Page 2 of Enduring Promise

He was nameless as far as Russ knew. He was built like a linebacker with a muscular, broad frame that stretched the seams of his jacket. He had dark, close-cropped gray hair, and his jaw was set with a determined line beneath a neatly trimmed beard. The gray hair looked as though it had come on prematurely; the man was no more than forty in Russ’s estimation. There was a cold precision to him, his sharp eyesconstantly scanning the road through the rearview mirror, his movements controlled and purposeful.

Russ shifted in his seat, his back aching from the cramped space. He wanted to ask a million questions. Had Carmine Majors been arrested? Was Topeka safe? Where the hell were they even going? But he knew better. This wasn’t the kind of guy who’d answer. It wasn’t his job, and asking would only lead to more silence.

He glanced at Hillary beside him. She seemed calm, though he could tell by the way her fingers tapped against her knee she was as tense as he was. They’d been running for days, and the constant adrenaline was taking its toll. But she didn’t complain. Not once.

Russ sighed, running a hand over his stubble. “We need to do something to pass the time,” he said finally, breaking the silence that had hung over them like a fog. The time was abstract. They didn’t know where they were going or how long it would take, but he knew there were likely hours stretched before them.

Hillary raised an eyebrow. “Any ideas? There’s not much we can do back here.”

“Sure there is,” Russ replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We could compare stories.”

Hillary’s skepticism deepened. “What kind of stories are you talking about?”

Russ smirked. “What do you think?”

Hillary rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Don’t be cute.”

“I try my best,” Russ shrugged, “and yet the cute just keeps coming.”

“Stories?” she asked, raising a brow.

“I’m talking about real stories. You’ve had an interesting career, and I’ve had my fair share of high-profile investigations.We could compare. See who’s got the best stories. Make it a contest.”

She looked intrigued. “The driver can decide whose story is better,” Hillary said, glancing toward the front. The driver’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, giving them both a quick, silent acknowledgment before returning to the road. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

Russ laughed, the sound rough and low in the enclosed space. “Alright, counselor. I’ll bite. I’ve got some good ones, but you go first.”

Hillary leaned back, thinking for a moment before launching into her first story. “A couple years ago, I had this corporate fraud case. Huge company, big money. Everyone thought the CEO was untouchable. This guy was a real smooth talker, had connections everywhere, but I knew something was off. I dug into the company’s finances, and it didn’t take long to find out they were laundering money. But the best part? The CEO came into my office one afternoon and admitted it all. He’d brought me a pair of diamond earrings. Gorgeous ones. He said he knew what kind of woman I was, just by looking at me. Yes, he’d done all these things he was being accused of, but it wouldn’t matter. He handed me the earrings and said there was a matching tennis bracelet. We should just put all this behind us and focus on pretty things.”

Russ chuckled. “What did you do?” He asked the question feeling as though he already knew the answer. Hillary had proven herself to be a woman of character. Whoever that idiot with the earrings was had misjudged her completely.

“I took the earrings,” she grinned playfully. “Then met up with him to get the bracelet and had him arrested. Remembering the shock on his face still makes me insanely happy.”

He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees as he thought about which story to tell. “Alright, so a few years back, I wasworking a story involving some guys who were smuggling drugs through Texas. These guys were professionals. They had routes mapped out, fake IDs, the works. But here’s where it gets good. The whole thing unraveled because one of the smugglers had a pet bird. He couldn’t go anywhere without it. The thing squawked twenty-four/seven. Drove the rest of the guys on the crew nuts. I’d written a piece for the paper about the influx of drugs to these few small communities and I had some leads about who exactly was on the crew. Well one of the guys, completely fed up with this bird that wouldn’t shut up, called me. Gave me the whole story. Sold everyone out. He said I could name him as a source in the paper, all I had to do was make sure I tell everyone he did it because of that stupid bird.”

“He double-crossed an entire crime syndicate instead of buying some ear plugs?” Hillary guessed.

Russ grinned. “The bird was apparently very loud.” He shrugged and smiled. The van turned onto some kind of gravel or bumpy road which sent the two of them crashing gently into each other. Russ steadied her with his arm until the road leveled out and then let his grip linger there an extra moment.

Hillary laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s pretty good.”

“Construction,” the driver apologized. “The road’s all torn up.”

“No problem,” Hillary said through a smile as she repositioned herself in the seat. The moment seemed to stretch on until Russ broke the growing tension with a question.

He turned to the driver, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Well? What do you think? Whose story was better?”

The driver gave them both a long, unreadable look, then shrugged before giving a slight nod in Hillary’s direction.

She raised her hands in victory. “See? Even the silent type agrees. I win.”

The driver cleared his throat. “Did you keep the earrings?”

“Absolutely,” Hillary grinned proudly. “I sold them and donated the money to one of the small businesses hurt most by his crimes.”

Russ noted that the driver looked impressed, and somewhere deep in his own gut he felt the internal kick to his ribs that was jealousy. It was ludicrous. Not that long ago he and Hillary were strangers. He had no claim to her. The fact that she was gorgeous and brilliant shouldn’t matter. They were in survival mode. He wasn’t feeling attraction. It was adrenaline. A rush.

That’s what he was telling himself.

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