SEVENTEEN

Hooch

The truck is backed into a park outside a convenience store just off the exit. I turn in, and idle to a stop beside the vehicle, noting it’s empty. Great. Probably scared her halfway to New York state after that little “courtesy” stop.

After killing the engine, I kick the stand out and lean the bike over. A quick peek in the windows shows the stuff I bought her still behind the seats, albeit a bit trashed. Interesting. If she hasn’t taken the food, she can’t be far away. But where?

Doesn’t take more than another second to work out the answer to that one.

Sitting under the tree in the far corner of the lot, she has her knees bent up and a magazine spread open on her thighs. I watch her for a moment, leaning my hip into the side of the truck bed, as she reads something with determined concentration, her left hand diving into a bag of pretzels every so often.

A young jock pulls his woman closer as I stride across the lot towards Dagne, ushering them toward the store at a pace much quicker than necessary. His fear is unwarranted—I ain’t here to mess with the public, and besides, if I was, he wouldn’t have had time to see me coming.

“Comfy?”

She tips her face up to the light as I approach, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the setting sun. “Strangely so.”

“What you readin’?” Yeah, there’s more pressing business to deal with, but this five minutes of leisurely interaction with a pretty girl? My soul needs it.

“Um.” She flips the magazine shut, reading the cover. “Hog?”

“Nice.”

“Yeah.” She gets up, dusting her ass off. “I thought you guys might like it when I’m done.”

Yet again, she’s showing how selfless she is without even trying to. “Learn much?”

Dagne chuckles, stepping off the garden to where I stand. “I think I just confused myself more. I never knew there were so many models and bits and pieces that all have different names and uses and … ugh.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I stare at the ground beneath my feet. It feels good to let it go, have a chuckle. Good, but not deserved.

“You ready to go? Or you want to duck into the bathroom first?”

“I’m good.” She smiles, heading for the truck. “But I was going to head off alone.”

“Like fuck.” The anger in my tone surprises even me.

Dagne comes to a stop mid parking lot and cocks her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“You ain’t doin’ shit alone.”

“You gave me a message to deliver,” she snaps. “And right now, I don’t have that message, so I don’t know about you, but to me that negates our deal.”

“First,” I bite back, jabbing a finger in her direction, “even if I let you out of this, I wouldn’t sleep right knowin’ you were on your own. And second, we’re still delivering the message, just verbally.”

“What?” Her eyes squint a little as she frowns. “Why send me on a farcical trip across the country if you can just go and do it yourself anyway?”

“I couldn’t before.” She eyes me, questioningly. “It’s complicated. But basically since those jackasses pulled you over and took the address, we’ve got another stop off to make, and the sooner we head on up there, the better.”

She stares me square in the eye, sucking in a deep breath. “I swore I wouldn’t do this anymore,” she mutters, more to herself than for me to hear. “Fine. But that’s it. You can keep your money, but I’m taking the food and splitting when this is done.”

“Fine.”

“Lead the way, boss.” Dagne strides to the driver’s door of the truck and hops in.

I’m left lagging behind dumbstruck by the effect her calling me boss, had. Think about it later. Fuck, all I do these days is think about things later. Got one hell of a list to get through when the time comes for reflection.

***

Barely twenty minutes pass before the sound of my bike reverberates off the trees lining the access road to our destination. Dagne follows behind, her hair whipping about her face from the wind cutting in her open window. Really must fix the air-con in that thing.

I train my focus forward again, checking every shadow and blind spot amongst the stand of cypress. Aside from our procession, it’s quiet and still out here.

Too quiet.

The trees give way to a streamside clearing. Scrubby grass tufts protrude unevenly across the expanse, clumped even thicker around the mobile home at the far end. The worn tracks in the dirt give out around the same spot that an unmarked sedan is parked.

Feds. Fuckers.

I gesture for Dagne to park the truck where she is, and then carry on alone. No signs of movement greet me as I park the bike beside the agent’s car. No sign of struggle. Everything is wrong. Everything’s off. Visions of the fed inside with her bound as a hostage flash through my mind. Shit. What if I’m too late?

I draw my gun and approach the trailer slowly, my boots causing the grass to swish underfoot. The door handle gives easily, and I edge it open an inch, checking the gap.

Feet. Polished leather shoes.

At least it’s not her.

I pull the door open further, stepping back to allow it past where I stand. There, spread out on the laminate floor, is one problem I definitely can’t stow away for later.

“Damn.”

Movement at the far end catches my attention, the rattle of things moving as a body passes by. I step in, gun held at the ready, but pretty certain I won’t need to use it.

Nope. Safe as houses.

“Hey, Hooch.” Familiar brown eyes stare up at me, a thin apologetic smile on a drawn and tired face.

“How about we step outside for a smoke and you can tell me what the fuck happened here?”

She nods, unfurling herself from the position she’d managed to wedge herself into, beside the bed. “Sure thing, brother.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Mel,” I say, staring down at the very-much-dead federal agent. “You’ve really done it this time.”