Page 71 of No Saint
“Now?” Jade turned in the seat, a horrified expression on her face. “We’re stealing a tractor right now?”
“If we find one. Yes.”
Wiping her hands over her jeans, she blew out a sharp breath. “Okay. Right now. What’s the speed limit on this road?”
“What does that have to do with stealing a tractor?”
She took her phone from the cupholder. “So I know how fast to drive. Obviously.” She wasn’t even behind the wheel, and her panic was already showing.
“Forty-five,”
“Forty-five,” she whispered, tapping on her phone.
“Are you making a note?”
“Yes. In case I forget.”
Good God. Releasing a breath, I reached across the console and gave a condescending pat to her knee. “Good job, Jade.”
“Fuck you.”
Who knew those two words could be like a shot of adrenaline to my dick?
“Is there like a bat signal? So I know when to get away.”
“You have to go with me.”
“Oh, great. Yeah, sure. So much for just drive—” Her attention drifted back past the windshield. “Wait. Please tell me you do not expect me to climb that fence…into a field…with a bull….”
“There’s not a bull.” And even if there were, it would be asleep. Not like the things could sense blood.
“I know it’s not the most literate, but you can read, right?”
I glanced back at the sign. “It’s like when people put up those signs saying there’s a guard dog, and their guard dog ends up being a one-eyed Pomeranian named Ginger.”
“That comparison is flawed. A one-eyed, small bull called Patch is still a bull—over knee height. Which you know I don’t do.”
“Yeah, I remember…”
Hendrix had brought home a goat once—stolen, of course. Jade had launched herself on top of the kitchen counter when it snuck up behind her and bleated.
“Just think of it as a cow with horns.” I unbuckled my seat belt, then reached for the tool bag I kept on the passenger floorboard. “Moo-fucking-moo.”
She glared at me. “Ha-fucking-ha.”
“They have cows in petting zoos, Jade.” I tossed the keys into her lap. “I really do need you to go with me as a lookout.”
The door swung open to the smell of freshly cut grass and the chirp of crickets. I rounded the truck, and the interior light cut off. Damn, it was bumb-fuck-nowhere dark. No streetlights or lights from houses—I glanced up at the thick string of clouds covering the moon. At least once those rolled out of the way, we’d have some light. My attention went to the truck. Jade was still sitting there, staring through the window like that field was a death sentence.
“Scared of animals over knee height. What a load of…” Grumbling, I went to her side of the truck and opened the door. The interior light flickered on, and she looked terrified. “Come on, scaredy cat.”
“Surely, I can look out from here?”
“I might need you to open and close the gate. Make sure the cows don’t escape.”
She unbuckled her belt but still didn’t get out. “Just leave it open. Set them free. Save them from their burger fate.”
“Yes, because setting them free to certain death by a Chevy four-by-four is more humane.”
