a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon, and the two men had raced off.
God bless him, Devon has been my savior. He warned me to get all my contact numbers off my phone, and then dump it and get a burner phone, thinking they may find a way to track it.
He had me panicking more than I was already, but I followed his advice and made a quick run to pick one up. I also got some duct tape and taped my old phone to the back of the cab of a long-haul trucker parked at the motel whom I overheard telling the clerk was headed to LA.
I was afraid to ask Devon if there’d been any news of a murder at Peerless Tower. I don’t want to involve him any further than he already is. If they try to pin this on me, he might be seen as an accomplice after the fact.
I can’t worry about that now. I’ve worried about it all the way from Arizona.
I climb from my car and stare down at my flat tire. Now I have bigger problems.
I squat down to see if I can find the damage, but I can’t. Not that it would matter. I already know I’ll have to call a tow truck.
The rumble of a motorcycle draws my eyes to a single headlight coming down the ramp. I stand, brightly lit from the headlamp. This morning I’d put on an easy little sundress that was packed away in my bag. It’s comfortable to travel in. Now I’m regretting it. I feel too exposed with my bare arms and legs and sandaled feet.
The motorcycle pulls to the shoulder behind me. I can tell by the unmistakable engine sound that it’s a Harley. I pop my trunk and dig under my suitcase for the tire iron I keep there. Not because I have any hopes of changing a tire; this model doesn’t even come with a spare. No, I carry it for protection. Devon always told me I should carry a gun, just a small one, for protection, that I’m too vulnerable with clients. I never worried or gave it a second thought. I was almost always in the hotel with security around, and anytime I traveled I had Devon with me. He’s a big man who intimidates a lot of people, and I was never afraid before.
But now I’m rethinking everything, and I wish I’d taken him up on his offer when he’d told me he’d take me gun shopping. He’d grinned so big when he’d said it, joking that he knew I couldn’t turn down shopping.
Now I stand on the darkening road with nothing but this tire iron to protect myself. I grip it tighter.
The man dismounts, and his body is outlined in silhouette as he steps into the blinding headlight. He’s tall and fit with long legs, narrow hips, and broad shoulders that roll with his gait. He could easily overpower me and jerk the weapon from my hand, but maybe if I can get in one good swing, I can knock him out.
I retreat as he comes closer.
“Hey, doll. You broke down?” he asks. His voice is deep and somehow soothing, but I’m not trusting that ooey-gooey feeling.
I lift my weapon. “Stay back.”
His hands go up, and he stops. “Whoa, whoa. No need for that, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I stay where I’m at, the weapon still raised.
His eyes take in the tire, and he jerks his chin toward it. “Just thought you might need some help.”
“I’ve got it,” I say.
His eyes drop to the back of my car. “Nevada plates. Car like this, you must be from Vegas.”
And just like that he already knows way more about me than I want him to. I keep my mouth shut, not bothering to deny it.
He peers into the open trunk. “You don’t even have a spare in this thing, do you?”
I don’t know why, but I don’t want to admit it to him. “I’ve called a tow truck. They’ll be here any minute.”
He shakes his silhouetted head. “Doubt it, babe.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a six car pile up back there. I just made it around it. Every spare tow company’s gonna be sending their equipment there. You could be here hours.”
Perhaps that’s why no other car has come down the ramp. If he’s telling the truth, there might not be any cars for a long time.
My eyes shift around at the woods. Damn