Bounty(94)

But Jussy’s Mr. T was still around, his command center being mobile, managing her situation, as well as the careers of her aunt and uncle, him either running it out of Justice’s living room, La-La Land or Carnal Hotel.

In order for him to do this, he’d somehow pulled some strings to have the cable company turn Jussy’s service on as a matter of urgency (this meaning it was done by Wednesday afternoon). And that day he’d brought all the equipment to establish a network with Wi-Fi, set it up in the room that’d be her study, all of it protected from the construction with heavy plastic tarps.

This allowed Jussy to go full steam ahead with her decorating and she was approving shit her designer sent left and right (shit, Deke did not miss, she only approved if she had his approval too).

Not to mention, she’d already given the go ahead for some dead-cool deck furniture, a lot of it, all of it looking like it was made out of logs or hefty branches with thick tan cushions. That had been delivered and set up on her back deck.

This came complete with decorations. Big kickass outdoor candleholders, large colorful pots, even a fucking outdoor rug.

She loved it and Deke approved since she could sit out there while he was working, Jussy not breathing any drywall dust, and he could still see her.

Every day he worked. Every night they came back to his trailer and it was not lost on him that she did not lie when she said, outside of being with her father’s guitars, being in that trailer was the second best place she could be.

She visibly relaxed the minute she climbed in.

At first, Deke sensed it was being in a place he’d made safe after what had been done to her.

Then it became more like she was just coming home.

It was a huge fucking understatement to say he liked that.

Since her attack (and even before, if he’d been paying attention), it had become clear she was no fake gypsy princess. She was a straight-up gypsy, more at home in an Airstream with electricity running from a generator and not a single soul within miles than she was in her big house by a river.

And with that, as well as driving up to her house and seeing two police cruisers, a lot more had become clear to Deke because those cruisers extricated Deke’s head right out of his ass.

And he started paying attention.

Jussy was Justice Lonesome, the girl who’d inherited a lot of money and even more talent from her father, the girl who made her own mark on that world.

But that was what it was and it was only a small part of who she was.

In reality, she was just Jussy, even if being just Jussy said a fuckuva lot.

Deke had no idea if he could work with that.

What he did know was that he was going to try.

He also had no idea where Jussy’s head was at with that except she did not once balk at waking up with him, going to work with him, coming home with him and bedding down with him.

She gave him long looks occasionally and he knew it was on her mind to ask what the fuck was up with him…with them…because in the beginning, all the shit he was doing could be shit any friend would do.

It had long since gone past that.

But on Wednesday he’d noted she’d just settled into it. She dug him. They were tight. She needed him. Shit was extreme. She was taking what he had to give, all of it, because she wanted it that way.

He’d share later exactly all that entailed.

Right then, they had to get through that day.

And that night.

That day being the day Brendan Caswell said he was going to come back and finish the job he’d started a week before.

Decker had found out who Bianca Constantine owed a substantial amount of money, that motherfucker being a man named Brendan Caswell.

Deck had not found Bianca, but he’d found she was in deep shit with this Brendan guy, a dealer, low level, ambitious, wanting to make his mark and move up the ranks. But he’d gotten in heavy with Bianca, thinking with her pedigree of having a fading bombshell B-movie star of a mom and the lead guitar of a heavy metal band dad that she’d be good for it…or someone would.

Bianca was in the wind. Caswell was too.

Chace’s hands were tied to local investigations and they got nothing. No prints. No tire tracks. No one in town had seen the guy. DNA tests took weeks, sometimes months, but although Caswell had a record, he did not have DNA on file. They’d have to catch him and test him to put him there with Jussy because she couldn’t identify him since he’d been wearing a mask.

The only good news with this was that Decker had reported he had solid leads and felt he was closing in on Bianca, his priority (according to Jussy) if not Caswell.

“Wouldn’t say this, man, if I didn’t believe it but think we’ll have our hands on her in twenty-four hours. She proves even more slippery than she’s been, intel we got is still tight so the most it’ll be is forty-eight. So hang in,” Decker had told Deke the day before.