****
Rawley turned into her gravel driveway, small stones crunching beneath the tires, and he killed the engine. Silence settled, broken only by distant crickets and a lone owl calling out somewhere in the pines. He kept his eyes on the mirror. Nothing. Maybe those guys just liked flexing their muscles. Rawley, with two decades in law enforcement, trusted their intentions about as far as he could throw them. He’d bet his last dollar they were up to no good.
He swung the door open and stepped out, the night air prickling at his skin. Mid-stride, he froze. The distant hum of an engine drifted in from the road. He ducked back into the cab.
“What’s wrong?” Skylar’s voice quivered beside him.
“Hold on.” His eyes fixed on the thin beam of headlights inching along the black stretch of asphalt. “I want to make sure it’s not them.”
“We don’t know what they drive.”
“A red Ford-150. I’m not taking any chances it’s not them.”
Skylar swallowed. “Why are they doing this?”
He exhaled, jaw tight. “They’re jerks. They think if they act big, people will back down. When I didn’t, they had to. They’re all talk.”
A pickup lumbered past the driveway, its dull headlights sweeping the trees. Rawley slid his hand beneath the seat, fingertips closing around the cool metal of a pistol case, then he set it on his lap.
“Is that a gun?” she whispered.
He nodded as he clicked the combination lock. Each soft click echoed in the stillness until the lid creaked open, revealing his Glock 26 nestled in dark foam. The matte-black slide caught a sliver of dashboard light as he loaded the magazine.
“Stay here.” He stepped out, the door’s hinges whispering as he eased it shut. Outside, pine needles crackled under his boots as he slipped toward the tree line. The moon shone between swaying branches, casting silver bars across the road. He pressed himself against the rough bark, heart pounding, as the pickup’s engine growled and retreated into the night.
When the road fell silent again, Rawley returned to the truck. Inside, he sat for a moment, then carefully ejected the magazine. Each piece of the pistol slipped back into its foam cradle; the case snapped shut, the combo lock clicking into place. He tucked it back under the seat.
Skylar’s eyes met his in the reflected dim light. “Was it them?”
He rubbed his temples. “I couldn’t tell for sure, but there was more than one person in that truck.”
Her lower lip trembled. “What if they come back after you leave?”
He reached out, brushing her hand. “Don’t open the door. If they return, you call the sheriff’s department first, then me.”
“I don’t like this, Rawley. Not one bit.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “I know. But they’re just trying to scare you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She managed a shaky smile. “Well, they’re doing one hell of a job.”
He opened the door, stepped out, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and held out his hand.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
****
Together they stepped into the warm glow of the front porch light, and Skylar removed her keys from her purse and looked at him.
“I had a good time. For a while anyway. Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” He stared into her eyes.
Skylar turned to unlock the door, then gazed into his eyes.
“I’d like to kiss you, Skylar, but I’ll leave that up to you.”
“I’d like that, Rawley.”
