Free Tribulation Road: A Red Hot Treats Story by Shyla Colt Page A

case files on the missing residents. They were from a
number of surrounding cities, different races and ages. If a connection existed
between them, it wasn't obvious.
    “I
can’t say, but I’m leaning toward freak of nature variety, because nothing else
odd is going on in the town. No breaks-ins, no family feuds.” Richard shook his
head and set the baby down on the desk.
    Brigh
sank down on the edge of the bed. “I brought some UV lights, like you asked.”
    “Good,
we’ll stun them, toast em’ to ashes, and cut the stragglers down.”
    “Sounds
good. You got some flame throwers handy?”
    “What
do you think I called you in for, cousin? You were the one at the home front
with all the stock.”
    She
grinned. “It’s all in the trunk. I didn’t think hauling it out in broad
daylight was the best route to go.”
    “Agreed.
Right now, they think I’m an insurance man investigating possible negligence at
the nursing home.”
    “Fancy,”
Brigh noted.
    “Shut
up. You’re lucky you’re my favorite female cousin.”
    “I’m
your only female cousin,” she retorted.
    “Yeah,
there is that.”
    She
rolled her eyes. The label of being a Noble at all was a noose around her neck,
tightening more every day.
    “As
soon as the sun goes down, we’ll prepare the flamethrowers. Right now, we need
to lay a trap.”
    “Are
they living in the woods?”
    “No,
there’s and old forgotten cemetery in the thicket. I think they wandered from the
main graveyard and realized there was a fresh feeding source,” he explained.
    “They
never could resist fresh flesh if they could get their hands on it. Heads up.”
She tossed him the keys. “Unload A.J. while I go over your files.”
    “You
just got here and you’re already putting me to work?”
    “Hey,
I’m the reinforcements, not a trainee.” She shrugged.
    “Keep
it up and I’ll tell people what A.J. stands for.”
    “You
wouldn’t dare.”
    “Backstreet’s
back, alright,” he sang while heading for the door.
    “It
was a stage!” she yelled, mentally kicking herself for her drunken admission.
She grew up in a male-dominated world. Hiding her feminine inclinations was
second nature. Except with Jaegar Sutton. The silver ring between her
breasts burned cold beneath the brown thermal shirt she wore. She brushed
thoughts of him aside. In order to continue the Howell legacy, she would have
to let go of a faded memory and think about settling down. She’d tried going
with her heart and it failed her. This time, she’d choose for cunning and
strength.
    Richard
returned with a few more duffle bags.
    “Most
girls love perfume. Me, I love the smell of deer urine because I know it’s
going to save my ass,” Brigh drawled sarcastically.
    “We
got a real lady with you.”
    “You
want manners or someone to have your back?” It was a long standing joke she
bore the butt of. A hazard of being the lone female of their generation. It’d
hardened her. Growing up, it’d carved her up inside. No woman wanted to be
defeminized. Even if she did spend the majority of her time covered in dirt, urine,
spatters of blood, and horrible clothing. The job came first and like a good
soldier, she made her sacrifices accordingly.
    Properly
doused, they gathered their bags and headed out.
    “We’re
taking your car. I didn’t prep mine.”
    “I
figured,” Richard said. Most of the men found her cleanliness amusing, but
they’d grown used to it over the years. Whether they admitted it or not, it
saved their ass more times than once. There’s something suspicious about a
person covered in gore and guts.
    They
walked out to his black truck where she made the climb to his cab and tossed
her bag into the back seat. The older Ford model rumbled to life and they drove
out of the motel parking lot. The small town looked quaint. Exactly what she
expected for a tiny place smack dab in the middle of Indiana. The sun warmed
her face and the tiny crack she’d allowed herself in the window