The top half of my torso suspended over the engine of a disabled skidder, I heard the muffled ring of the phone in my back pocket. Ignoring the intrusion, I forced another turn on the socket wrench buried in the machine’s guts.
“That should do it,” I grunted, sliding down and leaving it to Kostya to secure the engine cover.
The phone had stopped ringing, so I took a second to wipe the sweat from my brow and the grease from my hands. Before I could finish, the phone started up again. This time, I could make out the ringtone, the intro to Steppin’ Stone identifying the caller as my cousin Siobhan.
“What is it, Monkey Butt?”
Usually, only my older brother Adler still called Siobhan by her childhood nickname, but my cousin had been needling me something fierce since she met Ashley. Siobhan had it in her head there would soon be another Turk wedding. As hard as Siobhan was campaigning, I worried she would scare Ashley off before my growing relationship with the woman solidified into anything half as serious as marriage.
“Your girlfriend is en route to urgent care in Roundup,” she said before adding a verbal slap for my earlier offense. “Stop calling me that, jerk face.”
A blanket of cold dread wrapped tight around me.
“You mean Ashley?” I scratched out. “Why?”
“Yes, Ashley. She and that intern boy-toy were out at the rapids by Joyce Franco’s place. All I know is her leg was jacked up while she was out there. Boy-toy wa—”
“His name is Thomas Crane,” I growled. The kid was at least seven years younger than Ashley and her subordinate, not her plaything.
At least I hoped there wasn’t anything else between them. She wouldn’t have kissed me like she had if she was harboring an interest in her intern.
“Thomas,” Siobhan said, starting over and drawing out the two syllables of the kid’s name, “wanted an ambulance dispatched, but Ashley took the phone from him.”
Finding a tree stump to sit on, I rested my head against my free hand and groaned. I could just see Ashley stubbornly walking back to her vehicle, maybe leaning on the intern, but certainly not willing to call for extra help.
“How long ago?”
“I’ve been trying to call you for an hour,” Siobhan answered. “When Thomas first radioed in, but you clearly haven’t had a signal because it kept going immediately to voicemail.”
“So he got her back to the vehicle and is driving her to Roundup?”
“Yes. He said he would call again when he had her checked in. He hasn’t done that yet.”
“Text me his number,” I ordered then ended the call.
Marching over to Kostya, I drew the man’s attention. “You know the plan, keep them going while we’ve got daylight.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Kostya answered. “Everything okay?”
I stared at him, the answer obvious in my mind. It was the crew’s first day back to work, all of the equipment finally repaired and run through its safety checks in case the vandals had sabotaged the machines in multiple ways. After a week of downtime, only an emergency would draw me away from the site.
“Sorry,” Kostya blushed. “Dumb question.”
I shook my head. “Agent Callahan was injured. Not too badly because she wouldn’t allow an ambulance to be called.”
I clapped my hand on Kostya’s shoulder and lightly squeezed. “Keep the guys safe. Yourself, too.”
“Always, boss.”
Leaving the men to work, I sprinted to my truck. Siobhan had finished sending the number for Thomas. I copied it over to my contacts then sent a message asking the intern to call or text updates to me instead of Siobhan.
Finished with the text, I strapped in, kicked the truck into gear and sped away from the job.