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my gut, Sam. In addition to being an extremely dangerous man, Jeb Stuart Jones is a racist misogynistic pig. He’s cynical, obnoxious, and despises me. As I told you yesterday, because of who I am AND because of who you are, he’ll be gunning for you. I hate like hell to put you in this spot, all because of your fucking race. And I wouldn’t… except that I need you.”
    “Nate, for God’s sake, what do you think has been the story of my life? I can handle it, I promise you. You don’t need to worry about me. My skin was tougher than it is black by the time I was five years old. The thing I worry most about is Annika. I know how these racist supremacist assholes feel about a black man dating a white woman.” He shrugged. “But that’s too damn bad. They keep it up and Annika and I might not invite them to our wedding.”
    Nate couldn’t hide his surprise. After a moment he gave Sam a satisfied nod.
    “You know what, Hollywood? Jeb Stuart Jones may just have met his match.”
    “He already has, Nate. He’s met you.”
    ~~~
    Sam let out a low whistle and shook his head in astonishment as they turned on to the curved fieldstone driveway that led to a huge Colonial house nestled in a grove of trees at least a quarter of a mile from the main road. Lush manicured gardens surrounded the house and a garage that looked more like an airplane hangar sat behind the Olympic size swimming pool. Being a car fiend Sam couldn’t hide his amazement at the entourage of high end automobiles visible in front of the eight car garage. He whistled again when he spotted what looked like a horse stable and a large training ring.
    “Holy shit, Nate. Man, this is not what I expected from an over the hill mini-Hitler skinhead.”
    “What did you expect?”
    “I dunno. Tents, an outhouse, dirty disheveled bearded people. A whole lot of broken- down trucks.”
    “Oh hell, Sam, of course Jeb’s got a truck.”
    Sam held up his hand with a grin. “No, let me, Nate. I know. In Northern Minnesota trucks are like assholes—everyone has one.”
    Nate chuckled. “Why Sam, I do believe you are picking up our culture. They’re not gonna recognize you when you get back to L.A.
    “Nope, Jeb Stuart Jones doesn’t fit any stereotype you’re likely to come up with. He is a true original. Kinda like Satan. Beautiful, charming, powerful—and evil. He is the vainest man I know. And I believe, a true sociopath. But I’ll let you decide if he fits your stereotype of a White Alliance terrorist.”
    “Jeb gets more intriguing by the minute, Nate. But damn, this is a showplace. Not exactly understated and must have cost a fortune. The grounds alone. Christ, riding stables? And an eight car garage? Damn!”
    “Yeah, Jeb’s hit it big. He’s been living well for a while now, but all of this is new. He built this place in the last twelve months. Now you and I know the kind of money that flows through this evil industry and somehow Jeb got himself hooked in with the big boys. I admit the magnitude of his activity caught me off guard. But I’m on him now like ugly on an ape.
    “By the way, in case you’re wondering what his legitimate business is, he sells guns and hunting equipment. He has several high end wilderness camps close to the Boundary Waters. Runs weekend warrior expeditions for wealthy guys who like to fish and hunt in style. The only way into the camps is by plane. Before you ask, yes, Jeb has several private planes. Says they come in handy to transport ‘groceries’ and the like into his remote camps.”
    “You go back a long way with this guy don’t you, Nate?”
    “Yeah and like I said yesterday, I could easily have fallen into the same rat hole he did. My cousin, Luke, he’s Connor’s older brother, was and is, my best friend. Luke, Cougar, Jeb and I were inseparable for a lot of years. We went from one dirty deed to another. Mama D and Marcus had a tight hold on Luke’s shirttails, and jerked him back no matter how many