Page 30 of Wanted
The truck idles behind my van. “Are you going to file a report?”
“There’s no reason to.” But I am going to take a little trip around Fairview Valley to see if I can get my watch back.
Frankie and I have unfinished business before she skips town.
8
Frankie
“I’ll give you thirty-five.”
I lean my unbroken arm against the glass case and smirk at the burly, woodsman-looking guy behind the counter.
“Come on. It’s worth at least fifty.” I swallow hard against the rubber lump caught in my esophagus. At least one of my sweaty palms is hidden in my splint. The other I wipe discreetly on Jude’s stolen sweatpants.
Swiping thick fingers through his beard, the man regards me with curious brown eyes. The corners crinkle as he considers my counteroffer. A phone rings from beyond the ajar door at his back.
“Hang tight, and I’ll have an answer for you after I take this.”
I smile and nod, playing the part of a normal citizen in need of a few bucks and not a newbie klepto who’s trying to hock her savior’s watch for a freaking bus ticket. I don’t have a few minutes. Jude has more than likely already discovered my absence.
I bounce my gaze around the small shop filled with what I assume is a bunch of junk. Long-forgotten memorabilia and relics line outdated wooden shelves. A few big ticket items stand dusty and forgotten in this small town. The sight of the front door delivers a regular hit of adrenaline. My muscles tense, ready to haul me out of here at the first sign of trouble.
“Was this watch a gift?” The clerk’s question recaptures my fickle attention.
“Hm?”
“Men’s watch. Dainty wrist. Can’t help but wonder where you got such a nice piece.”
My breath catches. “How nice?” Oh god, did I steal a family heirloom?
“I mean, it’s not a Rolex. But it’s well crafted.”
I raise a cynical brow. “So what’s with the lowball offer if it’s such a nice piece?”
He studies the watch in his hand, then looks at me. “About that.” His gaze drifts over my head.
“You’ll meet me at fifty?” I question hopefully.
“Nah. The offer is rescinded. I can’t give you a dime for this.”
My jaw drops. “Why the hell not?”
He leans across the glass case on a determined elbow. “Because I don’t take stolen property.”
Fuck.
The clerk straightens and lifts his chin. “Hey, Jude.”
“Clayton.”
That singular word in that voice sucks all the air from my lungs. Dammit, Frankie! I knew I should have taken my chances hitchhiking.
“Thanks for hanging onto my watch for me,” Jude says from my back.
Maybe if I don’t turn around the floor will open up and swallow me whole. God, I’m not a coward, but I didn’t think I’d have to face him until after I got out of this town.
“Anytime,” Clayton says, an obvious smile in his voice. “I’ll leave you to it.”
