Page 17 of Daybreak

Travis nodded. “Yes, okay. I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Holly said. “If none of this had happened, what would you be doing about now?”

“Online classes, but I graduated in December. I’ve just been biding my time here helping Dad until Lee graduated at Crossroads.”

“Then get your hat and gloves. He left his phone with me, so go ask Dewey. Get dirty. Cuss a stubborn steer or two. I know they’re separating cattle somewhere. That’s where he said he’d be.”

“Oh, then I know where he is,” Travis said. “I’ll have my phone if you need us.”

“That’ll work,” Holly said. She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as he headed for the stables while she walked back to the house, her feet dragging with every step.

* * *

Unaware of the Dillon tragedy, Gunner was showered, shaved, and dressed before daybreak, making breakfast with an eye to the time. Even as he was putting a second slice of bread in the toaster, he kept thinking this lottery win couldn’t possibly be real, and that he’d wake up any minute and realize it was just a dream. But he’d also checked his wallet at least four times since he started the coffee to make sure the ticket was still there, and it was.

He took another sip of coffee and finally smiled. I don’t know how this is going to impact my life, but I’m about to find out.

His last piece of toast popped up; he grabbed it, smeared it with grape jelly, and wolfed it down. It was time to go pick up Mr. Wes Bradley, Esquire.

* * *

Wes Bradley went to the office early to finish up some paperwork ready to file and was waiting when he got Gunner’s text. He left the air-conditioned comfort of his office and walked out into the bright light and building heat of a sunny Texas morning, then slid into the front seat of the detective’s car.

“Is this thing as fast as it looks?” Wes asked as he buckled up.

“Yes,” Gunner said and drove out of the parking area and back onto the bypass, heading to Stemmons Street.

“What’s the big secret, and where are we going?” Wes asked.

“I won the seven-hundred-and-eighty-million-dollar Mega Millions jackpot, and we’re going to the Dallas Claims Center to claim it.”

Wes laughed. “No, seriously dude. What’s up?”

Gunner’s focus was on the bypass traffic, and he never broke his gaze as he repeated himself.

“I won the Mega Millions jackpot. The ticket is in my wallet. I’m a cop. I want a lawyer with me for legal backup when the money gets to the bank. I’m not telling anyone else but my boss, so this is privileged information, got it?”

Wes’s shock was real. He took a deep breath and then forgot to exhale as he watched Gunner’s calm demeanor.

“Holy shit, man. This is amazing! What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Still be a cop,” Gunner said. “Just one with a whole lot of money now.”

Wes grinned. “This is amazing! Absolutely amazing! Congratulations, Gunner.”

“Pure luck of the draw. I did nothing to deserve it. I also read up on the lottery rules, and I’m taking a lump sum payment, which should come to about half the jackpot, or less. Also, it’s likely to take four to six weeks before the payout happens. I also need to update my will and get a financial advisor. That’s where you come in.”

Wes realized how serious Gunner was about the responsibility of having that kind of money and was somewhat surprised that a single, good-looking man like him wasn’t thinking about a little bit of a wild spending spree and seeing the world.

“Are you going to eventually tell the people you work with?” Wes asked.

Gunner shrugged. “Not on purpose, although I suspect they’ll figure it out later. I don’t intend to become their bank and money lender. I’m not looking forward to the big reveal. I don’t like turmoil in my personal life.”

“Understood,” Wes said as Gunner moved into the lane on the right and took the exit ramp off the bypass and onto Stemmons, straight to the Dallas Claims Center.

A few minutes later, they were in the claims office. After a brief explanation of their visit and a quiet round of congratulations, Gunner and Wes were escorted into the boss’s office. The winning ticket was presented, verified, and the paperwork began.

* * *