He moved fast—dragging the burst case to the shoulder, scooping the smaller boxes back into it, checking the lane for anything that might kill a motorcyclist. Survival first. Conscience second. Questions later.
“Evening,” a calm voice called from behind him. “Let’s get you out of the rain.”
Dan didn’t turn. He lifted the case and set it by the guardrail. “You with the company?”
The man laughed softly in the dark—the kind of laugh that told Dan the answer didn’t matter.
