Warning Rebel, “Hang on, girl,” Colter jammed his foot down on the gas.
Rebel lurched forward anyway, letting out a brief whine.
“Sorry, girl,” he said, both hands clenched tightly on the wheel as he took the unpaved road way too fast. His truck bounced and rattled, sliding on sudden patches of ice, but always gaining traction again.
Why wasn’t Kensie answering? Her text had cut off midsentence and that had been several minutes ago, with nothing since.
Colter gritted his teeth as he took another curve at speeds that made his truck teeter right. It set back down again, earning another warning whine from Rebel. But he was all the way out by where Henry Rollings might live, using the map Yura had given them earlier. Despite the dangerous roads, he needed speed to get to Kensie.
“Call 911,” he told his phone, glancing down to be sure it picked up his voice properly. If the police thought he was overreacting, so be it.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“This is Colter Hayes.” He didn’t know the voice on the other end of the line, but it was a small town, so hopefully whoever it was recognized his name and knew he wasn’t prone to false alarms or overreactions. “My...” he stumbled over “friend,” the word not feeling right on his tongue, then he hurried on “...is in trouble. She just texted me that she needed help. She’s staying at that big luxury hotel outside of town.”
“I need you to stay calm, sir,” the woman replied, her own voice way too even and slow, making him realize he’d been talking at warp speed. “What kind of trouble is she in?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t give me any details. Her text cut off midsentence and she’s not picking up her phone. I need police to get there now.”
“Okay, sir, we’ll send someone out to see what’s happening,” she said in that same exasperatingly slow voice, telling him she definitely didn’t know who he was. “But do you think it’s possible she just needed help with something simple? That it’s not an emergency?”
“No, I don’t think that’s possible! She’d never text me to hurry if it weren’t an emergency.” His voice gained volume with every word and he took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Are officers on their way?”
As he asked, he left the treacherous unpaved trail he hadn’t wanted Kensie on tonight for a smoother road. At the transition, his truck bounced high enough that his head almost smacked the cab ceiling. In the rearview, he saw Rebel hunkered down, trying not to get thrown around.
At least Kensie was staying at the overpriced luxury hotel outside of Desparre instead of the cheap motel downtown. He was much closer to the hotel. Of course, the police were closer to town. But then, it was late enough that probably no one was left at the station anyway.
“Who lives out by the luxury hotel? I want the closest officer sent out.”
“Don’t worry, sir. We’ll get someone over there to check it out. Now, I want you to remain calm and—”
“She’s on the fourth floor, room 409.” He cut her off, then hung up. He didn’t want to waste time with her focused on his panic. Not when he needed every bit of his attention on the dangerous roads ahead.
“It’s going to be okay, girl,” he told Rebel, partly because he knew he was making the ride hard for her and partly to reassure himself about Kensie.
She had to be okay. He didn’t think he could handle losing someone else.
The very thought of something happening to Kensie made his breath stutter and his lungs lock up as his heartbeat thundered painfully against his chest.
Not this. Not now.
A hundred curses screamed in his mind, but he couldn’t get enough air to voice them. He clenched the wheel harder and eased his foot up off the gas, fighting the panic and impending dizziness. He couldn’t afford to lose control, especially not here, not at speeds his truck could barely handle with him on full alert.
Suddenly, Rebel’s nose pressed against his arm and he realized she’d stood and pushed her head between the seats. He breathed deeply, slowly, focusing on the feel of her head leaning into his biceps.
“Thanks, girl,” he said when the panic eased and his heart rate started to slow.
He could do this. He wasn’t going to let his mind wander to all the possible reasons Kensie had sent that text, all the possible dangers she could be facing. He was going to put all of his energy into getting to her as fast as he could.
“I’ve got this, girl,” he told Rebel, pleased when his voice came out strong and determined. “Lay back down,” he told her, not wanting her to get thrown around as he punched the gas again.
She listened, obviously sensing he’d conquered his panic.
“Call Kensie,” he ordered his phone, but once again, it went to voice mail. Instead of hanging up immediately, he said, “Hang on, Kensie. I’m coming.”
Then he jammed the gas pedal into the floorboards. The turns came too fast as he put the truck’s suspension to a serious test. It still seemed to take forever to get to the hotel, but he knew it was less than ten minutes since Kensie had texted.
Squealing to a stop, Colter yanked the truck into Park and then grabbed his cane before jumping out of the cab. Rebel was right behind him, so fast that he suspected she knew Kensie needed them.
But where were the police cruisers, sirens wailing? Instead, the parking lot was dark and silent, only a few vehicles scattered up near the entrance.
Colter swore as he pushed his leg as hard as he could, doing a ridiculous hobble-run to the front of the hotel, not even bothering to shut the truck door behind him. Rebel kept pace beside him, tension in the lines of her back that told him she was ready for
