Burn It Up

“Who the fuck else is it going to be?” Casey asked grimly, then paused, glancing at the baby. “Sorry.”


“He’d parked a hundred or more yards down the highway,” Miah went on. “By the time I ran back to my truck and got it on the road, he’d have gotten far enough to disappear down the residential streets. I just wish I could’ve taken a shot at his tires, but my dog was in the way.” He sighed, pissed and tired and frustrated, and took a drink deep enough to drain half his bottle.

“I can’t believe he’d have the gall to come here,” Casey said. “Not after I gave him a perfectly reasonable way to get in touch.”

“Guess the man isn’t the perfectly reasonable type,” Miah offered, then looked to Abilene for confirmation.

“He is and he isn’t,” she said. “I mean, when things were good between us, he was pretty rational. But he can get mad, too, and when that happens I couldn’t say where his head goes.”

“One too many drinks wouldn’t help matters, either.”

“He was never a drinker.”

“Maybe not, but the man’s been stewing in prison,” Casey said. “And I’m guessing he doesn’t like doing things on another man’s terms. What I fu—frigging want to know, though, is who told him where to find her. Who knew, and who’d tell? It was Dancer who told him to see me, but who would’ve told him Abilene was staying here?”

“Just about anybody might, if threatened,” Miah said. “I’ll ask all my hands tomorrow. They could’ve easily run into him at the bar. They were all told it was strictly confidential, her staying here, but threats are threats.”

“Duncan wouldn’t have told,” Abilene said. “Or Raina.”

Miah shook his head. Much as he loathed Welch, the guy was too stubborn and pompous to let anyone bully him into doing anything. And Raina would no doubt whip her shotgun out from under the counter the second somebody got pushy. No, one of the ranch hands was the most likely source. Miah just hoped if that was the case, the party in question would have the balls to own it. They were good kids, but they were young, most of them, still prone to self-preservation above most things.

“I guess in the end,” he said through a sigh, “it doesn’t really matter who told him. He knows now, and what we need to figure out is, do we need to move you two again?” He nodded to Abilene and the baby.

She looked stricken in a breath. “No.”

Casey’s expression was grim. “This is still the most secure place in town. I mean, I can’t keep them at mine—I live on the main drag. Everybody would know inside an hour. Same as the motel. Plus she’s got your parents’ support here, not to mention there’s cameras. The only other option might be to take her out of Fortuity.”

Miah nodded, thinking maybe that would be best. Abilene’s safety was paramount, no doubt, but he did have a business and his employees to think about, as well. Hell, the thought of Ware returning and threatening his mom had his blood boiling.

“Talking to Ware is still the most direct route to getting this shit resolved,” Casey went on. “I sure wish I’d taken down his goddamn number when I gave him mine.”

“Could he have the same one from before he went downstate?” Miah asked, looking to Abilene.

She shrugged. “Even if he did, I don’t have it anymore.”

“Vince might,” Casey said.

“Maybe.” But doubtful. The men had met in prison and spoken only during visiting hours these past few months. As unlikely as the prospect now seemed, they might just have to wait for Ware to call, or else go in search of him around town.

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