Rugged Cowboy - Elana Johnson Page 0,65

silence. “From Mister Mulbury’s account?”

“Yes, sir,” Dallas said, knowing Nate had all of this set up already.

“I’m going to need the PIN,” Sam said.

Dallas recited it to him, and Sam said, “This account has two-step authorization on it. Do you know the username?”

“WardenConnor4,” Dallas said. When said quickly, one could hear, “Ward and Connor, four,” and that was exactly why Nate had chosen it. He missed his brother terribly, and though he hadn’t said much about it, the three of them were planning to take Connor to see his parents in White Lake after the family celebration at River Bay the day after Christmas.

Not only that, but they’d go by Ward’s old house and see how it was doing. Nate had mentioned that he should probably think about selling it. He hadn’t said why he hadn’t done that yet; he hadn’t had to put it so plainly into words.

“The account number where the money is going?” Sam asked, and Dallas gave that to him.

“It is after hours in Miami,” Sam said. “This could take up to fifteen minutes to show as a pending deposit.”

“Thank you,” Dallas said as politely as he could without turning into a softie in front of Adam.

“Is that all?” Sam asked, his tone clipped and professional.

“Yes,” Dallas said. “Thanks again.” He ended the call and nodded to Adam’s phone. “He said it could take up to fifteen minutes.” Nate and Ted should be there by then, and Dallas was determined to wait for them. Something was screaming through his head that he should not enter this building alone.

Five minutes passed before Adam said, “It’s here.”

“I’m going to need something that says we’re in the clear,” Dallas said. “I don’t want you or anyone who knows you, works for you, has ever seen me or Martha in their lifetime coming to Texas again. We’re all off-limits. Is that clear?”

Adam snarled at Dallas, who didn’t even flinch. He’d lived with the men who’d nearly killed him for three months after the beating. This guy was nothing. Less than nothing.

“We don’t give receipts,” Adam said.

“Make an exception.” Dallas folded his arms and glared at Adam. He became aware of movement, and he’d never felt stronger than when Nate stepped to his left side and Ted to his right.

“Who’s this guy?” Ted asked.

“No one,” Dallas said. “He’s going to give me confirmation in writing that the debt is settled, and then we’re going to get Martha.”

“In writing?”

“That’s right,” Nate said. “And if you try to say he owes you more at any time in the future, we know about fifty lawyers between us.”

“And cops,” Ted said, looking at Dallas and Nate. “I mean, the feds are always looking to make a big drug bust, aren’t they?”

The three of them glared at Adam, who had the guts and confidence to stare right back. “Fine,” he said. “Who has something I can write on?”

Nate swung his backpack off his shoulder and produced a small notebook with a black pen. Adam scrawled a note on it, signed his name with a flourish, and handed everything back. “You really will need to take the briefcase,” he said. “It’s the signal that you’re safe.”

“Fine,” Dallas said, and Nate stooped to retrieve it.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Adam smiled then—actually had the audacity to smile—and saluted as he walked away.

Dallas finally got enough air in his lungs. He looked at Ted and then Nate. “Unit 2B,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Eighteen

“No, it is not okay, Martha,” Dallas said as Jess entered his house, both of his kids behind her. She stopped instantly and turned back to them.

“Thomas,” she said as Dallas started to say something else. “Will you please take Remmy back out to the mailbox? I think your dad was expecting something today.”

Thomas had already heard his father’s frustrated voice, and he looked behind Jess, who had blocked the door. “All right,” he said.

“Thanks.” Jess held his eye and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “And Tommy, maybe run next door and ask Mrs. Clyde if she’ll let you two have some ice cream.”

His face brightened then, and as he walked back down the sidewalk they’d already come up, Jess quickly texted Mrs. Clyde that they needed a few minutes to sort something out. She responded with, I’ll get the cookies and cream out now and a smiley face.

Jess had met her only a few days ago, when Dallas had left for Miami. She’d been the emergency contact on the sheet of paper he’d