While people in Texas often spoke Spanish, they didn’t typically have as heavy an accent as this woman. Enya wanted to howl in rage when the implication of what it meant slammed into her.
We’re not in Texas anymore.
She must have been knocked out for longer than she’d thought. Her pulse kicked hard in her ears. Nobody here was going to help them without a reason, and all she could do was pray their captors didn’t realize they were missing. Her eyes fell on a chipped mug on the counter that held pens, a pair of scissors, and an old letter opener with a rusted handle.
I can use them to get the heel off.
Enya grabbed the scissors, and the woman behind the counter flinched.
Crap, she probably thinks we’re going to rob her.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” She knew the woman probably didn’t understand a word she said, but she hoped by showing her what she was doing, she’d not freak out quite so much. She dug into the seam between the rubber and the cork heel on her boot, working the end free. The rubber flexed, the glue tore, and the edge split. She pried the pins and glue loose with the scissors and revealed the folded twenty-dollar bills.
‘One hundred bucks will get you most places in this country, baby girl.’
She could hear her dad’s voice in her head.
‘It’s enough for a cab, an Uber, or a ride to a police station.’
I’m never laughing at his crazy ideas again.
Ever.
Enya shoved the scissors back into the holder on the counter and plucked the cash out of her boot. “Maria, grab some water from the fridge and bring me some granola bars.” She pushed the rubber back on the end of the heel and put the boot back on, knowing her weight would secure the pins in place. She smiled at Maria, took the water and bars from her, then peeled off a bill to pay for them while the woman built up the courage to ring them up for her. Enya swiped the change into her hand, “Phone?” She signaled as if she were making a phone call with her hand, and hoped the woman understood. “Does the phone outside work?” She unscrewed the top from the bottle and gratefully took a long drink of water as she listened to the woman answering in a rapid stream of Spanish, but the only word she fully understood was:
“Si.”Yes.
“Gracias.”Thank you.
She rushed outside with Maria and fished the phone wire until she could catch the handle and put it to her ear. Tears welled up when a dial tone told her the phone was working.
Thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus.
She put a coin in the slot and dialed the only number she could remember off the top of her head, “Momma?”
“Enya. Oh my God.” Her mom burst into tears, and it was hard to make out what she was saying. “Cam, Camden, come quick. Enya is on the phone.”
CHAPTER SIX
Rowan leftthe barn at a fast walk, the gravel popping under his boots as he cut across the yard toward the house. Trident barked from somewhere behind the bunkhouse, a high yipping bark that said he was excited about something he was hunting. Rowan stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder to yell, “You better not be chasing them chickens, Tri, or Gael’ll be pissed.”
If he ignores me, I’m going to boot Gael in the balls. He’s spoiled them dogs way too much.
He blew out a frustrated breath when Frog joined in with Trident, and detoured toward them to see what was going on.
“What the heck, guys?” The dogs were worrying and digging at the woodpile. “Come away from there. All y’all probably trapped a damn rattler. If you get bit, don’t come whining to me to pay your vet bills.” He snapped his finger, “Enough, shh.” He grabbed their collars and pulled them away. “Go on, git. Dumbasses, both y’all weren’t present the day they gave out brain cells, that’s for sure.” To his surprise, the dogs kept struggling to get to the woodpile.
It’s got to be a rattler.
“Come on, y’all come in the house with me,” he tugged them back, then cocked his head to one side when a noise coming from the stacked wood caught his attention.
That don’t sound like no rattler.
The sound sent the dogs into another frenzy of barking and pulling.
“What the fuck are you two—” Gael came around the corner of the building, “—what’s wrong with them?”
“There’s something in the woodpile, and they’ve lost their damn minds.” Now his brother was here, he let go of the dogs’ collars, because while they ignored every word that came out of his mouth if it didn’t involve food, they worshiped the ground his brother walked on and would jump backward somersaults if he asked it of them.
