Bounty(207)
Unlike her grandfather, Jerry, who worked the road and the business with smarts, screaming talent and downhome sensibility, earning his crown as a rock god. And unlike her father, Johnny, who took up the family mantle, followed his father’s path and soared even higher, earning his own reign. In one fell swoop, Justice Lonesome has seized a new crown: Rock’s Gypsy Princess.
Long may she reign.
* * * * *
Heart
Out in the middle of nowhere, nothing there but silver steel blinking in the bright sun, the door to the Airstream opened and the woman stepped out, the heavy waves and curls of her beautiful, long, dark hair lifting at the sudden warm wind that swirled around the trailer.
She wore a flowy, sleeveless, lacy top that hung down low over her hips in four points. Cut-off shorts frayed at the hems. Square-toed, dark-brown motorcycle boots on her feet, flowery socks you could see over the top rims.
She hopped down and a big man followed her, his beard thick, his hair long, pulled back in a mess, fastened at the back of his head.
The man stopped, one hand in hers, the other one lifting to lock the door of the trailer.
Dipping his chin, he looked down at her as he turned, tugging her along with him as he moved them both to the motorcycle parked six feet away.
He strode.
She skipped.
He grinned.
She giggled.
Positioning her out of the way, he threw a long leg over first, lifting the bike from its stand, kicking that stand back.
She mounted behind him with practiced ease, instantly pressing close, wrapping her arms tight around his stomach.
He fired up the bike, lifted a hand. Pulling some shades from the collar of his white tee, he flicked them out, slid them on.
She unearthed her glasses from that mess of hair and positioned them over her eyes.
Blue-lensed Ray-Ban aviators.
The Heart approved.
The man bent slightly to take hold of both grips.
The woman went with him.
His hand moved minutely and a fog of dirt kicked up as the bike shot forward, roaring out of the dirt right to the road.
The Heart moved.
Hovering in the middle of the road, he leaned forward and blew lightly.
Another gust of warm wind raced down the road, hitting the man and woman in the back, blowing her hair even more wildly than it was already moving around the man’s face.
The man smiled white at the horizon.
The woman rested her chin on his shoulder, pressed tight and sighed deep.
The Heart watched.
And he watched.
And when they were no longer a dot on the horizon, the rider and his gypsy disappearing into the sun, the Heart looked up.
And he went home.
The Colorado Mountain Series will conclude
with the story of Wood and Maggie.
* * * * *
Read an excerpt from For You,
the beginning of Kristen Ashley’s The ‘Burg Series!
Angie
Until that day, I’d made an art out of avoiding Alexander Colton.
All my work would be for nothing, all because of Angie.
Poor, sweet, stupid, dead Angie.
* * * * *
Martin Fink and Christopher Renicki were the first two uniforms who responded to my call. I’d known Marty and Chris for ages. It was good they were partners. Chris was smart; Marty, not so much.
We were out in the alley, Chris doing crime scene stuff, Marty standing by me. A couple of squad cars with their lights silently flashing had pulled in on either side of the dumpster. Other uniforms had been dispatched to hold back the growing crowd and the crime scene tape was secured by the time Alec showed up.
He’d parked elsewhere and didn’t come through the bar like I expected him to. He had keys to the bar, for one. For another, he knew the bar nearly as well as I did and not only because he spent a good deal of time sitting at the end of it, my brother standing inside the bar in front of him, both of them drinking beer and talking about shit I couldn’t hear because I stayed well away.
Another surprise was he also didn’t have his partner Sully with him.
I watched him as he walked up to Marty and me.
The detectives in town, not that there were many of them, wore ill-fitting, inexpensive suits or nice trousers and shirts with ties.
Not Alec.
Jeans, boots, wide leather belt, sports jacket that looked tailored for him (probably a present from Susie Shepherd) and a nice shirt.
Alec was a big guy even when he was a kid, just kept growing and growing. Dad used to say if he didn’t stop his head would touch the clouds. Mom thought Alec and my brother Morrie were best friends because they were both the biggest kids in the class and it just grew from that. Morrie grew out as well as up, however. Alec just grew tall and broad but stayed lean. Alec was tight end to Morrie’s offensive lineman during high school, and in all things life. Morrie did the grunt work and never got the glory. Alec knew how to block and was really good at it but every once in a while he got the chance to shine.