Page 108 of Knox
Now, he had to figure out how to keep the Belles safe. Which meant his own team, buddies he’d put a callout to under the radar, but the kind who would have his back.
And then there was his family.
“So, you’re telling me none of this had to do with Vince Russell?” Knox said through the line. He had the phone on speakerphone, and from Tate’s understanding, the entire remaining Marshall clan, with the exclusion of their mother, crowded into Knox’s office to get the update on Glo and Kelsey.
Today, the town of Geraldine would congregate in the Marshall yard. Apparently, when Knox and the rest of the family had sat her down to cancel the party, she responded with, “We’re not going to let evil win. As long as Glo and Kelsey are okay, I’m going to celebrate my family and my friends—and the fact that no one died, again.”
A small part of him still died every time he closed his eyes and saw Glo lying in a pool of her own blood. He blew out a breath and continued the debriefing with his family.
“According to Senator Jackson, the threats started coming in weeks before the bombing in Texas, very specific about her stepping back from her run for office, or her—and her family members—getting hurt. Specifically, Glo.”
“Who is this group?” Reuben’s voice came over the line, and Tate imagined his big brother leaning over the desk, one strong hand bracing him.
“They’re called the Bryant League, an offshoot of a group called the World Can’t Wait, or WCW.”
“Aren’t they an affiliate of the Revolutionary Communist Party?” Ruby Jane asked. And of course, she would have heard of the radical left-wing group. “The RCP is an isolationist group—anti-war—but they’re also for isolation and socialist reform, calling for individual groups to fight back against government crimes, everything from the torture of military detainees to wiretapping. Which has led to a number of wildcat terrorist strikes that have been attributed to them.”
“Wildcat?” Wyatt asked.
“Unsanctioned attacks meant to put pressure on governments—or even the organization—to act,” Ruby Jane said. Her voice got closer. “Want me to do some checking into recent activity, Tate?”
“Yeah. And especially Arnie Gibbs, the so-called bomber from Texas. See if he has any affiliations. So far, Jackson’s people haven’t dug up much, but I think they’re just trying to get in front of it. She has a number of events coming up, including a huge fundraiser in Nashville in a few weeks that is drawing a lot of media attention.”
Silence, and he looked around to see if his voice bounced down the hallway. But he’d stalked down to a far corner of the waiting room and stood next to a wall and window, his voice low.
He didn’t need Jackson’s people hunting him down and accusing him of leaking something to the press.
Still, they all needed to prepare for the worst, so, “Knox, now is the time to show Ruby Jane your closet.”
“He already did,” RJ said. “Scary, but…now we have something to start connecting the dots.”
“And what about you…and, um, the Belles?” Knox asked, and Tate knew he was fighting the urge to ask about Kelsey.
Tate wasn’t sure what went down between them last night, but from the dark, pained looked on Knox’s face as Kelsey had followed him and Glo from the house, it didn’t look good. Add that to the fact that Knox wasn’t here, prowling the hallways with him, told him that Kelsey had put the kibosh on the romance between them.
Sorry, Knox. Because frankly, given the hollowed-out, whitened look Kelsey wore today after Senator Jackson’s news, she could probably use Knox’s solid presence.
In truth,Tatewould appreciate Knox’s solid presence. He wasn’t thrilled about stepping his foot back on the soil of Sin City. But he wasn’t going to leave Glo—or the rest of the Belles—unprotected, or worse, protected by grunts who didn’t know them.
Didn’t know the demons that chased Kelsey, that she needed extra time in her dressing room to get out of her head and onto the stage. Or how Dixie’s neck got so tight that she needed an ice pack after her set. Or that Glo had to figure out how to slough off her stress. She’d spent the few minutes before she went onstage during their last gig waging a thumb war with him. Of course, he’d let her win.
C’mon, McClane, don’t let me take you down.
No, he wasn’t going to let anyone else be the recipient of Glo’s nicknames.
Which meant he’d have to tame the flame she’d stirred up inside him, the one that nearly flashed over when she’d tucked her finger into the neck of his shirt, tugging him toward her lips.
His mouth had gone a little dry, the look in her eyes rising to thump him in the chest.
Finally.
Except, no. Not now.
Maybe not ever.
And maybe he’d been reading her wrong anyway, because she sure went quiet when Kelsey assured her mother that he was just her employee.
That was enough. It had to be.