“Good idea. Now sleep. I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you.”
She believed him. She was certain that as long as Clint Austin was breathing she had nothing to fear.
Funny how so much had changed in so little time.
55
3:30 a.m.
Clint sat up.
Emily didn’t rouse.
He heard the thud again. Some distance away from what used to be his house. Sound carried out here, especially in the dark.
He shook Emily’s shoulder, leaned close, and whispered, “Stay put. I think we have a visitor.”
She sat up. Grabbed his arm as he got to his feet. “You can’t go out there alone.”
“You just stay put. I’ll be fine.” He gave her his cell phone and picked up the tire iron he’d rounded up and eased to the front of the barn.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“It may just be one of Turner’s or Baker’s friends. If you sense there’s trouble, call for help.”
Clint slipped out of the barn. No point in waiting until the trouble came out here looking for them. He took his time, thankful that the clouds hadn’t lifted. The breeze picked up, bringing with it the first scattered droplets of rain. Finally. Maybe it would cool things off.
And wash away some of the ugliness from the past few days.
He stayed in the shadows until he reached the well house; then he hunkered down to wait out the intruder.
At first there were only small sounds. The occasional brush of a shoe sole across gravel. Another soft thud. The sweep of footfalls across grass. Closer now.
Something sloshed.
He inclined his head and listened.
More sloshing, an occasion shuffle. His pulse reacted.
The sound was coming from the front side of the trailer, facing the road.
If he waited on the back side of the trailer he could nail the bastard when he rounded the corner.
Moving quickly, Clint reached the back of the trailer just in time to flatten against it as the sloshing sound came around the end. He braced for a struggle.
He frowned as a strong odor assaulted his senses. Gasoline.Holy hell.
He lunged away from the wall, ready to swing the tire iron.
“Don’t move!”
He froze. A lit match illuminated the face of the intruder.
Misty Briggs.
“You come any closer and I’ll drop it.” Misty wagged the gas can. “I swear.”
Sweat popping out across his brow, Clint dared take a step toward her. He had nothing to lose. The way she was waving that can and that match, there could be an explosion any second. “You’ll die first.”
