Cowboy Logic - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,4

We’re doing cooking!” Oh, she sounded over the moon.

“Hey, that sounds… fun.” Dangerous. Miz Wiley and Miz Fraeme were good scout leaders, though. They would never let the girls have knives or open flame.

“Uh-huh. We’re decorating cookies and a cupcake.”

“Girly stuff,” Travis said. “I would rather make a pizza.”

“Give it a few more years and you can get a job at Domino’s, butthead.”

“Da-ad.”

“Papa John’s?”

“He’s more the McDonald’s type,” Ellie shot back.

Oh, snap.

“He could make the Filet-O-Fish.” Once upon a time, when he was eight, Travis had decided to try the fish sammie. It had gone poorly.

“Oh gag. That so sucked. I think I barfed.”

“I know you did.” He’d laughed himself silly even though he’d had to clean it up.

“I like fish, Daddy, right? I like it with the pickle stuff.”

“You are my adventurous girl.” Ellie would eat squid sushi and pho and all manner of stuff her granny gave her.

“I am. Can we get ice cream after?”

“It’s a school night, baby.”

“We could go through the drive-through.” Travis’s voice went pleading.

“We’ll see what kind of cookies and cupcakes we get from the troop, huh?”

“Okay. Okay, Daddy, but maybe?”

“Maybe.” She might just become a politician. She sure could negotiate.

He heard a whisper from Travis, and their heads were bent together, which was ominous, but he couldn’t tell what was said.

God save him. He wasn’t sure he was going to survive this.

Chapter 3

Butterflies filled Anderson’s stomach. He wasn’t Logic here, not in deep East Texas. The farther he got from DFW, the more he was Anderson Whitehead.

He ached, the drive strange and weirdly familiar all at once. Nothing was the same. Everything was the same. All sorts of emotions rushed at him, but he had to focus on Bailey. She needed him to keep a clear head and a steady hand.

He had a shotgun in the toolbox, a triple shot almond milk latte in the drink holder, and KSCS on the radio. Welcome to northeast Texas.

All he had to do was run off whoever this loser was, stick around a few days to prove he was serious about the asshat not coming back, and then go home. Easy.

Hopefully he didn’t have to kill anyone, because, awkward.

Chuckling, he shook his head. If this was the kind of guy who could threaten women and children in hiding, he would slink off like the coward he was when a gun was waved in his face.

And if he didn’t? Well, Anderson’d left Delta County fifty pounds and three inches ago. Bailey would know him. No one else would. There had never been a “hometown boy makes good” news feature on Anderson “Logic” Whitehead. Never would be either.

This wasn’t his fucking home.

He was from the West Coast, and he would only claim that.

Anderson turned up the radio. He needed to sing. God, he was hungry, but he didn’t want to stop. At least first class had served some heated nuts.

Surely Sister would have some peanut butter. He’d just live with that. God knew if he ate now, he might throw up. He hated confrontation, but he could do it and kick some serious A.

His fans would be surprised about that, after all those years of playing up the overcompensation in the bot arena, but he did have that black belt…

The mile markers flew by, and he itched to call Bailey, but he didn’t want to tip this guy off. He would sweep in by surprise.

She knew he was coming. Hopefully the kids were in their rooms or gone or something. Had she said? God, that phone call was hours ago.

A lifetime ago.

The what-ifs threatened to overwhelm him, but his big sis was smart. She would do her best to protect her kids and herself until help arrived.

That was him.

For once, he got to be her hero.

He looked at the clock, then the miles to go. Okay. Okay, he could do this.

He needed to do this for Sister.

Did he have a bottle of water? He thought there was one in his bag, one of those teeny ones from the plane. He dug in his backpack, on the seat next to him. Boom.

He pulled off the two-lane highway and headed toward the ranch. The closer he got, the calmer he became. He was no high plains drifter coming to settle old scores. He was just a geek with a gun, but Bailey and her kids were his family. The ranch road still made a little bile rise into his throat.

God, he wanted to go home.

“Soon.” The sound of his voice