Page 53 of Fatal Strike
“Consider helping us,” Jon said.
“I might be dying, but I’m not stupid. What are you thinking? Pain pills on demand? Smokes? A vacation in the Bahamas?”
Leah picked up the interview again. “I see you have a son. Leaving him an honorable legacy of a father—”
His features softened. “My son’s twelve and already spent time in juvie. Doubt me giving up names to Feds would make a difference.” A bit of wistfulness touched his words.
“Do you want him to end up like this?”
“Listen, no one deserves to be locked up like an animal.” Rawlyns studied his cuffed hands for a moment. “A rattler can strike from any position. Some people think a rattler can’t kill when its head is cut off. But they’re wrong.”
“What will you tell me?”
“I gotta have a couple of things first. Number one—let me see my son. Number two—yank him from his mother and put him in a place where he learns school is more important than the streets.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Bring him here with proof he won’t be going back to her. Or don’t come back.”
“That will take time,” she said. “It’s impossible to remove a child from a home without due cause.”
“Then I suggest you get busy. When you come again, wear that short red dress.” He cocked his head at the guard. “I’m done.”
Outside the prison walls en route to his truck, Jon deliberated the con’s comments. “Rawlyns could have helped us if he wasn’t so stubborn.”
“True. I should have brought a change of clothes.”
The image amused him. Leah’s brown eyes bored into his, and he inwardly staggered with the intensity. She stirred alonging in him he didn’t think possible—man to woman, soul to soul.
Jon shook away his thoughts. He didn’t need someone who could get so close she would see through his control-guy facade.
“He gave us enough to move forward and promised us more,” Jon said. “What he claimed about rattlers is true. If the leader is eliminated, the gang—Venenos or not—would continue to have lethal striking power.”
“Two men are dead. How many more are they willing to lose or risk?”
“Depends on what’s at stake.”
35
SITTING IN THE VISITOR PARKING LOTat the Scott Unit, Leah fought the rising irritation at not having more information. She pulled out her phone to review the relationship matrix. “Jon, Ian Greer’s widow lives in Angleton. Looks like it’s back up the road a little. Shall I see if she’s available?” When he nodded, she phoned the woman and introduced herself. “Special Agent Jon Colbert is with me. We’re working with the Galveston Police Department to find who killed your husband, Marcia Trevelle, and Judge Mendez. We’d like to stop by and ask a few questions.”
“Yes, of course. I’m home for the day, and my daughters are with their grandparents.”
“Thanks. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
Leah watched the countryside roll by. At a stop sign, she rolled the window down and listened to the grasshoppers. “Lovethe sound of nature,” she said. “In Brooklyn, we have beautiful singing birds, but not nature’s constant reminder. Neither do we have this stifling heat and humidity.”
“Do you like Houston?”
“I do, especially the people.” And it was far from the angst of family issues.
Jon’s voice broke into her thoughts. “How about dinner when we’re finished with Mrs. Greer’s interview?”
She whipped her attention to him. “Are you asking me out?”
“Depends. Do you have a red dress?” He broke into a grin.
“Not funny.” She attempted to smother a giggle, but a reminder of Rawlyns and his invitation bolted into her mind. “Yes to dinner but no to the outfit.”
