Page 3 of Entangled
“Sure, but who’s going to do mine?”
“You are.”
I blink a few times. “I’m sorry,what?”
“You heard me. I’m counting on you, Hank.”
This fucking guy.
I clench my jaw. “It’s Henry.”
I’ve worked at Ryder Parcel Services for a year and a half. I break my back for this man, and he can’t even remember my name. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve corrected him. I swear, he does it just to bust my balls.
“Henry, Harry, Howard. Whatever the hell your name is.” He hands me a sheet of paper. “This is Tony’s route. You should probably familiarize yourself before you head out.”
I scan the page, frowning at the number of stops and mileage I’m expected to cover. “His territory is on the opposite side of town. You realize I’ll be out delivering until midnight?”
He shrugs. “The job needs to get done.”
Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to drive all over the fucking county in a snowstorm. While Tennessee isn’t known for the brutal winters I experienced in New York, Mistletoe Creek’s proximity to the Smoky Mountains means we usually get moderate accumulations.
“What about all the road closures? How am I supposed—”
“Take a detour.” He points to an address on the list. “Be careful when you head up the mountain to Frederic Punzel’s place. It’s steep as hell, and there aren’t any guardrails.”
“Wonderful.” The guy’s a billionaire. Can’t he afford a few safety measures?
“Most of the deliveries that go to the Punzel estate are for his daughter. She orders a lot of high-ticket stuff, so don’t leaveanythingwithout a signature. I don’t need their family lawyer crawling up my ass again.”
“Got it.” If he hadn’t already pissed me off, I’d ask what happened the first time. Not that I really care. Come to think of it, I haven’t cared about much of anything in over two years.
Joe taps his watch. “You’d better get moving.”
“What was the good news?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You asked if I wanted the good news or the bad news.”
“Oh, right. Well, other than Tony still being alive,” he points across the warehouse, “there’re donuts in the breakroom.”
* * *
It tookme about forty-five minutes to load my truck and map out today’s deliveries. I plan to hit most of Tony’s stops first, since they’re on the outskirts of town. This way, if the roads get too messy, I can do some of my own route on foot. Good thing I bought new boots last week.
Shielding my eyes from the bite of the wind, I scope out the mountain looming in the distance. The weather is only going to get worse. My truck doesn’t have snow tires, and the brakes aren’t what they should be. The last thing I need is to plummet into a mountain ravine and freeze to death. According to Tony’s trip logs, he usually delivers to the Punzel estate in the late afternoon. I’m making it my first stop instead.
Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzes in the cupholder as I make the meandering ascent, cursing Joe the whole time. I consider ignoring it, but I can’t. It’s my sister. She’ll keep calling until I answer the damn thing. I never got around to pairing my ancient dumbphone with the truck’s Bluetooth, so I tap the icon on the screen and switch to speaker.
“Yeah?”
“That’s a helluva way to greet your favorite sister,” Dahlia says with her usual exuberance.
“You’re my only sister.” Eight years my junior, she’s the sunshine to my darkness.
“That’s why you should be even nicer to me.”
I can’t help but smirk. “What’s up, Dahl?”
