Page 346 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

In full survival mode, she barely heard Daddy shouting her name. The whole yard was washed in yellowish headlights, making both Daddy and the deputy now jumping out of his car easy to see as they came running straight at her.

She was so going to go back to prison.

Heaving herself back into the truck, she jammed the keys into the ignition.

"Stop!" Daddy shouted as she cranked up his truck. Ramming into reverse, she stomped the pedal to the floor mat.

She was pretty sure that bump she went over was Travis, but she didn't stop. The deputy dove to get out of the way as she tore off down the driveway, nearly sideswiping both the cop car and a tree in her frantic effort to escape.

The last she saw of Daddy was in the rearview mirror as he chased her all the way down his driveway.

She'd just stolen his police truck and the irony of having the one crime she'd never committed being ultimately the thing that would probably see her back behind bars before the night was out was not lost on her.

Bursting into tears, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and drove as fast as she could with no destination in mind.

Chapter Ten

"Move!" Jeff snapped, ducking around Gideon who was digging out his cuffs even as he raced to secure Travis. His brother was still on the ground, rolling around and clutching the leg his babygirl had broken when she ran over it.

She had to be so scared. He had to get to her before something happened. Before she hurt herself or crashed his truck, or ran all the way out of his life before he had the chance to speak to her again. To calm her. Tell her he'd never hurt her the way his brother had.

To tell her how he felt, if only it was to thank her for giving him the chance to play Daddy one more time. Jumping into the patrol car, he took off after her.

She was driving fast and reckless, and his fear for her ramped as he closed the distance between them. She was all over the road. Thank goodness it was the middle of the night and everyone in Starvation had long since gone to bed. No one else was on the road.

Just her and him, racing through the dark with his lights going and hers not on at all.

They whizzed past the police station with all its lights on and the grocery store, with everything including their lot sign dark. In the next second, they’d passed the last house in town limits and she was showing no signs of slowing.

Turning on the bullhorn, he grabbed the CB.

"Stop the truck, Tabitha," he commanded, keeping his voice deliberately gentle. Or as gentle as he could be while this anxious for her safety. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this scared, not for anyone. "Baby, I mean it. Put your foot on the brake, and stop right where you are!"

She swerved, running right off the road and into the cool desert night.

He followed her, his truck handling the far bumper terrain better than the patrol car he was in. This wasn’t his first car chase, however, and of the two of them, he had no doubts whatsoever in his driving skills. She was all over the place, and his heart was in his throat as he tried to figure exactly where in the desert they were and, more importantly, what lay ahead of them.

He was in territory he knew well, but night-time driving was always a challenge. Had they already passed the gorge, where the flat hard-packed ground beneath their tires gave way to chasms deep enough to swallow both their vehicles? The tangles in his gut were trying to tell him they hadn’t.

"Stop the truck, baby," he commanded, desperately searching everything his headlights revealed for familiar landmarks. Jesus, they hadn't passed the gorge. They were headed right for it.

All gentleness vanished from his voice and he barked out over the horn, "Tabitha Markle! This is Daddy. Stop the truck right goddamn now!"

He slammed on his brakes the second she did, and both vehicles skidded in the loose dirt. Experience had him handling the fishtail better than she did. She spun his truck almost all the way around, but she did get it stopped.

The two vehicles faced each other, the headlights now blinding him as he yanked his seatbelt off. The truck didn't move when he got out.

"Make one move, and I will spank your bare bottom so hard you won't sit for three days straight," he vowed into the bullhorn. He waited to see if she would run again, but the truck idled where it was.

Shouldering the door open, he got out. Cautiously, not at all sure what emotional state she would be in when he finally got to her, he approached his truck. The closer he got, the better he could see her and the quicker he walked, rounding the front of the truck.

Her teeth were bared, tears pouring down her face as she watched him come. Her thumb was in her mouth. Each shaky breath she took came out in hitches and hiccups, and the broken window made it easy to hear her as she wept out, "I d-did a b-bad thing." She looked at him directly. "Ar-are you m-mad?"

"You're going to have a very ouchie bottom when we talk about this later," he promised. "But no, baby. Daddy's not mad."

"I-I-I stole your t-truck."

He gently opened the door, reaching in around her to shut off the vehicle and take the keys away. "We'll talk about it later."

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