Cole Austin took a hit off of his cigarette, watching the sunset. He looked over at the man who questioned him. The man who, apparently, was not too happy with the news he was delivering.

Cole had come up here into the mountains of California on the Nevada border, to the Dead Souls remote clubhouse to deliver the news in person. The Evil Dead motorcycle club was about to patch over the Dead Souls MC. He looked over at Wyatt, the Dead Souls’ club president. He was in his mid-forties. His dark hair was starting to grey, but he was still in the prime of his life. Still had the women flocking to him. Cole had known him for years now, considered him a friend, a good friend.

“Thought you’d be happy about this. Ain’t nobody I’d rather share a patch with than you, Brother,” Cole argued.

***

Wyatt looked at Cole. He’d known Cole since he first met him as a prospect. What, ten years ago? Then Cole had been a wet-behind-the-ears kid. He had grown into a good-looking man. He was as tall as Wyatt’s six-foot height, blond hair falling past his collar, and golden facial hair growing along his jaw and mouth. Hell, every time he came to visit the Dead Souls Wyatt noticed he lost one of their girls to him. Whenever Cole pulled away on his bike, sure enough, one of their girls was on the back leaving with him.

Wyatt turned away. “Hell, I figured it’d come to this eventually, just not now. Goddamn, Cole! We’re in the middle of it with the damned Hyenas. You sure this is a good time?”

Cole shrugged. “It’s what Mack wants. You don’t really have a choice, man.” Cole looked him in the eye. “Look on the bright side, it’ll help that situation. You know, back ‘em off.”

“Maybe,” Wyatt conceded.

***

“Hell, we both know they’ll back down once you’re part of the Evil Dead.” Cole picked his bottle of beer up off the porch railing of the old house that the Dead Souls used for their clubhouse. It was out in the middle of nowhere. He looked out over the grounds as darkness began to fall. There was a bonfire going and about fifty members standing around, along with some women—some just hangers-on, some ol’ ladies. The Dead Souls were having a rally this weekend, so there was quite a crowd. Some staying all week long, crashing in sleeping bags wherever they found a spot. Bikes were parked in a long row to the side of the dirt drive that ran down to the road.

Wyatt reached down and picked up a glass jar off the railing. “Take a hit off this,” he offered, holding the jar out to Cole.

Cole took it, looked at it dubiously for a moment, then gave Wyatt a suspicious look and asked, “Home brew?”

Wyatt nodded toward the jar. “Just take a hit.”

Cole raised it to his lips.

Wyatt laughed softly as Cole took a swallow and choked on the harsh liquor. “Burns a little bit, don’t it?”

Cole sucked in a breath. “Goddamn, old man. What the hell is that? It tastes like piss.”

“Granddaddy’s moonshine recipe. What? You don’t like it?”

Cole handed the jar back with a grimace. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with bourbon.”

Wyatt’s laugh rumbled in his chest.

Cole took a hit off his cigarette as he and Wyatt both noticed the crowd parting. As guys stepped out of the way, one of Wyatt’s crew walked through, pulling a girl behind him. As the guy got to the edge of the crowd, he yanked the girl to his side, and Cole and Wyatt could see from where they were standing on the porch, that her hands were cuffed in front of her.

Cole turned to Wyatt, stunned. “What the fuck is this shit?” he whispered to him.

Wyatt shook his head and blew out a breath. “Chucky’s got a sick little habit. Likes ‘em, shall we say, unwilling. Sadistic son-of-a-bitch.”

Cole started to move toward Chucky, but Wyatt put his arm out to stop him. “Let me handle this.”

Cole turned to stare at him. “What, you good with this?”

Wyatt smiled back. “You got a soft heart, Cole.”

Cole stared him down with a warning look. “You better remember who you’re talkin’ to, ol’ man.”

***

Wyatt blew out a slow breath. He knew better than to give a member of the Evil Dead any shit. He knew well that they ran things around here. Even if Cole was a good friend, there was a pecking order, and it had to be respected. “Look, I know. Chuck’s given this club more trouble than he’s worth, but—”

“Then let me have him,” Cole ground out.

“I need him for the hit on Fat Tony next week, Cole,” Wyatt reasoned. “He’s the best explosives guy I’ve got.”

Cole took another drag off his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out, trying to hold his temper. He stared over at Chuck. “What’s the plan on that?”

“Lucky for us, Fat Tony broke his hand about a week ago.”

Cole nodded, understanding. “Can’t work the throttle, can’t ride.”

“Exactly. So he’s been ridin’ in his cage the last week. I figure a car bomb’s a nice way to take him out. Sends a nice message.”

“Retaliation for that shit that went down in Reno?” Cole questioned, glancing over at Wyatt.

“Yeah.”

“Bombs. That’s Homeland Security shit. Brings down all kinds of heat. You sure that’s your best move?”

Wyatt smiled. “I don’t give a shit. They’ll never tie it to us. Make those damned Hyenas think twice about messing with us.”

“Your club. Your decision, Brother,” Cole conceded. He lifted his chin toward Chucky. “I want to talk to him.”

“About what?” Wyatt asked.

Cole looked over at Wyatt. “He owes me money.”

Wyatt stared back at him wondering how much shit was about to hit the fan. “Yeah. Okay. Use the chapel.”

Cole took another draw off his cigarette, again studying Chuck and the girl. “Have him bring the girl.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, understanding now where he was going with this, and he nodded slowly.

Cole threw his cigarette over the porch rail then turned and walked inside, the screen door slamming behind him.

***

He walked into the room the Dead Souls used for club meetings. There wasn’t much décor—beat up wood paneling, some club photos in cheap frames on the wall, an old light that belonged over a pool table hung over the long wooden table that took up most of the room. There were about a dozen mismatched old executive chairs around the table.

Cole strolled around to the far end of the table and sat down in the chair to the left of the head, facing the door.

He didn’t have long to wait.

The door opened and in walked Wyatt. Chuck followed, dragging the girl. She stumbled, and Chuck yanked her to her feet. She tried to pull away, and he backhanded her. She fell to the floor in the corner across from Cole.

Cole’s gaze traveled over her. She was dressed in a short sleeve shirt, which was hanging open revealing a pink bra. She had on cut-off shorts, and Cole’s eyes traveled over her long, slender, tanned legs. He noticed several bruises on the inside of her thighs. She was barefoot. Her long honey-blonde hair hung in her face. She raised her head and tossed her hair back, and Cole found himself staring into the prettiest green eyes he’d ever seen.

He sucked in his breath.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he noticed her lip was split and bleeding. She glared back at him. Cole thought she looked half terrified, half defiant, and about seventeen.

Shit.

He was not a man who usually got involved in other people’s problems. He stayed clear of what didn’t directly concern him, having learned in this life that he couldn’t afford to let himself be affected by a lot of the shit he saw, but this? Fuck. This he couldn’t stomach. As he looked down at her, something twisted painfully in his chest.

Chuck took a seat opposite Cole, leaving her lying on the floor.

Wyatt looked at Cole. “You want me here or not?”

Cole slowly tore his gaze away from the girl, looked at Wyatt, and nodded once.

Wyatt sat down at the head of the table between the two men.

“Hey, Cole,” Chuck drawled.

Cole’s mouth formed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Chucky.”

“So how ya been, man?”

Cole just stared at him. “Ya got that two grand you owe me, Chucky?”

Chuck looked from Cole to Wyatt, and the smile faded from his face.

“Don’t look at him, man. He can’t save you,” Cole warned with an evil smile.

“Two grand?”

“Yeah. Two grand,” Cole repeated. “You do remember that little gambling debt don’t you?”

“Yeah, Cole. I know, but I thought we were just joking around, ya know?”

“No, man. We weren’t just ‘joking around’, Chucky. I don’t fuckin’ joke about money.” Cole leveled him with a hard stare, his brows arching. “Do I look like a man who fucking jokes about money?”

“No. I guess not.”

“So you got it?”

“Well, no. Not on me. Not all of it.”

Cole watched Chuck start to sweat. “Well how much you got?”

Chuck took a second to answer. “Ah, hundred. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Cole stared at him, and then leaned forward putting his elbows on the table.

“Yeah, probably.”

Cole smiled. “Now why do I get the feelin’ you’re holdin’ out on me, huh? Put your wallet on the table.”

Again Chuck looked to Wyatt.

“Why do you keep lookin’ at him?” Cole demanded. “He’s not the one you owe. Now put your Goddamn wallet on the table.”

Chuck huffed out a long breath and pulled his wallet out, tossing it down.

Cole stared at him a long moment, and then reached for the wallet. He pulled all the cash out spreading it on the table. “Well, well. You were holdin’ out on me. Looks like more than a hundred. Or can’t you count?”

Chuck just glared back at him.

“I count five hundred here,” Cole said, scooping up the money. “So, now I just need fifteen more.” He stared at Chuck, waiting for a response. “What’re we gonna do about that, Chuck?”

“I can get it for you. I just need more time.”

“Time? You’ve had enough time. I want my money. Now.”

“Well, I haven’t got it, man.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

Wyatt glanced at Cole.

“Maybe I’ll just have to take your bike.”

“My bike?” Chuck blurted. “You’re shittin’ me, right? You can’t take my bike, man.”

“I can do anything I Goddamn want!” Cole shouted, noticing out of the corner of his eye the girl flinch at his raised angry voice.

Chuck looked to Wyatt, and when he realized he wasn’t going to stop Cole, Chuck’s eyes reluctantly returned to Cole. “Come on. Please, man. Don’t take my bike.”

“You got anything else of value?” Cole asked as his eyes slid to the girl.

Chuck saw where he was looking and glanced down at her, then back at Cole. “The girl,” he offered.

Cole looked at him and smirked, “The girl?”

“Yeah, man. Take the girl.”

Cole looked at her and replied, “No offense, darlin’.” He glanced back at Chuck, “But she ain’t worth two grand.”

Chuck stared at him. “I’ll get you the money.”

“Yeah,” Cole nodded. “You will.”

They stared at each other. Cole thought of how badly he wanted to drive his fist into this guy’s face.

Wyatt leaned forward and looked at Cole. “Can’t we work something out here? As a favor to me?”

Cole held Wyatt’s eyes a long moment, and then nodded. “Okay. Fine. I’ll take the girl.”

Chucky exhaled. “Thanks, man. I’m glad we worked this out.”

“You still owe me fifteen more.”

“What?” Chucky asked, stunned.

“You don’t think she clears your debt, do ya, Chucky boy?” Cole smiled an evil grin.

“What do ya mean?”

“She just buys you two more weeks.”

“This is bullshit!”

“You rather I take your bike?” Cole bit back.

Chuck looked at Wyatt, and then back at Cole. “Fine. I’ll have your Goddamn money in two weeks.” He got up to leave.

“Un-cuff her,” Cole ordered.

“I don’t have the key,” Chuck snapped back.

Cole looked at Wyatt, and then back at Chuck incredulously. “You what?”

“You heard me.”

“So what were you planning on doing with her? Keeping her cuffed forever?” Cole demanded an answer.

Chuck shrugged and smirked at Cole. “Didn’t figure I’d have a use for her for that long.”

“And then what? Dump her body in the desert when you were finished?” Cole exploded out of his chair and lunged at him across the table. “You fucking piece of shit!”

He landed a powerful punch to Chuck’s face, knocking him back over his chair. The girl scooted farther into the corner, terrified.

Wyatt leapt to his feet. “Whoa, whoa.”

“Get this son-of-a-bitch out of my sight before I kill him,” Cole snapped at Wyatt.

Wyatt hauled Chuck to his feet and shoved him toward the door.

Cole noticed something pink sticking out of Chuck’s back pocket. “Hold on.”

Chuck looked back at him.

“What’s that in your back pocket?” Cole demanded.

Chucky wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and spat out, “Her cell phone.”

“Leave it,” Cole ordered, pointing at the table.

Chuck pulled it out and tossed it down on the table. He looked at Cole. “Have fun. She’s a handful.” He smirked as Wyatt shoved him toward the door.

Cole yelled after him, pointing his finger. “You’ve got two fucking weeks!”

Wyatt shoved Chuck out the door and followed him out.

Cole took a deep breath to calm himself down. He looked down at the girl who still huddled on the floor in the corner. She stared up at him, trembling.

He moved around the table.

Her eyes followed as he walked over to the door and closed it, sliding the bolt into place. He turned back and looked at her a long moment, his palm resting on the door. She watched as his hand slid down, and he walked slowly to her. She tried to pull her shirt together with her cuffed hands.

Cole squatted in front of her and brushed her shaking fingers aside. He began to fasten up the few remaining buttons.

 

***

 

The girl stared up at the man she’d just been given to, getting a closer look at him. She noticed how his blond hair was shot through with highlights, bleached by the sun she imagined. She took the opportunity to study his face while he looked down at what he was doing. He had golden blond facial hair that covered his jaw line and mouth. His face was sunburned, and he had some of the longest lashes she’d ever seen. When he was done with the task he looked up, and she was caught by the startling blue brilliance of his eyes. She stared, mesmerized like a deer caught in the headlights.

He spoke. “You okay, darlin’?”

She understood she’d just been given as payment for a gambling debt. She’d heard what had taken place, knew he didn’t want to take her, had to be talked into it, actually. And what was he going to use her for? There was only one reason he’d want her. She knew that. How many others would she be traded to? They all made her sick, and she let him know it the only way she could think of.

She spit in his face.

His eyes flashed for a moment as his head jerked back slightly. She realized her mistake immediately. Oh, God. Why had she done that?

He reached up and wiped his face with his sleeve, his eyes never leaving hers. “Goddamn. I sure as hell didn’t expect that.” He grinned. “You got spirit; I’ll give you that.”

She glared at him, waiting for the retaliation she was sure was coming. Maybe he’d beat her to death, and this nightmare would finally be over.

“You’re either really brave or really stupid,” he said in a deadly whisper. “Don’t do that again.”

Suddenly, it was as if something inside her had snapped. She swung her fists at him like she was swinging a baseball bat and clocked him on the left side of his face, the metal cuffs connecting with his jaw. She wondered even as she did so what possessed her to incite him like this.

Swearing, he grabbed her upper arms and jerked her up to within inches of his face. “Goddamn it! Quit!” He shook her. “Don’t try to fight me. There’s nothing you can do.”

She trembled at the fury she saw in his eyes. And suddenly he was pulling her to her feet. As he did, she caught a glimpse of a gun in a shoulder holster under his black leather vest. She remembered that Chuck had carried one like it.

She was breathing fast. He glanced down at her heaving chest. “You’re a little wildcat, aren’t you?”

It was the distraction she was looking for. She pretended to faint and fell against him. As she did, she made a grab for him and managed to get her hands on the butt of the handgun, pulling it free.

She could feel his body stiffen as his hands fell away from her and he moved backward. She watched his eyes narrow when he found himself looking down the barrel of his own gun.

He was careful not to move, seeing the resolve in her eyes. He studied her. Finally, he asked, “You gonna pull the trigger, darlin’?”

“I’m thinking about it.” She looked for any signs of fear in his eyes, but saw none. They measured her carefully, almost contemplatively.

“Well, while you’re thinking about it, you may want to think about something else, too. Like how you’re gonna get out of here.”

“You’re in the Dead Souls clubhouse, sweetheart,” he broke in.

He smiled suddenly, almost wickedly, showing a flash of white teeth. The grooves deepened on either side of his mouth.

“Now I ain’t bulletproof, darlin’, so maybe you kill me, but they’ll hear the shot.” He nodded toward the closed door. “Have you thought about what’ll happen then? What they’ll do to you?”

She glanced toward the door uncertainly. “Maybe that’s a chance I’ll have to take. Are you prepared to take the chance that I’ll shoot you?” She raised the gun higher, aiming it at his head.

He smiled, looking her in the eye and replied, “Baby, I’ve been takin’ chances all of my life.”

She held the gun on him, her hands trembling. She chewed on her bottom lip trying to figure a way out.

He raised his arms wide as if inviting her to take the shot. “Make up your mind, baby doll.”

She felt like crying with frustration. Why wasn’t he afraid? Was he so sure she wouldn’t pull the trigger? And was he right about her not being able to get out of here alive? She knew he told the truth. They would hear the shot. And they would come running.

That realization must have dawned across her face as her resolve faltered. And by the look in his eyes, he’d seen it too. She lowered the gun in defeat. He reached up patiently and gently took it out of her hands. She watched as he replaced the gun in his shoulder holster.

“How did you know I wouldn’t pull the trigger?” she asked in a whisper.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I didn’t.”

They studied each other.

“But I also knew the safety was on,” he added, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked at the floor. She waited for the blow she knew was coming. By now Chuck would have taken his fist to her. When nothing happened, she slid a quick glance up and finally whispered, “You don’t seem too mad about it.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve ended up on the wrong end of a gun.” He ducked his head to look in her eyes, and he smiled at her. “Just usually not my own.”

She looked up at him from under a lock of hair that fell across her face.

“Darlin’, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

 

***

 

Cole studied the girl. He could see the mistrust in her eyes. He exhaled slowly. “Look, I know you got no reason”—he shook his head to emphasize the point—“no reason at all to trust me, but I just want to get you out of here.” His eyes searched hers. “I swear.”

“Why would you want to do that? I heard what happened here. I’m not deaf. You took me in trade for a gambling debt,” she said, her voice escalating as she went. “I’m just a payment.”

Cole stepped closer, got right in her face. She needed to understand this. “Darlin’, my whole purpose in getting him in this room was to take you away from him. I don’t give a shit about that debt. I’ll get my money, one way or another.” He looked right in her eyes. “I did all this to get to you.”

That shut her up.

She took a deep breath and swayed on her feet. He could see she looked ready to drop.

“Here, sweetheart, sit down.” He guided her to a chair and pulled up another, sitting facing her. He noticed she was trembling and glaring at him at the same time, her eyes flashing with a combination of fear and fury. He reached to brush the hair back from her face, and she instinctively pulled back. He hesitated only a moment, his palm suspended in the air a few inches from her temple. Looking into her eyes he again promised, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap, and he softly brushed the hair back from her face. The side of her jaw was bruised, her lip split. He gently tilted her face to get a better look at the injury inflicted on her by Chuck, and their eyes connected. “He beat up on you pretty bad, huh?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. He could see the proof on her face, arms, and legs. He glanced down at her wrists and reached for her cuffed hands.

She sucked in her breath at the pain that shot through her tender wrists, her eyes watching his hands.

“I know it hurts, baby. I’m sorry.” He carefully examined her wrists. They were badly bruised, and the metal was cutting into her skin so tightly that they were cut and bleeding. He looked back at her face, his eyes running over her features. She was still looking down.

“We’re not all like him,” he told her softly. She looked up at him then, and he was again struck by the beautiful emerald green color of her eyes. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

She licked her swollen, dry lips and whispered, “Angel.”

His mouth curved into a grin. “Angel?”

She glared at him, and he could guess that people must have teased her about her name her whole life.

“Pretty as one.”

She looked away and asked in a whisper, “Even after what he did to my face?”

“How old are you, Angel?” he asked.

“Twenty-one.”

Cole exhaled. “Well, at least you’re legal. Barely.”

She glanced up at him sharply.

He smiled. “You look a lot younger, that’s all.”

Her eyes shifted away in annoyance.

He watched her a moment, and then raised his hand and gently took her jaw, turning her face up to his “There’s something I have to ask you.” She stared at him as he hesitated. He searched her eyes. “Did he rape you?”

She pulled her face away from his hand.

Cole waited, but still she stayed silent. “Is that a yes, then?” he asked softly.

She gave a barely discernable nod, but wouldn’t look at him.

“Shit.” He ran his hand over her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled her head away from him.

“Look at me, Angel.”

She resisted.

“Look at me,” he insisted, the tone of his voice deepening.

Finally, she looked into his eyes.

“No one’s going to hurt you again. Not him. Not me. That’s a promise.” She just stared at him, and he could tell she didn’t believe him. They looked at each other a long moment, and then he shook his head as if giving up. “All right.”

Just then her cell phone went off. Cole glanced at the pink phone lying on the table playing the ring tone for the theme song from Cops. He stared down at the screen, which was lit up with the incoming caller’s name. It read, Dad.

Cole’s gaze cut back to her.

Holy shit.

“A cop? Your dad’s a cop?”

She didn’t say anything.

He stood, running his hands through his hair. “Holy fucking shit,” he whispered. She watched as he paced, and then turned back to her. “Did Chuck know?”

She shook her head.

He paced back over to the table and leaned down putting his palms down on the table and lowered his head. He stood that way silently thinking, his eyes darting over the surface of the table.

She jumped when he slammed his palm into the table and cursed. Then he sat back down in the chair, and leaned back and looked at her. He ran his hand over his jaw slowly and exhaled. “How the fuck am I going to let you go now?”

The full meaning of what he’d just said must have hit her.

“I won’t say anything. I promise.”

Cole smiled, “Yeah, sure. You’re not a very good liar, Angel.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re right. It is a lie. I hope he kills all of you.”

He studied her for a moment, imagining the horrors she’d endured. Some of the injuries were plainly visible. He could only guess there were more that were not, both physical and emotional. Considering all she’d been through he couldn’t really blame her for the attitude. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

She looked away. “You’re all a bunch of animals. Nothing but assholes who—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he warned in a dangerous voice. She was giving him lip. That wasn’t something he was used to or willing to put up with. He saw his mistake. He’d tried to be nice to her; shown her some kindness and now she thought he was going to allow this behavior. He’d overlook it this time, because of all she’d been through. But hell, so far she’d spit in his face, hit him, and pulled a gun on him, and all he was trying to do was get her the hell out of here. The last thing he was going to do was take backtalk from her. He needed to set her straight on that right from the start. “That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble. I don’t take lip from anyone, especially a female, do you understand?”

She nodded.

“How the hell did you come to be here? Tell me that.”

“What difference does it make?” she snapped, turning her head away.

Cole stared at her. She needed to learn who was in charge here. “I asked you a question.” She looked back at him when she heard the authoritative tone in his voice. He lowered his face, his eyes boring straight through her. “Answer. Me.”

She dropped her eyes from his, unable to maintain eye contact. She wasn’t the first one to falter under his look of death, as his brothers called it.  He watched her swallow, and then she finally answered him.

“Two nights ago I was down at the beach with some friends. Then later, everyone was going to this party that one of them had heard about. When we got there, I had a drink, and the next thing I know I’m waking up in the back of a cargo van, handcuffed. I… I think someone put something in my drink.”

Cole frowned. “Chuck was driving the van?”

She shook her head. “No, some Asian guy was. He drove for hours. When we finally stopped driving, he sold me.”

“Sold you?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“I saw Chuck give him some money, and then he pulled me out of the van. What would you call it?”

Cole put his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his face. “Christ.”

“What… what are you going to do?” she asked hesitantly.

His eyes connected with hers, and then he leaned back, shaking his head. “I don’t know, babe. I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with you.”

She swallowed and started to tremble.

He studied her. “Your dad… you live with him?”

She shook her head. “No. I moved out a couple of months ago. I… I haven’t seen him since then. We had a falling out.”

Her cell phone chimed announcing a voicemail had been received. Cole’s eyes cut to the phone, and then to Angel. He picked it up and handed it to her. “Play the message for me.”

She made no move to comply.

He raised his eyebrows, staring her down. “Do it,” he ordered.

She punched in some numbers and put it on speaker. A man’s voice came across. “Angel, I know you’re angry, but I need to talk to you. You can’t keep avoiding me. Call me, please. Or I’m coming out there.”

Cole stared at her a long moment. “What jurisdiction?”

“Maricopa County.”

“Arizona?”

She nodded.

He blew out a breath. “Well, thank fuck he’s out of state.”

There was a knock on the door.

Cole got up and walked to the door. He unbolted and opened it.

Wyatt asked him, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He glanced back at Angel. “Hey, listen. I’m gonna need some boots or something for her. I don’t want her riding back down the mountain barefoot.”

Wyatt glanced at her and nodded. “Bozeman had a little tent set up. Selling leather and shit. Maybe he’s still here.”

“Okay. Thanks. Oh, and the cuffs. Wouldn’t happen to have any bolt cutters up here, would ya?” Cole asked with half a grin.

“No, but we could probably shoot the chain through,” Wyatt suggested with an answering grin.

Cole looked back at Angel and saw the terrified look on her face. “Naw. That’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. So I’ll see you in two weeks?”

Cole smiled. “Yeah, Brother. Two weeks.”

They slapped each other on the back, and then Cole turned to Angel. “Come on, darlin’.”