The Outskirts (The Outskirts Duet #1)

Nothing.

However, the echo of an engine cut through the silence, the rumbling growing louder and louder, but still I couldn’t see anything.

By the time the truck became visible it was too late.





Chapter Six





Sawyer





The sound of screeching brakes filled the night air. The smell of burning rubber invaded my nostrils. Metal ground against metal as the older model SUV fishtailed across both lanes of the highway, crossing the median before finally turning sideways, and skating to a halt just a few feet from where I stood.

“What the fuck?” A man’s voice grumbled, sounding every bit as confused as I felt.

Headlights suddenly clicked on and so did another row of much brighter lights attached to a bar above his windshield, blinding me in bright white light.

“So NOW you turn on your lights!” I yelled, covering my eyes.

I stepped out of the light and when I could see again I saw a man shifting around in his seat. The truck was an older model Ford without doors or a roof and it was tall with big thick tires more than half the size of my body.

It was then I smelled something familiar.

Whiskey.

I pushed down the fear making its way up my throat from my gut and squared my shoulders just in time for a massive shadow of a man to approach, his footsteps a series of slow heavy thuds against the broken road.

“Why were you in the middle of the road?” A deep gravelly voice asked accusingly.

When the man stepped into the light I half expected the devil himself to be the one emerging from the shadows, but that’s not who I was faced with.

The man was at least a foot taller than my five feet three inches. He wore fitted black jeans low on the waist and a white undershirt stretched across his broad chest. It didn’t have sleeves either, revealing muscular biceps. The thin material also showcased rows of muscles on his torso that grew smaller as they trailed into the shape of a V disappearing into his jeans.

My cheeks heated when I realized I’d been staring and I tore my gaze away from his body. He wore a black baseball cap that covered his eyes. A few days of growth covered his squared jaw.

We stood there for a few moments. Not speaking. I cleared my throat. He looked from my camper to me like he was just realizing I was there. He looked me up and down slowly, and then folded his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps.

“You all right?” he asked, impatiently.

“Yes, I’m fine, but…”

“Good,” he said, abruptly turning back around and getting back into his vehicle “Stay out of the road.”

I stomped my foot on the ground. “Well, maybe you would have seen me if you weren’t driving with your headlights off!” I called back.

The arrogance! He was the one who’d almost hit me!

“You’re just going to leave me here?” I yelled after him as he shifted the truck in gear. He eased past me before crossing the median in an obvious illegal U-turn. His tires spun. Dirt and mud rose high up into the wheel wells before the truck kicked violently out onto the road.

“You could have killed me!” I yelled out.

“We all gotta go sometime,” he said, raising his voice over his engine. He turned up the volume on his radio. A man singing about a highway to hell screamed from the speakers. As he drove off, the music, the echoes of his big tires, and the beady red eyes of his taillights faded until they were long gone and once again it was just me and the highway.

Without owning a phone, my only option was to wait for another passing car. I looked down the dark empty road in both directions.

It was going to be a while.



After what seemed like hours, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. An almost tangible beam of bright light shining down the dark highway. Suddenly both the trees and pavement lit up in swirling blue and red.

It was a massive truck.

A massive police truck.

Would Father have called the police?

I was so green at doing something illegal that I didn’t even know whether I should’ve been nervous or not because I had no idea how the process of getting caught actually worked.

“It seems you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle,” a feminine voice rang out. A tall policewoman with dark skin and soft natural curls framing her face came toward me holding a flashlight. She flipped it between me and the camper. Then me and the truck.

Then just me.

“I broke down then almost got run off the road by a guy in a black Ford,” I said, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible even though my pulse was racing.

“Was it a Bronco?” she asked, lowering her light.

“It could have been.”

By my guess, the officer wasn’t much older than I was although she was several inches taller than me.

“Where did you come from?” she asked, eyeing my clothes and giving me a look that told me if I lied she’d be able to smell it in the air.

I smoothed my hands down my long skirt. “Nowhere I want to go back to,” I said honestly.

She gave me a curt nod.

“Where on earth are you trying to go in this piece of shit?” she asked, tapping on Rusty’s bumper.

I felt the need to defend him, after all, it wasn’t his fault he was locked away in storage for…however long he was there.

“My mom has land…” I started, “I mean, I’ve got land around here.”

She lifted her flashlight to the window of the camper and looked inside. “Whereabouts?”

“That’s the thing, I’ve actually never been there and I think I’m a bit lost, I haven’t seen a single sign or marked exit but, I’m thinking I can’t be too far off.”

“You got an address?” she asked, holstering her flashlight.

I took out the folded piece of paper from my back pocket and handed it to her. She grabbed it with perfectly manicured fingernails sharpened into long white points.

A big smile pulled at her face revealing a full mouth of perfectly white and straight teeth. “Come on, let’s get this one piece of shit unhitched from the other piece of shit and we’ll haul it to your land. I’ll come back and tow your truck back when my shift’s over.”

“You don’t have to do all that. I can just call for a tow truck, if I can just use your phone,” I offered.

She ignored me and started unhitching Blue from Rusty. “The nearest tow service is Albrahma County, at least an hour drive north. When they get a call for a tow you know what they do?” She didn’t wait for me to respond. “They call me. So why don’t we just save some time and let me do what I’m gonna wind up doing eventually anyway?”

“Okay,” I agreed as if there was another option.

She told me to get back in the truck and flip it into neutral. I did what she said and together we pushed it off the side of the road just enough so the tires were sitting on the grass without sending it careening into the steep ditch.

She then draped a yellow neon tape around and over Rusty several times.

“Crime scene?” I asked, reading the words.

“You want anyone fucking with your truck?” she asked, resting her hands on her gun belt.