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“What is going on, Father?” Dove demanded. “The last we talked, you were adamant the Iron Fiends were who you were going after, and you were headed for the US attorney general.”
Russ ran his fingers through his perfectly coifed hair. “My reliable source came to me from Boone Drake, who is the current US attorney general.”
He talked like that name should mean anything to us. We didn’t fuck around in things that would bring the United States attorney general into our orbit.
“He’s been rallying me to take his place. He’s getting older and wants to retire on the lake with his family. He, of course, had the president's ear and said he had been talking me up to him. Hell, I was at the damn White House last month for dinner. Everything was going exactly as it should. Boone said I just needed one good case to put me right in his seat.”
Sounded like a typical politician. Sit in a cushy office for years and then retire with a hefty nest egg on a ritzy lake.
“That one good case was to take down the Iron Fiends, huh?” Compass smirked.
Russ looked at Dove. “It was like my dream landed right in my lap, and all I had to do was grab it. Boone told me the case would be a slam dunk.”
“What did you do?” Dove whispered.
“Boone changed his mind. More like his mind was changed for him, and I was suddenly out.” Russ resumed pacing. “The party decided they wanted to endorse Craig Gibbs instead. He’s a hotshot lawyer from Houston who’s been putting away big members of the Kilmore gang.”
“Damn,” Pirate muttered. “You can’t get me to watch the news, but even I’ve heard about the gang going down.”
“That’s because it is a pretty big deal. No one has been able to successfully prosecute them until Gibbs. He’s put away three of the top players of the gang in the past month,” Russ explained. “Impressive.”
“So why can’t they just switch over to him and leave you alone?” Dove asked.
“Because he knows too much,” Yarder drawled.
“Yes,” Russ confirmed.
“You called me this morning and seemed surprised about the car crashing into the clubhouse, though,” Dove pointed out.
“Because I was,” Russ sighed. “I didn’t know I was out until this afternoon. I figured Boone would have his people plant drugs or something in the clubhouse. When I sent you here, I was hopeful you would find them, and that would be it. From what I can gather now, there are things happening as we speak that will tear the club down. They want you to make choices that will put you right in the crosshairs of the law.”
Who the fuck was them?
“Then stop those things, Dad. Stop whatever you started,” Dove demanded. “You have to. You’re the Texas state attorney general,” Dove whaled.
Russ shook his head. “This is completely out of my hands now. I’ll be lucky if I finish my term without being six feet under. I’ve got four months before the next election, and someone else takes over as state attorney general.”
“Then what happens to you?” Pirate asked.
“If I’m alive, I get the hell out of politics and retire in the mountains somewhere while looking over my shoulder until I die.”
How lovely.
What the fuck did Russ Finely get into?
“Was the car crashing into the clubhouse last night the beginning?” Yarder asked.
“It has to be,” Russ sighed.
“No, the gym blowing up had to be the start,” Pirate pointed out.
Russ shook his head. “That happened before Boone came to me. That has nothing to do with me.”
“Great,” Stretch drawled. “The two aren’t connected, which means we’ve got two targets on our backs now.”
“If I were you guys, I would be more worried about the one I put there.” Russ’ phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.
“Someone important calling?” Yarder asked.
