Dominion Trust Series - Vol.1 by Trent Evans Page B

mind. You’re going to see things, do things, that will probably be … new to you.”
    What? Cloak and Dagger much?
    “Kurt, as long as you aren’t killing people for fun, I think I can handle whatever. The guys at work and I have a pool on the first person to learn what the fuck you do on your incognito weekends.”
    There was tense silence for a moment. “Derek, I don’t think that’s a good—”
    “Kidding, dude. Seriously. Are you gonna open the gate or what?”
    Kurt’s chuckle over the line was muted, but it sounded genuine. “You drove the truck, right?”
    That’s one tentative check in the non-serial killer column.
    “Yep. Once I got one look at the directions you sent I knew a pavement princess wasn’t gonna fly out here in BFE.”
    “So drive around it.”
    Derek looked at his phone, then put it back to his ear. “Say that again?”
    “Drive around the gate. Your rig should be able to handle it.”
    “Uh … I guess.” The gravel roadway sloped away on either, side small saplings and brush crowding either end of the gate. Not totally impenetrable. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just, you know, open the gate ?”
    “Sure it would ― if I were anywhere near it. We’re still a ways up the road from the gate. Stop being a pussy and just drive around it. Nobody’s going to care.”
    “Except my fucking paint job,” Derek muttered, hanging up. There was an awful screeching sound along the doors as he eased the big Ford through the pine saplings, Derek wincing the whole time.
    The roadway meandered up one last, long incline, Derek’s ears popping as he neared the top. There was a house, low, sprawling gray lines stretching away on both sides. Some distance from the house, clustered among several outbuildings and a large fenced enclosure, a large wood barn loomed, its boards also a weathered gray. Surprisingly, several limousines, and dozens of other cars crowded a small gravel parking area next to the barn. Derek thought he could make out several figures gathered outside the doorway to the barn, but the fog was so thick he couldn’t make out any detail.
    The hulking black form of Kurt’s jacked-up Silverado was canted diagonally near the door of the house, and Derek pulled in next to it. Breanna’s truck wasn’t there, which seemed odd; every time Derek had seen the tall, elegant beauty, she’d seemed attached at the hip with Kurt. Speaking of hips, hers were…
    Don’t do it, Derek.
    He shook his head as he stepped down out of the truck. He knew it was bad news to ogle his friend’s wife, but a woman (especially an older woman) built like her was impossible not to ogle. It was nature.
    Tell yourself that all you want, Mr. Rationalization. You still check out her tits every chance you get. Prick.
    “‘Bout time you showed up.” Kurt’s tall, lanky frame stood on the cracked concrete of the front porch, the fog-diffused brightness of the porch light illuminating him in shadowed outline.
    Derek pulled the heavy wool flaps of his coat closer. “Tell me this isn’t a hunting trip, Kurt. I will fucking turn back around right now.”
    Kurt’s laughter, strangely attenuated by the thick fog, rumbled across the driveway. “No hunting. But there might be some prey.”
    “Whatever.” He was used to Kurt evasiveness, but this was getting ridiculous. “Where am I crashing?” Derek cocked a thumb. “The barn?”
    “Smartass. You’re in the house with me.” Kurt turned, opening the front door, warm yellow light spilling across the porch. He craned his head back over his shoulder. “The barn’s occupied.”
    * * *
     
    “Y ou remember what we went over, yes?”
    Breanna turned toward the smooth voice, thick with the familiar Spanish accent. Lino
    “Yes… “ She felt the weight of his hand on the chain attached to her collar. Expectant. “Sir.”
    The chain jerked, a reprimand. Her hands twisted at her cuffs. If she could get free, she knew she’d go after the Spaniard.
    But here she