‘Montrose.’The deep drawl cut through the tension like a knife.Porter.
He slid in smooth and easy, standing just a little too close, she could feel his body heat at her side, while backing her up—or to pull her back.
‘Didn’t peg you as the type to talk business at a ball.’He flashed his lazy grin at Red.‘Or do you bring your work home with you, too?’
Red laughed—his attention shifted to Porter.‘Guilty as charged.’
‘I get it,’ Porter said easily.‘Nothing sexier than stock movements and branding records.Which is all a different language to me.But we’ve got places to be, don’t we, Montrose?’
Amara didn’t argue.
‘Nice meeting you,’ she said to Red, though the words tasted like dirt.
Red nodded, but his attention lingered on Porter for just a second too long, as if sizing him up.
Porter’s hand skimmed the small of her back as he steered her away, weaving her through the crowd.Only then did Amara exhale.She didn’t realise she’d been that worked up.
‘You looked like you needed saving,’ Porter murmured.
‘I had it under control.’She gave him a frown.
‘Sure, Montrose.You looked real comfortable back there.’
Before she could snap back, a small whistle cut through the air.
It was Brodie.Standing near the edge of the ball, beckoning them over.‘Out here…’ Brodie led them further into the shadows.
‘What’s up, mate?’Porter asked with concern.
Brodie wiped the sweat from his brow, exhaling heavily as if he’d been running.‘You told me to find you if I saw that pick-up, yeah?’
‘Did you?’
‘Lookie there.’Brodie nodded towards the road, where taillights of a vehicle could be seen, heading for the main street of town.
It was the Ram.
‘He’s just been visiting the stockyards,’ explained Brodie.‘I had to race down here to tell you.’
Amara’s stomach flipped.
‘Did you get the number plate details, Brodie?’Porter asked.
‘Nah.I didn’t get that close.I jumped the rails, so he didn’t see me.But I saw him speaking with Red earlier.’
‘When?’Amara asked.
‘Just before Red went and spoke to you and Lydia.’
Amara squinted hard to try and read the number plate.It was too far, but it was going slow.Thank goodness this town had a crawling speed limit—courtesy of the wandering pet water buffalo.It was giving them the precious time they needed.‘We should—’
‘Tell someone, Montrose.’Porter grabbed her wrist.
‘But if we stop to get Finn, we’ll lose the ute.We could just tail them for a bit, to see where they’re going, and then report back.’Especially when she saw her car, right there.
She couldn’t wait.And wasn’t going to wait, either.‘I can do this on my own.’
‘No, Montrose.There are rules—’
