Big Daddy Sheriff (Big Cedar Daddies #1)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Back in Little Rock, Hector Foster and Bruce Monahan stood in Alyssa’s garage apartment.

Hector kept watch, staring out the front window, while Bruce finished searching the place.

“You find anything?” Hector asked.

Bruce grunted. He was a man of few words.

Another minute passed. Bruce finally said, “Not even sure what we’re looking for.”

“Anything that ties Lana to any crimes.”

Bruce sidled up next to Hector and stared out the window, too. Ahead, they could see the driveway and, off to the side, the back of the main house. “The Feds already have plenty. You know that.”

“I know,” Hector agreed. “But you know how my cousin is. She’s thorough.”

Bruce grunted again. He nonchalantly sidestepped a few paces, giving himself just a bit of distance without appearing rude. Hector smelled too much like cough drops and cigarettes mixed with cologne. He’d never understood the proper amount for any of those things—not that there was a proper amount when it came to cigarettes. If Hector wanted to tear up his lungs, so be it. That was his business, Bruce figured.

“There’s nothing here. We need to leave before the homeowners get back,” Bruce said.

Hector sighed.

Bruce knew the other man hated it when he tried to take control. Technically, they occupied the same level on the organizational chart. Not that there was a chart. And not that it was even an official organization. They just worked for Lana. The one thing that was clear—set in stone—was that Lana called the shots.

Hector’s phone dinged. He fished it from his jeans and checked the screen. “It’s her.” He read the message for a few seconds. “Shit. She knows where the girl’s at.”

“Really? How?”

“Dunno. But she’s sending us to Oklahoma. She says to pack and get on the road first thing in the morning.”

“Alright,” Bruce said with a sigh, resigned to accepting the assignment.

Lana paid pretty well. Plus, what else would he do? A convicted felon didn’t have many job opportunities. Being a “fix-it man” for Lana was about as good as he was going to get. If he had to apply pressure to some young woman to get her to fold, then so be it.

And it looked like he was going to be doing it in Oklahoma.