Free Whitehorse by Katherine Sutcliffe Page A

Someday I'll probably explode and take out a dozen or more Bubbas with an Uzi."
    She smiled at her feet. "After my behavior the other day I wouldn't have blamed you if you had waved and kept on going."
    "You know I was always a sucker for a pretty face. Especially when it was yours." He walked around her and stooped to have a better look at the demolished wheel. "Hope you weren't on your way to something important, Doc. This wheel is history."
    "Ramona Skunk Cap's goats are dying. They ran through a barbed-wire fence."
    "Again?" He laughed. "If it wasn't for Ramona's goats, every coyote around the Sacramento Mountains would starve to death. She might as well change the name of her farm to Cabrito Burrito."
    Leah smiled as her gaze reluctantly found its way to Johnny's profile. Thank God he wasn't looking at her. She had never been one to hide her feelings; they radiated like neon in her eyes. Right now there were so many emotions bombarding her insides she felt like a target at a shooting range.
    Johnny stood.
    Leah looked away.
    "I'll run you out to Ramona's if you want," he offered.
    "Don't you ever sleep?"
    "Don't you?"
    "No, actually. I don't think that I do."
    "Get what you need from the truck and lock it up. I'll call Triple A and have a tow come out and get it. That way it won't cost you anything."
    She started to say something smart-ass, like "I don't accept charity from former lovers," then decided there was no point. She could not afford another towing expense, not when what little budget she had was going to be blown by buying a new wheel and tire. Besides, this camaraderie between her and Johnny felt much better than their earlier hostility.
    As Johnny walked back to his truck, Leah collected sutures, scissors, clippers, sterile gloves, syringes, and tetanus medications. Then there were antibiotics, and bantamine for pain. She put them all in a box with gauze and vet wrap, double-locked the drawers of prescription medications, and buried the key deep in her pocket, praying they would all still be there when she got her truck back.
    Johnny was on the cell phone to Triple A when she crawled into the truck. With the box resting on her lap, she sank into the dove-gray leather seats and closed her eyes.
    After all these years, Johnny's voice sounded the same. Deep and smooth as a slow-flowing river. Funny how safe she suddenly felt, as if the world could disintegrate around her yet her reality would remain unscathed. Then again, he'd always had that effect on her.
    Johnny hung up the phone and tossed it onto the back seat. Glancing over his left shoulder, he eased the truck out onto the highway.
    They rode in silence toward the Sacramento Mountains , which were little more than a black silhouette against the star-filled sky. Occasionally, Leah peeked from under her lashes to see Johnny focused on the road ahead, wrist caught on the top of the steering wheel, shoulders cocked just slightly toward the driver's door.
    Finally, she sat up, hitting something with her foot. She fished around the floorboard until coming up with a black kid-leather makeup bag that smelled strongly of floral perfume. The zipper had been left open. Inside were tubes of Estée Lauder lipsticks, a compact, nail polish, and a package of condoms—ribbed and lubricated for enhanced pleasure. One was missing.
    Leah zipped the bag closed and placed it carefully on the console between her and Johnny. "Coming home from a date, I take it."
    He glanced at the bag and shrugged.
    "Anyone I know?"
    "You know I don't kiss and tell, Leah."
    "Still a gentleman where women are concerned." She smiled and fingered the bag. "She has money, I take it. Must have. Only a successful career woman can afford to spend twenty bucks for a tube of lipstick."
    Hitting the blinkers, Johnny turned the truck onto Highway 70, bypassing the turnoff to downtown Ruidoso. If they continued to travel east they would ultimately arrive in Roswell —home of crashed UFOs and embalmed