Untitled>Motorcycle gang member story.
There was only one witness to the scene. Strangers would have found the antics of the screaming man humorous. He was hopping up and down while waving his arms wildly. Vile obscenities spilled forth from his lips. Lips that now firmed an ugly menacing sneer.
It didn’t matter how Fred danced or how crude he spoke to the automobile he was standing in front of, it refused to start.
Marching back to the driver side he jerked opened the door, slid in behind the wheel, and gave one last fist slam against the wheel.
“Feel better now?” A soft feminine voice asked. The voice belonged to the only person watching the angry display.
A deep groan emitted from him as he realized the last person on earth he could want to see him act as he did; did just that.
Hoping to recover from what was turning into the worst date ever. He realized trying to salvage this was a lost cause.
“I don’t usually get so riled…It…It was that I was so disappointed to break down and ruin our time together.”
Fred had not bothered to look at Carla when he spoke to her. This gave her the chance to roll her eyes and think. This date was in ruins the minute I broke down and said yes.
Using her sweet voice she said, “No problem, things like this happen. Tomorrow we’ll be laughing about it.”
Almost in a very calm state, Fred retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and searched through his call list for the number of his motor club.
Three @#$!’s Later, he called his brother-in-law.
“Ya, I didn’t mail the payment in early enough. So, can you at least come get us? I’ll make arrangements for the car tomorrow.”
Carla’s eyes began to rolled back into her head again as her lips silently formed her own @#!, when she learned they would have a two hour wait.
With nervous eyes, she looked around. They were in the seedy part of town and the sun was slipping fast behind the mountains in the distant west.
“Fred, maybe we need to walk up to that sign that is flashing, food and eats. It might be safer.”
Safer for you maybe. But what about my car. When he did speak to her, he said. “Maybe you have a point and I am thirsty after all.”
At five thirty in the afternoon, Pete’s Bar & Grill was almost empty. Only one other couple sat inside. They were half hidden sitting in the booth in the corner. They had no problem with the location because that is exactly how the couple wanted it.
The center of the eating area contained four tables each with two chairs. The room was outlined with six booths. Booths that had seen their day. It was easy to tell. Gray duck tape covered more of the seats and back cushions then the original red vinyl.
A dust ridden ceiling fan hung over the four tables and being off balance it made tic-tic sounds as the blades whirled around. Even though the ceiling was ten foot high, not a few people ducked while taking their seats and a few less brave souls moved from the tables to a gray and red booth when they noticed not only the noise but the precariously wobbling unit spinning over head.
“Sit here and I’ll get us a couple a drinks.” Fred said, leaving Carla to choose which side of the booth she’d prefer. She slid in on the side, which put her facing the door.
She turned her head and watched Fred lean against the bar as he talked with man standing behind it. She realized the place was more of an old run down local pub. A pub that seen its hay-day along time ago.
“Two colas please, Pete. “ He said acting as if he was a regular.
“Name ain’t Pete. Pete was here two owners ago. Lucky Pete sold out and took off for Florida. Before anyone knew, the new interstate would kill this part of town. Me, they call me Tots.” The man informed Fred.
It was the disgusted sounding tone in the tired man’s voice that Fred sympathized with.
“On second thought make that one cola and one large beer. What ever you have on tap.”
Fred’s attention was on the cockroach that crawled out from under the bar-mop placed at the end of the bar when he heard the man snicker.
“Got no tap. Cans and bottles only.”
The bartender quickly sizing the man in front of him up. Rushed to say. “I got a local micro-brew a man with your tastes should appreciate.” He turned and leaned into the cooler pulling up a long necked bottle. Popping the cap, he placed it on the counter in front of him. Tot’s smiling and friendly face forgot to tell Fred the beer he was about to drink was eight-fifty a bottle.
He pulled his wallet out and heard Tots said, “Oh no; you can just run a tab.”
“Gee thanks, Tots.” Was mumbled under Fred’s breath as he turned and searched out the booth Carla had chosen.
The people in side the bar heard the noise as the motorcycle rumble came to a stop outside. The screen door squeaked as it was pulled open.
“Here’s your cola. And can you believe it; this dump carries micro-brews. I can really get into this.” Standing in such a way Fred blocked her view and she couldn’t see who entered.
Once he took his seat whoever came in moved to the bar out of her sight. Not realizing she was as thirsty as Fred until the cold sweat covered glass in front of her called her name.
With each swallow of the icy cold drink washed down her throat different emotions, wash through her. The first was disgust. Disgust for her stupidity for agreeing to this date. Disgust for her own lack of courage in saying no after lunch and not agreeing to go for a drive to see the new county court house. Which was three counties away.
Next week the town would be packed with tourists, thrill seekers, and news people when the trial of the century would be taking place there. Thanks to a change of venue from a city in the southern part of the state.
“Now, who cares about a stupid court house?” she muttered under her breath. Answering herself. “Not me, anymore.”
“Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing.” She replied not even lifting her head up to look at him.
Conversation stopped between them two drinks earlier. Now with him having consumed four beers he just glared at her as if everything was her fault.
Carla passed the time by picking at her finger nail polish and she picked all but one finger free of the ice pink polish off. A worrisome look crossed her face realizing once the last finger was clean she have nothing to occupy her attention. This meant she’d have to begin to talk to the man across the table from her.
"His Fifteenth Victim"
When Brad and Sandra's world crash into each others no one could have predicted the end result. Brad a hired assassin. Sandra the target.
He could not pull the trigger. He needed to discover for himself why. It surprised him to to find he liked the reason why. Maybe a little to much.
Sandra tried to understand why anyone would want her dead. Confusion ran wild as she suffers at the hand's of the man who now claims to be her only mean of salvation. The scariest part is she believes him.
Sandra's journey will take her through the terror of being kidnapped: the pain of her tormenter's lessons: acceptance of how her life will never again be the same.
They will come to understand you can't question where you find love. It's just there.
"The Kincaid Way"
“The Kincaid Way” takes us back to, Paradise. In the year 1889, most of the town's men folk believe every women need training. Even a good woman needs to learn what absolute submission means. The Kincaid men have perfected the method.
Brian Kincaid, sheriff of Paradise, no woman seems able to rekindle that carnal spark, since his wife died almost ten years ago. That was until, Ellen came to town in search of her missing niece. She will not be leaving town. He discovers in her a woman unlike any other he has met. If there is a way to reach inside of her, without destroying her spirit, he will find it.
Ellen Trent, a self-sufficient woman found life hard and forgiving. As an adult no one would tell her what to do say or do. Until she falls into the hands of Brian Kincaid. Determined not to bend to his will. He claims her body and she submits for she can not do anything less. She tries to resist when she realizes he requires she submit more than just her body to him."Mine Alone"
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