Page 80 of Trigger Happy

“What the…?” I use all my strength to shove, but it still won’t budge.

It’s locked.

How?

“Oh, hell no.”

I swear one of the mannequins laughs at me as I step back down on the ladder, my shoulder throbbing in the dim light.

A humiliating little whimper slips out of me. The pain is getting harder to block off, but I can’t pop it back in alone. I sniff, sinking down against the wall. Just one quick pity party before I pull myself back together.

I could text—

Absolutely not.

I’ll figure out how to get out on my own. If I have to weave a rope ladder made of human hair, then I will. I don’t care that my shoulder’s throbbing or that I’m dizzy with pain. Except… I really do need some help.

My phone vibrates with a text.

HUBS

You all right? Just checking on you. I’m here if you need me

39Lawton

I stare at my phone, waiting for a response. Dots, then nothing. Dots again. Nothing. Did someone break her thumbs? I debate sending her another text, but then I imagine her calling me a needy asshole and shove it back into the waterproof baggie Sabrina made me pack.

And then I pull it back out because, dammit, there’s a bad feeling in my gut that won’t go away. I know I fucked up this morning, but the least she can do is text me back.

ME

everything okay?

“Nice out, isn’t it?” Arch says, casting a line into the rippling creek.

Nice is not how I would describe being balls-deep in freezing water with fish who refuse to bite. Especially after going on a wild-goose chase this morning to find Daughters & Co., only to learn thirty minutes into the drive that it was closed for National Livestock Day.

Look, I love a good cow, but not enough to shoot off fireworks. At least they listed their hours online so I didn’t have to make the four-hour trek.

I toss my line in the stream. “Sure is.”

He reels it in, watching the bait skitter across the water. The guy looks like he came straight from a Bass Pro Shop with his flannel, glasses, and bucket hat. Hard to believe he might be scalping innocent women, but if he is, he’s got a painful death coming his way.

“Hell of a day, too,” he adds. “Campfire in the air. Sun on your back. Fall breeze.”

It’s cold as shit. The sun might be shining, but this is basically a winter day back in Texas. My nuts are shriveling. “Doesn’t get much better than this.”

Arch throws out his line again, humming to himself. Birds chirp. The guy’s real comfortable with silence. He doesn’t need to fill it with small talk, same as Walker. I’m the opposite. I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts because all I think about are my last words to Walker, For the last time, a hotdog is a fucking sandwich!

A fucking hotdog.

That was the last thing I said to him.

But right now all I’m thinking about is why Sabrina hasn’t texted me back.

Arch is still just standing in the river, humming. It’s making me itch. “How’d you and Bobbi meet again?” I ask to get him talking.

Arch grins, pushing up his glasses. “The apps.”