Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Krisney shrugged.
“I’d have killed to have these in Germany,” she told me.
Krisney had been posted in Germany for a stint in the reserves before she’d resigned completely just a few weeks ago.
Although, I couldn’t figure out why she’d left. Each time she talked about it, or I asked her what she planned to do now, she’d get this sad, faraway look on her face.
“Oh, no.”
I turned to the checker and tilted my head.
“What?”
“My car.”
I turned to face out the windows that lined the front of the store, and saw the tow truck backed up against the back of a red Volkswagen Bug.
“Oh, shit,” I said, turning back to her. “They’re taking your car?”
She looked down and scanned the next item.
“Yeah,” she whispered almost soundlessly. “They are. I haven’t paid the note, apparently.”
Anger and uneasiness competed in my gut.
“Do you have anything in the car that you need?”
She shook her head. “Learned that lesson the first time it happened. The only things in there are a couple of jackets that I got at the Goodwill, and a few books.”
She bit her lip at the word ‘books’ and I realized that those books probably meant a whole lot more to her than she was saying.
“Krisney, can you pay for this?” I asked her, handing her my credit card.
Krisney nodded and took the card.
There was no reason to tell her my pin. She knew mine, and I knew hers. We were best friends for a reason.
As a best friend, Krisney had to always be available to listen to me gripe. She had to bring me donuts randomly, and she had to be able to French braid my hair whenever I wanted her to since my French braids sucked ass.
It was only reasonable that she would know my pin number.
I hit the asphalt of the parking lot and started directly for where I could see the top of the tow truck driver’s head.
It was in a buzz cut, and I could swear I knew him from somewhere.
The coveralls were throwing me off, though.
I could see the man’s feet and legs, as well as his upper half, but any and all available skin was covered in an old, dingy, black coverall that hid any distinguishing features from sight.
It wasn’t until I rounded the hood of the tow truck that I got a good look at the man’s backside.
It looked good…really good.
“Excuse me,” I said. “But…”
The man whipped around, eyes filled with surprise, and I got my first good look at the man towing away the poor checker’s car.
“Tate…”
The moment he saw me, his entire demeanor changed.
He’d been frightened and on the defensive, but once he realized I wasn’t a threat, he turned loose.
“Ms. Hanes,” he greeted, turning back around to mess with some knobs at the side of the truck.
Then he pulled a lever, lifting the car up in the air.
“Ummm,” I said, feeling silly now. “Do you think it’d be okay to grab some clothes and a couple books out of this car for my friend?”
He looked over at me, those hazel eyes of his leaning more toward green today than blue. “Company policy says no.”
Company policy says no.
Okay.
“But it’s only a few books,” I excused. “And she wasn’t going to even ask for them, knowing your policy, but I could tell it would break her heart if she didn’t have them. Please?”
He grunted something unintelligible. “Go ahead. Get what you need, but just know that she already had them out of the car when I came and took it.”
I grinned at him, but it was lost on him, seeing as he’d turned around the moment he said that, continuing to do whatever he was doing at the levers and buttons.
I hurried past him to the car, snatched open the door, and looked inside.
There weren’t just a few books in here and a few jackets, there were clothes, pillows, a few toiletries, and what looked to be bread and peanut butter in the front seat.
The checker wasn’t just using this as a vehicle. It looked like her whole life was in the car.
Shit.
I looked back at Tate, and could see him looking in the car right along with me.
He looked up at the sky, counted to ten aloud, and then turned around.
He came back moments later with a big black trash bag.
I didn’t bother to ask him why he had that in his truck. I just thanked him and started shoving everything that would fit into the bag.
By the time I was finished, not only was there so much in the bag that it was bulging out the top—thank God for the Forceflex part of the bag—but I also had an arm full of books.
And I had no freakin’ clue how the hell I was going to get it to the checker, or what she was going to do with it all from there.