The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

“One stop, damn you. Make it quick. We may be over the state line, but we’re still far too close for comfort. There’s a town coming up in fifteen or twenty miles, Glendive, I believe.” Carson drums his fingers against the door impatiently.

“Why was she still there at the place, anyway? I thought you said they were all friends with the old lady. You were certain everyone would be gone,” Muddy Boots says after a painful silence.

“How the hell am I supposed to know? Miss Rachel and the neighbor Neanderthal were inseparable. I figured she’d go to the hospital the second they heard about the old woman and her unexpected headache.” He sighs. “You wouldn’t believe the time I had convincing that old bitty to go home this morning. Then I had to stop her from calling her nephew over with that last minute offer for that stupid vase. I knew once he got off work, he’d drive right over. We’re lucky she never knew what hit her.”

Fury whips through me, knowing this appalling jackass somehow got Faye to leave when I thought it was all me, and only me the whole time.

Whatever. He’s not getting away with this, that’s for damn sure.

If I could kiss the handful of nettles poking me in the butt right now, I totally would.

Someone has to get in a parting shot before they disappear.

If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll never see it coming.

Maybe I’ll render him blind.

Maybe I’ll shake them up just enough to buy time. For myself, and for that tortured lunk a childish part of me still hopes will find me.

24

Pigs and Whistles (Weston)

My heart jackhammers and I stomp the gas pedal to my floorboard.

Herc gives a disappointed snort next to me.

“I know, dammit,” I tell him. “They weren’t at the last rest stop and we’re wasting precious time.”

We’ve made three sixty seconds stops at two gas stations and a rest stop near the state border. Each time, I came bounding out with Herc, giving him a chance to do a sniff test for any sign of Carson Shithead and those puke-tastic nuts that might as well be his personal fragrance.

So far, nothing.

I don’t have anything to go on besides my gut, assuming this is the route they’re taking, or that they’ll even stop at all.

The only thing I know for sure is that a rig like that fully loaded with cargo can’t fly through the night faster than my truck or the makeshift crew I’ve rounded up. They’re coming along just ten or twenty miles behind me now.

Our target has to stop sometime.

Fuel, eats, even just to cool their heels and check their loot.

And when they do, that’s our chance to gain ground and catch these snakes knotted up.

I swear, I’m going to beat that slick-dick SOB and his partner within an inch of their lives when I get my hands on them. Once for Aunt Faye, and ten more times for Shel.

Just wish I’d listened to my gut sooner.

I should’ve dug deeper into Carson Hudson. Should’ve done more. Should’ve assumed like bastards attract like and he wasn’t just an oddball lone wolf.

Now, Aunt Faye’s in the hospital and Shel’s been kidnapped.

A nightmare come true, and all because I hesitated.

The pig sniffs and noses at the dashboard restlessly. I tear open a banana and push it to his mouth to calm him, which it does for the two seconds it takes him to swallow it whole.

My phone rings. GRADY, the dash screen shows. I punch the button on the steering wheel to answer.

“Uncle Grady?”