Chapter Three

When he saw Ferguson’s oncoming car slow down, Mark quickly ducked back under the hood of his rented SUV – which was smack in the middle of the road, effectively blocking anyone from getting past – and pretended to fiddle with some wires.

He was interested to note that Mr. Halloway was nowhere to be seen. Either Ferguson had shoved him down to the floor with orders to stay quiet, or he was knocked out cold. At this point, Mark knew what he preferred: he wanted the hostage unconscious and a hassle to hold on to. Ferguson may give up sooner if he didn’t have the man to grab and physically place between himself and Mark, and God knows, Sully would get a cleaner shot if Clyde Halloway was out of the way.

Mark straightened now, wiped his hands on a rag. He started to walk over to Ferguson’s car and sure enough, the man got out before Mark got close enough to get a look into the front seat.

“Afternoon!” Mark called cheerily. “Sorry for the road block – I’m having car trouble.”

Michael Ferguson leaned on the hood of his own car, blocking Mark’s view even more, and stared at the man in the middle of the fucking road. The guy was cleaning his hands and was wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt and seemed friendly. He was also quite clearly half-black, and Ferguson felt a sneer threaten to break out across his face.

His unrelenting racism was deep-seated, and he didn’t even care to try to work on that particular issue. He was good at hiding it, since it caused problems in his life as a Sheriff to be so blatantly anti-visible minorities… but it was all a façade and Michael Ferguson truly didn’t give a shit. He needed this asshole off the road, though, and he needed it now. Ferguson dug deep, trying to act normal, and not like he had a man tied up and gagged just two feet away.

Mark saw the contempt in Ferguson’s cold blue eyes and mentally, he thanked Cordelia for her heads-up. She and Sully had met this dickhead before, back in his hometown of Foxburg Falls when they were undercover. Cordelia had told all the Solid Security team that Ferguson was a racist prick – and that if it was at all possible, Mark should interact with him in Utah to throw him off his game. Cordelia’s opinion was that the man’s blind hatred would make him angry and defensive when confronted by a black man and in turn, that would make him weak and vulnerable.

You get a drink on me, Cordelia. You called it in one. He’s stressed and on-edge already from being on the run – and now the ‘nice guy’ mask and his control are both slipping damn easy.

“What kind of car trouble?” Ferguson said, trying to sound calm and interested.

“Not too sure.” Mark looked back at the SUV and shook his head ruefully. He saw that he was in Sully’s direct line of fire, and he casually stepped to one side. “I’m not all that great with cars.”

“Me neither.”

“Oh. So you couldn’t give me a hand, then?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Too bad. I guess I’ll just have to wait for triple-A.”

“Yeah.” Ferguson stared at the other man some more, trying to get a read on him, but he was having trouble staying focused. Right now, he was in survival mode, and all he saw when he looked at this guy was an obstacle. “I’m in a bit of a rush, so I’ll just pull off the road a bit and drive around you.”

“You’re in a rush?”

“Yeah. I am.” Ferguson pushed himself off the car hood and started to walk back to the driver’s side. “Good luck.”

“You’re in a rush because you need to get away with your hostage?”

Without any hesitation at all, Ferguson spun around, his gun already out and pointed at the other man. He blinked when he saw a gun pointed right back at him.

Fuck. A trap.

“This is all over, Ferguson,” Mark said quietly. “The local cops are already at the farmhouse checking on Emily Halloway… is she still alive?”

“Fuck you.”

Mark paused, still determined to at least try to take the man alive. “Look, you have no way out, man. Put the gun down and get on your knees.”

“No way.” Ferguson shifted his large frame back and forth, grounding himself better. “You’ll have to shoot me, asshole, ‘cause I ain’t going to jail.”

“It doesn’t have to go that way.”