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She was listening, but in truth, was a bit lost. “So these aren’t any good?”
“Yes, and no,” Forrest said, placing both the bar she held and his into the suitcase and shutting the lid. “Bills are made of paper, which eventually wears out, making a need for new ones to be printed. However, old bills show up all the time. You could have some and spend them as easily as new ones. It’s when a bank gets them that they are finally destroyed and replaced by the Federal Reserve. So if someone had these, and the right machinery, and the right paper and ink, they could print bills and easily pass them off as real.”
“Counterfeiting,” Twyla said, now understanding things, at least in part. She’d always been amazed by how smart Forrest was, but this time his intelligence had gone beyond her.
“Yes, counterfeiting.” He stood and helped her to her feet before he picked up the suitcase. “Come on. I have to get these to town.”
They had yet to turn around when a voice proclaimed, “Not so fast.”
Chapter Twelve
Forrest knew without turning around who was behind him and Twyla. Nasty Nick Ludwig. Bronco and Tuck had searched far and wide but hadn’t found hide nor hair of the thug. As far as he knew, Bronco and Tuck were still looking. Forrest would have been looking, too, if Scooter hadn’t shown up at the Plantation earlier today, needing a fast ride to Duluth to fetch Josie from the jail.
He glanced down at Twyla, and as crazy as it seemed in his own mind, he wished she’d been locked up with her sister today. Then they would both be on their way home with Scooter right now.
“Go ahead and turn around there, flyboy,” Ludwig said. “But put down the suitcase.”
Without much choice, considering he didn’t know if Ludwig was armed, or alone, Forrest set down the suitcase. He put an arm around Twyla before spinning them both around at the same time. She was shivering and he tugged her a bit closer, settling his gaze on Ludwig and the three thugs at his side. All four men had firearms drawn. Not small pistols, but long Tommy guns.
Though the other three didn’t have a distinguishing scar like Nasty Nick, their scowls gave them the overall appearance of bottom-barrel boys. As slimy as an eelpout and with fewer morals, they were just the type Galen would latch on to.
Twyla shifted slightly, and Forrest glanced at her face, which was turned up to his. Despite the fear in her eyes, and her quivering lips, she whispered, “I can take the two on the left if you can take the two on the right.”
She really was something. Everything except keeping her safe escaped from his mind. “Don’t move. Those are machine guns,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“Stop talking,” Ludwig shouted. “And step away from the suitcase.”
The tree behind them was the only one for several yards, and the gas barrel beside it was one more reason he didn’t want guns to start firing. Keeping his arm around Twyla, he took a step, but paused when Ludwig shouted again.
“Not that way.” Waving his gun in the opposite direction from the hangar, Nick added, “That way.”
Forrest guided Twyla sideways several steps, stopping when Ludwig said that was far enough. The man then instructed two of his thugs to get the suitcase.
“I figured you’d lead me to it sooner or later,” Ludwig said. “Once I ditched those torpedoes you put on my tail.”
Forrest could only hope Bronco or Tuck hadn’t been ditched and would show up soon. Only Jacob knew he was out here, and he suspected even fewer knew Twyla was here. “Take the suitcase, Ludwig, and get out of here.”
“Oh, I’ll take it all right, and leave, but you and your little tomato are coming with me.” He winked at Twyla. “Without her, I wouldn’t have found you. Thanks, doll.”
“I’m not your doll,” Twyla snapped. The fire disappeared from her eyes as she turned and whispered, “I didn’t lead...no one followed... I didn’t think—”
“Shh,” Forrest said, tugging her closer. “You wouldn’t have known.”
“But I should have,” she said despondently. “I knew he was the reason you had Bronco come and get my car on Sunday.”
“It’s all right,” Forrest offered. “Just do as they say. We’ll think of something.”
“I told you two to stop talking,” Ludwig snarled.
“You know who she is, Ludwig,” Forrest said. “You harm a hair on her head, and The Night will see your days are ended.”
“The Night is in Chicago,” Nick said.
“You think that will stop him from seeing you’re killed?” Forrest wished he had more to threaten the man with, but he wasn’t carrying any iron and with four machine guns pointed at them, their overall outlook was bleak.
