Page 39 of Flint's Arrow
“I’m listening.”
“We could go halves.” Arrow’s thumb stroked across Flint’s knuckles. “That way we’re both contributing, and...” He took a breath. “And I can buy whatever truck I actually want instead of the one I think everyone expects me to drive.”
Flint’s snake settled with satisfaction. Arrow was learning. Maybe faster than Flint had hoped.
“Deal,” Flint said, and, ignoring the turn for the Alley, kept on the highway toward Bozeman.
The dealership sprawled across several acres off the highway, rows of shiny vehicles glinting in the afternoon sun. Flint pulled into the lot and killed the engine.
“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” he asked.
Arrow stared out at the trucks as if they might bite him. “Honestly? I don’t have a clue. I’ve only ever bought sedans. I guess I’m looking for the perfect mate to an assassin vehicle.”
Flint shook his head as he sniggered. “I think you’ll find that you can set that bar all by yourself. Pax and Wren don’t drive, and Cyrus drives a work truck - and he’s our handler. Storm, Devon, Levi, and Calvin are all happy with their trucks…”
“So are you, apparently.” Arrow grinned as he lightly tapped the dashboard.
“I am, but then you have seen Python’s car collection. If he had his way, all our houses would be knocked down, and the whole area would be turned into a giant car warehouse.”
“Hmm. Good point.” Arrow nodded. “I’m definitely not as bad as he is. I just want something reliable, non-descript, that won’t stand out when parked in town, and yet something we can use to take the back roads when we want or need to.”
“We’ve come to the perfect place then. Let’s just browse.” Flint climbed out, circling around to meet Arrow at the front of his truck. “We can see what catches your eye.”
They wandered through the rows, a salesman materializing almost instantly. He sized them up with the practiced eye of someone who could smell money - taking in Flint’s worn jeans and flannel versus Arrow’s new boots and nice watch.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” the salesman said, his smile professionally bright. His name tag readDerek.“Looking for anything specific today?”
“A truck,” Arrow said before Flint could answer. “Four-wheel drive. Good clearance. Nothing fancy.”
Derek’s smile faltered slightly. He was probably hoping for a bigger commission, but he rallied quickly. A sale was a sale. “Right this way. We’ve got several models that fit those specs.”
He led them toward the back of the lot, launching into his pitch about payload capacity and towing packages. Flint tuned most of it out, watching Arrow instead. His mate examined each truck, running his hands over panels and peering under wheel wells.
“This one’s popular with hunters,” Derek said, gesturing to a massive black pickup that looked like it could double as a tank. Python would love it. “It has a V8 engine, leather interior, premium sound system…”
“I thought hunters were meant to be stealthy.” Arrow moved past it without slowing. “What about that one?”
He pointed to a dark green Chevy Silverado parked at the end of the row. Practical, sturdy, nothing flashy about it except maybe the color.
Derek’s nose wrinkled slightly. “That’s last year’s model. We’re trying to clear inventory. It’s got cloth seats and the base trim package…”
“Can I test drive it?” Arrow asked.
“Of course.” Derek’s smile looked strained. “Let me grab the keys.”
While Derek headed back toward the office, Arrow walked around the Silverado, checking the bed and the tires. Flint leaned against the tailgate, content to watch.
“Do you like this one?” he asked.
“Maybe.” Arrow popped the hood, peering at the engine. “It’s not trying to be something it’s not. It’s just a good, solid truck.”
Unlike the Audi,Flint’s snake noted.
Derek returned with the keys, and they all piled in - Derek in back, Arrow driving, Flint riding shotgun. Arrow adjusted the seat and mirrors, then eased the truck out of the lot.
He drove them out past the dealership, onto the highway, and then off onto a dirt road that wound up into the hills. Derek looked increasingly nervous in the back seat as gravel pinged off the undercarriage.
“The suspension’s good,” Arrow said, navigating a pothole. “Steering’s responsive.”
