For as long as Boyd can remember, he's been pushing pins into a map. Carson City, Las Vegas, Albuquerque -- all places he wants to see, for a dozen different reasons that wouldn't mean a thing to anyone else. When he finally gets a chance to purchase the '70 Plymouth Duster of his dreams, at a price that even he can manage, Boyd jumps at the opportunity.<br><br>Oliver seems like just another kid with a broken dream when their paths cross in Vegas. Against Boyd's better judgment, he offers to let Oliver hitch along for the ride when Oliver confides the need to get out and get gone.<br><br>But isn’t long before Boyd realizes Oliver's reasons for running are more complicated -- and more dangerous -- than Oliver let on. Boyd doesn't like people who play hardball, and he definitely doesn't like people messing with a man who's managed to light a fuse that Boyd forgot he had.

Road Trip

It took several seconds for Oliver to slide his hand across the table. Even then, he just fingered a corner of the closest package. “Thank you,” he said finally. “For the food and the stuff. I’ll find a way to pay you back, I promise. I’ll get a job when I get home and—”


Boyd pushed the tray that much closer. “Just eat. I’ll be far more pissed off if it goes to waste than I would ever be buying it for you.”


The satisfaction that raced through Boyd’s blood when Oliver gave into the request and began to unwrap a sandwich was far more intense than Boyd could give reason to.


The seats were already hot enough to cook on when they made their way back to the car, but Boyd wasn’t complaining—desert sun trumped New York snow any day. While Oliver frowned at a cell phone, thumbing through whatever the hell was found there, Boyd pulled out his notebook and began to update check marks.


“So, where to now?” Oliver asked, leaning over to peer at what Boyd was doing.


Chapter 11