Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
“Original plan.” I draw a shuddering breath. “But it should be a team decision.”
“I don’t figure you’ll ever be really safe until Papa’s dead, so I’d rather have him lead us to Papa, too.” His fingers tighten slightly, the intensity of his gaze sharpening. “But listen—this is the part where we start being real careful.”
“I thought we were being careful.”
“We were. But now real careful. The doc doesn’t know me but he might recognize you. So those big sunglasses go on and you don’t look his way if he’s outside. And you always had your hair brushed out all big in the barn, so now you keep it tied up or under a hat.”
Biting my lip, I nod. Then narrow my eyes. “Are you making fun of my big nurse hair?”
Stone grins. “Nah, girl. That big hair made me want to get my hands all tangled up in it while I was drilling into you from behind. I loved that hair.” With a tug at the braid I’m wearing now, he sobers a bit. “Even if we don’t pull Creek and the feds into this, we might soon want to pull in help from the Riders. Someone to watch the doc at night and also to watch our backs. If we stay low and don’t call any attention to ourselves, we oughta be all right for now. But Papa’s security took out the Iron Blood, and they are not fucking around. So if you ever start feeling uneasy or thinking for a second that you’ve been made, we get the fuck out of here. Yeah?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my stomach roiling at the thought of him being hurt. And wondering if I should just call this off now.
But I know it wouldn’t really change anything. Because Stone is determined to get Papa, too. He would just go it alone, instead. No team necessary, especially now that we’ve found the doc. He doesn’t need me for info anymore. I’m the one who needs him.
So much.
Stone must sense my worry, because he brushes his thumb over my lips, says in a reassuring voice, “It’ll be all right, angel. Finding the doc is a huge fucking leap closer to Papa. We’re getting there.”
I know we are. So I should be feeling hopeful. Instead all I feel is terror and dread, because when it comes to believing that I’m getting somewhere, when it comes to being hopeful…my track record is pure shit. I was hopeful that Lissa would escape, and Tusk killed her. I was hopeful that my plan to slip laxatives to the guards would work, then Crash was killed. I was hopeful that we’d be able to rescue Matt…and discovered that he’d been killed.
But it’s never me. It’s always the person I love.
So instead of being hopeful now, I’m just terrified that I’ll lose Stone, too.
37
Maxine
Two days later, Stone trades in the Honda for a blue Toyota and we switch up our pattern, doing a few drivebys past the doc’s house and his business, but parking at a long distance when we’re just waiting. We begin driving by his house at night, too—and I can see why Stone said we might want to bring in help. I’m getting more than eight hours of sleep between naps in the car and at the motel, but I’m still worn out. Even though I’m basically doing nothing except sitting on my ass, it’s as if the constant battle of hope and dread is wearing me down.
The fourth night after we locate the doc, we drive past his house around midnight. I don’t see anything, but I sense Stone’s sudden tension, and know there’s something wrong when he asks me, “Did you leave anything back at the room?”
“No.” We never do. Every day, we toss our packs into the trunk of the car. “What was it?”
“The power to his security camera was out. Fuck. Tag Blowback, tell him to put in an anonymous tip that’ll make the cops check out the situation at Johnson’s house. Maybe it’s nothing, but I want to know.”
But he’s not waiting around to find out. We drive to one of the big casino lots and leave the car, then take a casino shuttle to where he stored his bike at another lot.
Minutes after that, we’re on the road home.
* * *
Snow stops us in Reno. It’s around eight in the morning when we get another room and tag Blowback again. Standing by one of the double beds, I watch Stone with my arms crossed and my pulse racing.
“Fuck.” Jaw clenched, Stone shakes his head and puts away the phone before looking to me. “Gerald Johnson died of an apparent accidental overdose last night.”
My heart drops. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t know yet, except it wasn’t accidental.”
So they killed him. Sour fear coats my tongue. “Do you think it’s because of us?”