Man in Queue (Infinite Time Trilogy Book 2) by Shandi Boyes

Author:Shandi Boyes [Boyes, Shandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

Our time at the range goes better than I could have hoped. Regan’s confidence fed off the adrenaline racing through her veins, and the worry her eyes have held since Friday night is almost gone. Although real life scenarios will always be more harrowing than any amount of practice, workable knowledge will lessen the terror. I hope Regan is never in a position in which she’s required to protect herself, but if the unfortunate occurs, I’m confident she has the skills to safeguard herself.

Regan’s eyes swing from the road to me when I ask, “Wings or cob loaf?”

If I didn’t know her as well as I did, I’d be worried by her quietness. Fortunately, I’m pretty clued in when it comes to her emotions. She’s not quiet as she is angry. She’s absorbing all the information she’s been overloaded with the past four days. It’s smart for her to do. The more prepared she is, the less carnage there will be.

“Does your ma make the dressing for the wings?”

I shake my head. “Her cooking specialties don’t branch into poultry. There’s a wings joint a few miles from The Manor. It’s not up to my mom’s caliber, but they’re pretty darn tasty.” Not as tasty as you, but I’ll keep that info to myself.

Seeing Regan like that, a gun holstered dangerously low on her waist, and her hair pulled away from her face to ensure it didn’t hinder her long-range sight. . . fuck! Every fantasy I’ve ever had was played out today. I can’t wait for Halloween. Regan has mentioned she plans to attend a costume party dressed as Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie, but if I have my way, she’ll be a walking wet dream—a blonde Lara Croft.

After quickly adjusting my crotch, I shift my focus back to Regan. She’s tapping her index finger on her lips as if she’s contemplating. I know she isn’t. She’s loved the time we’ve spent with my family as much as I have. So much so, she suggested we return home after our five-mile run this morning to eat breakfast with my family instead of the little café we ran to.

She muses for a few more seconds before saying, “I’ve never had cob loaf before, so I choose that.”

“Alright.” I steer my dad’s truck to the left, pretending her decision solely resonates around her stomach’s cravings instead of her heart’s.

We travel two miles before flashing lights cause my foot to slip off the gas pedal. I pull up next to a state trooper directing us to the opposite side of the road. “What is it?”

There must be something in my tone that displays my authority, or perhaps the fact my family is well known around these parts, because he answers with no hesitation, “Bad traffic accident. Two fatal. One badly injured.”

“Are medics on site?”

He nods, his cheeks whitening.

“First to arrive?” Sympathy echoes in my tone. I can still recall the first time I was assigned to a homicide. It was a home invasion gone wrong.

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