No Way Out (Lucy Kincaid Novels) by Allison Brennan

Author:Allison Brennan [Brennan, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2020-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Sean didn’t regret escaping, but he was now stuck.

Two of the men had followed him on foot, and one went back to get a truck. Sean didn’t know where the fourth guy was, but he had one big advantage—these guys weren’t experienced. The two older men—older in that they were in their twenties and not teenagers—were locals. They easily moved from Spanish to English and didn’t have heavy accents. They might know the area, but they wouldn’t be skilled in tracking, especially in the dark.

When Sean realized one of the three had gone back for a truck, he knew he had to find a hiding space. The dark helped hide him; headlights would expose him if he was in the open. He circled around and slipped behind one of the other trailers, the one that was directly across from where he’d been held captive—though directly across was relative, as there was at least half a football field separating them. He was partly shielded by a large, handmade garden toolbox. It was locked, and he didn’t have any tools with him to pick the lock. He’d lost the metal rod when he fell out the window, and he needed a weapon to defend himself.

A stick wasn’t going to defend against a gun.

He didn’t know if all four men were armed, or only the one he’d seen with a handgun. He didn’t trust they wouldn’t shoot him, especially since they were amateurs and might fire out of fear. They had clearly been waiting for something or someone—orders, perhaps, to bring him to Kane, or to kill him.

Sean didn’t think you could tell a killer by their eyes, but if you could—none of these four had ever killed anyone. Maybe that’s why they were sent to watch Sean instead of stay with the men holding Kane.

He could hide here indefinitely, but if those searching for him called in reinforcements, he would be stuck. If Juarez sent someone smarter, someone who had a history of tracking prey, they might realize he’d circled back.

He considered breaking into the trailer. There was no one inside; no car in the carport, no sounds he could hear. He didn’t even know if anyone lived here, though there was some garbage and broken furniture lying between the house and the small drive.

He looked around the vast space. There were only a dozen manufactured houses out here, and he didn’t know if they were employee housing or individually owned. All around this small development were fields—sorghum, melons—Sean didn’t remember what kind, maybe cantaloupe—and cotton. People often thought that because Texas was hot and dry that the entire state was a desert, but in truth, there were a lot of thriving agriculture crops. Not Sean’s area of expertise, but he knew enough to get by in conversation.

The storm over Labor Day weekend in San Antonio had caused damage all throughout central and southern Texas, and he wondered if all these places were now abandoned, at least temporarily. He saw a

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