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“I’ll let Bennie know when he’s back from his guinea pig gig.”
“I hate that. I hate anyone has to do this.”
“Me too, but it’s the only way Alex Brooks attacked last time. People alone on the ranch. It’s scary, but hopefully we get him before anyone else dies.”
Binx further made him feel terrible when he hugged Sel and whispered, “Indio is going to be okay. Mal is. We all will. I won’t let it be anything except that.”
“Binx…you’re so…sweet.”
Binx kissed him on the cheek. “So are you, Sel.”
That almost changed his mind, but he couldn’t let it. He wanted to know, with his own eyes, that Indio was safe. He hid the tablet in the breezeway near the basket that contained the guns that were extras for anyone that might need one, in case Brooks showed around the farmhouse.
Sel wasn’t even sure why he was so worried. He reasoned it was how he wanted to know what he felt about Indio, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Sel knew he wanted to get to know Indio better. But what he really wanted was to be part of things.
Tired of being protected, like Indio had accused. Wanting to be there, seeing and doing instead of back where he was cushioned and pampered. Not one member of his family would be where he was, if they could be out and doing something. Even his uncle was doing patrols.
He took Binx’s tracker out of his pocket. Dante wouldn’t think twice about Binx being out watching the volunteers.
After dinner, he and the others sat on the porch, like any other night. He wanted to be seen, have all eyes on him. Kirk was heading out after Mal came back to the farmhouse, taking food to those watching over the next set of volunteers that couldn’t get back to eat.
Taking the pickup, that was how he was going. Sel would sneak into the back of it, hiding under the canvas they kept to cover the bikes if they’d have to take a broken down bike in it.
As Mal got back, they all hugged him, and he went into the house with Kirk. Sel knew that was the only shot he’d have to get away before Kirk left, while he and his partner were catching up.
“Hey, guys, I’m really tired. I think I’m going to head to my room.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Binx asked him.
“Yeah. I’m good, just a little headache.”
Ruben jerked his head to the door. “Go sleep. We’ve all been tense. That’s probably what’s causing your headache.”
“I could have Nathan look you over,” Binx offered.
Possibly a little too quickly, he said, “No. No, I’m okay. It’s just a little headache, like Ruben said, from the tension. I’ll be great once I get some sleep.”
They all bade him goodnight, and he hurried into the house, but didn’t go up the stairs. Instead, he went to the kitchen, then through the breezeway there to the back door, grabbing the tablet and one of the Sig Sauer handguns that were in the basket. He also took Mal’s black hoodie from the hook by the door before heading out into the night.
Thankful for the cover of darkness the location gave, not one streetlight to tell of his movement, Sel moved around the back, then the eastern side of the house as soundlessly as he could.
From the side of the house to the cars, that was the tricky part. His heart was pounding in his ears from the exhilaration and fear of being caught. He wore Mal’s hoodie; he was cloaked from their eyes, and as he crouched low, he started running quietly until he came to the first vehicle, the black SUV.
Kirk either took his bike or the truck that had followed him and Mal. The road truck, he’d called it, in case any of the bikes had broken down on the way there. The food would be too hard to take on the bike, so he’d take that truck.
Looking toward the house, he saw everyone on the porch in the yellow light from the lamp by the door. They weren’t rushing around, wondering where he was, so he was in the clear. He quickly climbed into the back of the truck and got under the heavy canvas that smelled of motor oil and made himself as small as possible. He waited for what seemed like hours, but finally he heard the driver’s door open, felt the weight of the muscled giant as he sat behind the wheel, and then the engine started.
He let out his held breath and started bouncing a little as the truck moved over the dirt road.
Regrets ran through his head immediately. He knew if he’d been found out; knew he’d be sent home. His family would be so angry, they would never let him step foot outside his house again.
Was it worth it? Why was he doing it? Simple rebellion? He’d never had a rebellious bone in his body. Not one rebellious thought in his head. Selestino, the good kid, the mature kid, the one that watched out for the other kids in the family.
Selestino, the spoiled kid, the one protected and nurtured while the man he had a strange fascination with was likely put through hell growing up, leading to his hatred of those that weren’t.
He lay in the truck's bed, covered by a stinking canvas, wondering what the hell he was doing, and knowing he would not turn back for anything. For the first time in his life, Sel felt like he was finally doing something important. Something that would mean something, if only for him.
Chapter Sixteen
