“Oh, come on, man. Don’t get all misty on me.”
Trent blew out a trying-to-look-annoyed breath, then raised his brows. “Will you break one of my ribs if I give you a hug?”
I grin. “Not at all. Bring it in, brother,” I said, opening my arms wide.
We hugged, and he kissed my cheek. Odd, but nice.
“I trust these guys,” he whispered before letting me go, “but keep your head on a swivel.”
I winked, releasing him. “You know me.”
“Like a cockroach,” he retorted, his voice husky. “Couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.”
Struggling to keep myself in check, I patted his shoulder. “Now get out of here and have a good life.”
“Will do.”
We parted ways, and I looked up at the massive Ranger, dressed head-to-toe in properly starched Western wear, patiently waiting for me.
“Sorry if I fucked up your Christmas plans.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. You saved him from a frozen-dinner Christmas and me from my mother-in-law’s horrifying fruitcake.”
This was accompanied by a warm grin, something I hadn’t seen in a while. The Ranger, wearing an A&M jersey and worn-in jeans, shivered as he put my suitcase in the back.
“The fruit cake is that bad, huh?”
They shared a knowing look, and the guy in the cowboy hat nodded significantly. “Diabolical,” he joked, opening the back door for me as the other Ranger made his way to the front of the SUV.
“By the way, I’m Arnold.” Thumbing a gesture at his partner, he continued, “And this silent asshole is Coates.”
Coates upnodded me, then got into the passenger seat.
Grinning, I told him, “You know this is the first time I’ve gotten into the back of a police vehicle without handcuffs on?”
“I can put them on if you’d like,” Arnold cracked, his good mood infectious. “But we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks…Arnold.”
He tipped his cowboy hat at me, then made quick work of getting behind the wheel. As much of a slog as the paperwork had been, this part seemed to go almost too fast. I turned and sent a wave to Trent out the back window.
He carried worry in the uneven set of his shoulders, and I hoped he was just being paranoid.
Probably not.
This facility was out in the Chihuahuan Desert, sowherever we were going, it was going to take the entire day to get there.
“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” I asked when Arnold turned south on I-10, George Strait playing softly on the radio.
“The safe house is in the Highland Lakes area.”
“Fancy,” I said, pleasantly surprised. I’d assumed we’d be staying in some bayou outside of Houston, or maybe a small hovel in the Valley.
“Your lawyer tell you this is a new safe house?” Arnold asked, finding me in the rearview.
I sent him a nod. “We get to break it in.”
“Please don’t break anything,” he joked.
