Page 101 of Kyle

“Who is this?”

“Anaya. Listen—”

“What number is this?”

“Shut up and listen,” I growled. “There’s no time to explain. We ran into trouble. Jeremy’s…shit…Jeremy’s dead.”

“Motherfucker! Garrett!” Zane roared.

“Monica’s dead, too.”

“Where’s Emerson?”

“With me,” I rushed out. “We’re fine. But…umm…we have Harry Landry tied up in the back of the car.”

“Cut his motherfucking ass loose and—”

“God. Shut up. The battery’s almost dead.”

Thank God the man was not standing in front of me. I could be a telephone tough guy all day long but Zane’s six-foot-plus frame standing in front of me would make me cower.

“We’re not headed home. We’re going to your silo.”

“What?”

“Your silo. It’s closer. Only three hours. Harry tracked Emerson’s phone. We have all of them turned off but if he has a tracker, we need to go somewhere…”

I felt the phone vibrate before it chimed and powered down.

“Dead,” I told Emerson. “Let’s head north. He knows where we’re going.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then let’s do this.”

“Let’s do it.”

Emerson smiled and scrunched her nose before she leaned in.

“Do you kinda feel like Thelma and Louise?”

“Yeah. But let’s just hope this doesn’t end with us flying off a cliff.”

“You and me, Anaya. We’re gonna be fine.”

“I know we are.”

At least, I hoped we were.

We broke apart, Emerson going to the driver’s side and me the passenger. But before I got in, I grabbed the duct tape, tore a piece off, and opened the back door.

“Taping my mouth shut won’t save your life,” Harry sneered.

“Maybe not. But at least it will make what’s left of it more enjoyable if I don’t have to hear your voice, you disgusting bastard.”

He opened his mouth to say something but I slammed the tape down and smiled when he grunted.