Divine Phoenix(Divine Creek Ranch 10)(133)

The lights dimmed a bit more, and the radio stopped playing, signaling that he had maybe a mile or two before the battery died. He went as far as he could, topping one last hill before he pulled over on the shoulder. He hoped there were no kind-hearted highway patrols on the road in this storm that might pull over to offer assistance. He got as far off the road as he could before the truck rolled to a final stop.

He sat there and stomped his boot heel one more time then whipped out his cell phone and dialed Dirk’s number. When the call connected and Dirk’s weaselly voice came on the line, JT fired off instructions, ignoring all of Dirk’s nosy questions, and made him promise to get his ass in his truck right that minute and come bring him the parts he needed.

Slapping the phone shut, he stuck it in his pocket as he pondered how he’d pass four hours, plus the time Dirk would take at the shop getting him what he needed. Dark thoughts came to his mind as he imagined crawling under the blue tarp to keep his wife company. His wife. And she was going to stay his wife until he deemed otherwise.

His phone rang again, and he nearly cracked the hinge whipping it open as he cursed the one calling him. “What?”

“JT, it’s me, Dirk.”

“I know it’s you, asshole! What do you want?” Last thing he wanted was another cell phone conversation with his idiotic, moody brother. “Shit!” he swore, realizing she might have a cell phone on her. He’d have to get out there when the rain let up and check. While he waited for Dirk to explain himself, he checked the glove box for the knife he kept in there. It was probably sharp enough to cut her blue jeans off of her so he could have some fun without untying her.

“You there, JT?”

“What? Why aren’t you on the road yet?”

“I had to get gas. It’s going to be late by the time I get there, and it’s supper time. You want me to bring you something to eat?”

This is what an aneurysm feels like! JT rubbed his face hard and said, “Umm, sure. Bring me whatever you can find along the way.”

“Anything in particular? McDonald’s? Taco Bell? Whataburger?” A gust of wind hammered rain against his windshield.

Headlights lit the darkness behind him, illuminating the dash faintly. He sat tight and thought about how good a Whataburger with hickory-flavored barbecue sauce and fried onions would be right about now. His mouth watered, and then he shook his head. “Just bring me a burger with everything on it and a coke and fries, and hurry damn it!” He looked in his side-view mirror, waiting for the vehicle to fly past him so he could climb out.

“JT…”

“Motherfucker! Will you just spit it the fuck out!”

“Why are you out on Highway 73? You were in Divine, weren’t you? Is that where you took off to this afternoon?”

“Dirk, it’s none of your damned business what I’m doing! Just bring me the alternator belt. Get your gas, get your food, and get your stupid ass out here! I’m sitting in the middle of a lightning storm and you want to have a conversation.”

Dirk raised his voice and showed a little backbone for once. “Hey, you’re the one who needs a rescue. You better not have bothered Lily—” Dirk’s words were cut off so abruptly JT thought the call had been dropped, but he could hear Dirk breathing hard on the other end of the line.

Gritting his teeth, JT growled as the lights in the dashboard finally went dead. “What do you know about it?”

When he replied, Dirk didn’t sound like himself. “I know that if you think you’re getting her back, Clay Cook is going to have a thing or two to say about it.”

JT curled his lip in disgust. He’d taken Lily without so much as a peep from that pansy-ass motherfucker. Suddenly his windshield lit up with the headlights of a stream of vehicles topping the last hill he’d gotten over before the truck died. Full-on panic seized him when they didn’t race past but surrounded the truck instead. He fumbled clumsily with the door handle, but it was too late.





Chapter Thirty-Two




Del braked and pulled to a stop a short distance from the Toyota. The deputies pulled to sharp stops, surrounding the white truck. A sheriff’s deputy stopped Clay as he tried to run past Del’s truck and halted him as well when he jumped out into the thunderstorm. This was the worst possible place for them to be, on high ground with lightning striking all around them, but all he could think of was how Lily felt being out in it. As if to emphasize his worry, a bolt of lightning struck less than a quarter of a mile away.

The deputy barred his way and called out, “Stop, sir. Let the sheriff handle it.” Del watched Hank Stinson pull his service weapon from its holster and approach the driver’s door along with the other armed officers.