Irritated and longing to go home, the new home he'd discovered in Francine's arms, made Alejandro impatient. For the last two days, he'd followed the hunter's sloppy trail. First missing him by minutes at the scuzzy motel he'd checked out of, the location courtesy of a receipt he'd found snagged on a branch in the tree the bastard perched in. The female clerk at least-after a little persuasion, AKA a smile from him-divulged not only the truck's plate number for his prey but also the make and color of it, which as it turned out, Javier had if he'd bothered asking before running off . What a surprise, the hunter drove a big ass, red pickup truck. Stupid redneck. Most people thought hillbillies and rednecks were an American phenomena. He had news for them, Canada had its fair share of crass,
