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“Help me get this truck running, Tanner. I need to head home to sleep so I can patrol tonight. And this motor is refusing to cooperate.” Callan twisted at a wire, but still nothing.

“Ahh, you just don’t know how to talk to ‘em right,” Tanner laughed, pushing Callan out of the way as he moved in to look at the motor. “These older motors are like women, man. You have to know how to stroke ‘em, and how to speak real soft and sweet to ‘em.” He ended his words with a slight twist of his wrist.

The motor sang to life with the movement, chugging weakly, but willingly.

“Show off,” Callan laughed.

“Bring her in later and I’ll tune her up for you.” Tanner pulled a stained rag from his back pocket with a grin and wiped his hands.

“Tell Taber to leave the keys to his truck and I’ll do that.” Callan nodded as he headed for the driver’s side door.

“I’ll do that.” Tanner nodded with a broad grin. “And if you need any help with that pretty thing later, you just let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to,” Callan laughed again, amused by Tanner’s less than obvious ploy. “Keep your jeans zipped, Tanner, and we might keep you alive yet.” More than one father was ready to take a shotgun to the hot-blooded youth.

Callan didn’t wait for an answer. He gunned the motor, then slid the truck into reverse, backing quickly away from the garage before sliding it in gear and heading home.

* * * * *

It was late that afternoon when Merinus left the diner and headed back to her motel room, armed with dinner. She was tired, sweaty and cranky. After spending the better part of the day watching over Callan’s house and trying to find the road into it, she was more than a little frustrated. She had seen his truck leave and return to the large cabin, but she had yet to find a road in. How do you hide a road? And she couldn’t get in close enough to follow the graveled track that she could see leading away from the house. To do so meant entering the small clearing in front of it. Not a good idea, as several other people seemed to always inhabit the place.

She had hiked for miles that day in several different directions, and followed more than one wide path through the forest. Still, nothing.

She pulled into the parking lot of her motel and breathed a weary sigh. Dinner, then a shower.

Tomorrow, she would try again. There had to be a road up there, she was just missing it. That was all.

She was beginning to feel more than a little stupid in doing so.

Her questions around town were getting her nowhere. Those who admitted to knowing Callan only scratched their heads when she asked for directions to his home. The rest just scratched their heads period and played dumb. Small towns weren’t her thing evidently, because the people just made no sense at all.

They directed her to the Gass Up station every time she asked about Callan. He was there a lot. She had staked it out first thing. And the very people who swore they didn’t know him acted pretty damned familiar with him when they pulled in.

Damn him, he knew she was there. She unlocked the door to her room, flipping the light on as she entered. He knew who she was and he probably had a good idea what she wanted, but he still ignored her. Which was likely a good thing. After that little scene this morning, she didn’t know if she could trust herself to keep her hands off him or not.

Merinus ate quickly, staring absently at the television as

she considered that damned driveway into Callan’s property. It had to be there somewhere. Roads didn’t just disappear. Did they?

The problem plagued her through her dinner and her shower. As she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a terry cloth robe, the phone on the nightstand jangled loudly. Frowning, she picked the receiver up cautiously.

“Hello?” She kept her voice pitched low, wondering who could be on the other side.

“Is this Merinus Tyler?” It was a man’s voice, rough and cold.

“Who’s asking?”

There was a brief silence.

“If you want to find Callan Lyons, get something to write the directions on. You’re missing the right turn.”

Merinus felt elation fill her. Finally, someone was willing to talk.

“Do you know Callan?” she asked as she slapped a pad of paper on the small bed table and tugged a pencil from the drawer.

“Do you have something to write on? Here’s how you get there.” Merinus wrote down the directions hastily, concentrating as she tried to remember the landmarks he was giving her. She admitted she hadn’t yet tried that route, but it appeared to go nowhere.

“Do you have it?” The voice asked her.


Tags: Lora Leigh Breeds Paranormal