Justice for None: Texas Justice Book #1 by JM Harvey Page A

Rover! And look at what he done to my hand!”
    The room was a small office with your standard two guest chairs, a filing cabinet and a desk, but that’s where the similarity ended. A huge bible lay open on a lectern behind the desk and the walls were covered with crucifixes in various colors and styles. There must have been hundreds of them. The spaces between the crosses held an assortment of photos. All of them were of Confederate Syndicate MC members flying their colors, sitting astride Harleys or leaning against trucks, brandishing weapons or posing with girls with fake boobs and tired eyes. Lamar and Lemuel Sutton were prominently featured in many of the photos.
    “Kiss the boo-boo, daddy,” Jasper hooted as he crossed the narrow room and dropped to a seat on the corner of the desk. He cocked his left boot behind his right knee and eyed Zeke scornfully.
    Garland Sutton was sitting behind the desk, his boot heels propped on top of it among a mess of plastic cups and fast food wrappers. It looked like he and Jasper had just finished lunch. The smell of greasy chicken hung in the air mixing with Jasper’s animal funk.
    Garland dropped his feet to the floor, his boot heels making a hollow ring on the concrete. “Welcome, Mr. Justice, and may Jesus shine his light on your soul,” he boomed in his tent-revival voice as he rose and circled the desk, right hand outthrust. Garland was short, five-foot-six at best, with a thick head of steel-colored hair shaped into a southern-Pentecostal coiffure. Dressed in an un-tucked white dress shirt, pressed blue jeans, a gold Rolex circling his left wrist, he didn’t look like an ex-con with six felonies on his record; he looked like a very successful businessman. Maybe a used car wholesaler. A very tough one, and the cars were probably stolen, but a businessman, still.
    Garland’s jovial greeting caught Val flatfooted. Without thought, he took the offered hand.
    “Daddy, he wrecked your Rover!” Zeke said again.
    “I heard you the first time Ezekiel,” Garland said, his hard little eyes never wavering from Valentine.
    “He broke my wrist—”
    “Heard that part too,” Garland cut his son off. He was still wringing Val’s hand. Still smiling. “Seems like Mr. Justice just plain don’t like us Suttons,” he said as he released his grip. He turned to Zeke, gave him a sour frown and pointed at the door. “Go get Gene to drive you to the hospital.”
    Zeke started to say something else, but a glare from Garland silenced him. He turned and slunk out the door without another word.
    Garland turned, circled his desk and flopped back into his chair. He pointed Val at a metal folding chair.
    Val didn’t want to sit, especially with Jasper perched on the corner of the desk like an impatient vulture, but he did it anyway. He’d stick to being cordial for as long as Garland did the same. But Val was tense. He stayed on the edge of the seat, keeping his feet under him and his hand near the little .25 in his hip pocket.
    Garland was silent as he picked up a small bible that lay at the center of his desk and thumbed it open. “Zeke ain’t much,” he finally said, scowling at the bible page. “You killed the pick of the litter. Left me with nothing but a crippled bitch and a junkie.” His jaw ground and his face twisted in on itself like he was swallowing shattered glass. But he choked it down and plastered a paper-thin smile on his face when he looked up at Val. “The past is the past. Forgiveness is a blessing for both the sinner and them that’s been sinned against.”
    “Skip the bible lesson and get to the point, Garland,” Val said impatiently.  “What do you want?”
    Garland sighed. “The money,” he said. “Lamar and Lemuel’s money. The money they stole before you shot them down like dogs. Fifteen million dollars in cash and gold.” He paused meaningfully, his dingy eyes searching Val’s face. “It was never found. But Abby came by here last week and told