Son of a Gun by A.M. Riley

Author:A.M. Riley [Riley, A.M.]
Language: nld
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

117

“Agent? What Agent?”

“Evans.”

“Stefan Sanchez, what the hell do you think…”

The road had a series of ruts, and Stefan had to hold on to the wheel with both

hands, so he missed whatever Chet said next.

“Hey. I didn’t hear that,” he informed Chet when he could get the phone back up

to his ear.

“I said why RR 52?” said Chet. “What’s up there?”

“Tommy had a cabin up there,” said Stefan. “Didn’t he ever take you to it? Chet?”

He looked down and saw the signal on his phone had dropped off. He pressed the

redial, but nothing went through. With the hills all around him, he must have entered a dead zone. Well, all he could hope was that he’d gotten enough information to Chet

before the call had dropped.

Ten minutes later, he gunned the truck up a curved steep track and pulled onto

the Devil’s Backbone.

Despite having spent his youth traipsing these hills, Stefan had to cruise slowly

along the ridge, a narrow two-lane road with a dizzying view off either side. A full moon lit the valleys below, North and South Texas a waking dream of blues and blacks.

Stefan watched for lighted cabin windows, turnoffs, and the painted boards with lot

numbers on them, but he didn’t see anything. He was just starting to panic when he

was startled by a reflection on the road. Too small for a deer, maybe a rabbit. He

slammed on his brakes, and the truck veered toward the edge of the road. Banged into something there and stopped dead, throwing him hard into the embrace of his seat belt.

It took a minute for Stefan to check himself and catch his breath. He wasn’t hurt,

and when he threw it into park and turned the key, the truck started up again with no problems. He looked around. Whatever he’d nearly hit was nowhere to be seen. Stefan

rubbed his eyes and thought he might be hallucinating from lack of sleep and worry,

118

A.M. Riley

and then he noticed the sign, half bent over behind an overgrown clump of prairie

grass. The truck had practically run over it.

Professionally carved with light-reflective numbers. Beneath, bright red and

seeming almost to move in the shadows blown about him, a devil carved into the wood.

And Stefan recognized the steep, rutted road that led to Tommy and Samantha’s cabin.

Megan’s rental proved its worth again as he descended the track, its headlights

bouncing and flashing over rocks, trees, and startled squirrels until he reached a spot about twenty feet above the cabin itself. Before him, a deep, narrow creek cut across the property, spanned by a three-foot-wide wooden bridge. From this point, only foot

traffic could pass.

The small building shone a light from one window. Stefan killed his engine and

climbed out. The wind above was eerie, ruffling leaves and bending trees and howling through the etched limestone rocks with a high-pitched sound like someone blowing

through a clay whistle.

As he stepped out of the truck, he saw the light go out. The wind died a little, and he distinctly heard a creak, as if a rusted door hinge was being cautiously opened.

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