After a moment, Everly said, “I’d be open to that arrangement—if I enjoyed the same benefits as others who signed a year-long contract with you.”

“Ah.” He chuckled and dropped his arms to his chair. “Now I see. The work-visa program.”

“More specifically, what comes at the end of the work-visa program.”

His suspicion was back. “You have a history as a nomad. You’re still young. What would make you want to settle in the States permanently?”

In translation: Why would she want a US passport?

Everly held his gaze for a long moment, working up her emotions so she came off as sincere. She lowered her gaze and cleared her throat. “I have a son. He’s seven, and he has cystic fibrosis.” She met his gaze again. “Up until a year ago, our medical coverage in Canada covered his needs. But the disease has progressed to a level where he needs specialty care. I’m sure you’ve heard of the limitations in our health care when people are in need of urgent care from a specialist.”

“I have quite a few Canadians working for me,” he said. “And they tell me that the rumors regarding lousy Canadian health care aren’t true.”

“Then they’ve never had aggressive cancer or needed urgent surgery or struggled with a rapidly worsening disease. Don’t get me wrong. General, routine health care in Canada is good. But my son is beyond that level of care. There is an amazing specialist right here in Montana, teaching at the medical school in Bozeman.”

“I admire your dedication to your son.”

“I don’t need admiration, Mr. Bishop. I need a job that can supply me with the means to stay in this country to get the best medical care for my boy. And I promise you, I’ll make it worth your while by bringing exemplary safety and increased profit to Bishop Mining.” When he still hesitated, Everly said, “How ’bout this? I’ll work the first month free. If you like what you see, you can put me on salary and pay me for the previous month. If you don’t, I’ll walk away, no harm, no foul.”

Bishop laughed and shook his head. “I sure like the way you think.”

He offered his hand across the desk, and Everly’s gaze fixed on the USB bracelet. The latch had a safety lock. It wouldn’t be coming off by accident. If she took it from him now and the names weren’t on it, she’d have blown the whole mission.

Patience.

Bishop grinned at her. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Savannah sat at the curb outside the sheriff’s department headquarters, idling in Misty’s Subaru. The car was almost as beat-up and worn-out as Savannah’s, but the heater still worked, so she couldn’t complain. Her heart thumped hard and quick. Her mind toiled around all that could go wrong with this little escapade. But she had to be proactive if she didn’t want to live the rest of her life at the whim of a narcissist. If she wanted to keep her son.

It was time to turn the tables on Hank. Time to hunt the hunter. The task might be well outside her expertise, but she’d learned a thing or two over her years with Hank. And wouldn’t it piss him off to know she was using his own techniques to plan a counterattack?

She checked the dashboard clock and found it only two minutes later than the last time she checked: 7:44 p.m. Sighing, she adjusted the heater vent to blow warm air on her feet, rested her head against the seat, and let her eyes close for a moment. “You can do this,” she murmured. “You have to do this.”

A muffled voice in the distance pulled her eyes open, and she found Hank jogging down the front steps of the station, talking on his phone while he pulled on his parka. By the time he reached his cruiser, he’d finished his call and stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

Savannah’s heart skipped, and she second-guessed her idea to follow him. She couldn’t even imagine what he’d say—or do—if he caught her. But that thought reminded her exactly why she was doing this: so neither she nor Jamison would ever have to worry about Hank’s moods or abuse again.

With renewed purpose, Savannah slid low in the driver’s seat as Hank pulled out of the station parking lot and turned toward downtown. There were still a few cars on the road at this hour, and it was fully dark, so she felt relatively safe following a few car lengths back. But a few minutes later, when he pulled into the empty parking lot of the Episcopalian church, Savannah had to drive past and double back. She pulled to the curb half a block away, close enough to see that Hank wasn’t in the cruiser but had left his car running.

“What in the hell could you want in there?” she murmured.

The adorable little church stayed open until eight every night, but Savannah knew Hank hadn’t ducked into the building to pray. He reappeared within minutes, carrying a small, dark bag.

“What have you got?” she wondered. Though even if she found out what he was doing here, even if she discovered it was something illegal, unethical, or immoral, she’d have a damn difficult time proving it in any way that would give her leverage. At least not in this county.

She was disheartened that this escapade hadn’t netted her any more usable information. But knowledge was power. And Savannah needed every ounce of power she could get. Maybe, in time, those ounces would add up to something substantial enough to get out from under his control. She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.

So when Hank returned to his car and left the parking lot, headed toward downtown, Savannah followed.

Another few minutes’ drive and they were on Main Street. Hank parked again, this time across the street from The Busy Bean, his favorite coffee haunt. Excitement darted through her veins. This was her chance.

She quickly found a spot at the curb several cars back, shut off the lights but left the car running, and waited as Hank crossed the street and slipped inside the coffee hut just before close. As soon as the shop’s door shut behind him, Savannah hopped out of the car and hurried to the sidewalk, crouching to hide herself behind other parked vehicles. When she reached the passenger’s side of the cruiser, she searched for Hank inside the shop and found him leaning on the counter, flirting with one of the pretty girls who worked there.

Perfect. His coffee would take at least fifteen minutes. Now, if Hank’s other habits just held up…

Savannah reached for the passenger’s door handle. The cold metal cut right through her mittens. She said a quick prayer and pulled on the lever. The door opened, and a thrill spiked through Savannah. Hank’s arrogance had paid off for once. He believed he was invincible.

“Yes,” she whispered before taking one more look at the café, then bending to search the cruiser’s interior.

Tags: Skye Jordan Manhunters Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net