Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
<strong>Jack</strong> <strong>kilborn</strong> <strong>SErial</strong> <strong>blakE</strong> <strong>crouch</strong><br />
faint smile as she reached the door. Two young men in the<br />
front seats stared at her. They seemed roughly her age and<br />
friendly enough, if a little hungover. open cans of bud in<br />
the center console drink holders had perfumed the interior<br />
with the sour stench of beer—a good omen, she thought.<br />
Might make things easier.<br />
“Where you headed?” the driver asked. he had sandy hair<br />
and an elaborate goatee. impressive cords of bicep strained<br />
the cotton fibers of his muscle shirt. The passenger looked<br />
native—dark hair and eyes, brown skin, a thin, implausible<br />
mustache.<br />
i-15.”<br />
“Salt lake,” she said.<br />
“We’re going to Tahoe. We could take you at least to<br />
She surveyed the rear storage compartment—crammed<br />
with two snowboards and the requisite boots, parkas, snow<br />
pants, goggles, and…she suppressed the jolt of pleasure—<br />
helmets. She hadn’t thought of that before.<br />
a duffle bag took up the left side of the backseat. a little<br />
tight, but then she stood just five feet in her pink crocs.<br />
She could manage.<br />
“comfortable back there?” the driver asked.<br />
“Yes.”<br />
Their eyes met in the rearview mirror.<br />
17
Change language