Page 291 of Silent Target

“Bad news, Holt. The supplier sent a pump for a diesel. I chewed him out, he'll get the right one on next week's run. That bride of yours will have to suffer here a while longer.” I can hear the grin in his voice.

“She's not my bride.”

“Uh-huh.”

The cold part of me, the one that counts exits, tells me I should be worried about that. It takes one idiot to spread the gossip to the wrong person and Juliette could be in trouble. But I hang up the phone feeling like the supplier sent me a gift.

I’ve got her here for a while longer.

When I pick her up she comes out of Latte Da! with a big smile on her face.

“I'm taking you to dinner,” she says, climbing in. “Guac and Roll. Nora says the al pastor is the best in the county, and I have a day's wages to spend.” She holds up an envelope. “I've never spent money I earned before… so you're getting thank-you tacos, and you're not allowed to argue.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Guac & Roll is packed, most tables taken, and a line at the counter. Conversation dips when we walk in, then comes back at double the volume. Ted Farley salutes me with a bottle of beer. Two of the O'Connor boys wave at Juliette; they must have met her at Latte Da! today. One of them is definitely eyeing her up, so I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the corner table.

I take a seat facing the door, another old habit. She makes her order in careful Spanish that makes the kid serving us grin, another thing I didn't know about her. We eat al pastor off paper plates and she closes her eyes at the first bite, making a moaning sound that makes me instantly hard.

“Holt, I think everyone's looking at us,” she says, licking salsa off her thumb.

“Wildwood’s a small town… we’re entertainment.”

“What are they saying, do you think?”

“Probably that I'm too old for you,” I say. “And that you could do way better, and that I know it.”

She points half a taco at me and frowns. “You’re not allowed to do that.”

It's fully dark when we drive home, her leftovers on the seat between us and rain starting to tick against the windshield. She's quiet in the warm cab, her head leaning against the window.

“Who didn't you keep safe, Holt?”

I can’t say anything for a minute. The squeak of the wipers mixes with the sound of the rain.

“It was a client's daughter.. her family had lots of money, plus all the usual kidnap and blackmail threats came with it, that's why we were there.” My hands are steady on the wheel. “Our team rotation got shuffled and there was a gap of about four minutes at a service exit. They had her in a car before we got there. We got her back in the end.”

“You got her back?”

“Yes, but a day later. That’s a long time.” The mountain road winds upwards in the headlights. “She's okay now, apparently. Doesn't matter whose fault it was. I was the one who promised her father I’d take care of her, and I was also the one who stood in a hospital hallway and couldn't look at either of them.”

“So you came up to Wildwood to be on your own? To not have to look after anyone?”

“That was the plan. It’s been a good one for the last few years.”

She reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine on the gearshift. It’s small and warm, and I don’t ask her to take it away. At the cabin I cut the engine. The rain gets loud on the roof of the truck, but neither of us moves to get out.

“Thank you for the tacos.”

“Thank you for telling me why you came here.”

She's looking over at me. Rain shadows run down her beautiful face from the windshield, and there’s a tight clench in my stomach as the muscles tense.

I'm the one who moves toward her first, but she meets me like she’s been waiting for this all day. She twists in her seat, fingers digging into my shoulders, and I get my hands in her thick hair and tip her head upwards. As I kiss her, my tongue running along the seam of her lips as she opens with a little gasp, she climbs over, one knee on either side of me. My hands find her hips as she grinds down on me and I groan, my cock pressing up hard against my zipper.

Her mouth moves to my jaw and then my neck. Her fingers find the hem of my shirt, those cold little hands on my stomach, moving intently. My hips rise up into her and she gasps and grinds down slow, and we both groan.

I catch Juliette's wrists, both of them in one hand, and try to catch my breath.