A Home For The Hunter (The Jones Gang #4) by Christine Rimmer

Author:Christine Rimmer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Near dawn, Jack sat bolt upright.

He'd dreamed of the motel sign, blinking in the windshield of a big truck. In his dream the truck had pulled out and driven away. He'd watched it go.

It was a fancy rig, glossy maroon in color, with a giant painting of a big-eyed blonde on the trailer. A rig just like the one that had been pulling out of the lot when Jack turned around and saw that Olivia was no longer in his car.

"Damn," Jack muttered under his breath. It was a long shot. But right about now, it was the only shot he had.

He got up and pulled on his clothes. Then he went to the coffee shop and ordered breakfast.

There, for five long hours, he made a complete nuisance of himself, asking question after question of anyone who would talk to him.

Finally, around eleven in the morning, after he'd drunk so much coffee his molars felt as if they were floating, he described the maroon rig to a trucker, who answered, "You must mean the Sweet Amy."

Jack's heart, already speeding from all the caffeine, raced a little faster. But he tried to keep his voice calm. "The truck has a name?"

"It sure does. The owner, Brendan, named it after his wife."

"Brendan who?"

Now the trucker became wary. "Brendan's a good man. I wouldn't want to be sendin' no trouble his way."

"Look." Jack did his best to make his expression sincere. "I don't even know the man. And this has nothing to do with him, really. It's only that I think he might have picked up a hitchhiker here last night."

"You're after the hitcher?"

"Yeah."

"Woman or man?

"Woman."

"Yours?"

Jack made a quick decision to play this for sympathy. He nodded. And then he looked away.

The trucker, as Jack had suspected from a certain sensitivity in his bleary eyes, had a soft heart. "Hey. You'll work it out. Me and my wife, we have our battles. But we come back around. We get through it."

Jack stared at the dusty plastic flower in the bud vase at the end of the table, as if he couldn't trust his own emotions. And then, as if he had to force himself to do it, he looked the trucker in the eye. "I have to find her first. Before we can work this out."

"Hell." The other man took a swig from his coffee mug. "Okay. The trucker you're lookin' for is Brendan Jones. Out of North Magdalene. That's about twenty miles above Nevada City on Highway 49."

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.