Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

“So if we wait, there’s a better chance she’ll get what she deserves.” Sky was still skeptical. He wanted this mess over and done.

“More than that,” Beau said. “If she knows she’s looking at years behind bars, she’ll be more apt to make a deal—and give us Stella.”

CHAPTER 17

So far Marie had managed to keep out of Stella’s way. Last night after the wreck, she’d stayed away from the Blue Coyote until she was sure Stella and Nick had gone. This morning she’d spent a couple of hours at Haskell Trucking, hosing, wiping, scrubbing, and vacuuming every fingerprint and every trace of paint, dirt, and gravel from the semi, including the tires. There wasn’t much chance the woman in Prescott’s car had survived, and even less chance she’d gotten a good look at the truck. But why risk it?

Now it was time to report back to work and face whatever had to be faced. She’d have little choice except to tell the truth. Letting Stella catch her in a lie would be a bad idea.

She walked in to find Stella, looking sour and suspicious, waiting at the bar. Nick was nowhere to be seen.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked in a voice that was like the purr of a cat about to pounce on a sparrow.

Bracing herself, Marie feigned a shrug. “I picked up the signal a little after dark. Prescott’s Cadillac came by the diner a few minutes later. I followed it to a spot with a good, steep shoulder and rammed it from behind. It crumpled and rolled down into the barrow pit.”

“And?” Stella’s eyes narrowed and sharpened, as if she already knew the truth.

“When I walked down to check, it wasn’t Prescott. It was a woman with long red hair. She was alone in the car.”

“Prescott had a red-haired daughter. Probably her. Was she alive?”

“I couldn’t tell for sure. She was unconscious, hanging by the seat belt, bleeding from her head. I figured if she wasn’t dead, she soon would be.”

“So you left her that way?”

A rivulet of cold sweat trickled down Marie’s back. “Somebody was coming. I could see the headlights. I figured my best bet was to get out of there before I got caught.” Marie could feel herself beginning to crumble. “Give me another chance. This time I’ll find Prescott and finish the job, I promise.”

Stella’s laughter exploded. “No, you won’t, dearie.”

Marie stared at her, her stomach curdling.

“I heard the news on the radio driving in,” Stella said. “Garn Prescott died yesterday in the hospital—of a heart attack.”

Marie’s legs buckled. She sank onto a chair. “So he was already dead last night when I . . .”

“That’s right—not that we knew it at the time. At least you showed willing. But I’d be happier if you’d made sure his daughter wasn’t going to wake up. Since nothing’s been on the news, I’m guessing she survived. Do you think she got a look at the truck?”

“It was dark. But the parking lot at the diner has overhead lights. She could’ve seen me as I pulled out. I cleaned up the truck this morning. There’s nothing on it that could link it to the wreck or to me.”

“Well, I’ve learned not to take chances. A friend in Lubbock is looking to buy a truck like that. I’ll discount the price if he picks it up today.” Stella’s green eyes narrowed. “So why are you sitting there? No thanks to you, Nicky and I were short-handed last night and didn’t have time to clean up. The floor needs sweeping, and the bar and tables need polishing before we open. Get to work!”

Marie grabbed a broom and dustpan from the hall closet and began sweeping under the tables. For now, at least, it was business as usual. All she could do was wait for Stella to play the next card.

After what had happened to Lute, she knew better than to turn her back on the woman. With the Harley gassed, pistol loaded, and backpack handy, she’d be ready to cut and run at the first sign of trouble.

But she wasn’t ready to give up yet—not as long as there was a chance to move up in Stella’s world of wealth and power. For all Marie knew, it could be the only chance she’d ever have.

Sky worked the horses till after sundown. He’d climbed out of the shower, about to dress and drive back to the hospital, when his cell phone rang. It was Lauren.

“Hi.” He tried to sound casual, but concern for her had dogged him all day. “Sounds like you talked the nurse into giving your phone back. I was just getting ready to come see you.”

“That’s why I called. You looked dead on your feet this morning. If you haven’t slept, I don’t want you nodding off on the road. Stay home.”

“You’re giving me orders now?”

“You’re darn right I am. And don’t worry about me. I’m still hurting, but the scan showed no bleeding on my brain. The doctor wants to keep me through tomorrow night. After that, if all goes well, I can go home the next morning and get ready for the funeral.”

“You’ll have a lot to deal with,” Sky said. “Are you sure you’ll be up to it?”