“Yep,” he replied.

“What else?” she prompted.

“Nothin’,” Layne said and Rocky was silent.

Then she said, “Nothing?”

“Not one f**kin’ thing. Both of them came into existence about nine months ago. I’ve run every check there is, couldn’t find anything. They got credit cards, bank accounts, own their cars outright, pay their insurance, rent, utilities on time, except they do it with cash. Only thing they pay with check is the credit cards which, even though they live high, are cleared every month.”

“What does this tell you?” she asked.

“Well, seein’ as I dug deeper and found Victoria Aubry died of a stroke at age eight-two six years ago and her husband Baxter Aubry died a year and a half later of emphysema, it tells me the least those two are guilty of is identity theft.”

“Shit,” she whispered.

“Other than that, not much else,” Layne finished.

“What’s next?”

“What’s next is, we need a f**kin’ print. For both of ‘em.”

“Right,” she said softly.

“Baby,” he called and her arm squeezed him in response. “Goes without sayin’ it won’t be you gettin’ those prints.”

Rocky’s body tensed and her voice was terse when she said, “Of course.”

Layne slid down into the bed, taking her with him and rolling them both to their sides so they were face to face but his hand didn’t leave her ass and he gripped it when he murmured, “Just makin’ sure you stay my good girl.”

He felt her body give a small jerk before she relaxed into him and kissed his throat.

“I’m still your good girl,” she whispered there.

“Good,” he whispered back.

Her face came out of his throat and her head settled on the pillow. “Isn’t that enough?” she asked. “Identity theft is bad, even if people are dead. Can’t you hand it over to Merry now, get him away from those girls?”

“Yep,” Layne answered.

“Are you going to do that?”

“Yep, Merry or Colt or Sully or Mike, whoever I get to first.”

“Excellent,” she replied quietly.

“One problem with that, sweetcheeks,” Layne told her.

“What?”

“There’s somethin’ bigger here, somethin’ we don’t know. They got a shitload of money in the bank, they live high, she’s got a nice car, his is less than a year old, middle of the road but top of the line of its model. She’s either into somethin’ or they’re bankrolled.”

“So?”

“So, a weed grows, you don’t pull off its leaves, you yank out the root. My gut tells me there’s a big man pullin’ their strings and that man’s gotta go down so this stops, not only here but everywhere.”

“But the girls –”

“I’ll take care of the girls,” Layne assured her.

“How?”

“People like this, they got one allegiance, it isn’t to the head honcho, it isn’t even to money, it’s to themselves. If they know they’re f**ked, they’ll play.”

“Sorry?”

“We turn ‘em.”

“Layne, I’m not getting –”

“We get to them, get them to make a deal. In exchange for reduced jail time, they give us the big man and, in the meantime, stop whatever shit they’re doin’ with the girls.”

She was silent a second then she said, “Oh.” Then she shared her news. “Rumor in the halls is, Seth is taking Alexis McGraw out for pizza after the game tomorrow.”

Layne grinned.

Rocky continued, “And, word today was, Youth Group attendance spiked last night. It’s become the hot, in thing to go and see what the Layne boys are up to. Apparently, Jasper, Seth and their friend Mitch didn’t disappoint and TJ-slash-Baxter had his hands full attempting to explain how there could be dinosaurs and Adam and Eve. Not to mention, since half the football team was there, it’s becoming the hot spot to see and be seen, pick up chicks and socialize. It sounded to me like Wednesday’s Youth Group meeting was half Single’s Club and half philosophical debate on religion, both of which TJ-slash-Baxter didn’t have the tools to deal with.”

Layne’s grin turned into a smile. He’d seen himself the number of kids who’d walked out and it wasn’t sixty, it was more like eighty or higher. Jasper had been at work which was good. Part of Gaines’s advantage was that there were concerns voiced in whispers but no action. The more attention Youth Group had, the more parents would start waking up and asking questions and not in whispers, especially when Christian Youth Group became a Single’s Club for teenagers and an opportunity to jack around. It would be hard to recruit young girls for whatever he needed them for when they were more interested in the football team and when your attention was diverted by questions about creationism to which you probably didn’t have the answers and with angry parents breathing down your neck.

“Ryker’s surveilling the apartment,” Layne told Rocky. “We’ll see what he gets and if he can find a time when I can get in there. I’ll get prints, get someone at the Station to run them and have a sit down with the boys.” He gave her a squeeze and murmured, “This’ll be over soon, baby.”

Rocky burrowed into him and murmured back, “I hope so, Layne.”

“It will. Swear,” he promised.

She didn’t respond and Layne was about to roll to his back so she could pin him to the bed when she called softly, “Layne?”

“Yeah, sweetcheeks.”

He heard her hair move on the pillow.

“In your dreams…” she started then trailed off.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

“You said it’s good?”

Layne knew where this was going and he grinned.

“Yeah, it’s good.”

“What…” she paused, “what do we do?”

Layne didn’t hesitate. He rolled into her so he was on top of her.

“Layne?”

He found her mouth with his. “Show you,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her sides, taking the tee with it, she lifted her arms, he pulled it off and tossed it away. Then his mouth went back to hers. “Hold onto the slats in the headboard and don’t let go.”

“What?” she breathed.