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Ava watched Boyd drive off, disgusted with him, disgusted with herself. Of course Boyd was back to his old tricks, hanging around with Dewey Crowe, getting involved in whatever mess Dewey was bound to screw up this time. The respectful man who went to work and came home, quietly doing a real job, had never been going to last. She had been a fool to believe he would. Now she'd have to kick him out sooner or later. Probably sooner, before he got in too deep into whatever this was, and it was already too late because deep down she knew she didn't want to have to kick him out.

It was comforting to have him in the house, to know there was someone there if she needed a hand, to have someone to talk to and someone to cook for, even if that someone was her former husband's brother.

What an idiot she'd been to let him in in the first place, she thought, going to the refrigerator for a cool drink. She didn't get it, though, because the next knock at her door was that of another man she'd been an idiot to let in in the first place.

Raylan Givens. At least he had the grace to look like he knew he wasn't welcome on her porch. But he was on her porch anyway, asking for a minute of her time. Not because of her, no. Because of Boyd. Because Boyd and Raylan were more of a pair than she and Raylan had ever been.

She left the screen door firmly shut between them. "What can I do for you, Raylan?"

He was upfront about it, that he was here for Boyd. She pointed out the absence of Boyd's truck, and Raylan pretended he didn't know damn well Boyd wasn't here. She'd had about enough of charming men who smiled at you while they tried to get what they wanted out of you.

Ava decided she wanted more than this from Raylan. She pushed the screen door open and stepped out, practically in his arms when he didn't step back. "Tell the truth. You come to my door to talk to Boyd, or to ask me why he's livin' in my house?"

Raylan still didn't move, didn't take his eyes off her. She wished she thought he cared. "I'm here on business, Ava," he said softly.

"Raylan, Bowman didn't leave me with much more than shitty memories and a balloon payment on a mortgage that I can't afford. Now, I work at the beauty parlor in Corkum, but it ain't hardly enough." She tugged on his tie, enjoying being this close to him even though she couldn't have him. Truth to tell, enjoying the response she could feel in his body, too, knowing he wanted her but wouldn't let himself have her. That wasn't hardly enough, either, but it was better than nothing. "Boyd, he helps out. I know it's odd," she admitted. Then she added the even odder part. "But do you realize he's the only kin I have left?" Other than Jeremiah, but Lord only knew where her uncle'd got himself off to these days.

"Sounds … mutually beneficial," Raylan agreed. "Has he left for work?"

"We have an arrangement!" Ava insisted, not wanting to talk about Boyd's current whereabouts. She wanted Raylan's eyes on her, his attention on her, for reasons having as much to do with Boyd's safety from the law as her own needs. The man was living in her house, he was her responsibility. She'd cover for him until she had to kick him out, as best she could. She took her cigarettes and walked across the sun-warmed boards of the porch. "No liquor in the house—I was drinkin' way too much, maybe you noticed," she added, giving Raylan an arch glance. He had liked her liquored up. He'd liked being liquored up.

But he wasn't paying her any mind, instead peering through the screen door into the house.

"And, um, no trouble with the law," Ava continued. "He does anything I find the least bit offensive, I throw him out. It's really pretty simple." She put the cigarette in her mouth and lit it.

"Ava. While I'm here. I'm lookin' into the possibility that he had a hand in hijacking an oxy bus. Shootin' a guard."

Oxy. Well, didn't that just take the case. Just the kind of idiocy Dewey Crowe would be messing around with—just the kind of thing Boyd had sworn he was over and done with.

"There are these pill mills in Florida," Raylan went on, "don't computerize records. Dixie Mafia's been hirin' busloads of folks to …"

"I know what an oxy bus is, I read the papers," Ava broke in, unimpressed by how his accent went back to what it had been growing up anytime he wanted to seem like home folks again. "You think Boyd hijacked one?"

"Wouldn't be standin' here otherwise."

Boyd Crowder was gonna get an earful next time Ava saw him, that was for sure. She sank down on the loveseat. "Guess that explains Dewey bein' here."

"Dewey Crowe? He was here."

"Mm-hm. He and Boyd were arguin' about somethin'. I didn't pay much attention to what. Guess maybe I should have." She hadn't wanted to, and that was her own damned foolishness again. When was she ever going to learn?

Raylan knew he'd gotten under her skin. He took a seat next to her, just close enough. "Ava."

"Mmhm."

"Anything you could tell me, would be helpful."

She debated. But if Boyd was back at his old ways, the best thing she could do for herself was to set Raylan on his trail. With any luck, they'd take care of each other and she'd be well rid of both of them. "Boyd already left for his night shift. But he doesn't go straight to the mine. He stops at Audrey's first. I'm sure you know where that is. You probably lost your virginity there." Audrey's was an institution, after all, although Ava would have bet good money that Boyd wasn't taking advantage of the more colorful parts of the bar. Just the whiskey, just the fortification to get him through the shift. Going down the mine was a shitty job. Ava was impressed by the men who did it, and saddened for them, too. It didn't really surprise her if Boyd was looking elsewhere. He had too much gumption to waste his life in a hole in the ground.

She got up, signaling to Raylan that he'd had all he was going to get from her. "Good luck."