I hate that she has to say something like that. I’m also more than a little concerned about the idea of Banner carrying a gun.
Rusty’s grating laugh rings out, and I want to knock that fucker down a few notches. “Who knew you could find a high-class bitch who’d fit in with us poor country folk so well.”
When he says the wordbitch, everything in me goes still.
“You better shut your mouth, Rusty, or I’ll gladly shut it for you.”
The man, who doesn’t have balls nearly as big as he pretends, shuts up quick.
“We’re just here to watch the fights.”
“So maybe you should get on inside and do that. Let’s get out of here.” I wrap an arm around Banner, who now apparently doesn’t care who sees her holding tater tots to her face, and we head toward my truck.
Once inside, I hear another engine start. It’s not until I’m backing out of the full parking lot that I see headlights flip on at the end of the row.
It’s Tricia’s old Buick.
Chapter 17
Logan
“Did you hear about that reporter who checked into the Sleep Over this morning? I was over at Home Cookin’ for some grub before I came in, and word is that there really is some national news chick here to investigate this whole meth story. Wonder if there’ll be more coming?”
Jock leans against Lonnie’s Camaro that we’ve stopped working on because Lonnie won’t approve the estimated repairs. Apparently he doesn’t have the cash to float the project like he thought he did when he dropped it off, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to pick it up either.
The reporter story Jock is feeding me is definitely news.
“Is that right?”
Jock sips his coffee and nods. “Heard she’s real cute too. Maybe she’ll come over here to do some interviews, and we can get a look at her.”
I cross over to the toolbox to grab a different size socket, and turn back to him. “We don’t have time for interviews. We’ve gotta get Boone Thrasher’s car in perfect condition in less than two weeks, or I’m going to lose the biggest opportunity I’ve ever had.”
His expression cowed, Jock lowers his mug. “I’m just making conversation, man. I thought it was interesting. I heard that Chief Timmons is actually trying to figure some shit out now instead of sitting around with his thumb up his ass.”
My irritation slides away at his explanation, because it’s the truth. “You’re right, but I’m starting to feel this deadline breathing down my neck, and now Mrs.Borst isn’t answering her phone so I can get an update on the interior panels and upholstery. We gotta have this car ready for paint by next week.”
He nods. “I know, Logan. We’ll get it done. We’re all puttin’ in the time.” He pauses as he walks to his workbench to set down his mug. “Isn’t Mrs.Borst cousins with Tricia Houseman’s ma? Because the other thing I heard at Home Cookin’ this morning was about the little scuffle that Tricia and your woman got into on Saturday. Think there’s any connection there?”
Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. A feeling of foreboding settles in my gut. “Shit. You’re right.”
“Maybe you ought to go see her in person and try to get that update. You’re pretty persuasive, boss.”
Rick comes out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Jesus, how long was he in there anyway? I make a mental note to stay far away.
“You ready to finally work today?” I ask Rick.
He laughs and pats his gut. “Sure am now. If I’m gonna spend a couple hours under the car replacing all the gas lines and shit, I figured I better make sure I’m not gonna be getting off that creeper every five minutes. My old lady made chili last night, and that shit is lethal.”
I shove the creeper toward him with my foot and it rolls until it stops a few inches away. “Get to it, man. I’m not paying you to spend a half hour taking a shit.”
“Got it, boss.”
“All right, you two, get to work. I’ll go track down Mrs.Borst about the interior. We need to see progress here today.”
They both salute me, and I head for the door.
* * *