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

Oliver tugged at the buttons of Boyd’s jeans, rapped his elbow on the steering wheel, and growled. “Does the seat go back any further?”


“We could get in the back?” Boyd suggested.


Oliver scrambled up so fast that Boyd chuckled. That was nice; to feel somebody else’s interest again. Even if this moment was just a memory in another week, it was inspiring something in Boyd’s head—the idea that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be out there and looking. That it was worth weeding through the thorns to find the flowers. That there was a possibility that someone was going to see him as something more than just a grease-monkey.


Chapter 37