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“Tex, I need a favor,” Josephine Wanders said into her mouthpiece.
“Jo, you always need a favor. Who is it this time?”
Not what, but who. Oh, the man knew her. Jo chuckled soundlessly.
Tex was a hardcore son of a bitch. A medically-retired Navy SEAL who had made it his mission to help any special forces entity that needed him.
You required information? Tex either had it or knew how to get it.
You needed money? Tex’s coffers seemed endless.
You needed to help a woman obviously down on her luck and running from some badass dudes carrying enough weapons and ammo to take down an entire city? Tex would handle it and never question you.
If you had Tex on your side, it was almost better than God.
Jo had hit Tex up four times in the last year for all three. Today made number five and she knew Tex wouldn’t deny her. When she’d pulled his ass out of a scrape in ‘Stan years ago, she’d earned his lifelong loyalty. Not that she abused that, but Jo was a softie to her core and this woman tugged at things Jo had thought long dead.
Ava, and Jo didn’t doubt that was her name, was also completely and totally deaf. Oh, she’d played a great game of reading Jo’s lips. Was a professional at it. But when she spoke, it sounded muffled, and when Jo had asked her to speak up, Ava had yelled. At some point in her life, she’d had hearing but had lost it. Jo would bet her next Waffle House waffle on it. And Jo never bet her waffles on anything.
“Got a girl I picked up right outside of downtown Atlanta. She’s in bad shape—thin, running from some hardcore bastards, and she’s been winged by a bullet. Got a massive pitbull who scares the bejeesus out of me but likes to lick me just the same. She’s in trouble, Tex. I feel it in my bones.”
Jo glanced over at the sleeping woman. She’d knocked out and hadn’t stirred even when Jo had stopped in South Carolina for gas. Jo had looked over the wound, found it no longer bleeding, and left the girl alone. The dark circles under her eyes, the lack of meat on her bones—yeah, the girl was in bad shape.
“What’s her name?” Tex ground out. The man hated when women were in trouble. His wife, Melody, was a saint for putting up with his surly ass, but she too had been one Tex had saved. Of course, she’d saved him right back and everybody reminded Tex of the fact as often as they could.
“Ava.”
Silence reigned for a long moment and the hairs on the back of Jo’s neck stood on end. She looked at Ava, found her still sleeping with the big dog’s head on her shoulder, sound asleep as well.
“Tex? What is it?”
“Is she about five foot two inches, long, curly black hair, and bright green eyes?” Tex asked, an odd tone in his voice.
“Yeah. Oh, Tex, don’t tell me she’s on your radar?”
“Send me a picture, Jo. Right now,” Tex urged.
Jo didn’t question him, just snapped the pic with one hand while she continued to drive with the other. Not safe, but she wouldn’t risk pulling over and waking the woman. Within seconds she had the pic winging its way to Tex.
“Goddamn,” Tex whispered.
The hair on Jo’s neck stood even straighter. “What is it, Tex? You’re holding out on me.”
“It’s her,” Tex said softly. “I can’t believe it.”
“Who? It’s who, dude?” Jo kept her voice soft but felt the frustration beginning to bubble up.
“Her name is Ava Maddigan.”
Jo huffed. “That’s all you’re giving me?”
“Remember General Andrew Maddigan the Third?”
“Oh, shit. Relation?”
“Daughter.”
“Damn, Tex—I’m driving a time bomb around in my cab,” Jo bit out.
