He gazed through the windshield into the darkness illuminated by the headlights. Minimal traffic, the terrain open and hilly, covered with grass and scattered pines. Tank continued to swear muffled curses but finally, thankfully, fell silent.
The GPS showed the county line a few miles ahead. Bran pulled over and stopped, and Colt took his canvas gear bag. The Mustang’s headlights flashed a couple of times, then turned and disappeared down a side road into the darkness.
A few miles farther down the highway, Bran spotted a row of sheriff’s SUVs lined up like piano keys along both sides of the road.
He set Tank’s .45 in the passenger seat, unloaded his Glock and set it next to Tank’s weapon. The instant he pulled over and stopped, half a dozen cop cars swarmed around him. As he turned off the engine, he thought the dozen deputies pouring out of their cars, guns drawn, was a bit of an overkill.
“Raise your hands and get out of the vehicle!”
He cracked the door and raised his hands. “I’m licensed to carry.” Working everywhere from Texas to California, he had permits for a number of states. “My weapon is unloaded on the seat. There’s a loaded .45 on the seat beside it that belongs to my cargo.”
“I said get out! Get down on your knees and wrap your hands around the back of your neck!” Deputies rushed forward as he complied. Two officers held him at gunpoint while another did a weapons search and another collected the pistols, bagging them both as evidence.
“No other weapons?” a stony-faced deputy asked.
“No.”
“Keep your hands where they are.”
“You know I’m the good guy here,” he said as one of the officers gripped his arms, twisted them down, and locked a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. “The bad guy is in the back of the car.”
Deputies opened the cargo door and hauled Tank out of the Expedition. He started swearing at Bran as they ripped off the duct tape and cut the tie binding his wrists to his ankles. It took five deputies to get him into the back of a sheriff’s SUV.
Detective Mace Galen walked up to him. “For your sake, Garrett, I hope you’re right about this guy.”
Behind them, Bran watched the sheriff’s car pull out onto the road and drive away, Tank’s big head filling half the rear window. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Galen turned to a pair of deputies. “Take him away. Call for a tow truck to impound his vehicle. We’re going to need it for evidence.”
Bran grunted. “Real f-ing nice. I do your job for you and this is how you repay me?”
“Nobody asked for your help.”
Bran had hoped Galen might give him a pass, but he wasn’t really surprised. The detective had rules to follow. That was the way it worked. It was the reason he worked for himself.
The detective turned back to his men. “Let’s get this done. Maybe I can still get a couple hours of sleep.”
Bran thought of his nice warm bed at Ty’s house. Good chance Jessie would be waiting up for him, same as last night. If she asked him to sleep with her, he wouldn’t have the willpower to resist. At least now he wouldn’t have to feel guilty.
