Carly laughed. “He’s gorgeous, but he’s clearly a heartbreaker. I don’t need that.”
“Are you kidding? You don’t have to fall in love with the guy just because you have sex with him. You’re a woman. You have needs. You’d just be letting Cain take care of them.”
And dear God, she had no doubt the man could handle the job. “It’s a moot point at the moment. He didn’t ask me out and I don’t think he will.”
Rowena sighed. “Too bad. At least one of us ought to have a go at him.”
Carly chuckled and just shook her head.
Row stood up from her chair. “I gotta go. Call me if anything exciting happens—and you know what I mean.” Heading for the door, Row pulled it open, wriggled her fingers over her shoulder, walked out, and closed the door.
Row was gone, but her words still rang in Carly’s head.You’re a woman.You have needs.You’d just be letting Cain take care of them.
Carly slammed a mental door on the notion and went determinedly back to work.
By the time she was finished, the office was empty. Some of the drivers were still there, hanging around the truckers’ lounge after their runs, drinking Coke or cups of coffee. No smoking allowed anywhere on the grounds. Too much fuel and other flammable material. Some of the men grumbled, not many. Better safe than sorry.
She waved to Pete and Gordy as she climbed into her pickup and started the engine. A few drops of rain had begun to fall. She needed to get home before the storm hit in earnest.
She sat there a moment, idling the truck and thinking. When she’d gone to the roadhouse Saturday night, she’d been followed. Someone had been watching either the yard or her house. It was already late and with the heavy cloud cover, it was dark.
She glanced around the parking area, surrounded by a high chain-link fence, but didn’t see anyone. Dropping the pickup into gear, she drove out of the lot onto the road, keeping an eye out for anyone pulling in behind her.
Pete drove out and turned in the opposite direction. No cars in front of her, no one behind. She relaxed as she headed down the highway.
She’d only gone a couple of miles when she noticed a pair of headlights in the rearview mirror. She told herself it was just somebody who happened to be traveling in the same direction, going home, maybe, just as she was, but her pulse kicked up a notch.
It was probably nothing. She didn’t want to be totally paranoid, but just to be sure, she slowed. The headlights stayed the same distance away.She slowed even more, forcing the driver to come up behind her. The headlights brightened as the car grew nearer.
Finally the vehicle pulled around her and continued down the highway. The dark brown Chevy Malibu didn’t look much like a drug dealer’s car and there was only one person inside.
Relieved, she headed on home. Some soup sounded good. Maybe she’d make a batch of potato and onion, her favorite; then she remembered she was out of milk.
The Stop and Shop, a small local market, was on the way. She pulled in and parked, went inside, and bought a quart of milk and a package of Ding Dongs. Not the usual healthy fare she’d gotten used to eating after she’d left Texas, but she’d worked a long day and she deserved a treat once in a while.
She paid for the food and started for the door, suddenly thought about the dark brown Chevy. It wouldn’t take a minute to look out back, see if the car was anywhere around. Making her way down the cereal aisle, she shoved open the rear door, grateful no alarm sounded.
The sky was overcast but the rain was intermittent, slashing down, then changing to a light patter. A car turned down the side street and for a moment its headlights illuminated the flat, grassy landscape around the store. A chill slipped down her spine when she spotted the brown Malibu parked on the street, the headlights turned off, the driver sitting behind the wheel, waiting for her to get back on the road.
She wasn’t sure if she was more scared or mad; both, she figured. The driver was the only person in the car, not the three thugs who had attacked her before, so she felt a little better.
She thought about calling 9-1-1, but as soon as the guy spotted the flashing lights, he’d be gone; then sooner or later, he’d be back.
Instead, she returned to her truck, left the bag of groceries on the floor, pulled her Glock out from under the seat, and stuck it in her purse.
A few moments later, she was back in the store, making her way toward the rear door. The guy behind the register was busy with a customer and didn’t pay her any attention.
Pulling the pistol, the barrel pointed down at her side, she eased thedoor open and slipped into the darkness, started quietly making her way around behind the Malibu. The rain was coming down a little harder, making it easier for her to stay out of sight.
She finally got close enough to the car to read the plate number on the back: BVX 72W.
Crouching low, she rounded the back bumper, came up on the side, and noticed the driver’s window was rolled down. The man was leaning back, his head on the headrest, hands relaxed around the steering wheel. Keeping low, she made her way along the side of the car and stuck the barrel of the gun into the man’s face as she popped up beside him.
“Don’t move or I’ll pull the trigger!”
The guy jumped six inches. “Jesus Christ!” His gaze shot to her face and recognition flashed in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What the hell areyoudoing? Why are you following me?”
