Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Can - By Kat Martin Page 0,32
make him a man.”
Ben’s stomach went cold. “So Troy could have taken him.”
Eddie’s expression turned wary. “You said he did.”
“We think he did. We need to know where he’s going, where he’d be taking the boy.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Eddie. You knew him better than most. You knew him in Vegas, came with him to L.A. Where was he going after he quit his job?”
“I told you I don’t know.”
Ben leaned across the table, fixed his frigid eyes on Eddie’s pale face. “He was headed to Louisiana to see his brothers. Isn’t that right?”
“Maybe. He was real close with them.”
“What was Troy’s real name?”
“Bridger.”
“Not Bennett?”
“I don’t know.”
Ben rested his elbows on top of the table and leaned a little farther forward. “So he was headed to Louisiana. Which road did he take?”
Eddie swallowed.
“Which road, Eddie?”
The last of the man’s bravado faded. Maybe he recognized just how far Ben was willing to go to make him talk.
“He had a lady friend in Phoenix. Troy had a way with women, you know? At least at first. He’d usually mess it up. Drink too much, slap ’em around. But this one woman, she always took him back. I met her once when we were down there. She was older, maybe late forties, big-titted, redheaded broad. Troy could always count on Lyla.”
“And he would have to go through Phoenix if he was headed for Louisiana,” Claire said.
Eddie just hung his head. “Yeah.”
Her gaze swung to Ben, then back to Eddie. “What’s Lyla’s last name?” she asked.
Eddie’s head came up. He looked resigned. “Holden. Her name is Lyla Holden.”
“You got an address?” Ben pressed.
“No. Eddie and I met up with her in some bar. Now leave me the fuck alone.”
* * *
Claire’s pulse was still pounding when they got back into the car. “Oh, my God, Ben, we know where he’s going!”
Ben started the engine. “If Jeffries is telling the truth.”
“He is. I know it.”
Ben nodded. “I think so, too. He’s already got his ass in a sling. He doesn’t want any more trouble.” As they pulled into the street, Ben stepped down hard on the gas. “Which means Troy could still be in Arizona with Sam.”
“We can fly commercial. There are flights to Phoenix every couple of hours and it’s cheap.”
“Good, I can get a one-way ticket. If Troy’s already left Phoenix and I get any kind of lead, I won’t be coming back.”
“We’re going to follow him?”
“I am. What you do is up to you.”
She cast him a sharp glance. “I’m going. Just give me time to pack my things.”
“First we need a location for Lyla.” When Ben pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, Claire started to tell him it wasn’t safe to talk on the phone while he was driving—and it was also against the law. The look he shot her warned her not to say a word.
“I need an address, Sol. A woman named Lyla Holden. She lives in Phoenix. Bridger may be holed up at her house.”
Claire couldn’t hear, but Sol must have agreed to help locate the woman.
“How about Bridger? Nothing came up on facial recognition?” Ben’s dark look said the answer was no. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up the phone, turned in her direction. “He’ll call as soon as he gets an address.”
“You think he will?”
“If I had to bet, I’d say yes.” Ben kept up his speed and they made it back to the apartment in record time. As soon as they walked through the front door, his cell rang again.
“I’m here,” Ben said into the phone. He walked over to the notepad on the kitchen counter. “Chandler, Arizona, 4523 Armand Drive. Thanks, kid.” He tore off the sheet of paper and headed for his laptop still set up on the kitchen table.
“You go pack what you need,” he said. “I’ll get the tickets.”
“Check Southwest Airlines.” Claire hurried down the hall to her bedroom. “They should have the most flights.” Worried Ben would leave without her if she didn’t move fast enough, she raced into the bedroom and started throwing things on the bed.
When she walked back out of the room towing her carry-on, she had enough clothes packed for a quick trip to Phoenix, or longer if necessary.
Seconds later, Ben walked out of the guest room, his black canvas duffel slung over his shoulder. “We’ve got a one-thirty departure. It’ll be tight, but if we get going, we might be able to make it. If not, the next flight isn’t till five.”