Page 70 of Hunted, Season Three

Especiallyin Texas.

If I had Kid blow me for every “storm” that’s been accurate this past year, my balls would ache worse than my back does.

I swear those fuckers just try to predict this shit with a Magic Eightball.

The two of us make our way to the main entrance of the police department building one right after another, heads down in hopes of avoiding additional bursts of cold punching us in the face.

One almost knocked my ass clear out while salting Ms.Beekman’s front porch.

She technically lives on theoutskirtsof town but in the county.

And as much as she appreciated the needed help – her husband died over the summer – I didn’t appreciate the chicken welcoming committee I had to maneuver aroundon top ofthe shit that took Dorothy to Oz.

Thank fuck, Kid swore he wouldn’t go out driving in this.

It honestly gave me one less thing to stress about.

Having Rabbit spendall afternoonout of our direct sights is enough.

More thanfucking enough.

I would’ve been incessantly texting her if I had even a ball hair of time to spare.

But I didn’t have that.

There was barely time to piss.

Once we’re inside the small building not meant to house many people at one time, Post makes a two-finger gesture to instruct that I continue to follow behind him.“Help me load up these last few boxes, and then you’re good to head out.”At the back of the building, he turns to the left to veer towards the supply closets rather than the holding cells.“I know Fred’s got that backup generator and shit for the clinic, but I also know the emergency vehicle could use a few more supplies.And come to think of it…” his concerned gaze momentarily finds mine, “so could the Wayland’s B&B.They’re at max capass – again this week – and somethin’ tells me they ain’t prepared for the shit that’s about to hit.”

“Most people aren’t.”

“Mind droppin’ off a couple there?”

“You got it.”

He simply pauses in front of the door we need instead of punching in the code to access it.“I appreciate the assistance out there today.”

“I know.”

“You’d still do it even if the town didn’t keep you on retainer for emergencies like this, wouldn’t ya?”

“Probably.”The corner of my lip kicks upward.“But let’s not fuck around with the town budget to find out.”

Light laughs leaving Post are attached to a small headshake.“We won’t.”

Do Ineedthe money they throw at me to put my tow business on the back burner when shit weather hits – or isexpected to hit –home?

No.

Is it nice shit to have?

Yeah.

Do I get the feeling between a new house, a wedding, and a baby it’s gonna come in real handy?

Without a fucking doubt.

As though I’ve cracked a window to my thoughts, Post curiously inquires, “Thinkin’ of puttin’ some of those funds towards your weddin’?”

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