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Welker got up and jogged toward the back door. “You think that’s good? Now I’m going to go breathe on your truck and see how you like it.” He disappeared into the night, and not twenty seconds later, Mike’s phone sounded an alarm.
With a camera, he could see Welk disturbing his vehicle, but the alert itself was enough. In the future, the sound would give Mike enough warning to arm himself and covertly check out any disturbance.
Cool.
“How’d it do?” Welker asked, coming back into the kitchen.
“Awesome,” Mike said. “But what about when I’m the one getting into my truck? I don’t want to set the thing off every time my ass plants into the seat.”
Welker took Mike’s phone again, hit the icon, and showed Mike a disable tab. “This turns the alarm on and off. If you or someone you know is using your truck, deactivate it. You just have to remember to reset it every time you leave your vehicle.”
“I can do that.”
Mike was, if anything, vigilant. “Listen, Welk, I can’t thank you enough. And now that you’ve exhausted yourself for me, you should get home and hit the hay. Remember, we’re slated to meet in Frankfort at 0600 hours.”
Welker snorted. “Says the old man.”
“Huh?” Mike looked at Welker with narrowed eyes. Was his buddy calling him ancient?
“It’s only nine, LT,” Welker teased. “The night is young.”
Well, shit. Welk was nearly ten years Mike’s junior. But was it those years, or was it Mike’s self-imposed, hermit-crab-emulation that had him hiding from real life? Mike guessed the latter. And didn’t that suck.
“That means you’re going out?” Mike asked, trying not to purse his lips.
“Indeed I am, my man. I have a sweet hook-up waiting for me…” Welk looked at his watch. “…in twenty minutes, so I gotta fly.” He gave a sarcastic salute spinning on his heel to go, then just as abruptly stopped and turned back to Mike. “You wanna come with me? My lady might have a friend.”
“No thanks. Not tonight. Have fun,” Mike said, and tried not to say it begrudgingly. It wasn’t Welker’s fault Mike had no interest in women these days.
The door closed behind his friend before Mike gave a mental amendment to what he’d just thought. He had no interest in women other than a certain blonde who’d intrigued the hell out of him this morning at the gym. And clearly that would go nowhere because… Right. Leave it to Mike’s libido to spike after a year’s hiatus for a stranger who was a tourist in town.
Mike grumbled under his breath, but cut himself a little slack as he finished cleaning up the kitchen. Maybe the attraction he’d felt this morning was a good thing. It might mean his sexual appetite was coming back on line.
Or maybe the urge earlier had been a one-and-done.
Whatever. He needed to…
Dammit. Not an anomaly, then. Mike’s dick, thinking about the mystery woman, was rising to the occasion once again. But now was not the time. He needed to get his shit under control ASAP, to be wood-free while driving the kids to their grandparents before he called it a night. Which meant there’d be no time for self-relief until he came home to his solitary bed.
A bed that reminded him of Mellie.
And…
Wah, wah, wah. Instant shrinkage.
Nothing killed a cock-stand faster than thoughts of his ex-wife.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joelle spent late Saturday morning staking out Benji Havastill’s house. He was the owner of the semi whom she’d researched.
Finding out he lived in a busy, suburban neighborhood in Bangor had been a lucky break, as she was able to scope out his house from all angles without anyone becoming suspicious. He lived on a fairly busy street, and once Joe had the lay of the land, she knew one more car parked along the roadside would be no big deal to any lookie-loos.
She settled down in her little Kia, eating a bunch of peanuts for a burst of protein. She would have preferred a third donut, but that would have made her sleepy after already scarfing down two while she’d been on the road.
Eventually, just before noon, the man and his family took off in their car, hopefully for a full, weekend day of fun.
It was time to move.