Chapter 67

67

He'd told those assholes to text him when everything was…finished. Why hadn't they done it yet? Dale watched the rearview mirror for signs of them coming up behind him.

They drove ridiculously fast, those idiots.

Nothing. He had already sent Will out of there. He had other uses for that boy.

Kurt and Ashton should do what they needed and get out of there. He sent a text to his nephew telling him to finish it, for heaven's sake. Every moment they didn't, was a moment something could go wrong.

He suspected they were hesitant about that girl. She had been a nice kid. They had known her their entire lives. They had killed women before, but Dale could understand—it was different when it was a childhood friend.

He felt a surprising pang of grief for Wayne. They were cousins several generations back. And had grown up as childhood friends, too. Knowing Wayne was dead…yes, it did sting a little. But he reminded himself, it had had to be done.

To protect Michelle. Sierra and Jonathan. Wayne was nothing when it came to protecting his family.

Dale pressed on the gas as he came up to the last curve in the road—Wreck Curve. He had always hated that part of the road. Most rational people did. It had always freaked him out a little there. Especially those crosses that shadowed the road.

He didn't see the box van coming right at him until it was almost too late.

Dale swerved and slammed into the guardrail.

He was lucky—his truck was big enough, heavy enough, and he hadn't been going fast enough to send his truck plummeting.

But the van blocked him in.

This was the last thing he needed now. Dale unsnapped his seat belt and opened the door. Just as a man with blue eyes and a furious face yanked him out.

"Hello, Judge. Ready to meet your maker yet?"

Bruce Tyler slammed his fist right into Dale's face. Dale crumbled at the younger man's feet.