Merciless

“I’d hate to see what crazies it’d bring out if we actually ran happy-hour specials.” He tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth. His eyes locked onto mine. “Why are you palling around with Hope?”

“Last-minute thing,” I said, and didn’t explain further. “When it dies down, I’d like to pick your brain about a couple of things.”

“Did Unci put you up to grilling me about my mom?”

“No.” Was he touchy and snappish tonight, or was it just me? “She’s worried about Penny.”

“Join the club.” He pulled taps and opened the cooler.

I should’ve waited to get a better bead on his mood, but the question had just popped out. “Has Saro been in lately?”

John-John lifted his head abruptly. The war braid with the red feather tip swung into his face, and he impatiently batted it aside. “Why are you asking me for this information?”

“I’m asking because I’ve had Saro’s blade at my throat, and I’m not eager to repeat the experience.”

He shot me a look that I interpreted as distrustful. Before I could cajole him or try charm, he said, “Why don’t you ask your partner? He’s been in here several times.”

Partner? At first I thought he meant Dawson, but I figured out he meant Shay. “Why has Turnbull been in here?”

“I asked him the same thing. He said he can drink anywhere he wants. Which sucks for me. If I blackball him, he’ll show up with a federal raiding party to see what I’m hiding, even though I ain’t hiding a damn thing.”

Christ. Talk about paranoid. But my defense of my employer and Shay would only piss him off, so I bit my tongue.

“So I serve him. He’s been in here once when Saro showed up. They ignored each other, although the brooding G-man was awful damn interested in Saro’s new recruits.”

“And here I hoped Saro had given up his evil ways after his brother was murdered.” I sipped my beer. “Is Saro recruiting in here?”

“Doubtful. He’s only been in a half-dozen times in the last five months. But he don’t have to do much to recruit anyway. People line up to get in with him, even after all the shit that went down. People you’d never expect.”

That comment caught my notice. “Like who?”

“Like punks with no other job choice. Like idiots who have a falling-out with their family.”

I frowned. He wouldn’t give me names; he expected me to guess. Or he expected me to know. Except I didn’t have insight on the inner workings on the Eagle River rez. I never had. The one person who had that knowledge, Rollie, was currently pissed off at me. Rollie was pissed off at everybody, it seemed. Me. Verline. His son.

Wait a second. My eyes met John-John’s. “Junior Rondeaux?”

He nodded.

“Holy shit.” Jesus, I was an idiot.

It hit me, then, the seriousness of my rookie mistake, keeping the information Mackenzie Red Shirt had given me about Junior Rondeaux to myself. It could have tremendous impact on this case, since Junior had ties to that murderous bastard Saro, and to Arlette. Turnbull would have every right to dress me down when I finally came clean with him.

John-John leaned closer. “Why’s this so surprising to you?”

“Because I tried to track Junior down yesterday.”

“Why?”

“Some of that pesky fed stuff you don’t wanna know about and I can’t tell you about anyway.”

He shrugged. “Well, you ain’t gonna find him in here because he’s banned.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

“What did he do to get blackballed?”

“He’s a Rondeaux.”

“That’s it?”

John-John glanced away and then refocused on me with eyes as hard as concrete. “I know you’re friends with Rollie. But he ain’t no friend of mine or my family. I’d lose customers if him or any of his spawn stepped foot in here. So they ain’t welcome. Ever.”

“Rollie knows this?”

“Yep.”

“But… you let him in when Geneva’s group talked me into running for sheriff.”

“They didn’t give me a choice.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this Rondeaux clan ban when I worked for you?”

John-John ignored me and walked to the end of the bar.

Goddammit. I hated not knowing shit like this, even when I told everyone to leave me out of their family dramas. For years Rollie had made barbs about John-John’s psychic abilities. And about Sophie being uppity. I don’t know why I hadn’t drawn the parallels that there was bad blood between him and the whole Red Leaf family. I’d always chalked it up to Rollie being an ass.

I spun my bar stool toward Hope.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you know why the Red Leaf family and the Rondeaux family are enemies?”

She picked at her thumbnail before she met my gaze. “No. And that’s not me protecting Jake. He won’t talk about it, Sophie won’t talk about it. But it seems to be more a problem between the Pretty Horses and the Rondeaux. The Red Leaf kids and grandkids got caught in the middle.”