He Let Her Wear His Shirt, So I Froze the Club's Money novel · Chapter 13 of 24

Chapter 13: Honey

Boone's hand went to the door handle.

"Don't," I said.

"He's twenty feet from my face, Hal."

"And he's alone in a lot behind a feed store, and you have a cracked rib."

Gus waited with his hands loose at his sides.

He had waited that way at every funeral and every bank meeting I had ever sat through with him.

"Roll the window down, son," he said. "I'm not going to hurt anybody."

Boone looked at me.

I nodded once, and he turned the crank.

"That's better." Gus leaned one forearm on the door. "I came for the recorder, but I can see you've listened to it already. I'd have done the same."

"You followed us," I said.

"I followed Tawny's flatbed to the Tecumseh turnoff on Saturday and I've kept a man on that unit since. I just wasn't quick enough to beat you through the door."

He said it kindly, as if he were apologizing for being late to dinner.

"Here is where we are, honey. You have a tape. I have sixty-one paychecks, a clubhouse lease, and the head of a table I've sat at for twenty years."

"Ten of them voted for me on Sunday," I said.

"Ten men voted for payroll." He smiled. "Not the same thing, and you know it."

Boone's jaw worked.

"Mags rents the Tin Cup from the club," Gus said, still gentle. "Her husband's founder share keeps her on the property. A vote could end that tomorrow. I only mention it."

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