A Horse with No Name #2
From the intercom, Bailey heard Rory McCauley snort.
“Two most out of control sonovabitches in the Bureau,” he said, a note of admiration coloring his voice.
“I mean, the shit those two get into—legen dary . But yeah, over the last year or so, they’ve been tracking an unholy alliance between one of the local cartels—Corazones de Sangre—and a branch of Bratva, the Russian mob.
I would imagine you stumbled onto a Russian mob hit, Bailey.
No wonder Dean wanted to get you out of there before the world even knew Vlade Karcek was dead. ”
“So….” Bailey swallowed, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. “That’s why Dean was in Austin? For this… this Bratva thing?”
“That’s why he was there for work ,” Val said gently, as though reading Bailey’s mind. “But you should know that he had lots of chances to come home to Sacramento—or to see the family—that he’s passed up in the last few months, mostly because he wanted to see you.”
“Do you know,” Bailey said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “that until this morning, I thought you and Marcus were his only two siblings, and when he said your family was a lot , that just meant your parents were really nosy?”
Val’s laugh filled the cab of the truck—and so did McCauley’s from the back.
“Oh my God,” McCauley whooped. “Val, wait until he meets your parents. He’ll know why that’s so funny.”
“Meet your parents?” Bailey said, surprised. “What does he mean by that?”
Val grunted. “Well, for one thing it means I may have been able to put one payload off on one of my employees, but I’ve got another one waiting for me in LA that is both insured and worth a lot of money to my company.
I can’t put this one off, so you’re catching a ride from Chance and whoever he can con into going with him. ”
“Reg and Anthony,” McCauley said from the back.
“Anthony?” Val sounded puzzled.
“Who’s Anthony?” Bailey asked, pleased that he at least knew Chance and Reg were Dean’s little brothers.
“Rory’s son,” Val said, still puzzled. “Great kid, really, but I don’t know why he’d be hanging out with Reg and Chance.”
“Don’t you?” Rory McCauley asked cryptically. “Do you really not know?”
Val frowned. “I didn’t realize they’d all gotten tight.” He smiled a little. “It must have been at the family reunion.”
There was a faint snort, and Bailey wondered if, should he see Rory McCauley’s face, he wouldn’t be gazing at Val Royal with a hint of pity, but then Val added, “I was hoping Dean would bring you to that, but it must have been too soon. Hopefully you’ll be able to make it to the Thanksgiving thing.
” He raised his voice for the intercom. “You too, Connor. My folks set a big table around Thanksgiving.”
“It’s been a while since we sat at a big table,” Connor began, but Bailey rapidly saw this conversation—and his life and his relationship with Dean—spiraling neatly out of his control.
“Dad, don’t get your hopes up. This man just pushed me out of a plane, remember?”
And this time, his father snorted. “Son, you just let this man push you out of a plane—with your cat, which shows he knows you. I’m saying the cat alone should get you to give him a shot till Thanksgiving.”
“He obviously didn’t want me around during the family reunion in—When was it?” he asked.
“Early June,” Val said. “You two would have been pretty new.”
Bailey grunted. “Or he’s just a closemouthed bastard who wasn’t ready to share his family,” he said bitterly.
“So you got some things to say to the man,” Val said, nodding.
“I totally understand. Me and Dean have been saying shit to each other since he got smarter than me—when he was about eight and I was in high school. Little asshole.” He smiled indulgently.
“I love him so.” He sobered. “And whatever his reasons for not mentioning the family reunion, you’re about to be eyeballs deep in family now . His and Rory’s, for whatever reason—”
Rory let out what was almost a giggle, and Bailey fought the totally useless urge to turn around in his seat. Val ignored him and continued.
“—so you need to prepare yourself. Dean likes to keep his secrets to himself, and you, my new friend and hopeful in-law, are apparently his secret keeper. You are going to be grilled like a trout, with lots of spices, until you are delicate, flaky, and tender.”
Bailey stared at him. “That’s an, uhm, oddly specific analogy,” he said, hoping Dean wasn’t a member of a closet tribe of serial killers.
“Don’t mind him,” Rory said. “He’s starving. First barbecue place you see when we get back to Texas, call out. They almost all have parking for semis, and we’ve got to get us some chow.”
As if to punctuate this, Bailey’s stomach grumbled, and he yawned. “Hey,” he said, “does anybody want to switch seats with me? It’s getting dark and I’m… I’m feeling a nap coming on, and I’ve worked at a hospital too long to let a car ride go without catching some sleep.”
“Begging your pardon, Mr. McCauley” came Connor Dodge’s apologetic voice, “but I would give a lot to look out on the road from the front. Catherine too.”
Bailey heard the smile in Rory McCauley’s voice when he said, “Not a problem. I could use a nap myself, and the pullout sleeps two. Don’t get jealous, Val. I’m pretty sure Bailey’s eyeballs are about to roll back in his head.”
“Not jealous. Coming to a rest stop soon,” Val said. “We can get out, cop a whiz, grab some snacks, and rearrange. Hold on, folks, it’ll all be good.”
TRUE TO his word, the rest stop came in about half an hour, and everybody used the chance to stretch their legs.
Bailey noted that Val and Rory took turns standing by the truck—like many semis, the thing didn’t get turned on and off on a dime.
Letting it sit and idle for ten minutes took less diesel than starting it up again, and less time.
When Bailey crawled into the back, a rather tasty homemade chicken wrap in his stomach to hold him until “barbecue time,” as Val called it, Rory let him kick off his solid sneaker-boots (as he called the ankle-high cross trainers he wore to the hospital) and wedge himself into the cabin’s sleeper.
It was surprisingly spacious, so when Rory stretched out next to him, his back to Bailey, Bailey felt no more intimacy than he did bunking with somebody in the crib.
“You all right back there, Doc?” Rory asked, and Bailey grunted.
“Yessir. Thanks for asking.”
“Good. Need anything before I cop my own nap? Years in the Bureau—you know how it is.”
“Sleep if you can catch it,” Bailey agreed.
“Yeah. So need anything?”
“Only one thing,” Bailey said with a yawn. “Why was it so funny about Anthony? And who is he anyway?”
Rory chuckled. “Anthony’s my son,” he said, his voice low. “And it’s funny because he’s pretty damned in love with Val’s little brother, but I don’t think Reg knows it yet. And Val certainly doesn’t.”
Bailey smiled a little. “Why not?” he wondered sleepily. “Why wouldn’t Val know?”
“You gotta meet the family,” Rory said on his own yawn. “Once you meet them, it’ll all become clear. Trust me, Doc. A man throws you out of a plane with your cat and he’s pretty sure you’re gonna stick, if he has to bungee cord you to his roof.”
Bailey chuckled and had an image of being bungee corded to the roof of Dean’s rental, the wind through his hair, Marcus—who was clearly insane—at the wheel.
“Whee….” he mumbled, and then the cool dark of the vibrating cabin took over, and he was out.