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Not that it was any of his business. He drove around back next, flashing on his high beams for a better look behind the shop, and found Jalen’s pickup parked against the rear exit door —so close that it probably couldn’t be opened.Weird.That amounted to a grand total of three trucks for three single men, and not one of their drivers appeared to be present.Very weird.
Shep pulled back around to the front of the shop, wishing there was more light on this stretch of the highway. However, the street light closest to the Triple J was burned out or something.
He killed his motor and stared hard at the front door, half expecting the lights to pop on and one of the brothers to open it. Again, though, nothing happened.
Here goes nothing.Since Shep was no longer on the rez, he reached inside his glove compartment and popped open the hidden drawer he’d installed a while back. Pulling out the pistol he almost always kept there, he tucked it into the back waistband of his jeans and pushed open his door.
As he hopped to the pavement, he flashed on the penlight looped to his key ring and waved it across the ground in front of him. He saw nothing but gravel and a dusty penny. Raising the penlight, he pointed his beam at the front window of the office. Stepping closer, he peeked through the glass and saw a shiver of movement.
A split second later, the door cracked open. “Shep? What are you doing here?” It was Jace, speaking in a loud whisper.
“Looking for you.” Shep pointed his penlight at Jace.
“Turn that off,” the mechanic groaned. “Now!” With a sharp gesture, he beckoned for Shep to step inside the shop.
Shep removed his thumb from the ON button and shoved the key ring penlight back into his pocket.
Jace locked the door behind them.
Shep faced him. “What’s going on?”
Jace glared at him through the dimness. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Deputy.”
“Try me.”
Jace shook his head glumly. “The best thing you can do is get back in your truck and keep driving.” His hair was disheveled, and grease stains dotted his shirt and pants, indicating he’d yet to shower and clean up for the day.
“I’m a police officer,” Shep reminded. “Those aren’t exactly the words to get me to mosey.”
“This problem is bigger than you. Trust me. It’s bigger than both of us. Shoot!” His voice grew hoarse. “It’s bigger than this entire town!”
The alarm in the shop owner’s voice made Shep’s insides tighten. “Lemme guess. Your problem involves shiny race cars with tires that have to be changed abnormally often. Tires that probably smell like the scent of freshly printed U.S. greenbacks. High denominations.”
Jace made a strangled sound and lunged for him, but Shep was faster. He whipped out his pistol and held it to the shop owner’s temple.
“Think very, very carefully before you make your next move, my friend.”
“Good gravy, Shep,” Jace gasped, arms flying into the air. “What are you doing, man?”
“Why did you attack me?”
“I-I was only trying to cover your mouth.” He was speaking in a stage whisper again. “Someone might hear you.”
“Who?” Shep demanded.
“I don’t know who they are. With my luck, they’ve got the whole shop bugged.”
Beads of sweat formed on Jace’s forehead.
“Is Alina involved?”
“Absolutely not! That’s why she’s hiding out in our—” Jace broke off whatever else he was about to say, looking miserable.
Shep tucked his pistol back into his jeans. “Sorry for the theatrics. It’s hard to know who to trust these days.”
“Don’t I know!” Jace mopped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “Seriously, man. The best thing you can do is drive away.”
Shep ignored him. “Take me to Alina.”
