Travis shook his head.“Not yet.It’ll draw too much attention and only drag things out.”
“Drag them out how?”I asked.
“Once this hits the news, people will be all over him.And Amy.We need to lie low for a bit, see what his next move is.”
I looked to Rhys and Wolfe, wanting to know if they were all right with this.
They both nodded in agreement.
“I want eyes on Reagan’s house then,” I demanded.“At all times.”
“Understood,” Rhys stated.
“When she’s there and when she’s not,” I continued.“While everyone’s lookin’ out for Amy, I don’t want Reagan caught in the crossfire.”
I didn’t give a shit that I'd gone territorial on the woman.I was going to protect her.Earlier, when she’d mentioned that she wasn’t worth killing for, the woman had been crazy.I would take down anyone and everyone if it meant keeping her safe.
“Understood,” Travis said, glancing between Rhys and me.
I nodded, then turned to watch as Reagan stepped back through the door.Her eyes met mine.
“If you need anything, you know how to get ahold of me,” I told Rhys before moving over to Reagan.“You okay?”
She nodded, her eyes studying my face momentarily.“You really don’t mind if I borrow your truck for a little while?”
“Not at all.”I pulled the key from my pocket and handed it over to her.
“Do you want me to take you to your dad’s?”she offered.
“I’ll have Wolfe drop me off.Thanks though.”
She nodded, but her eyes didn’t hold my gaze for long.“I need to get home and take care of some stuff.I’ll talk to you later?”
I smiled.“You can bet on it.”
This time Reagan smiled and it seemed less forced than before.“Thank you again.”
“Any time.”And I meant that.
“Hey, old man!”I called out to my father when I stepped inside the house an hour later.
“Kid,” Cooter grumbled, sounding as though I had woken him from his nap.
“I need to borrow your truck,” I announced when I joined my dad in the living room.
Sure enough, Cooter was leaning back in his recliner, the television muted.
“You know where the keys are,” he replied.
“I remember back when I was sixteen and I asked to borrow that truck,” I teased.The ’65 Chevy was my dad’s prized possession.He wasn’t keen on letting anyone drive it.“Or what about the time I snuck it outta the garage?”I had made it almost to the road before my father stopped me on our riding lawnmower of all things.
“Yeah, don’t remind me or I might change my mind.”The recliner shifted upright.
“I’m gonna need it for a few days.”
Cooter nodded, then reached over to pet Copenhagen when the dog ambled up to him.“Somethin’ wrong with yours?”
“Nope.I let Reagan borrow it.”
