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A pickup without lights came from nowhere, careening onto the highway right in front of him. Somehow the other driver managed to hold it on the road, make the turn, and miss his truck, but Travis locked up the brakes and skidded the heavy load toward the shoulder. He swore, practically standing on the pedal, fighting the wheel to stay out of the ditch. When he finally stopped, the truck leaned at a crazy angle with the rear tires entrenched on the soft shoulder. The pickup sped away, and Travis tracked its retreat in his side mirror.
The evening was off to a great start.
*****
“WATCH OUT!” COOP THREWup his arm as the pickup flew across the mound of dirt that marked the end of their rocky and overgrown trail and landed on the dark strip of pavement, ninety degrees from where they’d started. Lights blinded him as a box truck bore down on them. Jordan must have recognized the danger a heartbeat later. She braked hard, cranking the wheel, sending the pickup into a skid. As Coop braced for the crash, she hit the gas again, and the two vehicles missed each other by what seemed like centimeters. Behind them, the truck swerved and slid, finally coming to a stop halfway off the road. Jordan didn’t even slow down.
What the hell was I thinking—letting her drive?“Jesus, Kitten! Think you could manage not to kill us or any innocent bystanders?”
“Why do you call me that? My name is Jordan.” Irritation smoldered in her brown eyes.
“It’s a long story,Jordan.I’ll tell you sometime, but right now, I need you to tell me what you know about Travis.”
She gave him the side-eye with a huff. “How do I know you’re really his partner? Maybe a better question is: what doyouknow about him?”
The kitten was learning not to trust just anyone. That was wise. “I know you were with him in that church in Mitchell until something bad happened.” Coop waited expectantly, but Jordan didn’t volunteer any information. “When I got there, Jake was the only one left.” He patted the black head raising from the seat at the mention of his name. “And a whole lot of blood. Look, Travis is more than my partner. He’s my best friend. I’d like to know what happened.”
She studied him for a moment, and her expression softened. “It wasn’t Travis’s blood.”
Coop let go of some of the tension that wired him. “Whose was it?”
She turned back to watch the road. “Alex Halstead.”
“Joseph Halstead’s nephew?”
She nodded once.
Travis wouldn’t have killed the nephew and blown his cover unless he had no choice. His friend was in more trouble than Coop had imagined if things had gotten that bad. He fisted his hands. “What happened?”
“I shot him.” Jordan shrugged as though her confession held no significance. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you sometime.”
Okay, he probably deserved that.
*****
THE BOX TRUCK CRASHEDthrough Halstead’s red barberry hedge, engine screaming as though the devil himself worked the throttle. High beams spotlighted Joseph Halstead as he threw open the door and gaped at the oncoming metal demon. Men swarmed from every direction. Some opened fire with automatic weapons, spraying the truck with bullets. The windshield shattered. The headlights exploded and went dark, but still, the metal juggernaut churned toward its target.
As far as diversions went, Travis couldn’t ask for much better. He’d positioned himself perfectly to watch the carnage as Brody and his crew scrambled to stop their unknown assailant. The truck clipped the front end of a Jeep parked in the drive, then veered to take out the rear quarter panel of Halstead’s 1969 Jag. Young trees and pristinely manicured bushes were torn from the ground and crushed beneath the tires.
With the darkened cab only a few feet away and the deck splintering beneath him, Halstead dove from its path. He sprawled face first in a bed of bark chips, rolled, and scrambled to his feet as the truck slammed into the front of his house, burying all but the box. The engine raced even as the cab smashed into something solid enough to halt its forward motion. Smoke and diesel fumes fouled the air.
Brody advanced cautiously, jerking open the door of the bullet-riddled cab. The men standing close enough to see the empty driver’s seat lowered their weapons. Brody reached inside and killed the engine. Silence descended like a shroud, but it didn’t last.
Halstead threw up his hands. “Well?”
“He’s not here.” Brody walked to the rear of the box truck and rolled open the door. Halstead followed, and Travis knew the instant the truck box, empty of everything except Kyle, unconscious and trussed up like a goat, registered in the older man’s brain. It was almost worth the time it’d taken him to offload the cargo.
“Find the bastard!” Halstead’s entire body shook with rage. “And get that worthless drunk out of my truck!”
Two men jumped into the box and dragged Kyle out, while the rest scattered to search the barns, sheds, and bushes, leaving only Halstead and Brody near the truck. Halstead pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where’s Liam?”
“Not back yet.” Brody slammed the truck box closed.
“Son of a bitch!” Halstead roared. “Find him and tell him I want to see him. Now. And get this piece of scrap metal off my deck.” He flung shut the driver’s door with the full force of his rage before stepping through the broken, splintered woodwork that had been the front of his home.
Travis allowed himself a grin, though he hadn’t accomplished his goal yet. With men running in every direction, shouting and shooting, it’d been simple to slip in among them and just as easy to slip away into the darkness while all their attention focused on the truck-gone-mad. An ax handle braced against the gas pedal, and another shoved through the steering wheel just so had served his purpose well. Travis chuckled. He couldn’t have aimed the truck any better if he’d stayed behind the wheel.
The sliding glass door at the rear of Halstead’s house opened silently. Travis stood for a moment in the semi-darkness of the house, listening. Satisfied he hadn’t been seen, he started for the front. As furious as Halstead had been, maybe he’d lead Travis right to Jordan.
