Page 150 of Swept for Forever
She shrieked and scrambled for the sheet. He froze mid-reach, his eyes locking on mine. Yeah, I’d just kicked down his reality.
“Allan Spears. Get dressed,” I said, leveling my gun at him.
“What the hell?—”
“Now.”
The girl bolted to the corner, her fingers inching toward the motel phone.
“Call Pickle,” Spears snapped.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, whoever Pickle was. “If you’re calling anyone, it’s the cops.”
I flicked the muzzle toward him. “Up.”
He yanked his shirt on, hopped into his pants, then raised his hands.
“Act normal.” I jabbed the barrel against his side.
He lowered his arms, and I marched him out and down the fire stairs, angling my face to escape the stink of the guy’s cheap sweat and bruised pride.
Outside, I shoved him into the passenger seat of my truck, then secured his wrists with a zip tie I’d bought from the hardware shop.
I pressed my Glock to his temple. “Where is she?”
He smirked. “Somewhere. I was going to take you to her anyway. That was the plan.”
“Don’t underestimate a man like me, Mr. Spears.”
He turned his head. “A man superstitious enough to carry an old coin?”
“Fuck you.” I cocked the gun. “Take me to her.”
“Gladly.”
I drove as he gave directions out of town and into backroads.
This could’ve been a bluff or a trap. But I believed him. Whatever Spears wanted, he thought putting us in the same room would do the damage for him.
Loved one pitted against loved one. Classic control tactic.
But I couldn’t think that far ahead.
I just had to get to her.
The bars on my phone kept dropping. I pinned my location on the map and hit send. Boone needed a lead. Reception was shit, but if I went dark, at least he’d have a direction. Roads like this only led one way in and out.
We reached a lodge, which was bigger than I expected. An SUV was already parked out front.
I pulled my Glock and motioned Spears forward. “Take me to her.”
He glared. “You’ll see her soon enough.”
“Move!” I jabbed the muzzle between his shoulder blades.
He lifted his hands and stepped toward the door.
Something nudged the abandoned rain barrel beside the porch, and it scraped against the boards, but it wasn’t the wind.
