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“They have police patrols out now looking for the SUV. Well, patrol, I should say, my man Drake. I asked them to touch base with the state troopers too, but no guarantees.” I rock back a little harder than I mean to and have to catch myself.
The highway patrol in this area of North Dakota is the same kind of skeleton crew as the official Dallas police. Speeders, drunk drivers, cows in the road, deer accidents…those are the types of issues they deal with regularly.
Not chasing down hardened criminals.
An attempted kidnapping might raise the alarm, but not enough to call in a full posse from over a hundred miles away to hunt down Jackknife and his boys.
“Listen. I want to say thanks for, uh, for looking out for Grace today,” Nelson says quietly, taking a ragged breath. “Once I’m on my feet, we’ll be heading out. Leaving the horses in your excellent care, of course.”
Seriously?
He’s still stuck on this half-baked plan?
The dude looks like hot death and must feel like a rotten egg. I cast a slow glance at Grace, raising a brow.
She pushes off the chair, stands straight, and tugs the hem of her green t-shirt down.
“That’s right. I was just packing our bags. Had to use the washer and dryer downstairs.”
Her answer stuns me, but it shouldn’t. She’s trying to placate Nelson. I hope.
She knows as well as I do that they don’t stand a chance in hell against those maniacs out on the open road.
Hell, they wouldn’t make it more than a few miles before disappearing into the ether. And then…who knows.
I sure don’t, and it pisses me off.
She’s lucky to be here now. Nelson knows it in his bones, I’m sure, but he’s desperate and trying to save face.
I don’t know why, maybe it’s the fear or his condition. I just know Grace is scared out of her wits.
What a life.
Her nerves must be totally shot.
Not just from today, but from everything.
The goons. Nelson’s health. The horses. The ambush. Whatever it is they’re still hiding.
Like why in God’s name these brutes pursuing them sent an entire pack of coyotes.
That’s unusual, no question.
I heard enough stories in Hollywood to know no crime syndicate sends a team—if these bumble-fucks can be called that—into the sticks, hundreds of miles from home, without an insanely good reason.
I like her, though. Her stamina goes a long way.
Let’s not even get into that saucy burn she puts in my blood, especially when it winds its way down to a lower part of my anatomy aching to rebel against common sense.
“Well,” I say, letting the word hang in the air while I stand up. “I’ve already given you my thoughts on your departure. Let me reiterate: you’d both be goddamn crazy to hit the road while he’s sick and you’ve got no defense for human scum.”
They both look at me, surprised.
Yeah, I’m overdoing it, but even the thought of Grace and Nelson on the road, helpless, sends a shock-current straight up my spine.
“Look. I’ve got no doubt Grace is a skilled driver. She’s smart, scrappy, capable of handling issues as they come up. Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. I’d be a fool not to speak up while I still can and tell you it’s not just a bad idea—it’s a death sentence, guys.” I turn to her father. “What happens if a tire blows, Nelson? She’d be out there, on the road, changing it all by herself. You’re too sick to help. And when you’re relying on a truck I think they brought over on the Mayflower, anything could happen at any time.”
Nelson’s lips twitch, but he says nothing, just peels his gaze off both of us. Let him digest what I said.
It won’t go down easy.
Too bad.
I’m not done.
“If you want, I’ll take a look at it, make sure the air pressure is up in the tires, check the fluids, the filters…” Hell, I can’t think of anything else off the top of my head. I’ve had roadside assistance forever, and I certainly wasn’t a mechanic in the Army. But I went through the flashy muscle car phase most kids do at sixteen and I was rich enough to own a couple. I learned to take good care of them. “And I’ll need a bill of sale on the horses if you’re hell bent on taking off. In case they need a vet visit or something happens, I’ll need proof they’re mine.”
“We can do that,” Grace says tightly, looking at her father. “He’ll grab Stern and Rosie’s papers. They’re still in the glove box, aren’t they?”
Nelson nods slowly.
In just the short time I’ve been here, it’s like his eyes droop, turning a shade paler than they were ten minutes ago. I pat the arm of the sofa.
“Why don’t you take a quick nap? I know from experience some of those medications could knock an elephant out. Grace can get me their papers, and I’ll type up a bill of sale for her to bring back to you to sign. Nice and neat. Then I’ll take a look at your truck.”
