Part 12 (1/2)

That doesnt look any better than your truck or my Yugo.

Mack grunted. Believe me. A ton of custom works already been poured into that baby. And there he goes. The other guys with him. He put the pickup in gear.

How are we ever going to keep up with him?

Dont let appearances fool you, he said as he stepped on the accelerator and spun out of the parking lot in a shower of pebbles. Theres custom work under this old hood, too.

OmiG.o.d! she exclaimed as she slid across the bench seat and into him. You dont have to drive like a lunatic!

Buckle up.

As the car in the distance slowed for a curve, Mack slowed the pickup, as well, giving Chloe time to wrestle with her seat belt.

Wont he know were following him? she asked.

That depends on how far we have to tail him. There arent many places you can go around here at this hour, except home. The kids sometimes drag race out by the old airstrip, but we run a regular patrol out there to break things up. I dont suppose this guy would want to conduct a meeting where the sheriffs department is known to show up at any time.

Mack expertly maneuvered a series of hairpin turns as Chloe slid back and forth on the hard plastic seat despite being buckled up. With all the jouncing, she was going to need a bathroom soon.

Of course, there are a couple private clubs back in the hollows. If he heads for one of those, were going to be reduced to pulling into the bushes or driving back and forth until the Camaros on the move again.

He slowed as their headlights picked up a deer with her fawn standing like lawn ornaments by the roadside.

Then theres Phils Eats, a twenty-four-hour joint over the county line.

Have you considered he might call it a night and go home to bed? she asked.

Not him. He thinks of himself as a real player. A not-so-big fish in a small pond is what he is. But its his overblown ego thats going to eventually do him in.

Despite Macks boast that the truck had considerable custom work under the hood, the heater wasnt cranking out much warmth. Chloe pulled the cuffs of her sweats.h.i.+rt over her fists. What are you hoping to accomplish tonight?

At this point we just want to observe his contacts. And Phils Eats it is, he declared as the Camaro made a right under a neon sign up ahead.

Mack pulled over to the side of the road and waited a full five minutes, letting a half-dozen cars enter and exit the diners parking lot before pulling in himself. Through the big plate-gla.s.s windows, Chloe could see that the two men from the auction were seated in a booth and were now joined by a third man.

The plot thickens, she said as Mack found a spot in the crowded lot. Do you know the new guy?

Sort of. Mack backed into a position that afforded an indirect view of the front door. Enough that I wouldnt feel comfortable showing myself inside.

Dont yell at me, but I have to pee, Chloe admitted when he finally came to a stop.

He sighed, then pulled a twenty from his pocket and handed it to her. You go in. Order us some takeout. Anything. While you wait, use the bathroom.

What if they decide to leave before Dont worry about that. Now go.

She went into the diner and ordered burgers, fries and a couple of sodas to go, then used the restroom. The three men were still there, huddled in heated discussion, when she came out and paid, and still there when she headed for the pickup.

Back in the cab she and Mack ate in silence, while he fixated on the scene inside the dinerthe men drinking cup after cup of coffee and talking, talking, talking. Because Mack didnt acknowledge her presence, she gathered their trash and was about to get out to throw it in the bin by the door when the three men stood up, paid and stepped out into the parking lot.

What if the guy you sort of know recognizes you? she asked, her heart racing at the thought of discovery.

Mack didnt answer. Instead, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard. So hard she found it difficult to breathe. When she finally came up for air, she tried unsuccessfully to phrase a question. What?

Be quiet. His lips hovered above hers. For all they know, were a couple of kids making out.

Okay. She could do this.

Especially since he did it so well.

She wondered briefly where and with whom he practiced, before surrendering to the second kiss. Or was it the third? Or maybe the fourth? Whatever. She threaded her fingers through his hair and heard him groan. Was that part of the act?

She didnt care.

This was soooo inappropriate.

She didnt care.

He felt and smelled and tasted too good. And she must not have felt half-bad, either, because his hand was under her jacket, under her layers of clothing, on her bare skin.

He sucked in air, pulled back. You dont wear a bra?

No, she said between gasps. Do you?

The Camaro pulled out of the parking lot, three men now inside.

Buckle up, Mack ordered for the second time tonight, his hands returning to the wheel. How could that be? She still felt them on her skin. Still felt the rush of his kiss. But he sat erect, staring through the winds.h.i.+eld, in full control of, not only his hands, but his emotions. Apparently hot kisses were a routine part of surveillance. No biggie.

For him.

Shed need a lot more practice before she ever regarded them as ho-hum.

CHAPTER TEN.

M ACK DIDNT KNOW WHAT riled him more: that this surveillance, with a reporter tagging along, had the potential to become more than boring routine; or that hed gotten lost in the diversionary kiss with said reporter.

He was careful not to follow the Camaro too closely. His pickup looked like a hundred other farm trucks in the area. If the subject had noted its presence at both the auction and the diner, no big deal. But a third time heading in the same direction? Cause for suspicion, if the guy had a brain in his head.

When the Camaro turned to cross Duffys Creek, Mack had a good idea hed be heading for the private club in Watkins Hollow.

Why arent you following? Chloe asked as Mack drove past the turn off.

I know where hes going. But I dont want him to think were going there, too.

Mack drove a mile farther, then did a tire-squealing, two-point turn in the road before heading back toward the creek crossing. A couple of miles past the bridge, he shut off his headlights then came to a stop within sight of the Watkins property and a large vegetable stand. It was there that Ione Watkins sold produce by day and Owen Watkins entertained his cronies by night. Up until now the nighttime get-togethers hadnt been serious enough to warrant the sheriffs interference. They involved some drinking. Some cards. A lot of BS. A congenial spot to float the idea of a fake-lottery-ticket scam.

Several cars and trucks, including the Camaro, were parked in front of the stand. The buildings rough shutters were closed, but light leaked out around the edges and smoke trickled out of the chimney. Downwind and on the other side of the road, Mack backed the pickup deep into the underbrush, but not so deep he couldnt keep an eye on the activity up the road. Anyone driving by would simply think the old truck was abandoned.