Rain pounded harder against the diner windows as every eye in the room shifted toward the three men standing beside the booth.<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man stared at Travis Boone carefully, trying to decide whether the biker was bluffing\u2014or dangerous enough to become a problem.<\/p>\n
Beside Travis, the little girl shook violently beneath her soaked yellow raincoat.<\/p>\n
the little girl kept her face pressed against his arm, tiny fingers clutching his flannel sleeve like it was the last safe thing left in the world.<\/p>\n
Travis looked down at her once.<\/p>\n
Then back at the men.<\/p>\n
\u201cKid falls asleep every time I stop for coffee,\u201d he muttered gruffly. \u201cAin\u2019t exactly a federal crime.\u201d<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man didn\u2019t smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he replied slowly. \u201cBut kidnapping is.\u201d<\/p>\n
The entire diner went cold.<\/p>\n
A waitress near the counter quietly reached beneath the register.<\/p>\n
The cook stopped moving altogether.<\/p>\n
And Travis\u2014<\/p>\n
who normally preferred staying out of everyone\u2019s business\u2014<\/p>\n
felt the little girl flinch at that word.<\/p>\n
Not confusion.<\/p>\n
Recognition.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s your name, sweetheart?\u201d Travis asked softly without looking away from the men.<\/p>\n
A pause.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026Lucy.\u201d<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man answered immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cHer real name\u2019s Emily.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lucy grabbed Travis tighter instantly. \u201cDon\u2019t listen to him.\u201d<\/p>\n
That reaction settled something deep inside Travis.<\/p>\n
Predators always hated when victims spoke first.<\/p>\n
One of the other men stepped forward. \u201cWe\u2019re taking her home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Travis finally leaned back slightly in the booth, studying them beneath the flickering neon reflections crawling across the rain-streaked windows.<\/p>\n
\u201cFunny thing,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n
The men waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t look real excited about going.\u201d<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve been searching all night.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lucy\u2019s breathing became uneven. \u201cBecause I ran.\u201d<\/p>\n
Travis looked down slightly. \u201cWhy\u2019d you run?\u201d<\/p>\n
Tears filled her eyes immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe hurt my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence crashed across the diner.<\/p>\n
One trucker near the front booth muttered, \u201cJesus Christ\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man snapped instantly. \u201cShe lies.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wrong move.<\/p>\n
Too fast.<\/p>\n
Too angry.<\/p>\n
Travis noticed everything.<\/p>\n
So did the rest of the diner.<\/p>\n
Outside\u2014<\/p>\n
another pair of headlights rolled slowly into the rain-soaked parking lot.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
Too many vehicles for a missing-child search.<\/p>\n
Travis\u2019s eyes shifted briefly toward the window.<\/p>\n
Black SUVs.<\/p>\n
No markings.<\/p>\n
No police.<\/p>\n
That bothered him more than the men themselves.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat exactly do you boys do?\u201d he asked calmly.<\/p>\n
No answer.<\/p>\n
Lucy whispered against his sleeve, \u201cThey work for Mr. Vale.\u201d<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man lunged forward slightly. \u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n
In one smooth movement, Travis stood.<\/p>\n
Fast enough to make dishes rattle.<\/p>\n
The booth suddenly looked too small for him.<\/p>\n
Tall.<\/p>\n
Broad.<\/p>\n
Scarred hands hanging loose at his sides.<\/p>\n
The entire diner instinctively moved backward.<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man stopped walking immediately.<\/p>\n
Travis\u2019s voice stayed calm.<\/p>\n
\u201cBad idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rain hammered the roof harder as neon light flickered across the stunned silence inside the diner.<\/p>\n
Lucy stared up at Travis like she couldn\u2019t believe someone had finally stood between her and the men chasing her.<\/p>\n
Then the front diner windows flashed white from headlights outside.<\/p>\n
More doors opening.<\/p>\n
More men stepping into the storm.<\/p>\n
The scar-faced man noticed Travis counting them in the reflection.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou really want trouble over some runaway kid?\u201d<\/p>\n
Travis looked down briefly at Lucy\u2019s bruised wrist peeking from beneath the yellow raincoat.<\/p>\n
Then back at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cA runaway usually runs from something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody spoke after that.<\/p>\n
Because everyone inside the diner understood exactly what he meant.<\/p>\n
Lucy slowly reached into her pocket then, pulling out a tiny silver flash drive attached to a cartoon keychain.<\/p>\n
The moment the scar-faced man saw it\u2014<\/p>\n
his expression changed completely.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
Real fear.<\/p>\n
\u201cGive me that,\u201d he said sharply.<\/p>\n
Lucy shook her head and backed closer to Travis.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mom said if they found us\u2026\u201d Her voice cracked. \u201c\u2026to give this to someone who looked dangerous enough to help.\u201d<\/p>\n
A long silence followed.<\/p>\n
Then Travis gave a slow glance toward the black SUVs surrounding the diner outside.<\/p>\n
Engines idled beneath the Nevada storm.<\/p>\n
Men approaching.<\/p>\n
Too late to walk away now.<\/p>\n
Travis exhaled once and slipped the flash drive into his jacket pocket.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at the scar-faced man with cold, steady eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cLooks like your night just got worse.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Rain pounded harder against the diner windows as every eye in the room shifted toward the three men standing beside the booth. The scar-faced man stared at Travis Boone carefully, trying to decide whether the biker was bluffing\u2014or dangerous enough to become a problem. Beside Travis, the little girl shook violently beneath her soaked yellow […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":2160,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2159","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-trending-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2159","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2159"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2159\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2160"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2159"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2159"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2159"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}