Page 53 of Bait and Switch
“He’ll find Casey,” Elton said as he eased himself off the seat and down to the ground, the tire iron gripped in one hand.
Trying to imagine Elton actually whacking someone with the tool—and failing—Gabe fished around in the truck bed’s toolbox for the wrench. He would be the one to do any necessary thrashing. It was a big one, around two feet long, and weighed maybe three pounds. If he walloped someone with it, they weren’t going anywhere, for a little while anyway.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Was he nervous? Fuck, yes. Running cons and grifting marks seldom required violence. Gabe wasn’t a violent person, having learned early that force rarely achieved the desired results. Which, thinking about it, was why he was in this situation—maybe the Colavitos would have left him alone if he’d responded with violence instead of running.
But neither Larry nor his idiot nephews were in The Valley. This situation had nothing to do with Seattle. Even Gabriel couldn’t imagine a scenario in which the family were at all involved with Rizzi’s game. He and Elton were sure it had to be Rizzi, and perhaps some unknown partners, someone like Spurring, who were behind recent events. They hadn’t yet come to a conclusion as to the exact reasons why Dwayne had been killed, Deputy Nolan assassinated, and Peter murdered, but the eight-ball had been queried and it had indicatedsigns point to yeswhen it came to Sheriff Eli Rizzi.
The driving force, the main theme, had to be money, of course. Greed and money. Or power. But likely all of the above. When tonight was in the bag, they could all work together figuring which combination of the three it was.
It’s always money, Chance. Follow the money. Power and greed follow the cash.
For once, Gabriel wished his inner Heidi was wrong.
The fire appearedto be dying out. However, it proved too soon to think that as they slowly approached what had once been Gordon’s shed. Something major shifted in the center, and the conflagration whoofed and snapped as it was fed new fuel. A plume of flame and sparks shot upward, lighting up the area around the blaze. Embers caught in one of the lurking trees and began to smolder.
“Fuck, that is not good,” Gabe said, watching the flames start to crawl up the tree.
“A water truck is on the way. We need to focus on finding Casey and Bowie.”
Right, focus on finding Casey.
Stopping well away from the flames, Gabe peered around, hoping to see Casey or the dog, but neither were visible.
“Casey,” Elton called out. He had the tire iron up and ready; he must have been formidable when he was younger. Hell, he was formidable now.
There was no answer to Elton’s call. Gabe stopped walking for a moment, thinking he’d heard something, just not words. He walked faster, heading into the dark.
There was a crash followed by the sound of quick footsteps, but they were moving away, not coming closer.
“Someone’s out there! Casey!” Elton yelled again, and—again—got no answer.
But then, maybe, a groan.
Gabe never would’ve expected Elton to move that fast, but the old man did.
Whoever else was out there wasn’t trying to be quiet as they stumbled through the brush and brambles that grew after clear cuts. A few muttered curses and grunts and then silence. Did they have a vehicle? Casey’s truck was the only car Gabe had seen.
Bowie yipped:Get over here already!Gabe quickened his pace, wary of the uneven terrain, the wrench a comforting weight in his hand. A just-in-case weapon. He didn’t make it far before spotting Bowie and a still form on the ground. His heart rose in his throat, nearly choking him.
Scratch that,notstill. Casey rolled onto his side, a groan escaping him as he forced himself to a sitting position. Bowie was wagging and bumping against him, the doggy version ofJesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me.
And me too. But Gabe wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“Ranger Man, you scared the crap out of us.”
Or maybe he was.
A large silver flashlight lay a few feet from Casey, its fading beam spearing the dark beyond him. Grabbing it off the ground, Gabe shone the light over him and had to stop himself from gasping.
“Your head’s going to hurt in the morning.” Gabe had to force himself not to pat him down, to prove to all of them that he was alive and breathing. “Do not get up.”
Remarkably, Casey stayed seated, which only meant that he was in real pain. Bowie sat on his haunches next to him, his furry body pressed against Casey’s larger one. Gabe glanced at Elton, whose expression said the person who got away was damn lucky. Probably matched Gabe’s.
Gabe blinked at the sight of the blood trickling down the side of Casey’s face and into his beard. Goose bumps popped up over his entire body, and a rage he’d never experienced beganto crawl through his veins. He’d never understood the phraseseeing red. He did now.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Casey insisted. “Head wounds bleed, we all know that. Hurts, but I’m okay, not seeing double.”
