“BRADEN? COME ON, MAN. I don’t have all day.” The broad-shouldered man from the motel sauntered through the door, a paper bag dangling from the tips of his fingers as if it had cooties. The smell of spicy beef and corn wafted past Emma and her stomach growled. She grimaced.
The man stopped and silence pulsed for a moment as he took in the sight across the room. Then the paper bag hit the floor and Emma moved, sliding out from behind the door and swinging the wrench at his head.
Unfortunately for her, Karl had good reflexes. He ducked her swing and barreled into her, shoulder first, sending her sprawling. The wrench was knocked from her hand and skidded across the floor, out of range.
Emma rolled and got to her feet, grabbing a rubber mallet from the tarp covered hood of a red F250 picku
