Dead Run

by Jodie Bailey

Holt Renard. “I did. He gave us a lift, but I don’t really know much about him.” Not nearly enough to feel comfortable. And with the way he’d sent her pulse skittering at the auction, she couldn’t get to know him. “He’s opening an outdoorsman store.”

  Riella’s eyebrow lifted. “Speaking of...”

  Holt made an entrance and handed Blair her tea.

  Riella introduced herself and chitchatted with Holt while Blair sipped her chamomile tea and fretted. She hoped he wouldn’t blab to Riella about the circumstances surrounding the wreck. But Blair couldn’t tell him not to, either. She’d instructed Gigi to keep mum before she saw Doc. She’d have to do some explaining when she got her alone. She’d never wanted Gigi to know how stupid and naive she’d been to fall in with Mateo and his crowd. No way around it now.

  “Well, on behalf of Hope, welcome. I’ll have Sophia whip you up a welcome meal.”

  Riella didn’t mind offering meals to everyone and anyone. She never had to cook them.

  Doc Drummond led Gigi into the waiting area. “No concussion, but watch her anyway. She can take Motrin for the pain. Wake her up every thirty minutes to an hour just in case, and she’ll be right as rain.” He flashed a grin at his wife. “I smell a meatball sub.”

  Riella raised a red-and-green bag. “You’re welcome.” She kissed his cheek. Blair hooked her arm around Gigi’s. “Thanks, Doc. We appreciate your help.”

  “Be more careful next time, Blair. That beast of a truck is a lot to handle.” Doc Drummond winked. “Nice meeting you, Holt. I’ll have to swing by and check out the store when it’s up and running.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Doc escorted his wife to the offices. Holt held the door while Blair and Gigi stepped outside underneath the white-and-yellow awning. Even with the shade, it felt like they were charging toward a fire-breathing dragon. Blair looked at Holt. “Can I have a couple of minutes alone with my sister?”

  “Sure.” Holt paused, then meandered down the sidewalk out of earshot.

  Blair turned to Gigi. “I guess you kept quiet about what really happened.”

  “You told me not to say a word, so I listened. I’m not sure what did happen. Are you?”

  “Let’s talk about it later. Are you hungry?” Blair studied Gigi. Her color had come back, but her eyes looked tired. And scared.

  “I feel like talking about it now. Why do you carry a gun that I don’t know about, and who on this green earth would try to kill us, and why do I have to keep my mouth shut?”

  As far as Gigi knew, Mateo Salvador died in South America, gunned down by guerillas. Which wasn’t far from the truth. He had been gunned down. But she wasn’t exactly sure by whom, other than a rival drug cartel aiming to take down Hector.

  Blair glanced around. Out here where anyone could listen wasn’t the best place. “We will talk. At home. And I carry a gun for protection like a lot of people.”

  “You’re hiding something.”

  For Gigi’s own good. To protect her.

  “We should call the police, Blair.” Gigi gnawed her bottom lip. “I’m freaking out.”

  Maybe she should call them. Chief Deputy Beckett Marsh might be able to help. But then she’d have to reveal her past. Somehow it would leak and the town wouldn’t see her as Blair Sullivan, business owner and honorable neighbor. She’d become Blair Sullivan, former wife of a drug lord who could potentially put friends and family in jeopardy.

  Blair rubbed her hands together. “You don’t need to be afraid. Trust me.”

  “Who was in that SUV?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” But she had a terrifying feeling they would be back.

  Gigi grabbed Blair’s shoulders. “You think this involves Jeremy? Are you scared of getting him in hot water with the cops?”

  Blair’s knees buckled. She hadn’t once thought it might concern her brother. But that might be the reason he wasn’t answering calls and texts, or hadn’t been by to see them in a few days.

  Gigi led her to one of the many benches that lined the sidewalks. Blair collapsed on one, averting her eyes from the colorful wooden box of impatiens that sat directly under the black lamppost.

  “Maybe we should call Dad,” Gigi said.

  No. Drug cartels were ruthless. Until she knew what she was dealing with, the fewer people involved, the better. “And ruin his Caribbean cruise when we don’t really know anything? Let’s not worry Dad until we have to.”

  Gigi stood and crossed her arms across her chest. “Okay, but I expect the full truth before the night is over. It’s not fair to keep me in the dark, Blair.”

  No, it wasn’t. Not at this point.

  A blue pickup pulled over to the curb and Ronnie Lawson clambered out.

  Blair stood next to Gigi. “Oh, great,” she muttered, then bristled as he strode toward her with determination in his eyes.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the little fox that stole from my vineyard.” He shoved a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek and pocketed the canister.

  “I didn’t steal anything. You should have been at the auction today.” Blair backed away as he shuffled forward, turned his head and spat a spray of tobacco juice.

  “Truck broke down on the interstate. I heard it was gonna be a sweet one today.” He glanced at her head and massaged his neck muscles. “What happened to you? Get into a major bidding war?”

  “I wrecked on Farley Pass coming home.” She gave Gigi a sidelong glance and prayed she’d keep her trap shut.

  “At least you’re not dead.”

  Yet. Her nerves hammered.

  Ronnie made another step into Blair’s personal space. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

  * * *

  Holt had given Blair and Gigi space, but he itched to know what they were discussing. Might be about whether or not to go to the police. Now, out of the corner of his eye, he studied a man with beady eyes and a receding hairline moving in on Blair. He towered over her and she inched back, then scowled. Didn’t appear to be a pleasant conversation. Holt strode toward them. If this guy was messing with her, it’d be for the last time.

  “Blair, everything all right?” Holt asked as he ambled up beside her, glaring at the big guy wearing a worn camouflage shirt and jeans.

  Blair tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. This is Ronnie Lawson—”

  “Own the sporting goods store outside town. You are?” Ronnie sniffed and spat a gob of tobacco onto the road.

  “Holt Renard. Just moved here from Memphis.”

  Ronnie nodded once. “What brings you to Hope?”

  “Opening a used outdoorsman store.” And he continued to build on the tower of lies. “Chasin’ the dream, man. Chasin’ the dream.” Once it hadn’t been too far of a stretch, before his world flipped upside down. Once he’d wanted to major in forestry and settle down in a town much like this one. With Trina.

  “I hear ya.” Ronnie returned his attention to Blair. “So, can I come by and check out the inventory?”

  Blair placed her hands on her hips. “Sorry you broke down on the interstate this morning, but I haven’t had a chance to comb through everything myself, and you know—”

  “You have a dumb ritual of having to see it all before anyone else. Give me a break.”

  Holt didn’t like this guy. Manhandling her with his words and his stance. He stepped forward, ready to put the deadhead in his place, if for no other reason than talking ugly to a woman.

  “Dumb or not, it’s my thing.”

  Blair gave him an icy stare, and Ronnie chuckled. “All right. No need for daggers. Call me if there’s anything I might want.”

  “You know I will. As always.” Blair waved as he climbed into the pickup. “Ronnie Lawson is the thorn in my side. Greedy old jerk. I like his wife, though.”
r />   Gigi snickered. “He’s just mad because he lost out on possible sporting goods.”

  Holt wasn’t sure what was going on. The guy seemed too interested in Blair’s purchase, but he might always be like this. Holt needed answers. “So, anyone up for food?”

  “It’s hot out, but I could eat some soup maybe,” Gigi offered. “Blair?”

  She stared at the road and chewed a thumbnail. “I really need to go through the wares from today and inventory it.”

  “You whacked your head, Blair. Take a day to rest,” Holt said, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was too hot to stand around out here talkin’ about stock from the auction—or anything else.

  “Or let me eat some soup and then get to it.” Gigi gave her the stank-eye and Blair heaved a breath.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Holt said, “let’s get a bite to eat and I’ll help you unload the wares and inventory. I know you can’t haul all of that out of the truck alone.” He hoped she’d agree. He needed more time around her and access to snoop.

  “I can handle it and it’s a ritual I like to do—study each piece, and...anyway...” Blair glanced across the street. “But okay to something to eat.”

  So she wasn’t going to let him go near that truckload of stuff. Why? What ritual? His suspicion rose to new heights. He couldn’t drive her truck, and she’d refused to leave it behind. Was there something inside she didn’t want anyone to see? Was that why the SUV had plowed into her?

  They headed down the sidewalk toward the Black-Eyed Pea. Holt pointed at the diner on the corner of the square. “Cool name.”

  “Hunter and Jace Black own the place. Gigi dates Hunter...sometimes.” Blair grinned, groaning when Gigi elbowed her.

  “What about you, Blair? Who do you date?” Could a new boyfriend be into some bad stuff?

  Gigi snorted. “Blair? Date?”

  Holt spied Blair’s cheeks turning pink, but she didn’t offer a defense or retort. Would she still be grieving Mateo Salvador? He’d been nothing short of a monster with loads of money. It’d been over two years since he died. It had to be Blair’s own decision not to date. Holt couldn’t imagine the dudes in this town not beating her door down to ask her out. If this wasn’t an assignment and he was positive she wasn’t involved directly with drugs, Holt would be beating down her door. But this was an assignment. And personally, he was done opening himself up to love.

  “I don’t have time for relationships,” Blair offered, glaring at Gigi, but behind the irritation with her sister lay worry and unease.

  She had every right to be afraid and fret. Holt wanted to reassure her that things would be fine. But could he? He’d failed Trina. Holt had given her false hope every day. He’d believed with all his heart that God would heal her. He would let them be together and make a happy life. And in the end? Hope disappointed. Hope failed.

  The day he laid Trina to rest, he’d also buried his faith.

  They crossed the street and headed down to the storefront where red-and-blue-plaid curtains lined the lower half of picture windows. A large wooden sign hung overhead with black branded lettering: The Black-Eyed Pea. Home cooking, deep-fried deliciousness and the briny scent of seafood clung to the sticky air.

  Hopefully, during their meal, Holt would be able to extract more information from Blair and Gigi.

  Time was running out.

  An hour later, Holt hadn’t learned much more than the fact that Jace Black made a mean po’boy, could fix Blair’s truck if she needed him to and might be into her—which flared a green streak in Holt that irritated and surprised him.

  Blair had kept relatively low-key except to admit she stank at cooking. Now on his way to drop the sisters off at home, Holt turned down their country road. Only a few houses sprinkled in the area. A dark pickup truck whizzed by, kicking up dust.

  A love song played on the radio. He itched to switch stations. The last thing he needed was a ballad about lasting love. He pulled into Blair’s gravel driveway and cut the engine.

  Gigi’s phone rang. “Thanks, Holt.” She answered the call and climbed out of the truck, then sat on the porch steps.

  Blair exited the vehicle and Holt dogged her, stopping her before she reached Gigi. “If you need anything at all, I’m only across the street. Or better yet, take my number and call or text.”

  Blair huffed but traded numbers. “We’ll be fine.”

  Holt wasn’t so sure. “It’s not every day someone gets run off the road and shot at. I’m not an idiot, and I haven’t pushed, but it’s obvious you’re in trouble. And I want to help.”

  Blair fidgeted with her cell phone. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Fair enough, but I’m not the one running you down with a gun. The fact that you’re not going to the police tells me you’re into some bad stuff—”

  “I’m not a criminal!” Blair’s words carried conviction and pain.

  He couldn’t help softening. “I didn’t say you were, Blair.” And maybe she wasn’t. He was struggling to imagine she was. “But good people have bad things happen to them.” He’d been a witness to that.

  She touched his arm as if she’d known and felt his own pain. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For taking care of us and giving us a ride, but please don’t let what happened get around town.”

  Holt would never say a word. Not only because he was undercover, but clearly Blair Sullivan didn’t like the fact that she’d been associated with Mateo Salvador and his criminal activity. And Holt wanted her trust. “I promise you, I won’t say a word to anyone. I don’t promise to stay out of it. You could have died. Whether I know you or not...” He scuffed his toe along the gravel drive. “I don’t want to see anyone die.” Couldn’t bear it.

  “I don’t, either.”

  “Blair,” Gigi called. “Did you leave the door open after we got home from the auction?” Gigi stood with her keys in hand, staring at the front door.

  Blair frowned and marched toward the house. Holt followed. “No. We didn’t go inside and I know I wouldn’t have left it open.”

  Holt nudged both women behind him and studied the cracked-open door. “Did ya’ll notice that truck that flew by a minute ago? Either of you recognize it?”

  Blair’s hand trembled. “Not really.” She looped her arm in Gigi’s as if trying to hold them both up. Gigi shook her head.

  He handed Blair his truck keys. “Go get in my truck and lock the doors. Anything happens, you drive away. Don’t even hesitate.”

  Blair stared at the keys, lips quivering.

  “Go,” he said with a little more force, and gave her a gentle shove toward the steps.

  When she and Gigi were inside the cab of his truck, Holt drew his gun, toed open the front door, then slipped inside. Not a sound except for the refrigerator humming and the air-conditioning unit working to keep the house cool.

  Nothing seemed out of place.

  He cleared each room downstairs and up. Everything appeared to be in order, but his gut screamed someone had been in here. And the culprit might have been in that pickup. If they’d been five minutes earlier...

  Holt came outside. Blair and Gigi whispered inside the truck. Possibly keeping secrets and discussing information he desperately needed to find their brother and Agent Livingston. Blair opened the truck door.

  “I didn’t see anything out of place, but come in and take a look. See if you notice anything unusual.”

  Blair entered her living room first. “It smells like oil and exhaust.”

  Holt sniffed. “You’re right.” Definitely wasn’t Blair’s signature scent. She smelled like a bouquet of springtime, which irked him that he’d picked up on it...enjoyed the fragrance. He had one purpose in being here, and it wasn’t to admire Blair Sullivan’s flowery scent.

  He walked the house with her and Gigi.


  “I don’t see anything missing.” Blair shivered and rubbed her forearms. “I guess we did leave the door cracked.”

  Holt didn’t believe that, and the way Blair was nervously rubbing her arms said she didn’t, either. Gigi’s narrowed eyes confirmed what Holt was thinking.

  Blair was lying. But why?

  Blair walked to the front door and opened it. “We appreciate you checking out the house. We’re safe now. I’ll call if we need you.”

  Another invitation to leave. The last thing he wanted to do. Someone had broken in and they could come back. Blair and Gigi could get hurt. Worse. But she was kicking him to the curb.

  Shoving down the fight he wanted to give, he nodded and stepped onto the porch. At least he was across the street. “Please call me, Blair. For anything.”

  “I will.” Her eyes were wide with fright but she closed the door, leaving a barrier between them. No matter, he’d just go home and set up his surveillance equipment and play professional Peeping Tom. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica R. Patch

  ISBN-13: 9781488018855

  Dead Run

  Copyright © 2017 by Jodie Bailey

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