“It’s a minor wound. Don’t worry.”
“It doesn’t look minor to me.”
“I’m ok.”
“It’s your funeral.”
“Follow me, and keep your mouth shut,” he said. “If anyone asks, I’m your dad.”
“Granddad would be closer,” she said. She smiled.
He glared at her, “You can still get out and walk you know.”
“Let’s go, pop.”
They walked into the diner together. The Old Caboose was shaped and painted like an old train caboose, complete with a Southern Pacific logo and old rusty train wheels. Inside, the diner looked typical. The dining room was long with booths containing Formica tables and red leather benches on one side of the diner and a long counter on the other. Faded gold linoleum adorned the floors. They looked as though they hadn’t been mopped since the last time John Mellencamp rolled through town. Rainhorse estimated there were about fifteen truckers inside, stuffing their faces with one of their various deep-fried dishes.
They sat in one of the booths. Lindsay pulled a menu and began looking at it. Rainhorse surveyed the restaurant.
“Do you have any cash on you?” she asked. “I’m hungry.”
“What looks good?” he asked.
“Nothing looks good,” she replied. “Look at that fat guy at the counter. He poured half a bottle of ketchup on those greasy potatoes.”
“He’s killing the taste of the food,” Rainhorse replied.
She giggled.
Rainhorse pulled a twenty from his wallet, “We don’t have time to eat here. You go to the counter and order us a couple of cheeseburgers and drinks to go.”
“I think I want chicken strips,” she said.
“Get whatever you want.”
“What do you want on your cheeseburger?”
“The works.”
“I’m not getting you onions,” she said. “You’re breath is bad enough already. If you and I are going to be in the car together…”
“Extra onions for me,” he replied, cutting her off. “Now go.”
“Do you have another twenty,” she asked. “I’m really hungry.”
He glared at her and gave her another bill. “While you’re at the counter, I want you to buy three of those souvenir refrigerator magnets. Actually, make it four.”
“What the hell? Refrigerator magnets? Are you trying to commemorate our vacation… daddy?” she snipped.
“Just do it, ok?”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Give me your phone back.”
“Why?”
“No questions, remember.”
She rolled her eyes and handed it to him.
“I’ll meet you back at the SUV, ok?”
“Sure,” she said. She slipped out of the booth and walked to the counter.
Rainhorse turned and called out in a loud voice, “Hey there. Is anyone here headed to Montana or South Dakota?”
Most of the truckers in the diner turned their heads toward Sam. After a moment of silence, one trucker spoke up, “I can get you as far as Rapid City,” he said. “I have to make a stop in Rochester first.”
Rainhorse smiled.
“That’ll do,” he said, walking toward the trucker. “Actually, I don’t need a lift,” he said. “I’m just looking for directions.”
“Directions?” the trucker scoffed. “Don’t you have GPS?”
“Nope, I didn’t pay my bill,” Rainhorse said. “They shut my phone off after missing one payment. Do you believe that?”
“I sure do,” he scoffed. “Damn phone companies.”
“Say, is that your red Mack out front?” Rainhorse asked.
“Naw, I drive the dark green Peterbilt,” he said. “Mack’s ain’t nothing but trouble.”
“I heard that,” Rainhorse said. He made eye contact with Lindsay at the counter. He smiled. She smiled back and offered a tiny wave. She had made him mad, but there was no denying it. She had managed to capture his heart.
Lindsay saw the big Cheyenne shake hands and thank the trucker. He left the restaurant. She lost track of him and panicked, wondering if he had left her. She could see the car through the window—he wasn’t in it. After two minutes or so elapsed, she caught sight of him again. She breathed a sigh of relief. She waited another five minutes for the go order to be completed, paid the bill, picked up the bags and left. Rainhorse had pulled up to the door and was waiting on her.
She got into the vehicle. Rainhorse smiled when he smelled onions. He pulled the SUV around to the back of the diner.
“Thanks for the cheeseburger,” he said.
“You paid for it,” she replied. “Oh, by the way, here, take this for later.”
She handed him a tin of breath mints.
“Thanks,” he mocked. “You’re so considerate.”
“The whole thing is for you. I encourage you to use them often and liberally. I hope you like spearmint.”
He glared at her, slipping the mints into his pocket.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Switching cars.”
“Again?”
“Barnabas knows we are in this one. What’s your pleasure, the gray Toyota RAV4 or the blue pickup?”
“RAV4,” she said.
“Excellent choice. Why?”
“Because I see them a lot. They’re very common.”
“Right on. There are thousands of these cars on the road. We’re going to make a proper thief out of you yet,” he said.
“And in the back of the diner,” she added, “is probably where the employees park. The owner won’t notice it’s missing for a long time.”
“Damn, you’re good. Can I have your autograph?”
She giggled.
“I’ll take the food. You grab your travel bag. Count to twenty then come.”
Five minutes later, the RAV4 pulled onto the highway. Rainhorse pulled the personalized dice off the review mirror. The dice had letters engraved on them. It spelled out ‘Mavis.’
“It was nice of Mavis to give us a full tank of gas, don’t you think?” Rainhorse said.
“Ok, what the hell was all that about with the trucker?” she asked.
“Deception. Misdirection,” he replied.
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“I found a trucker who was headed to South Dakota. I turned your cell phone on and hid it on the trailer of his truck. So, anyone triangulating your cell is going to be following that truck—not us.”
“I understand, but why South Dakota?” she asked.
“It’s on the way to Montana. To anyone looking for you via GPS, it’s going to appear as though we are driving north, not west...”
“But we are driving to Montana, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are, but that truck is going to Rapid City. He is going north, then west. We are going to take a back route. We are going west, then north. So…”
“Anyone looking for us will be hundreds of miles off course,” she finished.
Rainhorse nodded, “Now you’re catching on.”
“Why did I buy these stupid refrigerator magnets?” she asked.
“For this,” he said.
Rainhorse reached under the seat and pulled out a license plate. He handed it to Lindsay, “While you were inside the restaurant waiting on food, I planted your cell on the Peterbilt and stole a license plate off another car. You are going to remove the magnets off the back of those souvenirs and position them to the back of this license plate. We’ll stick that plate over ours. When this car gets reported stolen, our plate number won’t match the stolen vehicle. After all, a gray RAV4 is a pretty common car, right?”
Lindsay looked at him incredulously, “You’re scary, you know that, right?”
“It’s all part of the deluxe door-to-door service,” he said.
She chuckled.
“You work on getting the magnets attached to the back of the plates.”
“I’m on it
… daddy.”
“Enough of that shit. I noticed there was a shirt in the back seat,” he said, pulling a pocket knife from his pocket. He handed it to her. “Grab the shirt and cut off the sleeve. I think my arm is still bleeding.”
Rainhorse pulled off his jacket while Lindsay retrieved the shirt and cut off the sleeve.
“Jesus,” she gasped.
“What is it?”
“This looks bad,” she said. “That’s not blood oozing. It’s a yellowish fluid—like pus.”
“It’s infected,” he said. “It hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.”
“Take off your shirt,” she said. “I’ll clean it up and use this sleeve to bandage it.”
Rainhorse pulled off his shirt, carefully, as he continued to drive. Lindsay saw his dark skin, hairless chest, rippling biceps and sculpted pectorals. She also noticed massive scar tissue, all over his torso.
“Damn, Jackson,” she exclaimed. “Do you get into a knife fight every week of your life? If so, you should get better at it.”
“Just tend to the arm, and save the commentary,” he replied.
“Ugh,” she said, dabbing at the pus on the wound. “This is J-Lo butt-sized nasty, like really gross.”
Rainhorse strained to look at it, “I need antibiotics; flush, cream and an injection.”
“What you need is a doctor,” she argued.
“Out of the question,” he fired back. “I’m going to drive through the night. I’ll deal with it after I get you home.”
“You’ll have a full-blown fever and will be sicker than a dog long before then,” she argued. “Look, we can get all that stuff at a pharmacy, except for the shot. But if we can get the flush, cream and oral antibiotics, that should hold you over.”
“I don’t have a prescription,” he said. “And I’m not stopping to see a doctor. He’ll recognize it’s a gunshot wound and call the cops.”
“Ok, then, there’s only one thing to do,” she said. “I’m going to knock off a pharmacy.”
“Rob a pharmacy?” he repeated.
“Why not? I’ve already stolen a car—two in fact.”
“You know, robbing a pharmacy is not a bad idea,” he said.
“We shouldn’t wait,” she said. “I saw a sign back there. Sioux City, Iowa is right up the road. Let’s do this. We can Bonnie and Clyde the whole thing.”
“Ok, but it won’t be like Bonnie and Clyde. It’ll be more like Ryan and Tatum O’Neal.”
“Who are they?”
“I thought you were a fan of the old movies,” he said. “Paper Moon.”
“Oh, I love that movie,” she said. “You mean Moses and Addie. Those were the two main characters.”
“You really are an old soul, aren’t you?”
“They don’t make movies like they did in the old days,” she said. “Don’t tell my dad I said that. So, what’s the play?”
“Are you going to be ok with this?”
“I’m still your hostage, and I’m underage,” she noted. “I’m pretty much gonna get a free ride no matter what I do.”
“True that,” he noted. “In the movie, Moses used his daughter to…”
“Addie was never actually said to be his daughter,” Lindsay corrected. “In the movie, they left that possibility open.”
“I’m trying to tell you the plan,” he said. “Will you quit interrupting?”
“Hey, excuse me,” she snipped.
He glared at Lindsay.
“Like I was saying, Moses and Addie were con artists. Addie distracted the mark, while Moses pulled the scam. Get it?”
“I think so.”
“So, we need to find a small pharmacy with one employee behind the counter. It has to be a man.”
“So, I’m supposed to shake my butt and flirt with some old codger, while you slip in back and grab the meds.”
“You know how to flirt, don’t you?”
She chuckled, “You’re in my wheelhouse now, Jackson. Watch and learn.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“That was amazing,” Sam said, rolling over onto his back. His skin was moist with sweat.
“Stress sex,” Vandy replied, climbing on top of him, straddling his stomach. She ran her fingers over his pectorals. They were amazing; so well defined. She touched his lips.
“You disapprove?” she asked, smiling.
“I love it,” he admitted. “Maybe we should stress you out more often, although I have to admit, I’m going to be a little sore tomorrow.”
“You? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight in an hour,” she responded. “I’m just so glad she’s safe.”
She allowed herself to fall beside him, draping one arm over his chest and one leg over his thighs.
“Tell me again exactly what she said,” Sam asked.
“Lindsay? Not much,” Vandy replied. “Just that she and her boyfriend, Steve, had decided to skip the plane and drive home to take in the countryside.”
“Did that seem unusual at all to you?”
“You mean, did I think it was unusual for Lindsay to go her own way, change things up and do something different from what I planned? Not at all.”
“I see your point.”
She fell silent for a second or two, playing drums with her fingers on his chest.
“Still…” she began.
“Still what?”
“She called me on the house landline, not my cell.”
“That seemed weird to you?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “I was so happy to hear from her I didn’t think about it until now.”
“She’s never called you on the house landline before?”
“Not that I recall,” Vandy said. “She always calls my cell.”
“Why don’t you call her again?”
“Why?”
“Just humor me.”
Vandy rolled over and picked up her cell from the nightstand and dialed. She listened for the ring.
“It rang four times, then went to voicemail,” she said. “They’re traveling through the Midwest. Could be out of cell range.”
“I guess,” Sam replied, reaching for his own cell. He started to dial a number.
“Who are you calling?” Vandy asked.
“I’m calling Hank. I’ll explain in a bit,” he said.
“Sam,” Hank answered. “I was going to call you in a few minutes. I have an update.”
“That’s why I was calling,” Sam said.
“It’s mostly encouraging,” Hank reported. “The phone was tracked about fifteen miles northwest of Peotone, Illinois, then oddly enough, she turned back ten miles, then headed due north again. The phone is currently in the Joliet area. It looks like she is headed home to Montana to me.”
“Yeah, me too, but why do you think she turned back south for ten miles? That does seem odd.”
“No idea,” Hank admitted. “That doesn’t seem to make sense. There is one other thing that struck me. It may be nothing, but I thought I’d tell you anyway. Before she turned south again, she was taking all back roads. After she turned back north, she’s only been taking the interstate.”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure what to make of that,” Sam said.
“Like I said, it may be nothing.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime, Sam.”
He hung up.
“What was all that about?” Vandy asked.
Sam told her.
“You’re beginning to worry me, again.”
“I’m sorry. It’s probably nothing,” he said. “It’s in my nature to pick over things. Do me a favor. Call her again. If she answers, let me talk to her for a minute. If she doesn’t answer, text her. Tell her something has come up and you need to speak to her right away.”
“What do I tell her if she calls?”
“Make something up. Let’s just get her on the phone.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Damm
it, Jackson, will you just pick one,” Lindsay barked. “This is the third pharmacy we’ve been to.”
“Relax, this is the one,” he said. “It’s almost closing time. We need to hurry. It’s a small pharmacy and the pharmacist is alone. He’s young, too.”
“Young?” Lindsay retorted. “You said he was, like thirty.”
He looked at her and sighed, “Whatever. You know what to do, right?”
“We went over it a hundred times. I got it.”
“It was twice, not a hundred.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes, “Unzip my bag and had me the pink makeup kit.”
“You look fine.”
“Just get it for me, Jackson.”
Rainhorse reached into the back seat and unzipped the suitcase and found the pink makeup bag and handed it to her. Lindsay turned the rearview mirror toward her and began to apply makeup, eyeliner and lipstick. Just when he thought she was done, she began to brush her hair.
“That stupid bag made my hair all sweaty.”
“How long is this going to take?” Rainhorse said, gruffly.
“Relax,” she said. “I’m almost finished.”
She blotted her lipstick on a napkin, zipped up her case and handed it to Rainhorse.
He shook his head, “Anything else?”
“One final touch,” she said. “There is a purple striped shirt in the bag. Get it for me.”
“C’mon, girl,” he said. “We’re robbing a pharmacy, not going to the prom.”
She glared at him.
“Ok,” he said.
She pulled off her sweater. The torn shirt was still underneath it. She pulled that off as well and now sat in the passenger seat in only her bra.
“Holy shit,” Rainhorse exclaimed when he noticed it. “Cover those… you know… things up.”
“Things? Don’t be so uptight,” she said. “We’ve already established you’re not a pervert. They’re just boobs, ok? The bra covers as much as a bikini.”
“If that is the case, if I were your dad, I would not be a fan of your bikini top selection,” he snarked.
He tossed her the purple shirt, “Just get the damn thing on before someone walks by. I don’t want to be known as the assassin who was arrested as a pedophile.”
“Fine,” she snipped.
Brotherhood Protectors: GUARDIAN ANGEL (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 8
