Even though I was free to hold onto his luxury SUV as long as I wanted, I wasn’t comfortable with that. Corbin was, by his own admission, a killer. There was a $2 million bounty for his capture. And I was a bounty hunter. Yes, he’d saved my life, but that excuse to look the other way would only work for so long. Corbin had promised that he would arrange for my car to be delivered from its snowy culvert ditch. Another no-go area for me. I dipped into my paltry savings and found the money for a tow, gritting my teeth because the blizzard of the century had rocketed prices into the stratosphere. Unfortunately, asking friends or family for help was impossible. Not unless I wanted to explain why I’d wrecked in the middle of nowhere. There was no easy answer for that. Corbin had also left me a snazzy cell phone, to replace the old crappy one I’d lost in the blizzard. Except for one detail. My “lost” phone turned up in my car. The only logical conclusion was that when I collapsed in the middle of the road, my phone miraculously sprouted legs and walked back to the car. I texted that to Corbin, replying to the message he’d left the morning he slipped away.
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