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?
But he didn’t have any other choice, either.
He’d bet his life on it.
—
FINALLY, THERE WERE LIGHTS. The sand-colored Malibu he’d been expecting, gliding down 349 right at the legal limit, not too fast, not too slow. He rolled the matchstick around his dry mouth some more and let the Chevy go past, waiting until it was only taillights—glowing red like the ends of a couple of cigarettes—before he threw the Charger into gear and hit his wigwags.
The night came alive, painted blue and red.
He smoothly chewed up the macadam and got right up on the Malibu’s ass, which was signaling that it was pulling over. It slowed down in a spreading cloud of that West Texas dust and grit, all lit up hellish from Johnnie’s emergency lights, and once it rolled to a stop, he sat behind it for a while, letting the driver and passenger think he was working on his Datalux TM110 tablet (more Fed money)—running their plates or whatever, although he didn’t even have it turned on.
Instead, he was fiddling around with his phone. He guessed Zam was over at her fat sister Amada’s with Johnnie Jr. and Antonio, watching that shitty reality TV show they liked, while Rae was still pulling a double at the club, working that round ass up and down in a way that defied all gravity, all logic. He figured he might have enough time after he wrapped this up to head over there for a few cold ones, maybe slip Rae a couple of fifties, just to shut her up. She’d been on him for some extra spending money for weeks, the same way Zam had been on him about Rae, although his wife didn’t know the girl’s name . . . yet. She’d just heard that Johnnie was keeping time with someone, and threatened to go to Johnnie’s daddy over it, which was not an option. She didn’t care so much about him picking up the occasional piece of ass, but didn’t want him disrespecting her, whatever the hell the difference was. She took her role as the wife of Deputy Johnnie Machado seriously, and the daughter-in-law of Sheriff Chuy Machado even more seriously, because that’s the one that got her all the free meals, movie tickets, and the comped weekly hair-and-nail session at Glamorous.
No goddamn way to live.
Johnnie shook his head and set the phone aside and got out of the Charger into the warm night.
—
HE APPROACHED THE MALIBU CAUTIOUSLY, just like he’d been taught, his body bladed away and his hand on his service weapon. He wasn’t in uniform, but that didn’t matter. He was going to dump these clothes in the bin behind Rae’s club.