Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’ll have to miss breakfast with Freya,” he sighed. “But I’ll do it. You know the cost, though.”
I grimaced and pulled out my wallet, extracting a note.
“Here,” I said.
He took the card.
“What’s this?” His brows furrowed.
“That’s the name of the man that helped me build my bike,” I grinned. “He’s expecting you to call him on Monday.”
“You’re fucking joking, right?” His eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning.
I shook my head.
“No,” I confirmed. “You need to just grow a pair and get it done instead of borrowing my old one. It’s worth it, I swear.”
Capone had been borrowing my spare bike for months now, and I was beginning to think he’d never make a decision, so I made one for him.
“My sister will kill me,” he grunted. “She hates motorcycles, thinks they’re death machines. She calls them donor cycles every chance she gets.”
“You’re going to let your sister make your decisions for you?” I ribbed him.
He shrugged.
“She’s an emergency room nurse at the hospital in Kilgore, and our father died in a motorcycle accident when we were fifteen years old. She’s seen firsthand how dangerous one can be, but I haven’t been able to get the itch to go away. I’ve loved bikes since I was sixteen and cocky,” he reminisced.
I snorted.
“Just do it. Trust me. Your sister’ll get over it…eventually,” I lied.
He sighed and pushed the piece of paper with Gus Henry’s name on it into his pocket before offering me his hand.
I shook it.
“I’ll come get her at eight. Her appointment isn’t until after lunch so we will get there in plenty of time. Make sure her man’s not there to kick my ass this time, will you?” he ordered before turning around and walking into the station.
I followed suit, taking a left where he took a right, and walked to my office and got to work.
I had a case that I was working on that involved a couple of douchebags who thought they were better than the cops, and it didn’t take long for my mind to become absorbed by the case.
***
My scanner squawked, and I debated turning it off.
I was on my lunch break.
Or what I called my lunch break. Others might call it breakfast, but I’d been at work for over thirty-six hours now. I’d only caught about an hour of shut eye since I’d arrived at work yesterday morning.
But something told me to leave it on. A sixth sense kept me listening, as I shoved yet another hot dog into my face.
“All units in the area please respond. There’s a multi-vehicle wreck on Interstate Twenty about four miles outside of Jefferson,” a dispatcher droned. “Any and all available units needed.”
I sighed.
“Shit,” I groaned, taking the last hot dog that was on my plate with me as I left.
The cute little waitress who had tried her hardest to get my attention while I was sitting there eating my lunch waved at me as I left.
I nodded back at her, not wanting to encourage her behavior.
Her father owned the one and only gas station called ‘The Mall’ in fifteen square miles, and it was inevitable that I ended up there at least once a shift.
Hurrying to my car, I finished off my hot dog before I’d even pulled out of the parking lot.
Picking up my radio, I called in to the station.
“I’m responding to the call on the interstate,” I told the secretary who was there to answer our calls. “I’ll be out of district for at least a couple of hours.”
That was only a guess, though.
It could only be minutes, but would likely be quite a bit more than that.
When an accident happened on the interstate, it was probable that it involved more than one car.
I had my basic EMT certification and would be of some help, even if only a little bit.
But, by the time I arrived at the scene, I knew I’d be way more than just a few hours.
I’d be lucky if it was less than six.
Once I arrived, I found the scene commander and walked up to him to introduce myself.
“I’m Deputy Ridley Walker with the Harrison County Sheriff’s Office. What do you need from me?” I asked.
As I introduced myself, my eyes slowly scanned the scene, taking in the complete and utter chaos.
That’s when my eyes lit on the familiar black SUV that my sister was now using as her main form of transportation.
It had a yellow ‘baby on board’ sign hanging in the back window, with a sticker that declared the driver of the vehicle a ‘State Trooper Association Member.’
My dad had been a state trooper, and ever since he died, we’d been donating to the State Trooper’s Association.
My sister, Kitt, had demanded I put that on my truck, and I’d done it.
Why? Because I loved my sister.