CHAPTER ONE
BOBBY BRADEN WIPED the blood off his fingers, noticing that he’d smeared some on the steering wheel. He pulled his shirtsleeve down and cleaned the streak of red away, the van swerving as he did.
“Hey, watch it!” In the passenger seat, Gene Donaldson checked his side mirror. “All we need is for a cop to pull us over,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice. It reminded Bobby of the grind of a chain saw. “If one of them sees you driving crazy—”
“I got it,” he grumbled. “Go back to sleep,” he said under his breath as he checked his rearview mirror. The black line of highway behind them was as empty as the highway in front of them. There was no one out here in the middle of Montana on a Sunday this early in the morning—especially this time of year, with Christmas only weeks away. He really doubted there would be a cop or highway patrol. But he wasn’t about to argue. He knew that would be his last mistake.
He stared ahead at the narrow strip of blacktop, wondering why Gene had been so insistent on them coming this way. Shouldn’t they try to cross into Canada? If Gene had a plan, he hadn’t shared it. Same with the bank job that Gene said would be a piece of cake. Unless an off-duty cop just happened to be in there cashing his check—and armed.
Concentrating on staying between the lines, Bobby took a breath and let it out slowly. He could smell the blood and the sweat and the fresh clean scent that rose from his shirt he and the others had stolen off a clothesline somewhere near the border. The shirt was too big, but he’d liked the color. Blue like his eyes. It bothered him that he’d gotten blood on the sleeve. The smear kept catching his eye, distracting him.
At a sound behind him, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Eric’s anxious face. Bobby regretted letting Eric talk him into this, but he’d needed to get out of the state for a while. Now here he was back in Montana.
“How’s Gus?” he asked, keeping his voice down. He could hear Gene snoring but not his usual foghorn sound. Which meant he wasn’t completely out yet. Or he could be faking it.
Eric moved closer, pulling himself up with a hand on Bobby’s seat as he leaned forward and dropped his voice. “He’s not going to make it.”
Bobby met his gaze in the rearview for a moment, a silent understanding between them. They both knew what would happen if Gene’s younger brother died.
“We aren’t leaving Gus behind,” Gene said without opening his eyes. “He’ll pull through. He’s strong.” He opened his eyes and looked around. “Where the hell are we?”
“According to the last sign I saw, just outside Buckhorn, Montana,” Bobby said.
“Good. There’s a café in town. Go there,” Gene said, making Bobby realize that had been the man’s plan all along. “We’ll get food and medical supplies for Gus and dump this van for a different ride.” He pulled the pistol from beneath his belt and checked to make sure the clip was full before tucking it under the cotton jacket he’d gotten off the line.
Bobby met Eric’s gaze again in the mirror. Things were about to get a whole lot worse.
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