Pursue (Portland Street Kings Book 3) by Evie Harper Page A

didn’t my alarm go off on my phone to wake us up?
    Dom hasn’t moved from where he fell asleep last night. His hands are raised, showing the man he doesn’t want any trouble and that we mean no harm.  
    “What are you two doing on my property, boy?” The gun shakes in the man's hands, but not from fear, from his age. Holding a heavy gun seems to be taking its toll on his body. The old guy's voice is gruff with a small stammer. The rough, deep tone goes with his appearance; he looks mid-to-late sixties and fills out his jeans and blue plaid shirt enough to see he’s quite fit for his age.  
    “Sir, my name is Dominic and this is Della,” Dom informs the man while pointing to me. “We mean you no harm. We had car trouble about a mile down the road, and we had nowhere else to go. We saw your farm and came here for help, but when we realized no one was here, we decided it was a good place to stay for the night.”  
    The man grimaces, his deep ingrained wrinkles on his face becoming more noticeable with his expression. They almost look like a map carved out into his skin, a journey of his life, the happy and hard times. “Well, pack your things and be on your way then. You’ve rested on my property long enough.”  
    Not wanting to further upset the man, I hurriedly pack our stuff. As I’m throwing in my phone, I realize why my alarm didn’t go off; my battery is dead. I finish packing and zip up our bags, throwing one over each of my shoulders. “Do you know any mechanics close by?”  
    The old man lifts his blue eyes to mine and at the same time, I notice his thin powder-white hair peeking out from under his blue cap. “Only one good mechanic around here and he’s usually booked out weeks in advance.”
    My shoulders slump. Dom and I glance at each other, knowing we’ll have no other choice but to call a tow truck and have the Dodge taken to a mechanic in town. Back to where we last saw Paulie and Greg.  
    “Okay, thank you. We really are sorry we trespassed. Thank you for not calling the police. We'll be on our way.” While I’m conveying how truly grateful we are, a woman’s voice rings out in the barn.  
    “Jared, did you find anyone? Where are you and what are you doing?”  
    “Abi, head back to the house. I’ve found the trespassing vegetable stealers. They’re leaving right now.”
    “Well, don’t let them leave yet. They left money under the pot at the back door, and it’s too much. I need to give them change.”  
    Still staring at the man with the gun, I blink repeatedly, trying to process that the woman wants to give us change and that Dom left money behind for the vegetables we ate.  
    “You paid for the veggies you took?” The man's incredulous tone pulls me out of my stupor, and I swing my gaze to Dom.
    “I don't steal, sir. You weren’t here for me to ask and we were hungry.” Dom’s voice is steady, his tone sincere. My lungs expand to the fullest they’ve ever been as pride radiates through me.  
    “At least you got some morals. Too bad they don’t extend to not trespassing on another man's property,” Jared grumbles. “I’m going to climb down the ladder now. You two have exactly one minute to follow after or I’ll start shooting at you both from under the floorboards.”
    Dom doesn’t waste any time. Standing, he comes straight to me as Jared climbs down the ladder carefully with his rifle. The pulse in my throat is pumping quickly. Between the woman wanting to give us change and the man with the gun, I’m utterly confused at the seriousness of this situation.
    “I'll go down first. I don't want you on your own with them,” Dom states as he takes the bags from my shoulders, leaving me with nothing to carry.  
    I roll my eyes. “They're old. I'm sure I'll be fine. But I'm not going to argue with you because I don't particularly feel like dancing when he starts shooting bullets at my feet, so move your ass down that ladder.”
    Dom gives me a small grin