Free Pure Dynamite by Lauren Bach Page B

shook a couple into his hand.
    Only a few weeks old when his mother died, Lyle had been a sickly infant who'd been spoiled rotten by his brothers and a maternal aunt while Willy was imprisoned. By the time Willy was released, the mold was set.
    Lyle had been in and out of trouble since junior high. In the beginning it was easy to get him off the hook. A bribe here, a favor there, and charges were dropped; evidence disappeared.
    But instead of learning his lesson, Lyle grew cockier. On his eighteenth birthday he was charged with attempted rape when a police chief's daughter got caught with her panties down. The little whore died in a car accident before the case ever went to trial, but consequently the chief's men made damn sure Lyle went down for something else. Framed him, with an ironclad case.
    Willy popped the chalky antacids in his mouth before shaking out a few more.
    "He was desperate, Pa," Burt continued. "Nevin said those two guards were threatening to castrate Lyle if he didn't start talking. Shaved his nuts and everything."
    "What makes you so sure he didn't talk already?"
    Tristin leaned forward. "Lyle's done a lot of stupid things, but he'd never betray us. In the nine months he's been behind bars, the guards couldn't break him— but this castration stuff. What would you have done?"
    An ominous quiet settled over Willy. "I want those guards taken care of. Everything they did to Lyle, give back in spades."
    "One guard's already missing," Burt said. "Chicken shit probably ran off."
    "Find him. I assume Lyle's well enough to travel?"
    "He doesn't have a choice. Police have kicked off a manhunt in the Carolinas. Nevin told them to bring that doctor along until they're sure Lyle's out of the woods."
    Willy disagreed. "Dragging another person around will only hamper them."
    "Nevin says Lyle's wound is bad."
    "Has Nevin seen it himself?"
    "No, and I know what you're thinking—"
    "Then cut the bullshit. We all know your little brother has a tendency to blow things out of proportion. So where are they headed?"
    "Nevin's working on that now," Tristin piped in. "The cops set up roadblocks at the state line, so getting them out is tricky. The good news is they don't have the manpower to guard every single road not with all that flooding."
    "Good news?" Willy grabbed the antacids again. "I hate that term. What aren't you telling me?"
    Once again the twins exchanged nervous glances. "The governor's asked for federal help with the search," Burt said.
    "I'm sure it was the other way around the FBI pressuring the governor to let them take over. The Feds will expect Lyle to run home to daddy. Mark my words, they'll give him a wide berth and try to follow."
    Burt shrugged. "Yeah, so? We've made monkeys out of them time and time again. This won't be any different."
    "The hell it won't! It gets harder each time. Don't ever forget that. You get overconfident, you hand them an opportunity." Willy stood and started pacing. "What's the story on the guy Lyle's with? What's his name again?"
    "Adam Duval. He was Lyle's cellmate. He was busted for stolen property. Big shit, like tractor-trailers loaded with telephone switching equipment. His partner got away, but they nabbed Duval's girlfriend" Burt explained. "And get this: The girlfriend was never charged. She apparently cut a deal with the Feds; tipped them off that Duval and his partner were also hijacking military goods."
    "Bet he'd like to strangle the bitch."
    "She disappeared last month on her way to a deposition. I figure Duval's partner arranged it."
    His heartburn under control, Willy lit a cigarette. "What do you know about his partner?"
    "Not much. A name: Daniel Montague. He slipped out of the country, but I bet that's who helped Duval set up the escape."
    "Something doesn't feel right," Willy said. "If Duval's got help on the outside, what does he need Lyle for?"
    "He doesn't," Tristin grunted. "That's what's got Nevin worried. Duval didn't want Lyle along in the first place.