Page 16 of Broke Down Single Mom

I shake my head. “If we make it official this fast, it might alert Daniel to our position. Let’s gather as much information as we can first.”

“Yeah, the last thing we need is that fucker lurking around, looking for an opening. Not that he’d actually get one, but his presence here would force us to put security detail on Avery and the girls whenever they go out. That will draw some attention and North Platte is a small town. People talk. They can tell who’s a Wolfhound agent, who’s a ranger, etc., and the minute folks notice Wolfhound staff following a woman and her two kids around—”

“Daniel will be drawn to them. Especially if he is as connected as Avery thinks.”

Which means that we have to calculate every single move we make from now on. We have to keep a low profile, even in our endeavors across legal channels, and we should probably create fake identities for Avery and the girls, at least until we locate Daniel. It’s a good thing I have my friend coming over this evening to discuss Avery’s passport and driver’s license issues. She won’t like my offer to give her a temporary fake identity and cover all of her financial needs until she can get her own life back, but it’s not like she has a better choice at this point.

I’m compelled to do everything I can in order to keep Avery and her daughters safe. And while I would like to delve deeper into the reason why, I can’t. It’s a time sensitive issue, and the sooner we put Daniel behind bars, the better.

A couple of hours later, I’m still thinking about last night as I pull up outside Fallon’s garage in town. I can’t wait to get back home and take Avery in my arms again. She is a dangerously addictive woman—not that I mind getting hooked on her. I can’t remember the last time I felt so intensely about someone so quickly.

I find my brother working on her car. This Citroën model used to be a reliable vehicle back in its heyday. But that was almost two decades ago. The hood is up, and Fallon is rummaging through the electrical system with a pair of black latex gloves as he follows the circuit with pinchers and a small clipper. He gives me a tired look as I walk in.

“I can replace all the wiring,” he says. “It’s easier than fixing the existing layout. It’ll cost a bit, but I don’t want to charge her for any of it. Consider it pro bono.”

“Look at you, being so generous to a stranger,” I chuckle.

“You’re one to talk,” Fallon grumbles. “You’ve got all of North Platte PD out there looking for that scumbag ex-husband of hers on some of the worst snow days that this county has seen in a decade.”

When Fallon and I were younger, we were virtually indistinguishable from one another. Our mother loved dressing us in the same clothes and styling our hair in a way that made it difficult for people to tell us apart. I’d look at my brother and it would feel as though I was looking in the mirror. In many ways, he and I are still a lot alike. But when we got to high school, Fallon and I worked hard to become our own individual person—at least on the outside.

He got bigger, working twice as hard at the gym and out on the football field for his gains. I devoted more time to scholarly activities, though we always spent plenty of hours working out together. He grew a beard, I kept my face clean-shaven. Today our bodies and our tattoos make it easy for folks to tell who’s who, but there are moments when I look at my brother and still see that reflection I saw as a kid. A piece of me, an extension of me, much like I am an extension of him. Few understand how deep our shared bond goes.

“She’s worth it,” I tell him.

He nods once. “What’s she like?”

“You’ll like her. Provided you come out of your hard shell for once. Avery is one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met.”

“And the ex? Where’s he at?”

I shrug and lean into one of the thick steel support beams inside the garage. Fallon’s business occupies the entire ground floor of an industrial building on the north side of North Platte. It’s across the street from a slew of cafes and local shops, so there’s always plenty of foot traffic, but they usually keep to the other sidewalk since Fallon has a habit of revving his clients’ car engines whenever they come around to pick them up. He likes to make sure they know he did an excellent job.

“It’s why I’m here,” I tell him. “You still have your FBI links, right?”

“Depends.”

My brother has never been a man of many words and it does irk me sometimes. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“Depends on what it is you need me to talk to them about, specifically. It has to be something worth making the call. You know the feds; you know what they’re like. Just because I have connections doesn’t mean they will automatically agree to anything.”

“It’s not just anything. We need access to their security feeds. I know they’re affiliated with several networks across law enforcement agencies throughout Nebraska, and they have access to CCTV systems that I can’t touch without a warrant,” I say. “A temporary username and access code would be more than enough, just until we’re able to find Daniel. He has to have popped up somewhere by now, and our local feeds either haven’t yielded anything clear enough or, if they did, the footage is too low-quality and grainy for me to properly ascertain whether it’s him or not.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Fallon concludes, stepping away from the car for a few moments.

I glance inside and notice some of the girls’ toys—plush bears and a couple of Barbie dolls that have seen their share of sloppy makeovers. A smile creeps across my face as I decide to bring them back to the house, certain that both Miley and Annie will be happy to have them. It’s the comfort of familiarity that I’m sure they miss the most.

“Here,” Fallon says and hands me a clean paper bag from inside a cabinet. “I keep some around just in case.”

“Ever the kind soul,” I chuckle and stuff the toys in the bag. “So, can you talk to your FBI boys for me? The faster we get that fucker off the streets, the safer the girls are.”

My brother gives me a stern nod. “Yeah, I’ll make a call.”

“Thanks. What about the car? How long before you think it’s ready?” I ask.

“I don’t know, a couple of days, tops. I might even finish tomorrow since I’m pretty sure I already have all the materials I need in stock. It’s mostly cables and wiring, so it’s nothing too fancy. The battery might be harder to replace, but I think I can get a newer Citroën model replacement for it.”

“Good. Avery will have more freedom of movement with her own car. She doesn’t seem comfortable having to rely on me or anyone else.”

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