She stops dead in her tracks. “I won’t open the door, Reed. I mean it. It doesn’t matter if you lived around here or not, I don’t know you, and I have kids.”
She asked about me. Ha! I’m stacking up all kinds of points here. “You’ll open the doorandyour legs.”
Her eyes narrow over the roof of her car. “You must’ve left your manners when you first rode out of Wyoming. Pick them back up now that you’re in town, then get on your way.”
“I ain’t going anywhere, and you don’t want my manners. I know what you want, and I’m bringing it with me tonight.” What is it? My dick. Better show up with something in my hands other than my dick.
Tammy shows me her middle finger, and I feel like a boy again. Chuckling, I get in my truck, then wait for her to pull out so I can follow. I start the engine. Nothing happens. I try again. Nothing. Dead battery. I lock eyes on the target, who’s riding away, then get out of the truck, sprinting to catch up with her, but she’s already on the street.
Out here, there’s little to no traffic, and as Tammy steps on the gas, I start sprinting down the road after her, only then realizing that a civilian—you know, a normal person—would’ve called AAA or some such to have someone look at the battery or at the very least find someone with jumper cables. But not me.
The target went out of sight, and I couldn’t let her slip away. I’m never gonna fit back into society. Never. But I sure as fuck can try, only not today. Today I’m in pursuit of a target who’s currently watching me in her rearview mirror.
I don’t wave her down. If she wanted to stop, she would’ve, and if she’s trying to see how long I’m gonna chase her, she’ll get to meet Reed Persistence MacLoyd. Gonna tag endurance to that name too. I take her watching me as a challenge and calculate the mileage back to town, start pacing myself, and notice she slows down too. She won’t stop, but she lets me run after the damn car. Oh Tammy, I’m gonna bend you over my knee for this. You just wait for it, Kitten.
So a few miles in, I’m conserving my breath, factoring in the dropping temperatures as we near late afternoon and how those temperatures affect my rapid oxygen intake while I’m running down the middle of the road after a car filled with three females, two of whom are kids, thinking that if I was back in California, someone would’ve already called the cops.
Another great thing about Wyoming? The local sheriff was my best friend in high school, and I called in before I came down. Didn’t want him to worry about a bunch of ex-special ops on bikes showing up and disrupting the daily sounds of chirping birds and the quiet chatter of the townspeople.
Like how they’re doing right now in the opposite lane. My team approaches on bikes, probably heading out to do recon on the houses we bought, while I’m running after a car. They ride in a triangle formation with Dawson in the lead, and he passes me by, along with Mason and Rich, and I’m thinking I’m good when Senator’s face turns my way, then back at the road. His head jerks back to me.
The bike swerves, but he catches it right before he falls and just as he zips past me.
They keep riding, but sure enough, I hear a single Harley roaring behind me.
Dawson catches up to me, watching the road and glancing at me at the same time.
“Hey, Cap,” he says.
I nod.
“How’s it going?”
I nod again. I have nothing to say for myself. Nothing.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Pursuing the target,” I answer as firmly as possible without sounding like I’m out of breath and out of my mind. I need to conserve my energy, and I don’t know why he’s making me talk now.
“You wanna ride?”
“Nope. I’m on foot.”
“Cap, we need to talk.”
I nod. He’s gonna call our collective shrink and do a group session where we all stare at the dude while he tries to get words out of us. I’m not talking about this situation either, but Dawson believes having the shrink ask the right questions makes us at the very least think about the answers if not talk about them.
He salutes me and turns the bike around, and I continue running four more miles.
Tammy pulls up to her driveway, and I salute her as I move toward the motel, where I collapse on the bed nearly dead from exhaustion. Damn. Tammy was harder to pursue than an Afghan terrorist on the run up the mountain. They’re on foot, and it’s an even playing field, whereas she one-upped me with the car.
As I drift to sleep, instead of seeing severed arms and legs, explosions, and hostile crowded streets with women covered in burkas I normally see when I close my eyes, Melany’s and Reagan’s smiling faces sitting in the back of Tammy’s car watching me run flash before me.
I nap like the boy I once was, back before I took up duties I don’t regret executing for my country. Still, something gave, and I’m here to gain it back. A good quiet life with a woman. Already got two kids. Like I said, all kinds of potential here.
6
Chewing and gulping noises awaken me, and I roll over in bed, aware my team is back and trying to be quiet while I sleep. We gotta get into those homes pronto. Not only because we’ll all start rubbing each other the wrong way in a few days in these cramped conditions and shitty beds, but also because I need to secure a house I can take Tammy to so I can show her I’m staying for good.
