“Fuck,” Horse muttered, feeling himself smile. “Damn, that’s amazing. My girl’s a one-woman army.”

“No shit,” Picnic said, shaking his head. “Took care of business, no question about that. Hey, gotta ask you something important.”

“What’s that?”

Picnic leaned over and spoke softly.

“Cops found all kinds of papers,” he said. “No idea what was in them, but Marie told the lawyer they were talking about money transfers. Jensen said it was all set up. Could we be in trouble?”

Horse wrinkled his forehead, trying to think.

“I changed everything after we found out about Jensen,” he said. “New accounts, the whole thing, a lot more than just passwords and shit like that. Shouldn’t have been traceable.”

“Wonder what he was talking about?”

Horse searched his memory, which was way too hard. Must be on drugs, he realized. Something hovered just out of reach, something he knew was important. Then it came to him.

“We’re good,” he said, smiling.

“How’s that?”

“Max was in the office the last time I printed out a list of the overseas account numbers and contact information,” he said. “Told him I was making dupes for the lockbox. Probably left to take a piss or something and he copied them. Bet he thought he’d hit the jackpot.”

“Tell me that isn’t as bad as it sounds, bro.”

Horse tried to shake his head, but it didn’t work.

“They were dummies,” he replied, savoring the moment. “You know I like to fuck with the cops. Couple times a year I update my fake accounts and ledgers, make ’em realistic enough that if we ever get raided they’ll be chasing their tails for months. I never told Jensen, and Max sure as fuck wouldn’t know. Max gave him accounts with about five grand in them. Just enough to trick someone trying to do a test transfer, you know? Little game I like to play, extra insurance…guess it worked out.”

“Jesus Christ… Thank fuck for that,” Picnic said.

“Nope, not Jesus, just a man,” Horse whispered. “Although when women see my dick for the first time, they’ve been known to fall down on their knees and worship me.”

Picnic laughed.

“Yeah, you’re gonna live,” he said. “Ego’s too big to die. Cops’ll want to talk to you at some point. Tell ’em you can’t remember anything beyond being at the party, lawyer says a traumatic head injury can make you forget the hours right before it happened. Yours hit the ground when he shot you. That’ll get you off the hook and drive ’em crazy at the same time. I’m gonna call the nurse now, let them know you’re awake.”

“Wait,” Horse said. “Tell me about the Jacks. I miss anything?”

“Nothing yet,” Picnic replied. “We’ll keep an eye on them, this is just getting started. War’s coming. Doubt your girl’ll be their target though. Not worth their time to range this far out of their territory if they aren’t getting paid.”

Horse heard the room door open, and the sounds of a busy hallway behind it.

“Hey, Picnic, I just went down to grab a drink,” Dancer said as she walked in. Horse managed to open his eyes again and look at her. She froze, eyes wide, then her face exploded in a huge smile as she rushed over to him. She leaned over to give him a hug, pulling back at the last minute with a grimace. Thank god for that, a hug right now and he’d probably need another gallon of whatever painkiller they’d given him. “Horse! I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. How do you feel? Can he talk?”

“You look like shit,” Horse said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My brother got shot, you douche,” she said. “I thought you were going to die. Marie saved your life, did he tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Horse said, closing his eyes again. Damn he was tired.

“Fuckin’ pansy,” Picnic said, and Horse heard him laugh, as if from a distance. “Damn woman had to protect him, lazy asshole wouldn’t even get up off the ground. Dripping blood, making a mess…”

Horse opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but before the words came he was out again.

Epilogue

Yakima Valley, eastern Washington

Five months later

Marie

I drove past our old elementary school on the way to the church. Jeff and I loved that playground—in the summer Mom would drop us off there before heading in to work a block away. We’d check in with her every couple of hours, feeling very mature. The familiar ache of sorrow and loss hit me, a stealth attack.

I missed him.

Jeff’d been messed up, way more messed up than I’d realized, but that didn’t change that he was my brother or that I’d watched him die right in front of my eyes. At least the nightmares were getting better. For the first few weeks I’d been terrified to sleep because he’d visit me at night, accusing me of killing him while his brains dribbled out his mouth. Thankfully, I hadn’t had one of those nightmares for two months now and most days I didn’t even think of him.

Today wasn’t like other days though.

I pulled into the parking lot and grabbed my dress bag. Mom was going to be pissed—I was supposed to be there almost forty-five minutes ago but I’d been delayed. The church coordinator glared at me as I walked in, grabbing my arm and rushing me downstairs to the bathroom. There I found my mother looking like a dream in an elegant, Grecian-style, peach-colored wedding dress.

“Oh Mama,” I said, feeling tears spring to my eyes. “You look so beautiful. John’s gonna die when he sees you.”

Her face crumpled at the word “die” and I swore under my breath. Mom was fragile these days and I still wasn’t sure how to deal with that. I was used to her being the strong one, because she’d suffered so much and always survived. Now I’d become the strong survivor.

“You need to get dressed,” she said, forcing herself to smile again. Joanie, her longtime beautician, clucked at Mom to sit down so she could finish up her makeup. Her hair was already done, swept up in keeping with the Grecian style, little ribbons woven through it along with fresh flowers.

An hour later we waited in the back of the church. The last of the guests were inside and then John came out to stand at the altar. The music started and I reached over to take Mama’s hand, squeezing it. John’s daughter Carla walked ahead of us carrying white lilies. She was hard to read and I still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about our families being joined. I guess it didn’t matter, because she wanted her dad to be happy and that was enough to make her overlook our oddities. The wedding march started and I took Mama’s hand to give her away.

It should have been Jeff’s job.

I wondered if he could see us from wherever people go after they die. I hoped he knew Mama was finally happy. Then I stopped thinking about Jeff because the stunned, almost worshipful look on John’s face as we came down the aisle filled my heart. I put their hands together, popping up on my toes to kiss first his cheek and then hers. I liked him. I liked him a lot, actually. He adored my mother and the feeling was mutual.

I stepped back and took my spot next to her as maid of honor. The minister started talking and that’s when I let myself look over at Horse for the first time. He stood strong and tall next to John’s grown son, Paulson. They wore matching tuxes, which I’d never imagined Horse would be willing to tolerate. He’d done it with grace though, telling me I’d find a way to pay him back.

I blushed, because that’s why I’d been late. He’d already started collecting.

They held the reception in the old Eagles lodge, where John was a lifelong member. Their first dance together was beautiful, and somehow Mama resisted the urge to smash cake on John’s face. She hadn’t been married to my father, so this was her first wedding. That seemed to please John in some weird way. I guess he liked the idea of being her only husband. Horse held my hand all through dinner, stealing little glances at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. It made me a little nervous—I knew him well enough to realize he was up to something. That could be very good. Once when he’d gotten that look, he’d taken me up to Canada for a surprise weekend at a gorgeous bed-and-breakfast.