Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I’m a few miles from her house when I see it. Tire tracks veering off onto the shoulder. She kicked up a lot of snow and gravel that’s now scattered over the road.
Behind hers is another set of tracks. I get out of the truck to take a closer look—the wheels are wide enough that I would bet it was an SUV or truck. One of those obnoxious pieces of shit that are more for show and less for getting work done.
I’m not sure why I’m here. There’s nothing I can do, and no evidence I can use. Standing here, I can almost imagine myself in the moment. She must’ve been terrified. But instead of losing her shit and crashing the car, she fought her way back onto the road and made it home.
Pride warms the ice forming around my heart. My stubborn filly wouldn’t give up.
Yet somebody could have taken her away from me tonight. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard a person fights. Certain things can’t be survived.
I climb back into the truck and slam the door. I can’t remember the last time I was this ready to kill someone. I don’t give a fuck who they are or how many. No one touches what’s mine and lives.
The guy following her did a U-turn a few hundred yards past the point where Allie got back on the road a second time. I do the same, following their tracks. They might not know it, but they made the choice to die tonight. First, I’ll find out who put them up to it. A grim smile starts to spread when I imagine how I’ll torture the information out of them.
I’ll torture them, even if they give up the name right away—just for the hell of it.
An unwelcome voice fills my head. She needs you.
What happened to all the thinking and planning?
What about protecting her? Being strategic?
Goddammit. She does need me, and that means staying out of jail, which means no starting shit because it’ll quiet the rage inside me. All it takes is remembering how she broke down in a panic attack to loosen my jaw and cool my boiling blood. Not all the way, but enough to think through my next steps. I would be leaving her to the wolves if I went off half-cocked and lashed out. She can’t handle this on her own.
I need to be better for her sake. I’m fumbling in the dark right now.
The tracks follow a very familiar route, as it turns out. The tracks eventually blend into others, but they all lead to one place. Before I know it, I’m turning into the parking lot of The Rusty Nail. There are dozens of vehicles out here, mostly trucks, but a handful of SUVs, too. I have one thing on my mind when I get out, so my boots can crunch over the crust of snow: finding a scratched-up front bumper or fender. I’m casual about it, walking slowly, a man without a care in the world.
“Son of a bitch.” Sure enough, there’s a silver truck propped up on wide tires, boxed between a pair of pickups. Except for the scratches on the front passenger side, it’s pristine. Montana plates. Could be a rental.
A tapestry of ugly, violent images plays in my head. Like one of those horror films that’s more blood splatter than story. I see myself waiting out here, watching for them, and following them out. Seeing how they like being chased down. Blowing their fucking brains out once I finally catch up, leaving them for the wolves to scavenge.
I’ll slash their tires. Leave them stranded. Offer them a ride, like the nice guy I am, then drive to the middle of nowhere and carve them up.
I could walk into the bar and blow them away in front of dozens of witnesses.
No. There isn’t much I learned in Roman’s office that I want to take with me into the future, but there were a few pearls of wisdom worth carrying. He was always scheming, sometimes looking far ahead.
Instead of shedding blood tonight, I go inside. Rick looks up from the glasses he’s stacking when I take a seat at the polished brass rail and gets a wary look about him. “Don’t want no trouble tonight,” he warns.
“Wasn’t planning on getting into any trouble.” I jerk my chin toward the whiskey bottle behind him. “But you never know. Sometimes trouble finds me.”
“Yeah, some people are a magnet for it.” He can bitch and moan if he wants. I’ve spent a lot of good money in this place, and we both know it.
While he’s pouring my drink, I look around like I’m surveying the crowd. The usual barflies are telling the same stories they’ve told a hundred times. The couples dancing close to the jukebox, groping each other’s asses, are kissing sloppily. Guys throw darts, making bets. The usual people looking to unwind after a long day.