“I’m new in town, and I thought I’d be neighborly, stop by and introduce myself.”
Bullshit.
The agent had dropped by unannounced to make an impression, and he had. Namely, there was a new player in town, and he was putting them on notice.
“Awful kind of you. Is this a new meet and greet service the federal government’s providin’?”
“Only to a very distinct set of citizens.”
They gazed at one another, taking each other’s measure.
“I see.”
“I dropped by on my way from the new federal supermax in Waco. Ever been to one of those?’
“Can’t say I have.”
Byron was aware of supermax prisons, where the government kept its most dangerous criminals. With the solitary confinement, extreme security measures, and surveillance, supermax prisons made GITMO look like a vacation spot. He intended to never see the inside of one of those if he could help it.
“What about you boys?” Thorne turned to glance at Jasper and Ten.
“I have.” Ten raised a hand.
“Really? They don’t allow visitors.”
“I know, Agent.” Ten’s face was utterly blank.
Byron rolled his eyes. Ten could be downright cagey. Who knows if he was lying or telling the truth? Maybe he just enjoyed fucking with them for sport.
Thorne’s brow furrowed. “Then how’d you…?”
“Long story.” He shrugged.
“Well, they give me the creeps, like concrete tombs or some such.”
“I thought it was homey.” Ten’s lips curled.
Byron could almost see the agent making mental notes to follow up on Ten’s story.
Thorne turned to Byron. “I’m surprised you’ve never been, given your family’s history.”
Was he making a veiled threat? Byron had heard they were rounding up high-ranking mafia members in prison and shipping them to supermax, as a way to break the lines of communication. Some criminals were able to run their operations from the inside like Buckley had with Byron’s help.
“Ah, now I won’t deny my family has a lawless past, but we’ve got a respectable present and a bright future. We’re all law-abidin’ citizens these days.” It was a half-truth. Most of his relatives were respectable, but not all, and certainly not him.
“Is that right? Ain’t how I heard it. How many reputable citizens have their own private army?”
“You flatter me, makin’ me sound all grand. It’s a little bitty security detail—nothin’ special. When you’re wealthy and famous, it pays to have protection.”
Thorne’s eyes hardened. “I’m sure it does in your line of work.”
“Now that we’ve discussed my background, it’s time to talk about yours. Whereabouts you from?”
“I’m a ’Bama boy. Grew up outside of Birmingham, but my most recent assignment brings me to Abilene.”
“Been there a time or two.” Abilene was about a thirty-minute ride from Hell, Texas. The nearest FBI office was in Dallas, and Byron liked the added distance—it kept a good three hours between him and the feds.
“The FBI opened a satellite office?”
“Yeah, for a special task force. I’ll be headin’ it up.”
Thorne didn’t offer any info on the nature of the task force, and Byron didn’t ask. There was a chess game going on between them, and he wouldn’t be the one who blinked first.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you kindly.” He inclined his head. “I’m really lookin’ forward to gettin’ started.” Thorne leaned back in his chair. “Come to think of it, I think you might’ve met a friend of mine.”
“Oh?” Byron didn’t so much as breathe. But you’d never know he was perturbed by looking at his face. Over the years, Byron had mastered keeping his body language in check.
“Yes, Chris Warner, out of the Dallas FBI field office. He came to Hell to investigate a motorcycle gang, the Four Horsemen MC. Heard of them?”
Holy shit.
Chills raced down his spine. That was the very man Byron had murdered in this room.
“Why, yes, I’m familiar with the Four Horsemen.” They did dirty work for the Dixie Mafia and not by choice.
“And Agent Warner?”
“The name rings a bell. Although, I believe he was lookin’ into the Raptors MC, a group out of Canyon City.”
“You’re right. He got curious about the Four Horsemen and checked them out too. And he mentioned lookin’ into you—right before he up and vanished.”
“Don’t that beat all?” Byron rubbed his chin. “Hope you find him. While I enjoyed meetin’ you, and at the risk of bein’ impolite, I’m afraid I got a business meetin’.” Byron stood and buttoned his coat.