Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
His guess was someone else had gotten out on that side.
That made two bad guys, at least.
And Amé coming down the porch, getting in the middle of it.
Things were moving fast, too fast—spiraling out of control—and that damn phone kept buzzing.
But if there was another vehicle, or Marco had seen something, Danny needed to know for sure. It was the whole reason he was out here.
He reluctantly risked a glance downward.
It took him longer than a second to read the few words, trying desperately to make sense out of them, since they weren’t what he was expecting. But when they came into focus, he knew exactly what they meant.
A warning. And there was only one person in the world who could have sent it.
Danny pulled away from the man in the red shirt and started to scan the area behind him, checking each direction with sweat streaming down his face and his eye flickering in and out, until he finally saw a second group of men, all heavily armed, moving silently toward the house from the southwest.
They were still far away, but coming up fast.
He counted several muzzle flashes, as they began shooting at Fox Uno and Chris and Amé.
The van had been a goddamn distraction.
Danny keyed his mic and started to tell the sheriff and Amé to get back inside, when he spied another man running like hell across the desert, directly toward the Bronco.
He was waving his arms and running like his life depended on it, and it absolutely did.
Eddy Rabbit.
SEVENTY-ONE
EIGHT SECONDS BEFORE . . .
Eddy ran like he hadn’t run in twenty years, and it was goddamn good to run.
For once, he wasn’t running in a fucking circle, just running in place. He was free and running as fast and as far as he could go, his thin hair flying behind him. He was fifteen years old again; his entire life stretched out there right in front of him, every shitty decision ready to be done over, every mistake and fuck-up about to be made right.
He was running forward and the world was spinning backward and the sun was going down behind him into an endless blue and black, but he was heading right into a light so bright that he’d never stop running again.
One foot in front of the other.
One goddamn step at a time.
It was like being as high as he’d ever been, but he’d never been so stone-cold sober.
The Bronco kept getting closer, closer, and he was going to make it.
He couldn’t wait to tell Charity about this thing he’d done. To tell her he was sorry.
She wouldn’t believe it, not a word of it.
So goddamn sorry.
And that was Eddy Rabbit’s last thought on earth, as Johnnie Macho blew his heart out.
SEVENTY-TWO
SIX SECONDS BEFORE . . .