Page 81 of Daybreak

“It would be a good idea, if you can,” she said.

“Just give me a day and time,” Gunner said. “Love you. Miss you. If you’re up for a pajama party tonight, I would promise late-night pizza.”

“Why late night?” she asked.

“I was sorta hoping we’d be trying out my bed first. You know… The big one…that I sleep in alone.”

She laughed. “You are such a charmer. I will bring pajamas for eating pizza, but I will not be wearing pajamas in your bed.”

He sighed. “This is going to be one long-ass day waiting for you to get here. I might go visit my lieutenant again. The one in the hospital. I want to tell him myself that I resigned and see how he’s doing.”

“Pay attention,” Holly said. “Remember you knocked that Whistler man out once. He might be a man who holds a grudge.”

“Noted,” Gunner said. “Love you, honey. See you this evening.”

“Love you, and I’ll call when I’m headed your way.”

His toast popped up. He put it and his eggs onto the plate with his bacon and carried it all to the table, then poured himself a cup of coffee and turned the volume back up on the TV.

* * *

Whistler was out of the shower and getting dressed when he heard his name being mentioned on the TV, and then he heard the rest of the bulletin and cursed beneath his breath.

“How the hell…?”

But then he stopped. It didn’t matter how, but his ass was grass if he didn’t get out of Dallas. They would be looking for his truck, and he was patting himself on the back that he’d already sold it. They wouldn’t be looking for him on a Harley, and his helmet had a face guard.

He finished dressing, shoved everything into his pack, tossed the room key on the bed, and headed out the door. So much for that stack of pancakes and sausage he’d been planning to eat.

He mounted his bike and took off out of the parking lot, leaving rubber on the pavement as he went. One stop to fuel up, and he was gone.

Chapter 16

Gunner was getting ready to leave for a last visit to Lieutenant Samuels. He picked up the car keys, then remembered the manhunt for Beau Whistler and went back to his closet to get his personal handgun and took it with him to the car.

Asher told him to be aware.

Holly told him to pay attention.

He believed in heeding good advice. Whistler had to be desperate, and desperate men were dangerous men.

As Gunner was backing out of the garage, he noticed his gas gauge was low and headed for the Gas and Dash where he’d bought that winning lottery ticket, because it was on the same route he would take to get to the hospital.

The day was clear, which meant by noon it would be hot enough to melt a good mood. He was thinking about Samuels. The heart attack was probably going to be the push Samuels needed to retire.

A motorcycle came up behind him on the street and then passed him so fast it made his heart skip. Just for a second, he was remembering the dude on the purple Yamaha.

A block and a half later, Gunner pulled into the Gas and Dash and noticed that the rider who just passed him had stopped there, too. He pulled in at the other side of the fuel pump and got out.

He was reaching for his credit card when he glanced up and saw the rider staring at him. Recognition was instant. It was the eyes and that scar that cut his left eyebrow in half. Even with the face guard down on the helmet, he knew it was Whistler.

And Whistler knew he’d been made. Having a shootout in public was the fastest way to get caught, and since he’d already paid and replaced the gas nozzle, he decided to make a run for it. He swung his leg over the Harley and leaned forward, releasing the kickstand as he turned the key. The engine fired, and he gunned it. He was already shooting out of the parking lot when he saw a shadow on the pavement coming at him from behind.

Before he could react, he was hit in the back with such force that he lost his breath and then his balance. The bike was already tilting, and then he was on the pavement in an armlock, flat on his belly and trying to get enough air to breathe.

Even through his helmet, Whistler heard the man on his back shouting, “Call 911.”

Whistler was struggling and kicking and pounding air trying to knock the man off his back, but he couldn’t reach him to do any harm, and in that moment, he knew it was over.