Chapter Ten
The tapping on her truck window woke Jodie.
“Go to hell, Corman!” She shouted, then pulled the blanket over her head. But it reeked of dog and that reminded her of Brandy which reminded her of—
The tapping repeated.
“God damn you to hell! I gave you my dog. Wasn’t that enough?”
She flipped away the blanket. She was stretched out on the bench seat in the back of her crew cab.
Yanking out her knife, she sat up and—
Was staring into the business end of a Glock 17—barreled for the .45 ACP by the look of it—with a very pissed-off state trooper holding the business end.
“Drop the knife.”
She did, then cursed as it sliced the edge of the seat. Just the kind of cut that was now going to look like s**t forever.
“Ease out slow.”
“I’m sorry, officer. I thought you were an assho
