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He’d always returned in the past whenever they’d had one of their blowout fights and he’d taken off.
She’d be banking on him coming back.
So it gave him time before she called the cops—if she’d actually go that far. Besides, she’d lied and she’d have to own up to that, risk prison time herself, and he didn’t think she would make that mistake. At least he hoped not.
Another long swallow and he found the whiskey wasn’t burning as it went down, in fact it warmed his belly and gave him a soft, fuzzy feeling. A good feeling.
He’d be okay.
He just needed a little shut-eye.
Night was already falling, the forest around him growing dark. He’d sleep, maybe two or three hours, then he’d be on the road again, making up time. Heading to freedom. From his job. From the past. From always looking over his shoulder. And yeah, if he were honest with himself, from Britt. She was becoming a stone-cold bitch, forever on his case.
Another long pull on the bottle and he noticed the pint was half empty. Shit. He’d better not risk any more as he had to wake in a couple of hours and be sober enough to get on the road. He couldn’t afford a DUI at this point. Reluctantly, he screwed on the cap and set the bottle on the passenger seat, then he reclined his seat as far as it would go, pulled the old sleeping bag to his chin and watched as the snowflakes collected on the windshield.
He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket and felt the small pistol before closing his eyes and promising himself that he’d wake up long before dawn broke. He had to.
Within minutes he nodded off.
He didn’t hear the attacker approach on silent footsteps.
Didn’t sense someone stalking him.
Didn’t hear the slight click as the magnetic tracking device was removed from the undercarriage.
Caught in a dream where he was having incredible mind-numbing sex with Marlie Robinson, he didn’t hear the sound of the truck’s door lock click. Marlie was just so damned hot and—
The driver’s door opened quickly.
Cold air and snow blew inside.
What the fuck!!!!
Chad’s eyes flew open.
NO!
An arm snaked around the back of his neck. His head was pulled back. A blade at his throat.
He started to scream, but it was too late. No one was around to hear him.
Panicking, he bucked.
Struggled wildly to get away.
Too late. His attacker too strong.
Just as his fingers found the trigger, the razor-sharp blade sliced through his throat, tearing easily through skin, flesh and cartilage.
Sssst!
For a split second Chad saw the spray of blood on the inside of the windshield, spattering and dripping red against the white layer covering the glass.
