Poisonfeather (Gibson Vaughn #2)(68)

Swonger’s mouth started to open.

“It went fine,” Gibson cut in.

Deja looked back and forth between the two men. “That was good. His mouth opened, your voice came out. Magic.” Deja mimed a shiver of excitement. “How’d you all do that? Let me try another. Swonger, where’s Terry at?”

Swonger looked sick to his stomach. “Out there.”

“That’s good. And what’s he doing out there?”

“Got a rifle.”

“Where’s it pointed?”

“Come on, we really gotta—”

“Where’s it pointed?” Deja asked again, patiently.

“My head,” Swonger moaned.

“Got it in one. Now go ahead and throw down your piece like before. Then we can get back to the question at hand.”

“I ain’t—”

“We didn’t bring guns,” Gibson interjected. “Wasn’t part of the plan.”

Deja considered this, and Swonger, with interest. She made a twirling gesture with her finger for Swonger to lift his shirt and do a three-sixty. When he was done, Deja shook her head.

“Not getting the whole pacifist thing, but that’s you all’s call. Now, Swonger. My aunt asked you a question, and all of us up here want to hear your answer. Not his. Not hers. Just yours. Auntie?”

“Did things go smooth?” Claudette repeated her question.

Swonger didn’t answer but glanced in Gibson’s direction again.

“Quit looking at him,” Deja said.

“Nah, it’s all good,” Swonger said. “Went like he said.”

“We got the Mustang you needed. What’s the problem?” Gibson demanded. “We held up our end.”

Deja cast her eyes on Lea. “That your story too?”

Lea nodded, her bad feeling metastasizing. She was on the hook for something but had no idea what. It didn’t give her a lot of options.

Deja studied them all with her relentless gaze. “Truck. What do you think?”

A towering man came out of the office, stooping as he passed through the door. When he stood upright again, his head grazed the porch roof. He was the largest human that Lea had ever seen. Massive biceps and forearms strained the sleeves of his black button-down. Despite his size, he moved with a balletic grace that few large men possessed. His physique was perfectly proportioned apart from his head, slightly too small for his body, which only accentuated his otherworldliness.

Gibson looked astonished.

Swonger looked like the second coming himself had just ducked out onto the porch. “Hey, Truck.”

“What do you think?” Deja asked.

Truck shook his head.

“Yeah, me too. Frustrating. Know what I mean?”

Truck nodded in solemn agreement.

“I understand them two lying,” she said. “They don’t know us. What are we to them? But my heart’s broken over Swonger here. After all you did for him. And he’s lying to us.”

Deja looked disappointed by this troubling development. Disappointed in life. Disappointed in humanity. Lea didn’t get the sense that this was a family that dealt with disappointment well. Her elation at pulling off the job was gone, replaced by the dry-mouthed certainty that she would not leave this junkyard. If this went bad, it was going to go bad their way. Like anyone, she’d tossed around the word “afraid” all her life. Now she understood what it was to be afraid. Afraid that these were the last faces she’d see.

“Want me to ask him?” Truck asked, speaking at last, his voice surprisingly high and sweet for such a large man.

“Would you? I can’t seem to get through to him.”

Truck picked up the sledgehammer and hefted it lightly over his shoulder. It looked like a toy in his fist. He started down the stairs. “Come here, Swong.”

Swonger turned the white of a fried egg. “Hey, dog. Hey. Come on.” The nonsensical words of a man with no defense save hope for a mercy that wasn’t coming.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“Please,” Swonger said quietly, all masculine posturing forgotten. He fell to his knees.

“The guard at the front gate took our pictures,” Gibson said loudly.

Everyone stopped at that and looked at him. He said it again. Truck looked back at his sister.

“I thought you boys took security down,” Deja said.

“We did. That’s why he took the pictures himself. On his phone.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Whatever internal lie detector Deja thought she possessed accepted that answer. “Well, hell, that ain’t even a thing. Why are you all making me sweat? Swong, you can’t go appealing to my baser instincts this way.” Deja said it like this had all just been a misunderstanding over nothing.

Swonger smiled weakly and apologized. Lea took a deep breath and realized she’d been holding it.

“Which one was it?” Deja asked. “We’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Gibson said, punching a finger in Swonger’s direction. “Don’t you say a word.”

“You know,” Deja said, “for a fella that’s unarmed, you’re giving a lot of orders.”