Miracle at Colts Run Cross by Joanna Wayne

Author:Joanna Wayne [Wayne, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin

BULL DROPPED the phone to the seat beside him as he crossed the bridge heading back to the dilapidated cabin where he’d left the boys. He’d planned on buying another prepaid model from a convenience store in Livingston, but luck and fast thinking had saved him the money.

He’d stopped at an all-night truck stop on Highway 59 where he knew he could buy a fifth of cheap whiskey and some joints from the night manager. Under the table so to speak, though everyone in these parts seemed to know where to go for after-hours booze or a quick fix.

The phone had been easy pickings from a broad who’d stopped for coffee and left her phone sitting next to her cup and cigarettes while she went to the bathroom. He’d palmed it on his way out. She’d probably have it disconnected before he used it again, but that was okay. He’d stop at a pay phone next time—one on his way to meet Nick Ridgely.

The fifth of cheap whiskey was almost gone now. He shouldn’t have started it before he made the call, but his head had been still pounding from the blow he’d taken from the boys that morning, and he needed something to kill it. Once he’d started, he’d stayed with it.

Women, drugs and booze. That had always been his downfall. But in a few more hours he’d have plenty of money to buy all he wanted. Not cheap booze or tawdry women, either. He’d have the best that five million could buy.

The car’s wheels hit the shoulder and skidded completely off the roadbed. He yanked it back to the middle of the narrow strip of asphalt.

Slow down, buddy. Stay focused. Your next turn is coming up, and then it’s just a few more miles back to the cabin.

The car swerved again. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he had to keep driving. He didn’t dare leave those Ridgely brats alone any longer than he had to. They were his ticket out of here.

Just him, the pilot and Becky. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her—and all over her. She probably wasn’t as hot as she’d been in high school in that sexy little cheerleading outfit. Firm little tits pushing at the fabric. He couldn’t count all the nights he’d gotten his rocks off thinking of those.

She’d ignored him then. She wouldn’t have that option now.

His turn was just ahead. He put on his brakes and slowed almost to a stop before turning on yet another winding, narrow road, this one dirt and half washed-out and with potholes big enough to bury a man.

Then a few more miles and he’d make the last turn onto the red clay trail that meandered back to the old fishing cabin. The place had belonged to his grand-pappy back before the creek had dried up and become clogged with logs and trash.

His dad had brought him fishing out here a few times when he was a kid. The last time had been his seventh birthday, but he remembered it as if it was yesterday.

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