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I nod, picking up my phone to start searching for a rental car place. I’ll need wheels to get back and forth to Let’s Roar for a few days, and a car to drive to the closest airport once I’m sure Bruce is safe.
A short time later, we drive through the large open gate of Let’s Roar.
Twenty-foot-tall fences line both sides of the road like most big cat places. Off in the distance, I see larger pens with wire covering their tops. They look secure and in good shape, unlike half the rusted enclosures in Minot.
I so hope Bruce will be happy here, and they’ll be good to him.
I also hope Weston’s wish for Grady comes true.
He deserves that.
He deserves better than me.
“I’m assuming that’s our check-in point,” Weston says, waving at a sign that says office and pointing to the left.
“You’re right. Cook said he’ll be there,” I say, recalling our discussions.
It’s probably just nerves, but an odd chill coils around my spine.
The place seems eerily quiet for early afternoon.
There’s a parking lot that says visitors, but not a single car there.
“They must be closed today,” Weston says, making the same observation and scratching his head.
“Yeah, Cook said they’d be, but...there should still be employees.” I spot a barrel-chested man with a silver beard and spectacles walking out of a big log structure that must be the office. “Pull up over there. That must be Mr. Cook.”
Weston parks the truck and kills the engine, but I climb out first, hesitating before I shut my door.
The man walking toward me looks like he’s worn out. Hurt, even.
His clothes are rumpled, his eyes are red, and he’s...limping?
“Hello? Mr. Cook?”
“Yes.” He nods, too briskly for comfort.
“I’m—”
“I know.” He shakes his head slowly. “I know, Miss Macklin, and I’m sorry. So terribly sorry.”
Confused, I turn, looking over my shoulder because that’s where he’s staring.
Fear washes over me in a tidal wave.
I see the tall, lantern-jawed man smiling, standing just a few feet away. He’s as fearsome and unexpected as if he’d dropped out of the sky.
Niles Foss.
“Welcome, Miss Macklin,” he snaps, flipping a baseball bat over his shoulder as he approaches. “It’s been too long, and I believe you have something that belongs to us.”
I hear Weston racing toward me, a handgun drawn, but he suddenly drops like he’s been shot. But I never heard a gun go off...did I?
Not that it matters.
Another large, angry looking man with a bat steps out, standing over Weston’s fallen body.
My mouth is dry, my heart racing, and I grab the door of the truck to jump in, but the air whistles like it’s boiling before I can move.
The bat comes down on my head.
I throw up an arm and duck, but I don’t even get a chance to scream.
Pain explodes in my head with a thousand hot shrapnel fragments, and then I can’t fear anything at all.
20
Wake the Tiger (Grady)
It actually worked.
I’m fucking elated when I hear the news.
Within hours of everybody hitting the road, the goons from Exotic Plains tried running Bella off the road. Drake was on them like flies on shit in minutes.
Now they’re booked in the Dallas jail, cooling their heels, and already singing like canaries with intel according to the latest update. Menacing the wife of the man who’s next in line to be our sheriff wasn’t a smart move.
One problem down.
A hundred more to go.
Faulk and Hank have already turned off the service road, arriving at the airstrip from the rear like Willow and I had when we’d installed the cameras.
There’s no time for ATVs today. We’re coming in full-force.
My heart vibrates like a fallen rock impacting the ground. I touch the bracelet I’d hung on my blinker switch. After hooking up the trailer to the truck, I’d gone to the house to lock it, and on impulse took a quick peek in what was Willow’s room.
No, let’s be real. There was a reason. I was already missing her.
The bracelet was lying on her bed next to an envelope with my name on it. She’d thanked me for all I’d done, and said she agreed with the title on Avery’s picture.
Best summer of her life.
She also said she was leaving the bracelet as collateral. She promised to send me money, enough to pay everyone back once she’s home.
Doesn’t she get it?
She could send me a hundred million smackers and it still wouldn’t be enough.
It never has been. Not in the past, and not now.
I don’t give a shit about coin.
I’m still not sure how she did it, but she broke the iron chains trapping me in the past. She helped me pull my forgotten sword from the stone with every kiss, every caress, every night we left in flames.
She brought me back from the dead, raising me up, restoring the humanity I thought had died with my wife.
