“What does it mean?” Fern asked.
Sassy offered her a smile. “‘I am strong.’”
Fern blinked several times, wrapping her fingers protectively around the bear. “Thank you.”
Sassy picked up the purse and slung it over her shoulder, winking. “Told you it was meant for you. Tell Ava I say hey. You’ll see her before I do. If you need to talk after the interview tomorrow, you know who to call.”
Fern bit her lip. “I don’t know what I would do without you Coltons.”
Sassy beamed at her as she angled for the door. “And you’ll never need to find out. We stick around…like Gorilla Glue or Whoa Daddy sauce. There’s no shaking us.”
She got the desired effect of seeing Fern’s smile reappear. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on it,” Sassy said before she opened the door. “Speaking of Whoa Daddy sauce, next time I pop in, I’ll stop by the Sauce Spot and pick up something messy and delicious.”
“I’ll ask the nurse for some Wet Ones, to be safe,” Fern agreed. “Be careful out there, Sassy.”
For a few precious moments, Sassy had forgotten about the truck. She kept her smile in place by sheer force of will as she waggled her fingers and left Fern’s room.
* * *
He hadn’t meant to swerve.
He’d nearly killed her. He could have flattened Haseya Colton against a building. And there was nothing and no one to blame but his own lack of focus. His complete and utter loss of control.
He hadn’t even been following her. It had been a perfectly innocent drive up Main Street on his part when he’d seen the shine of her black hair, the swing of her perfect hips…
She’d magnetized him. He’d been fixated. So much so that the next thing, he knew his off-road tires had run up and over the curb.
She’d turned, fear eclipsing her features.
For one heart-stopping moment, he’d thought she had locked eyes with him…
It had been enough for him to get ahold of himself. He’d barely had enough time to jerk the wheel before mowing her down on the sidewalk.
His pulse racked against his eardrums. He grabbed his shirt by the collar and wrestled it over his head. It was drenched in sweat.
He’d have to ditch the truck. No doubt she’d called the cops. He could only hope no one had seen his license plate number or written it down.
Was there a chance someone on Main Street had captured the whole thing on their store’s security feed?
He cursed, tossing the shirt aside. He scrubbed his hands through his hair.
There was a reason he’d changed his name. Just as there was a reason he’d returned to Dark Canyon. He remembered the assignment, everything riding on it.
He had to finish the job. Just as he had to make certain that she hadn’t recognized him.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he stared at the mussed hair growing thick across his brow, at the distinctive shade of his light-toned eyes staring back at him.
He shuffled through his toiletry bag and found the electric razor he kept there. It buzzed with efficiency when he activated it. Running his hand once more through his thick hair, he leaned close to the mirror and began his work.
Chapter 7
The gunshot wound victim was one of Dark Canyon’s own boys in blue after a sting operation gone wrong. Detective Abraham Hatch was a twenty-year man on the job who’d been working to disrupt a cocaine supply route. The hundreds of empty miles surrounding Dark Canyon made it an ideal place for large stash movement.
Nick and his team had arrived ten minutes after a smuggler’s bullet had entered and exited through Detective Hatch’s left shoulder. Even with a through-and-through track, Nick had no idea what the extent of the damage was internally. The bullet could’ve hit bone on its way out. His longtime emergency medical tech, Raquel Perez, ensured that Hatch was breathing freely, that his airway was secure. They put him on high-flow oxygen and worked to control the bleeding with pressure bandages and direct pressure to both the entry and exit sites.
“Any other wounds?” their lieutenant, Marshall Dilinger, asked.
