“She’s a determined gal, with a reputation like an Old West gunfighter’s.”
“A cunt gunfighter?”
“Pistols don’t come in genders, Cray.”
“And you’re scared shitless of her.”
“This is the Texas Rangers we’re talking about.”
Rawls started hitting the bag again. “I’m glad you made that point for me, you fat tub of lard. I did some checking into Cort Wesley Masters. Remember him? The man you tried to scare off after he made that scene at the reservation?”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. Now let me tell you something. Before Masters did a stretch in Huntsville, before he worked as an enforcer for the Branca crime family, he was Army Special Forces.”
“What?”
Through the Bluetooth device, which had loosened up again, Rawls could almost hear the air going out of the fat shit. “That’s right, Sam Bob. You picked a fight with a genuine Green Beret. And that’s not all, not even close. Would you care to hazard a guess who his girlfriend is?”
“Oh, shit…”
“Match made in heaven, wouldn’t you say? So your dumb ass has gotten us two for the price of one. You better hope the boatload of cash I had to dump to get those damn Indians to drop their protest alleviates things, because my next step is to drop you down an abandoned oil well. It’s sure to be nice and slimy down there, so you’ll feel right at home. By the way, that money I had to leave on the table at that reservation? It’s coming out of your end.”
Rawls heard Sam Bob Jackson gulp down some air. “What does the Ranger know?”
“She’s getting close, lard-ass.”
“But what we’re doing, it’s not a crime. Mineral rights we purchased plainly state ‘oil and gas reserves, along with anything else of monetary value discovered along the way.’”
“Oh, really? And does that absolve you from kidnapping charges, too, or how about from being an embarrassment to your mother’s loins?”
“This coming from the son of a prostitute.”
Rawls started hitting the heavy bag so hard his hands throbbed inside his gloves. “I’m going to do you a favor and forget you said that, Sam Bob. What I’m not going to forget is, thanks to you, I’ve got a Texas Ranger and a Green Beret crawling up my ass. I don’t know why I let you fly back here with me on the company Gulfstream. Given it to do all over again, I’d rather you hitchhiked, maybe shed a few pounds on the way.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Jackson said, his words ringing hollowly in Rawls’s ears, between smacks to the bag. “You said so yourself.”
“You know the biggest yacht in the world’s longer than a football field and cost a quarter billion dollars? That’s the kind of money I’m talking about. Enough to make your Texas oilmen kiss my ass, as long as you don’t cause me any more problems.”
Through his earpiece, Rawls heard the tinny click tone of an incoming e-mail or text message on Jackson’s end, followed by the return of Jackson’s loud breathing.
“What’s wrong now, Sam Bob?” Rawls asked.
“Er, we may have another one.”
*
“Masters did what?” Rawls asked, pounding the bag so hard he could barely hear Sam Bob Jackson on the other end of his Bluetooth device.
“I just got the call. He busted up a used car showroom, nearly killed the guys who were supposed to put a scare into him.”
“These being the ones who kidnapped his son.”
“They’re headed for the hills as we speak. That’s not the problem.”
“What is?”
“They told Masters I was the one who hired them to do the deed.”
Rawls let his gloves drop to his waist and leaned against the heavy bag to catch his breath. “I guess you can expect a visit too, then. Maybe Masters will take your whole building down this time.”
“I thought you should know, Cray, in case this leads back to you.”
“Only way that can happen is if you spill the beans. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Sam Bob?”
“Of course not. But…”
“But what?”
“The Texas Rangers are involved too. Do the math.”
Rawls began tapping at the heavy bag. “Why don’t you do it for me?”
“Adds up to us both being fucked here. Time to do some damage control, what you do best, Cray.”
Rawls started hitting the bag harder again. “The only damage of concern here was done by you, without my permission or knowledge. I’d say it’s not time for me to do anything.”
Dead air filled the line. Rawls heard nothing but Sam Bob Jackson’s heavy breathing, which fell into an awkward cadence that mirrored his own.
“Like you said, I’m the only one who can link you to all this, Cray.”
“Is that a threat, Sam Bob?”
“Call it an accommodation.”