Page 80 of Daybreak

“Tell Travis and Granny I said hello. I love you. Be safe,” she said.

“I sure will. Take care. Love you, too,” Garrett said and disconnected.

Holly put her phone down with a sigh. She had a bed for the duration of the construction, and she had Gunner. Life was good.

She turned on the TV for company and stretched out on the sofa to watch a show. Lulled by the voices, she fell asleep and was awakened a short while later when her phone rang.

She sat up and reached for her phone.

“Hello.”

“Hey, baby… You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”

“I was watching TV and dozed off. Glad you called. I talked to Dad tonight. All is well. I told him about us, and moving back to build a house. I have officially been welcomed back to my old room for the time being, and he is happy for us.”

“Good to have that blessing, but I will officially talk to him, as well, when we get back. Did you get any flak from your boss after I left the office?”

“No, but my girlfriends gave me a little grief. They think you’re hot. One of them asked if you had any brothers. I had to break the bad news that you had two and they were married with children.” Then she heard him laugh, and that soft, husky voice in her ear made her ache. “I don’t know what your favorite color is, or favorite songs, but I know you love me, and everything else will unfold in its own time.”

“Blue like your eyes. My favorite color is blue. I like most music genres, but because of Dad and the bar, I grew up on country music. I live for the way your breath catches when we make love, and how you move when you walk. I love the weight of your breasts in my hands, and the curve of your hips. Even the way your hair curls around my fingers, holding me fast. In my eyes, you are so beautiful. That’s what you need to know about me.”

Holly swallowed past the lump in her throat. Every word he’d uttered was a caress. “I’m somewhat speechless. My God, Gunner. You make love with your words like you make love with me.”

“Love does that to a man,” he said. “Sleep well, darlin’. You are my heart.”

“Love you,” she said.

The call ended. She stood, set the security alarm, and made her way upstairs. She was certain she’d never fall asleep after that call, but she did, and dreamed of baseball and a tall, black-haired boy who ran like the wind.

* * *

By morning, Special Agent Lavinsky had made the decision to go public with the manhunt for Beau Whistler. Every local news station was running with the story that Burgess Dixon had not committed suicide but in fact was murdered by his own bodyguard, Beau Whistler. Whistler’s face was all over every TV station. If spotted, there was a hotline number to call, but with a warning: do not approach; he was armed and dangerous.

* * *

Gunner caught the story as he was making breakfast. He paused to watch a clip of the special agent in charge of the case at a news conference being asked by a reporter in the audience how this tied into the informant list Dixon had left behind.

“This is an ongoing case, and we will not be commenting on it at this time,” Lavinsky said and took another question.

Gunner pulled the last piece of bacon out of the skillet, then cracked a couple of eggs into the hot grease, turned down the flame on the burner, and put a lid on the skillet. He was putting bread in the toaster when his phone rang. He smiled. It was Holly.

“Good morning, Hollyberry. How’s my best girl?”

She smiled. “Hollyberry is just fine. I’m on the way to work, but I called to ask if you saw the story about Dixon’s suicide being a murder and the ongoing manhunt for the killer?”

“Yes, I did.”

“He looks scary,” she said.

“That’s because he is scary. I suspect Dixon is only the latest in a long line of Whistler’s murder and mayhem.”

“Ewww, I hope they catch him soon.”

“So do I, darlin’. What’s on your agenda today?”

“I will be verifying that the deed to your place is up-to-date and waiting on my appraiser and an inspector to call me back. They have both promised to get to your house ASAP.”

“I need to be here for that, right?”