Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2)(26)

“The chief ain’t—obviously. But the rest of ’em is.”

“No offense, Dale,” I say, “but you don’t quite look like you fit in.”

While Dale doesn’t look completely out of shape, he has a beer gut, and his biceps probably haven’t felt the weight of a dumbbell in a long time. In contrast, the men in Gareth’s entourage look like out-of-uniform soldiers.

Dale explains that when Gareth was discharged from the military, he and his old man slowly began hiring his army buddies. People like Dale and Skip Barnes are the old guard, the longtime roughnecks who’ve been working the fields for a decade or more.

“It’s not like they’re running us out,” Dale says, “but whenever someone leaves town, like our singer, they replace him with somebody who looks like an extra from a Mission: Impossible movie.”

I scan the faces of the men, looking for anyone with a broken nose, but none of them look like they’ve been punched recently.

“Do they know anything about working in the oil business?”

“Eh.” Dale shrugs dismissively. “I’m going to get a beer. Want one?”

I tell him I’ll pass. I notice Ariana on her way over with a second beer in her hand.

“I’m impressed,” she says, handing me one of the two bottles. “If the Texas Rangers ever fire you, you’ve got a good backup career.”

“Very funny,” I say.

“Seriously,” she says. “You were good up there.”

I thank her and then, speaking low, ask her if she noticed who walked in.

“I saw,” she says, glancing over toward the table. “You figured out who that was, I take it.”

“I think I’ll go introduce myself,” I say.

She takes my arm. “I don’t think now’s the time, Rory. He’s over there with all his army buddies, carrying sidearms like they’re cowboys in a goddamn John Wayne movie. Wait till you’ve got your badge on. It will give you the upper hand.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

I push through the crowd, nearly everyone I’ve met in town, and I get several compliments about my playing. Alex Hartley, the football coach we interviewed, gives me a nod. I don’t see Tom and Jessica Aaron or Skip Barnes, but I spot two of the town council members and Norma, the woman who runs the motel where I’m staying.

Gareth McCormack is bent over the pool table, sliding the cue back and forth over his hand. The balls are racked, and when he breaks, the sound is like a rifle shot. The balls slam around the table, two sinking into pockets.

“Gareth,” the chief says, “let me introduce you to Rory Yates.”

Gareth comes around the table and inflicts a bone-breaking handshake.

“I seen that video of you in the bank,” Gareth says, a wad of tobacco in his cheek. “That was badass.”

Badass is not a word I would ever use to describe people dying—but I let it go. My handgun is locked away in my truck right now, but he has a gun on his hip, a SIG Sauer like mine.

“Thank you for serving our country,” I say.

“And thank you for your service to Texas.”

I try to be sincere in my gratitude, but I don’t like his implication that serving Texas isn’t as big a responsibility as serving the country.

“We’re both Rangers,” he says. “Texas Rangers and Army Rangers. No offense, but I’d take my Rangers over yours any day.”

Gareth McCormack is my height, but he has at least thirty pounds on me—all muscle. He’s taken his sunglasses off, locking his gray eyes on mine. He doesn’t look away. His intimidation tactic, I hate to admit, is working on me.

“John Grady says you’re looking into the death of Susan Snyder,” he says. “You really think she was murdered?”

“Sorry,” I say, “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”

I give the chief a look that says, And neither should you.

“Did you know Susan?” I ask Gareth.

He laughs and looks away from me for the first time.

“I’d met her,” he says, “but I didn’t know her well. She’s one of the few pieces of ass in these parts that I haven’t tapped.”

He turns his gray eyes back on me, gauging whether his crude comment has shocked me.

I’m struck speechless.

“Come to think of it,” he adds, nodding across the bar, “I never fucked your partner, either. She’s a sexy little thing. Have you hit that yet?”

The chief stands idly by, and I ask myself, Will I let Gareth get away with this?

“Where I come from,” I say, “we don’t talk about women like that.”

Gareth’s eyes harden. All of his friends are grinning as they watch their alpha dog show the new pup who’s the boss.

“Is that right?” Gareth says, standing up straighter and stepping forward, so we’re chest to chest, eye to eye. “How do you talk about women?”

“Same way we talk to women,” I say. “With respect.”





Chapter 34



GARETH MAKES A pfft sound with his lips. He looks over at the chief and laughs.

“If you’re so respectful of women,” he says to me, “how come your girlfriend doesn’t want to date a Texas Ranger?” He spits a stream of tobacco juice on the bar floor. “Maybe she’d like to date an Army Ranger.”