one is going to be able to replace what the Mexicans lost.”

“I’ve heard that Jeb has sources in the Middle East, Cuz. Afghanistan or Russia.”

Nate nodded. “Afghanistan is what my contacts tell me, Connor. Along with virtually every other country in that part of the world, the Afghans have learned that their most lucrative natural resource is their poppy fields. Problem is they don’t have the infrastructure to convert it to street drugs. That’s where Jeb was so fucking smart. And, I should add, greedy. He thought he could control all parts of the food chain. All he needed were the raw materials.”

Connor persisted, “Do you think he’ll run? Christ, if he was smart, he’d get the hell out of Dodge.”

Nate grimaced. “He’s smart. Way too smart. But the problem is that he’s consumed with hate. Hate for people who don’t look like he does or think like he does. From the time he was a kid, he never let a slight go unanswered. If he thought someone wronged him, the fucker paid for it. Big time. The problem with revenge, as the Chief used to tell us, is that you need to dig two graves. One for the object of your hate and one for you. Like most of the Chief’s wisdom, it went over Jeb’s head. But now that I am the
numero uno
on Jeb’s list of hated persons, don’t think I’m not watching my six. Or Erin’s. Or, goddammit, yours, Sam. Jeb seems almost as obsessed with you as he is with me.”

Nate took a long pull from his bottle, draining half of it.

“I’ll tell you, if anybody ought to be paying attention, it’s Cougar. Jeb has to believe that Cougar told me about Jeb’s Ely operation.”

Connor started. “Cougar? Hell, I thought they hated each other.”

“They do. But they worked together for years. If anyone in Jeb’s circle knew the extent of Jeb’s operation it was Cougar. And, let’s face it. Cougar and I go back as far as Jeb and I do.”

“Was he your source, Nate?”

“You know I wouldn’t tell you if he was; but the hell of it is that he’s not. Only problem Cougar faces is how
he’s
going to convince
Jeb
he wasn’t the one who tipped me off.”

~~~

The excited squeals from what looked to be fifty kids crowding the picnic tables reminded Nate that the highlight of the Founder’s Day picnic was the ice cream social. For years, his girly girl cousins had waited for Founder’s Day almost as eagerly as they did their birthdays or Christmas. All because of the ice cream social. Nate’s chest tightened remembering how he always brought little Melanie Jones to the picnic along with his girly cousins. Her serious little face would light up when he said she could have as many toppings on her ice cream as she wanted. Each year she tested him adding one more. One year she piled on eight toppings watching him carefully as she added each one expecting him to say no. After the chocolate and caramel and whipped cream was sloshing over the sides, he frowned. Melanie stepped back and asked, “What’s wrong, Nate?”

He’d grinned at her and said, “You forgot the cherry, honey.”

It had seemed like such a small thing but he remembered Sarah’s reaction. She didn’t try to hide her tears. She’d whispered, “Thank God, you’re here, Nate. Please stay close.”

Nate shoved at his unease. He
would
have to think about that memory. It was even more painful today than it had been when Melanie was eleven. He realized that unconsciously he’d been searching the crowd, hoping to see Melanie… and praying he didn’t see her with Tucker. To his relief, neither of them were here. Nor was Sarah. Nate didn’t like to think about the Jones household today. He prayed to God that Sarah was keeping Melanie and Francine as far away from their father as possible.

Knowing that he was being anti-social, Nate forced himself to participate in the trash talk buzzing around him. Most of the first responders, cops, EMT’s, and firefighters were there. Those who were unlucky enough to pull duty came on their breaks and loaded up with barbecue and now ice cream.

Alan sidled up to him and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Hey, Big Dog. Who you got lined up to watch Erin this week? Me and Mort are up for it. Just ask. Hell, I got every guy at the station hassling me, calling me an ass-kisser. I could care less. Talk about a puh-lummm assignment. Any time, Big Dog.”

Nate laughed. “C’mon, Alan. You know I have to spread the goodies around. Can’t play favorites. But thanks, you did a hell of a job. Erin told me that you were respectful and stayed out of sight. I appreciate it, buddy.”

“Damn, Nate. That scene of you marching down the stairs with Erin over your shoulder was more than worth the price of admission. That is some woman. I’ve always wanted to toss a babe over my shoulder like that but never had the courage. From what I hear, that was only the beginning of a long night. Frank Henderson was telling—”

Nate groaned. “Stop right there, Alan! Frank Henderson is a dead man walking, he just doesn’t know it.”

The men around him hooted and in minutes the crowd was trying to outdo each other retelling Frank’s stories. Nate saw Erin serving ice cream to a horde of noisy children and caught her looking over at him. Knowing that some of the men were talking more loudly than they should—the result of a long afternoon and too many cases of beer, he saluted her and hoped like hell she couldn’t hear what was being said. His heart sunk, when he saw her frown and several minutes later leave her serving duties and head toward him and his men.

Erin loved seeing the eager children pushing and shoving each other to get closer to the ice cream table. She watched in amazement when they piled topping after topping into their bowls. She was struck as she often was how simple things like this surprised her. There weren’t Annual Day picnics where she grew up and if there were, her druggie mother wouldn’t have known about them. Refusing to be saddened by what she’d missed as a child, she focused on the children in front of her, their faces smeared with ice cream and chocolate.

She heard the sound of raucous laughter coming from the men surrounding Nate. She delighted in the way the crowd of men were enjoying each other’s company. Erin loved watching Nate clown around with his men. They obviously worshipped him. Nate was a star, pure and simple. People loved him and respected him. She smiled to herself. How could they not? It took her a moment to notice that many of the men were looking her way. She saw Alan and Mort, the men who’d been on her protective detail laughing and nodding at her. Remembering the wonder in their wide-eyed expressions when Nate tossed her over his shoulder and how she’d screamed at him—to no avail, embarrassment surged over her. Dammit. How humiliating. Add to that the tales Frank had been spreading and it was no secret why so many of the men around Nate were surreptitiously glancing at her and laughing.

Forcing herself to pay attention to the demands of the children begging for more goodies, Erin focused on the bowls of toppings. Staring at the chocolate sauce and gooey marshmallow, an impish devil whispered in her ear. Glancing over at Nate, she grabbed an empty bowl and filled it with ice cream. Like a master chef she eyed the various toppings, choosing the ones that suited her purposes. Definitely the chocolate and marshmallow would make it to her masterpiece but the caramel and strawberry and even the M&M’s had potential. When she’d finished loading up her bowl, she headed toward Nate, a woman on a mission. She smiled to herself when she saw his grin fade at her approach.

Erin pushed her way through the crowd of men and heard Nate mutter, “Hell, I thought I’d fucked the mad out of her.”

Rather than being insulted, Erin laughed outright as did most of the men.

“You know what they say, Nate, still waters run deep. I owe you Big Dog. Big time.”

She eyed his shirtless chest and smiled.

“You look hungry, baby. And clean. I brought you some ice cream… and some toppings. I know how much you like chocolate and marshmallow….”

It didn’t take the men surrounding him long to figure out what was coming, but there was nonetheless a startled gasp when Erin pretended to stumble and slathered a large dollop of ice cream on Nate’s bare chest. She quickly followed the frozen treat with a spoonful of chocolate. Reaching out she rubbed the syrupy substance around one nipple—thoroughly, then smeared marshmallow on the other peaked nub.

“Sorry, Nate. Didn’t mean to get you all sticky. But you look naked. Like you could use more decorations.”

Before he could stop her, Erin placed a spoonful of caramel into his navel then stood back to admire her handiwork. The men around Nate screamed with laughter egging her on, but before she could add to her masterpiece, Nate, who was grinning broadly, reached for the bowl.

“Uh uh, spitfire. You don’t get to have all the fun.”

He raked his eyes over her barely clad body.

“Sugar, that swimming suit—what there is of it—presents me with an incredible canvas. One I can’t pass up.”

Urged on by the roar of the crowd, Nate piled one spoonful after another of ice cream: chocolate, caramel and myriad other sticky substances. All over Erin’s body. He made a point of going for divots, like her belly button and between her breasts laughing when she shrieked at the cold. When the bowl was empty he pitched it over his shoulder and grabbed for her.

“Honey, I gotta tell you. You always look good enough to eat, but you’ve surpassed yourself.”

Picking her up, he tossed her over his shoulder and barreled his way through the cheering crowd.

“You’ll forgive me fellows, if I take care of my woman. She seems to need some serious cleaning. As good as my tongue is, this is going to require water—a lot of it!”

Amid the cheers and Erin’s laughing shrieks, Nate headed toward the lake. Marching out to the end of the dock, he lifted her high above his head and tossed her into the cold water. Before she surfaced, he’d jumped in beside her.

~~~

Long after Erin had been congratulated by every woman in attendance and most of the men, she stood contentedly nestled against Nate. His arm was tight around her as it had been for most of the afternoon. She’d reveled in the praise from the excited crowd. Even now she couldn’t believe her daring. Several people insisted that they needed to make the “ice cream body painting” an annual event. As much a part of the celebration as the ice cream social and the beer. Erin snuggled up against Nate, knowing for the first time what it was like to be part of a town. She grinned to herself, proud that now she’d be known as outrageous as Nate was.

She turned to see Connor and Sam coming toward them. She saw them before Nate did. Seeing their agonized expressions, Erin’s heart clenched. She struggled to breathe. She’d seen a similar expression on Connor’s face before, but she’d never seen the level of devastation in his eyes that she saw when Connor looked at Nate.

She heard Nate draw an audible breath and felt him pull her even closer against him as if to shelter her from what was coming.

“What is it, Connor? Jeb?”

Connor nodded. His voice was raspy, shaken.

“Someone blew up Cougar’s property. His house, his trucks, his stash… even his… fishing cabin.”

Not taking his eyes off of his cousin’s strained face, Nate tried to swallow but he couldn’t get by the lump in his throat.

Connor closed his eyes and nodded again, confirming what Nate already knew.

“Nate, there were people inside the cabin.”

Nate didn’t recognize his own voice.

“Tucker?”

Connor reached for Nate’s hand and held it tight.