“Now we’re going to turn instinct into evidence.”
For the first time, Samantha saw a path that did not depend entirely on hiding.
But she was not ready to trust it yet.
Then came the stormy Tuesday.
Rain hammered the roof of the Devil’s Keep hard enough to drown the jukebox.
Only Wyatt and two prospects were in the front room.
Grizzly had traveled north for club business.
Samantha was in the storage area checking inventory when something struck the rear delivery door.
Once.
Then again.
She froze.
Deliveries never came after dark.
The door opened abruptly.
A young prospect named Tommy stumbled inside.
His jacket was soaked.
A cut near his forehead had left blood along one side of his face.
He carried a heavy canvas duffel.
“Tommy?”
He shut the door behind himself.
“Sammy, I messed up.”
“What happened?”
Tommy dropped the bag.
It opened just enough for Samantha to see metal and hard cases inside.
She did not need to understand exactly what she was looking at to know she did not want any part of it.
“Close that.”
Tommy did.
“The drop got hit.”
“What drop?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“You’re right.”
He paced.
“Another crew followed me.”
Samantha looked toward the door.