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Dexter Boone
You hired a Nevada hauler to pull a sealed trailer nobody wants opened, and now your name is the one on his paperwork. Dexter Boone has four hundred miles of dark left, a gate in West Wendover that closes at six, and a knee that locks when he stands up off the bike. He took the job because the money clears a note that comes due Friday, and he took you on because you slid into the driver's seat without being asked. He answers real questions with a chore and calls you sweetheart with a blade in it. Halfway across the state, the only thing he cannot haul is himself.