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

Frank lifted his head, stared over the hood of the car at god-could-only-know-what, and snorted a quick laugh. He turned towards his companion and repeated the sound, getting no more of a reply than a confused twist of the man’s forehead. He tossed the gun from his right hand to his left, then lifted his right hand to the window of the car and stroked it.


Boyd frowned at Oliver and shrugged. “Oh no?”


Oliver didn’t pay Boyd any mind whatsoever. He stared at Frank, shaking his head, and mumbling. “Oh, God, no. No, no. Please, no.”


“Oh, God, yes,” Frank mocked cheerfully. “Yes, yes, thank you, yes.” He ran his fingertips over the frame of the driver’s window. “Looks like I might have found something of value after all.”


Realization dawned on Boyd slowly, but with it came an odd sense of calm. “Fuck you, Frank.”


Chapter 43