CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Colt was tired but wasn’t at the end of his rope yet. He wanted to hear Lyssa’s consoling voice; except he’d promised himself he wouldn’t call until he had good news. Unofficially, Hoburn had been keeping him in the loop through the night. Colt had his brothers, Chavez, and this Rushe guy with his chick doing all they could all night. So far, Pete Harding had evaded them.
“The guy isn’t that smart,” Colt said when Ruger swung into the central, circular booth of the diner they’d all agreed to meet in at lunchtime.
“He’s obsessed,” Ruger said. “That makes the difference. It doesn’t matter how smart he is. This is all he’s thought about, all day, every day, for God knows how long.”
“So he’s considered all the contingencies,” Colt muttered.
“Planned for them,” Blaser s
