They were seated in a booth at the back, a booth he requested because no one was sitting around it so no one could overhear. His back was to the wall; his woman was across from him.

They’d ordered, got their drinks and Ty started sharing, including Detective Angel Peña’s involvement which got him a loud gasp then a sweet smile that was not for him but for Peña, who she might not think about a lot but she clearly liked. It was a smile Peña would have liked to have seen. It was a smile Ty was glad he never would.

Their food was served and he was in the middle of telling her about Crabtree when his phone rang, he leaned forward, pulled it out, looked at the display and it said, “Tate Calling.”

“Eat, mama, gotta take this. It’s Tate,” he muttered, she nodded and continued to devour her curly fries and cheeseburger as he flipped his phone open and put it to his ear. “Yo.”

“Brother, you sittin’ down?”

Fuck.

“What?”

“Misty Keaton is dead.”

Ty froze. Then his blood turned to ice. Then he guessed their play.

“Do not tell me they’re gonna try to pin that shit on me.”

“Hard to do since she was done with Rowdy Crabtree’s service revolver.”

Holy f**k.

Two birds, one stone.

His eyes went to his wife who did not miss his words, tone and vibe and was staring at him with one ketchup soaked fry halfway to her mouth, eyes big, face pale. Ty gave her a short head shake in hopes of calming her fears. She nodded once but he knew by the look in her eyes he hadn’t succeeded in calming her fears.

As he did this, he asked Tate, “No shit?”

“From your brief this mornin’, seems like momma is smothering the weak cubs,” Tate remarked.

Ty sat back and looked to the side. “Means neither of them can flip.”

“Exactly what it means,” Tate confirmed.

“You think they know Julius’s connection got shit on both of ‘em?” Ty asked.

“They do, Chace Keaton is up next.”

“Crabtree sittin’ in a cell?” Ty asked.

“Crabtree is in the wind.”

Hope.

“How’d Crabtree find wind?” Ty asked.

“No clue. Keaton reported his wife missin’ day before yesterday. Yesterday mornin’ they found her body dumped at the side of the access road that leads up to Miracle Ranch. Yesterday afternoon, they caught one f**kuva break, happening on the kill sight deep in Harker’s Wood in a way that you’d think they knew just where to look. Lotsa blood, all Misty’s, found the murder weapon tossed ‘bout two hundred yards from the scene. Ballistics match came in this mornin’. Crabtree did not report to work yesterday or today. My guess, he woke up, found his revolver gone, knows the way they play and wasted no time packing his bag.”

Ty gave five seconds headspace to Misty Keaton taking bullets and her body dumped at the side of an access road. His grand plan o’ vengeance included all involved living a long f**king time with the bitter taste of Ty’s retribution on their tongue. He hated the bitch and he wanted her to pay. But not that way. Not that he felt bad for her, the world was not a poorer place without that toxic pu**y in it, just that that punishment wasn’t near enough.

Then he let that bitch go and noted, “Hard for them to hand Crabtree his shoelaces, he’s in the wind.”

“Yep,” Tate agreed.

“You think we got a problem with Julius’s boy?”

“I think it would be worth it to have a conversation with him but, no. Sources say CPD is runnin’ scared and not just your man in Dallas. I think these are desperate acts, not strategic maneuvering based on covert intel,” Tate replied.

“Then it’s good news Julius is in town, he can have a word.”

“Julius is in town?” Tate asked and Ty’s eyes went to Lexie.

“Yeah,” Ty answered. “Seemed he was gettin’ impatient with me and Lex takin’ our time reuniting so he decided to get Lex’s ass home. To do that, he phoned Ella and to get Ella to phone Lex, he told her I’d been in a car crash, was dyin’ and if she didn’t haul her ass from Florida, she’d lose her chance to say good-bye to me on my deathbed.”

Loaded silence then a low, “You are f**kin’ shittin’ me.”

“No.”

Cautious silence then, “She haul her ass from Florida?”

“We’re at the diner havin’ lunch.”

Total silence then, “Brother…” pause then, “fuck, it good?”

He smiled at his wife. Then he told Tate quietly, “Yeah, brother, all good.”

Ty watched as her face lost some of her concern and got soft.

Yeah, all good.

“Good,” Tate said quietly back.

Unfortunately, Ty had to bring the conversation back around. “Seems we gotta step shit up before everyone who can prove I didn’t do it gets dead.”

At that, Lexie’s eyes got big again. He gave her an “it’s all good” chin lift even though it wasn’t. This time, she trusted him and popped the fry in her mouth.

“Seems we do. I’ll talk to Deke,” Tate replied.

“I’ll talk to Julius.”

“Right,” then, “happy for you, Ty, Lexie’s back.”

“Not as much as me.”

A smile in his voice with, “I bet.” Then, “I’ll tell Laurie.”

“Good. I’ll tell Lex you’re tellin’ Laurie.”

A chuckle in Tate’s voice with, “Good.”

“Junior high,” Ty muttered.

“Yeah, but not the shit part of it,” Tate returned.

He had that right.

“We done?” Ty asked.

“For now,” Tate answered.

“Then later.”

“Later.”

He flipped his phone shut and caught Lexie’s eyes as she was taking a big bite of burger. It wasn’t hard to catch her eyes. She was staring at him.

She put the burger down, chewed twice and with mouth full, prompted, “Well?”

“Misty’s dead.”

Her entire torso jerked forward and back as she did a slow blink and stopped with eyes wide.

Then, mouth still full, she asked loudly, “What?”

“The wicked bitch is dead, mama.”

She stared, chewed, swallowed, grabbed her soda, sucked deep on her straw, slammed the cup down and instantly commenced throwing sass. “Well, shit! If she’s dead, how can I have a bitch smackdown with her?”