Highball Rush (Bootleg Springs #6) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,121

gaped at the phone, his mouth hanging open. Then he swiveled his head to look at me. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just for shits and giggles, what’s your boss’s name?” I’d gotten enough out of him, but I wanted to see if I could get him to say it.

He closed his mouth, narrowing his eyes at me, like the gears in his drunken brain were slowly turning. “His name? You’re recording me, aren’t you?”

“Yup. And West Virginia is a one-party state. I can legally record you without your knowledge. But really, who do you work for? You know you want to tell me.”

He hiccupped and laughed at the same time. “Judge Henry Kendall. He’s the boss man. Did I tell you he’s a shady fucker? Knows how to keep his hands clean, though.”

“I imagine he does.” I grabbed the phone and tapped the screen to stop recording and make sure it saved. Then I held it up. “You’re too shitfaced to understand what just happened. But when you wake up in a jail cell in the morning, I want you to remember two things. One, you told us everything we need to know to put that piece of shit judge away for good. And two, if you slept with Misty Lynn Prosser, I suggest you get yourself tested for just about everything under the sun.”

Nicolette held up another cell phone. “Used both, so there’s a backup.”

“Thanks, Nicolette,” I said. “I owe you big for this.”

“Just doing my part.”

I got up and nudged the swaying Lee. “Where’s the judge now?”

He burped. “Not sure. He was in Washington. Congressional hearing soon.”

“Is he coming out here? When you told him Misty Lynn said Callie Kendall is in Bootleg, did he say he was coming?”

“Don’t know. He wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you that. Did I tell you he kept me out of prison? Dirty fucker, but he knows how to keep his hands clean. That’s my job.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Hey Bow, can y’all get this guy out of here? Take my phone with you and give it to the sheriff.”

George came up behind Bowie and cracked his knuckles. They wouldn’t have any trouble lifting him into someone’s car.

“We got it,” Bowie said. “Where you going?”

“I gotta get back. If the Kendalls might be coming…”

“Shit,” Jameson said.

“Exactly. Get this fucker in a jail cell.”

I left Lee Williams in the capable hands of George and my brothers and took off to find Callie. She was with my sister tonight. Hardly a person alive I trusted more than Scarlett Rose.

I’d gotten everything out of him. Sonny Fullson was some kind of goddamn genius. So I should have been relieved. Breathing easier.

But I wasn’t. The Kendalls knew. Lee hadn’t believed Misty Lynn, but the judge and his psycho wife would. They knew their daughter was here, in Bootleg Springs. And I had a very strong feeling they were about to show up, looking for her.

Or looking to get rid of her for good.

39

MAYA

Gibson was up to something. I didn’t know what, but it was obvious. He’d spent a full ten minutes texting earlier today. That was the equivalent of a half-day of conversation for Gibs. Then he’d left me at his house with Scarlett while he went out.

He’d barely let me out of his sight since the Cock Spurs game. The only place I’d gone in the last week had been Henrietta’s cabin. Since then, I’d been hiding out at Gibson’s, usually with the doors locked and the windows covered.

Scarlett had turned up with snacks, and we’d gotten comfortable on the couch, Cash happily napping between us. She’d spent the last hour trying to pry sordid rock-star stories out of me. She was a Bootlegger. Gossip-hunting was in her blood.

“I’m bored,” she said, crumpling up a food wrapper. “I don’t mean I’m bored talkin’ to you, I just mean being here makes me bored. I feel like getting out.”

For the first time since arriving, I was starting to feel a little stir crazy myself. “I could stand a few hours of different scenery. But I don’t think I should go into town.”

“I completely agree.” She sat up and started typing on her phone.

“What are you thinking?”

“We’ll bring the party to us. Outside, not in here. Gibs has plenty of space. We’ll get a good bonfire going, turn on some music. It’ll be fun. And totally safe.”

Gibson wasn’t going to like Scarlett throwing a bonfire at his house. But I’d be able to make him feel better about

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