Chapter Two
THE WOMAN IN MY PASSENGER seat had been quiet for almost four miles.
That worried me more than the talking had.
The truck rolled down out of the timber, engine low, tires humming over the county road as the last of the evening burned out behind the ridgeline.
Cooler air pushed through the vents and carried the smell of sap, sunbaked asphalt, and hot metal off the hood.
Beside me, Crystal Kemp sat with her restrained hands in her lap, her pale hair tangled from the chase, one boot planted like she’d use it on my dash if the right opportunity presented itself.
The warrant photo hadn’t prepared me for her.
In the photo, she’d looked like the kind of woman people underestimated on purpose. Pretty. Polished. A little soft around the eyes. A bookkeeper with a clean face, a clean record until the charges, and the kind of good-girl stare that made men in courtrooms say she must’ve gotten in over her head.
The woman beside me had already tried to run, lie, flirt, joke, kick me, and make me laugh hard enough to hate myself for almost doing it.
I could believe she’d commit a crime.
I was having a harder time believing she’d run from one.
Flight wasn’t her instinct. Fight was. It was in the way she held still like stillness was temporary, in the way her chin stayed lifted, in the way every answer came sharpened at both ends. She’d pick the locked door just so she could swing it open and hit whoever waited on the other side.
I shouldn’t have wondered what that energy would do if she aimed it somewhere besides escape.
I did.
My cock pushed hard against my zipper, and I tightened my hand on the wheel.
Professional work at its finest.
Crystal turned her head against the seat and looked at me through the half dark. “You always get this quiet after kidnapping women?”
“Recovery,” I said.
“You keep saying that like repetition makes it less felonious.”
“You keep saying kidnapping like it changes the warrant.”
“I’m exploring branding options.”
“You’re exploring whether I’m distracted.”
Her mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Are you?”
I kept my eyes on the road.
That was the safer answer.
The county route cut across the slope in long, dark bends.
Pine trunks flashed through the headlights.
The sky ahead had gone deep blue over the mountains, with one narrow strip of orange still burning low behind us.
The temperature dropped fast once the sun disappeared, but the inside of the truck held the day’s heat and the too-close smell of dust, leather, and woman.
Crystal shifted in the seat. The faint sound from her lap stayed small, but my attention went right to it anyway.
I’d already checked the fit twice. She wasn’t hurt. She had enough movement to drink water and not enough to get both hands on the wheel.
I still didn’t like having her uncomfortable.
That made no sense, considering she’d tried to take my knee off less than an hour ago.
She lifted her hands a few inches. “Are we going to county, North Fork, or a secluded second location where the podcast people will find my earrings in season two?”
“You’re going to live long enough to make terrible jokes tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It answers the important part.”
“You think I’m going to trust the man who ran me up a mountain?”
“I think you’re going to sit there and keep your boots off my dash.”
Her boot moved an inch closer to the dash.
I glanced at her.
Crystal lowered it, smiling like she’d won something.
She was going to be a problem in every room I put her in.
The county intake would’ve been the clean answer if the night hadn’t already gone sideways.
The nearest handoff point was a long drive past two bad stretches of road and one pass that liked to hold fog after dark.
I had a hostile skip, a busted headlight indicator blinking at me, a disabled sedan behind us, and enough adrenaline bleeding out of my system to make fatigue feel like a delayed punch.
I could drive tired with a cooperative prisoner.
Crystal Kemp wasn’t cooperative in any language.
My thumb found the leather cord at my throat before I thought about it.
The old crucifix rested warm beneath my shirt, the edges worn smooth from years that hadn’t belonged to me first. Cade used to hook one finger under it when he was lying, praying, or trying to look braver than he was. Sometimes all three.
I let go of the cord and reached for my phone.
Crystal’s gaze dropped to my hand. “Calling in backup?”
“Calling in logistics.”
“I knew this date needed a chaperone.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I have to. You’re busy pretending not to.”
I hit the after-hours line and put the call through the truck speakers.
A male voice came on after the second ring, rough with sleep and static. “North Fork.”
“Tolliver. I have Kemp secured. Her car’s disabled off Old Quarry Road near the locked Forest Service gate. I sent the coordinates and plate photos. I’m holding overnight at Pine Shadow and transporting at daylight.”
Crystal froze beside me.
The voice on the speaker sharpened. “You need county tonight?”
“Not unless she gets creative.”
“I resent the lack of faith,” Crystal said.
A pause came through the line.
Then the night desk said, “Sounds like she’s creative.”
“She is,” I said. “I’ll check in again at daylight.”
“Copy that. Keep her breathing and don’t let her steal anything.”
Crystal leaned toward the console. “That’s very judgmental for someone I’ve never met.”
I ended the call before she could collect an audience.
Her shoulder brushed the seat belt as she settled back. “Pine Shadow Motor Court. That sounds like a place people make poor decisions.”
“It’s a place with rooms.”
“You do have a way with romance.”
“This isn’t romance.”
“No,” she said, looking out the side window. “I guess men usually buy dinner before they ruin a woman’s life.”
The words cut, but they came out quieter than the rest.
I looked at her profile. In the last blue light, her face lost the dust and attitude. She looked exhausted. Not soft. Not sorry. Just worn to the bone and still sitting upright because lying down would mean trusting the ground.
“You hungry?” I asked.
Crystal turned back to me. “That depends. Are you offering a last meal?”
“I’m offering vending-machine crackers if Pine Shadow still has the same machine.”
“Wow. My standards are being courted so aggressively.”
“You want them or not?”
“I didn’t say no.”
That was as close as she seemed willing to come to accepting anything.
We drove another ten minutes without speaking. The road dropped out of the trees and ran along a low shoulder above the valley. Whispering Pines sat somewhere behind us, lights hidden by the dark folds of timber. Ahead, the highway glowed in dull strips where headlights passed between the trunks.
The Pine Shadow sign appeared after the next bend, green letters buzzing around two orange pine trees, the motel stretched behind it in a single low row of doors.
The place looked exactly like it always had: cracked blacktop, old wood siding, window units, vending machines under a flickering awning, and enough privacy that no one asked too many questions unless the questions came with cash.
I pulled in slow and parked in front of the office.
Crystal looked up at the sign. “This is either a motel or the first scene of a slasher movie.”
“It’s clean enough.”
“That answer didn’t help.”
“You’re hard to reassure.”
“I’m handcuffed in a bounty hunter’s truck outside a motel named Pine Shadow. Reassurance has a steep climb.”
I shut off the engine, then turned toward her. “Listen to me. I’m going to walk you into that office and get a room. Your hands stay under the overshirt. You don’t yell. You don’t run. You don’t make this hard.”
Her brows lifted. “And if I do?”
“Then I involve county tonight, and neither of us sleeps.”
She studied me, her eyes pale and unreadable in the dash light. “You really are tired.”
“I’m alert enough.”
“That’s what men say right before they make terrible choices.”
“I already caught you. My terrible-choice quota is full.”
Her mouth twitched. “You sure about that?”
No.
I got out before honesty ruined me.
The night air hit cooler than the truck cab. Crickets sawed in the grass behind the motel, and somewhere down the row, a television laughed through a thin wall. I opened Crystal’s door and held out one hand.
She looked at it. “I can step down by myself.”
“I remember how well that worked last time.”
“That was a strategic exit.”
“That was eight steps and a truck dent.”
“Nine steps if you’re generous.”
“I’m not feeling generous.”
She put her hands under the charcoal overshirt, then accepted my help like it offended her. Her fingers were warm against my palm. Long enough for my body to notice. Not long enough for any sane man to make meaning out of it.
I let go first.
The office smelled like dust, lemon cleaner, and the burnt remains of old coffee. A box fan rattled behind the counter. The clerk looked about nineteen, with a red mark from a pillow still creased on one cheek and a paperback folded open beside the register.
He blinked at us. “You need a room?”
“One room,” I said.
Crystal leaned against my side just enough to look casual and just enough to make my entire right arm aware of her. “Preferably one without visible crime stains.”
The clerk stared.
“She’s tired,” I said.
“I’m also discerning,” she added.
He looked at the computer. “I’ve got one queen left. No smoking, no pets, no refunds after fifteen minutes.”
Crystal sighed. “The romance continues.”
I slid my card across the counter. “We’ll take it.”
The clerk ran the card, handed over an actual key on a plastic pine-tree keychain, and pointed through the wall. “Room twelve. Ice machine’s dead. Vending works if you kick the bottom left corner.”
“Good to know,” Crystal said. “I respect local knowledge.”
I guided her out before she befriended him or robbed him.