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52
Fletcher watchedhis truck as it pulled out of his drive—and cursed himself for being a damned idiot. He had only intended to be inside his house for a damned minute, before heading back to the inn to check on Dusty—and Ben. Make sure she was okay—and make sure Ben hadn’t gone out hunting for Dusty’s father or something.
It was very tempting to go hunting for that old bastard himself. Fletcher was still fighting the fury over what that man had done. Maybe the guyhadthought he was protecting her from whatever enemies he had. But he never should have drugged her like that. That was just wrong.
The guy needed to pay for that.
Fletcher was fighting the urge to find him and make him pay. Fletcher was a Tyler, after all. And Dusty was his brother’s woman. No one messed with a Tyler’s woman. Not even her own father. But now he had a more immediate problem.
Who the hell would steal his truck?
He grabbed his phone. And dialed the person he wanted. His future sister-in-law answered. She’d practically worked twenty-four hours straight since they’d gotten word Dusty had been taken last night. “Someone just stole my truck. Right out of my driveway.”
“What? Did you see who it was?”
“Blond hair. That's all I could see. Looked like a damned kid. No bigger than one. Couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl. Probably didn’t even weigh one hundred pounds. I don’t think they were very old. Probably a boy—had shorter hair.”
Some stupid kid out joyriding and screwing up their entire life.
Just why in the hell had it happened to Fletcher—again?
He listened as Sage told him what to do next and what the sheriff's office was going to do. Joel was in the precinct. He and one of the deputies were going out looking for it, but with what had happened to Dusty and the search for Arthur Talley, his truck probably wouldn’t be a high priority right now.
Well, it was tohim.
Fletcher’s place was the first one outside city limits. He wasn’t that far from the precinct.He could walk there, if he had to.
“Just stay there, Fletch. There are only two roads into town from your place. We’ll find your truck.”
“Of course, I’m staying here. They stole my damned truck. Unless I want to drive the tractor, I’m stuck here.” And he would damned well do that if he had to. He’d done it before.
“Did you leave your keys in it again?”
“For two minutes.” He’d left his keys in his trucktwicesince he’d gotten his driver’s license sixteen years ago. Both damned times someone had stolen his truck. The first time had been Charlotte Talley. He’d forgiven her for that—probably by day two after, when she’d grabbed him and laid a big kiss on him to stop his ranting.
It had totally distracted him. Why wouldn’t it? Charlotte was the hottest woman he knew. And he still loved her, even if it hadn’t worked out between them. He’d been her first lover—she’d been the first woman he had loved.
But this time, he was going to kick someone’s ass. This truck had cost a hell of a lot more than that old one he’d bought off his uncle had. “If there is even a single scratch on it when I get it back, I’m going to do some damage of my own to someone’s hide, Sage. I swear.” Like that kid’s parents, for one thing. They needed to keep a better eye on their kid. Then he’d deal with that kid himself. Tylers never stole a damned thing. It was a matter of honor. They worked for what they got. No matter what.
“I’ll be right there. And you will let us handle it. Or I’ll do some damage toyour hidemyself.”
Well, Sage was just feisty enough to do it, too.
But, damn it, Fletcher loved that truck. When he got the person who had taken it...
53
Jason drove,after ordering Wayne to keep the girl in line. She just sat there, wide-eyed, pale and terrified. Jason hadn't had to hit her like that. If some man ever hit one of Wayne's girls like that, he'd kill the bastard. Without hesitation. He just would.
Wayne was fed up with this shit. “I'm done.”
“Where the hell do you think you're going?”
“You are taking this kid back to her family.” Wayne pulled the .45 he'd carried with him for years. The one he had used countless times before. Against people—men—who deserved it. He hadn't used it in more than ten years. He preferred the rifle for distance work. He’d gotten out of close-up work years ago.
He wasn't going to use it again. Unless he had to.
The girl let out a whimper, but she was keeping herself under control. Somehow. Even with that bastard Smith's hand running over her front like that, while he drove one handed. Sick pervert. Wayne wasn't going to sit there and watching him keep doing that.
