“Tina. Her name is Tina Patterson,” I supplied.
“She dances at the Pink Pony,” Claire added and I saw recognition ignite behind both of their expressions. Claire continued, her explanation sounding like a command. “She called. She wants to leave. We’re here to get her.”
The two men exchanged a look that I didn’t understand, then the shorter one made like he was going to reach out and offer his hand to me. “I’m Drill, this here is Catfish.”
Automatically, I moved to step forward, but Claire pulled me back and somewhat behind her. She had steel in her voice as she ground out, “She don’t need to shake your hand. She just needs her kin.”
“Come inside, Scarlet. Have a drink. I’m sure your daddy would—”
“What’s going on here?” A third male voice interrupted Catfish’s overtures, walking quickly from the entrance of the bar to where we stood. He was about six foot, no taller, and was older than the other two, but they both stepped to the side as though deferring to his authority. I recognized the newcomer almost immediately as the biker who’d been talking to Duane the night we stopped by Daisy’s Nut House for pie.
His dark brown eyes snagged on mine and his steps faltered, his mouth parting. He was definitely surprised and he definitely recognized me.
“Scarlet is back and she brought a friend,” Drill motioned to me.
“I am not back.” From my vantage point I could see Claire was speaking through clenched teeth and her blue eyes flashed as she appealed to the newcomer. “Repo, this is Jessica James, and her daddy—”
“I know who her daddy is. What are you two ladies doing here?” The man Claire had addressed as Repo still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and his stunned surprise seemed to have morphed into disapproval and anger.
“We’re here to pick up my cousin, Tina.”
Repo’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t respond for several seconds, opting to scrutinize me instead. Meanwhile Drill and Catfish were looking at Repo as though they were waiting for direction.
“What makes you think Tina is here?” Repo finally asked.
“She called me.”
“She called you?” He sounded doubtful.
“Yes. So I called my brother and my daddy, told them I was coming up here to pick up my cousin.”
At this news, Repo’s glower turned into a smirk. “You called the sheriff and the deputy? They know you’re up here?”
“Yes, Mr. Repo, they do. Now, for the fourth time, could one of you please bring Tina out? Then we’ll be happy to leave.”
His smirk widened into a smile when I called him Mr. Repo. Then he chuckled, like he thought I was funny. “Smart girl,” he said under his breath, shaking his head. He turned, the smile waning from his face, and lifted his chin to Drill. “Go get Tina. Bring her here. And don’t go volunteering that Scarlet is here. That ain’t nobody’s business.”
Drill seemed surprised by the orders issued, but said nothing to contradict. He nodded once, then Catfish and Drill walked back to the building. They didn’t use the main entrance; instead they took the same path they’d come from and disappeared around the cinderblock corner.
This left Claire, Repo, and me standing outside the bar. Claire was glaring at Repo. Repo glared at Claire. I split my attention between the two of them. I figured we were going to spend the next several minutes in silence as we waited. Neither of my companions seemed inclined to talk. Dislike as thick as sausage gravy rolled off my friend; whether her ire was pointed at this man, or this place, or both, I had no idea. She didn’t discuss her childhood, just a few slips and scraps of information here and there, enough for me to extrapolate that she’d never had it easy and considered the Order part of a dark past.
But then Repo cleared his throat and said to me, “I heard your…uh, your aunt died.”
I nodded once. “That’s right.”
He studied me for a long minute, so long I thought he was finished. Unexpectedly, he said, “I knew her when we was kids.”
I’m sure I looked as surprised as I felt. “My aunt?”
“Both the Franklin sisters, in Texas. Your granddaddy was my daddy’s boss.”
“At the ranch?”
“That’s right.”
“Huh.” I frowned at the coincidence and said, “Small world.”
“Not so small,” he mumbled under his breath, but I caught the words.
My curiosity was piqued. In fact, a prickle of cold something slithered down my back, so I asked, “So, what was she like? My aunt?”
His small smile was framed by a well-groomed salt and pepper goatee, and reflected in his dark eyes. “She was very pretty—beautiful—and smart. Smarter than me. And she was funny, she used to make me laugh.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, the cold slithering something settled in my belly. “Really? How’d she do that? What’d she do that was funny?”
“Play tricks, pranks mostly. She got me good a few times.”