Page 8 of Hard Rain
Axel flicked a finger against his phone. “Cuts his ankle monitor and hides at his cousin’s house. County’s been chasing Bobby around since before either of us could drive.”
“His cousin got the brains in the family.”
That pulled a soft snort out of Axel, and he shifted in the passenger seat, one boot braced against the floorboard.
Rain clicked steadily against the hood.
Silence settled, but not awkward exactly.
Just heavy. Like they’d lost the ability to shoot the shit. He had a say in that, but the for the life of him, he couldn’t find a damned thing to say right then.
He lightly tapped the steering wheel.
Axel used to fill quiet naturally. Music. Complaining. Dumb stories from county lockup transports.
Now half their conversations felt like stepping on broken glass.
It was still early days, though, and Whip figured he’d give Axel another week to get his head out of his ass before he did something drastic himself.
He wasn’t sure what that was, but he’d think of something.
He was getting tired of watching Axel sit in the same room and somehow feel a thousand miles away.
The radio crackled again, and Dana’s voice rolled through the speakers. “Unit three, be advised, the cousin has two registered firearms.”
Whip grabbed the mic and squeezed the lever. “Copy.” He shoved it back into the clip. “We’re going in hot.”
Axel cracked his knuckles before pulling his Glock 19 to check the magazine.
Whip felt the shift immediately.
Personal shit dropped away.
“I’m thinking he makes a run for the woods,” Axel said.
“If he’s not still inside.”
Axel shot him a look. “He that stupid?”
“We’ll see.” Whip tossed Axel a grin and slowed just enough to turn onto the narrow gravel road cutting through the trees ahead.
“If he knows the property, he’d be smart to use elevation.”
Whip nodded once. Already tracked that.
Mud flowed dark along the shoulder while rain tapped steadily across the hood.
Axel grabbed the oh-shit handle above the door. “Too much mud over this side. We’re gonna get buried.”
“How many times have I done this?” Whip asked, flipping the Jeep into four-wheel drive.
Axel glanced over then. Small. Automatic.
Like checking calibration.
Like remembering exactly who he was dealing with.
“Fair enough.”
