solicitor was the culprit, but who the hell could be sure? This wasn’t the kind of battle he was used to. He was used to a straightforward track, hunt and kill. You knew your enemy, and if only for the moment it took to get off a shot, you saw him. But this battle with the threat against Desi and Ari, this was a whole different animal. This took place behind the scenes with whispers and payoffs and well-hidden third parties calling the shots. And the fights were like shooting at ghosts that slipped in and out of the shadows, sniping at Desi and Caine’s happiness, but never coming into the light so they could be exorcised.
“Desi is worth a hell of a lot of money.”
Tucker grunted. “It’d be easier if Caine would take it.”
“A lot of things could be easier, but blood money always comes with a curse.”
“So you’re siding with Caine on this one?”
“You’re not?”
Tracker released his shirt. “It’s Desi’s money. Just because some cowardly son of a bitch hired Comancheros to kill her family to get it doesn’t change that fact.”
“It’s cursed.”
“It’s money, and if put to use as Desi wants, it would put Hell’s Eight in the black.”
It was the same argument they’d been having since it became clear Desi was an heiress. “Some things aren’t worth the price.”
“Desi won’t be in any more danger with the money than she is with someone trying to make sure she doesn’t get it.”
“Money changes things.” Might even change Desi to the point she wanted to go home. And if Desi went, so would Caine. Even if he’d die a slow death in the East, he’d go because there would be no life for him without his Desi. Tucker couldn’t imagine Hell’s Eight without Caine. “And not always for the good.”
Tracker sighed and looked into the distance, a disturbing sense of…inevitability in his expression. As if he knew something Tucker didn’t. “Everything changes. Even Hell’s Eight.”
A chill went down Tucker’s spine. Tracker had worn that same expression all those years ago when he’d looked at the sunny horizon and said, “Today is going to be a bad day.” Eight hours later, the Mexican army had raided, slaughtering everything in their path. He’d thought his life hell before the raid. It was only afterward that Tucker realized he had no idea what hell really was. “Hell’s Eight is forever.”
Tucker wouldn’t believe otherwise.
Tracker smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “So it is.” He motioned to the puppy. “Truth is, placing the puppies has been a good distraction for Desi. She’s getting close to her time.”
“The pregnancy’s going well?”
Tracker’s lips settled to a thin line. “She seems awfully swollen to me.”
“Is that bad?”
He shot him an exasperated glance. “How the hell would I know?”
Sally Mae would. The thought popped into Tucker’s mind. But Sally Mae was here, and Desi was at home at Hell’s Eight, a place Sally would never be. Damn. “It will kill Caine to lose Desi.”
None of them had had much softness in their lives, but when Desi had swept into Hell’s Eight’s circle, they’d all gained hope.
Tracker straightened. “He’s not going to lose her.”
Not if they had anything to do with it, but how much control did a man have over pregnancy? The sense that the world as he knew it was shifting increased.
“From your mouth to whomever’s listening’s ears.” He wouldn’t say God. Couldn’t. He didn’t have Sally’s faith. When God had allowed the Mexican army to wipe out his town and everyone he knew except the Eight, when God had allowed them, as boys, to almost starve to death before they’d found Tia, he’d decided God wasn’t for him.
The pup grunted and wiggled in his arms. Tucker put him down. With a little whine and a look, the pup squatted a couple feet away. As soon as he finished the rest of his business, he attacked a piece of grass and then came and sat on Tucker’s booted foot with a little satisfied squeak.
Tucker slid the toe of his boot side to side, giving the pup an awkward pet. The pup moaned. “He’s the spitting image of Boone.”
“Which is why everyone wanted him, but Desi said he was for you.”
Desi’s way of saying thank-you for all she thought he’d done for her. She really didn’t understand the bond of Hell’s Eight. Between them, there wasn’t a need for gratitude. Hell’s Eight protected their own. And Desi had earned her place. He bent and petted the little guy’s head, catching its ears on his fingertips. They were surprisingly heavy. “There’s no need.”
“Desi’s been trying real hard to fit in.”
Tucker looked up. “She doesn’t have to fit in. She’s already Hell’s Eight.”
Tracker tipped his black hat back. Everything about the man was dark, including his personality, but there was no one better to be on a man’s side in a fight. “She seems to have a need for the formalities when it comes to friendships.”
Because she was still afraid her new way of life would be taken away, as it had been before. As if Caine would ever let anyone near enough to disturb a hair on her head. As if Tucker would. He’d gotten real fond of Desi. She had grit, sweetness and a sense of humor. What had happened to her wasn’t right and should have broken her, but she’d come out of it head high and courage waving. A man had to respect that. “Then I guess I’ll thank her.”
“Caine would appreciate that.” There was a slight shift in Tracker’s stance, a subtle honing of his attention. Tucker knew why. It wasn’t like him to stay away from Hell’s Eight so long.
“You going to be heading home soon?” Tracker asked.
“I’m waiting on a lead to pan out, but after that, yes.” He missed the simple life and acceptance he got at Hell’s Eight. And staying here was making him weak, as evidenced by tonight’s stupidity. Tracker was right. Lusting after Sally Mae was a fool’s game.
Tracker looked toward the house. “Folk get wind of what you’re doing with the widow and there won’t be much left of you to drag home.”
“I’m not doing anything. It was a onetime thing. It’s over now.”
“That wave she tossed you didn’t look like goodbye.”
No, it hadn’t, and that pricked his conscience.
Mine. Had he really said that to her?
“Sally Mae has some odd views on things.”
It’s an opening. What in hell had she meant by that?
“From all I’ve heard, she’s a levelheaded woman.”
Tucker tossed Tracker a grin. The last thing he needed was Tracker chewing on his love life. “How levelheaded can she be if she took up with me?”
The expected, joking agreement didn’t come, but a look that asked who did he think he was fooling did. “The woman has a lot to lose.”
No shit. “I won’t let her get hurt.”
“Good to know. Any ideas how you’re going to prevent it?”
“Mind your own business, Tracker.”
Ever since they were kids in their small town, Tracker had been treating him to that skeptical lift of the brow. It was as irritating now as it had been the first time he’d seen it twenty-four years ago when Tucker had boasted that he could make a stone skip five times across the pond.
“I could argue that you are my business.”
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