Page 27 of Dusty
Dusty took a seat at the counter, nodding at Daisy, the flirty pink-haired owner who ruled her domain with friendly authority. She’d changed a lot since getting married to Derrick Williamson, as well as becoming a surrogate mother to his son, Ian. Dusty had always considered her a friend, somebody he could talk to and count on when he needed a confidant.
“Black coffee?” Daisy asked, already reaching for a mug.
“Please.”
Sharon finished her rounds and approached, setting down her coffee pot on the burner. “You look serious,” she said quietly.
“We need to talk.” Dusty glanced around the half-full diner. “Privately.”
“I’m off at two. Can it wait until then?”
“It can’t wait.” He lowered his voice. “Madison’s gone to ground. He’s increased his security. It’s only a matter of time before more people show up here looking for you—looking for what you took.”
Sharon’s face paled, her expression horrified. “I should have known. I’ve deluded myself into thinking I’d have a little more time.”
“Time’s up. I talked with Rafe, and he agrees we need to go to San Antonio. Today. Retrieve what you hid and get it to Antonio and Brian.” At her puzzled expression, he explained, “Brian is part of the Boudreau clan by extension. What folks around here call Ms. Patti’s ‘Lost Boys.’ It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it, but Brian is a good man, and Douglas and Ms. Patti will both vouch for him.”
“I can’t just leave my shift—”
“Sure you can,” Daisy interrupted, wiping her hands on her apron. She’d approached silently, her instincts as sharp as ever. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed something’s wrong, Sharon. Since you started here, you’ve been jumping at shadows. It only got worse when those goons showed up looking for you.”
Sharon opened her mouth to protest, but Daisy waved her off.
“Don’t insult me by denying it. Whatever trouble’s following you, I want it gone before Christmas.” She untied Sharon’s apron strings herself. “Go. Do whatever you need to do. Consider it paid leave.”
Tears welled in Sharon’s eyes. “Daisy—”
“No arguments. I had my own share of trouble once too, you know.” The woman’s eyes flickered briefly to Dusty. “He knows what he’s doing. I’ve known him a long time. You can trust him.”
“I do,” Sharon whispered.
They stopped by Sharon’s rented cottage, where she packed quickly, efficiently, a skill Dusty recognized from people accustomed to leaving places in a hurry.
“Only the essentials,” she muttered, zipping a duffel bag. “Just in case I can’t come back right away.” Dusty heard the unspoken ‘if ever’ in her tone.
He double-checked his weapon, then secured it in his shoulder holster. “Rafe loaned us his truck. We’ll take back roads where we can.”
“You think Cooper has people watching the highways?”
“I think Madison has the resources to do whatever he wants.” Dusty met her gaze directly. “Which is why we need to stay one step ahead of him.”
Sharon nodded, then disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged, she’d changed into jeans, boots, and a heavy sweater. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and Dusty noticed she’d removed the small amount of makeup she normally wore.
“Ready,” she said.
As they climbed into Rafe’s truck, Sharon cast a long look back at the cottage and the town beyond. Dusty caught the wistful look, understanding it on a gut deep level. He’d felt the same when he’d first moved to Shiloh Springs, discovering the quiet small town quickly became home, and now held the key to his heart.
“We’ll come back,” Dusty said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “Once we’ve retrieved the evidence and turned it over to the FBI.”
She buckled her seatbelt. “Cooper doesn’t give up easily. He thinks he owns me.”
“He doesn’t.”
Sharon’s eyes met his, and something passed between them—something that had been growing since the day they met. “No,” she said softly. “He doesn’t.”
As they pulled away from the cottage, Dusty couldn’t shake the feeling this journey to San Antonio would change everything. For better or worse, the time for hiding was over.
They’d stopped atDusty’s place, where he ran inside and was back out in less than five minutes, a duffle bag in hand. Without another word, they started the trip toward San Antonio. Sharon sat beside Dusty in Rafe’s borrowed truck, watching as the miles sped past. She hadn’t expected to be going back to San Antonio so soon. When she’d hidden the evidence about Cooper’s misdeeds—the money laundering, the ties to the Chicago mob, the murders, it was all there in the pages she’d managed to copy from Cooper’s laptop, she’d thought she’d keep running, staying one step away from disaster. She wished what she had were the originals, but she’d given those to the Chicago FBI, hoping for their help. Instead, she’d discovered exactly how far Cooper’s reach went. The agent she’d talked to at the FBI went straight to Cooper with everything she’d told him, all the documents she’d turned over to the FBI. He’d been on Cooper’s payroll, which was the second thing to bring her to his attention. The first had been when he’d caught her at his desk, going through his unlocked laptop. He’d been so angry. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more furious, grabbing her by both arms and forcing her back against the wall. There had been no gentleness in his search of her body, no tenderness in his expression as he tore at her clothing. She knew he’d do something drastic if he knew she’d taken anything, had even looked at his private files. Fortunately, or unfortunately,depending on how she looked at it, he hadn’t found the flash drive she’d copied everything on to, or she’d have been dead before she ever walked out the door.
