natural muscle tone, not big-boned and husky like the Hawks tended to run. But Amos Sharp shared his grandfather’s law enforcement career ambitions. And Amos had a slightly darker, mistier shade of his grandfather Able’s strange gray eyes.
“You still seein’ improvement this quarter?” Able asked around a mouthful of cornflakes.
“Think I’m gonna be okay,” Amos said.
“Good. That’s good, Amos. I’m proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know you are, Grandpa.”
“Met the new chief of police of New Austin last night,” Able said. “I’m having lunch with him later today. Seems a solid sort. Former Border Patrol agent who paid a terrible price for doing the job. Fella name of Tell Lyon. New Austin’s police department has always run internships for up-and-comers like you. I’ll see if maybe he’ll consider taking you on come winter, if you keep your grades up.”
“Sounds great,” Amos said.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” the old man said. “Want to head out to the cabin for the weekend, Aim?”
Able owned a small piece of property on a private pond on the far side of Vale County, a stocked pond with a small cabin built on the pond’s wooded northern rim. It was about forty-five minutes’ drive from Horton County.
Amos said, “Maybe for the morning into afternoon? Kind of have plans for tomorrow night, Gramps.”
Able shook his head, talking with his mouth full. “The mystery girl again, huh? Gonna have to let me meet her soon, Amos. Or am I gonna have to go sleuth on your ass?”
Amos smiled and said, “Soon, Grandpa, if it looks like it’ll last. Your time’s too valuable to waste.” Amos tried to sound casual about it—not tip the old man that there might be something there that Amos thought would be an issue for Sheriff Able Hawk.
The old lawman said, “Okay. Let’s plan on bein’ up extra early then. We’ll hit the road at four thirty so we can be there just after five, when they start biting. You can do that, lazybones?”
“Hell yeah, I can do that, Grandpa,” Amos said.
* * *
Shawn O’Hara awakened to snoring from someone other than the woman who was jammed up bare-assed against him.
He awakened realizing he was in a strange bed—too short and narrow to be his own. He realized he was naked next to the woman he’d met the night before. In the dim light, Shawn could see that her hair was dark, like he always liked them, and her skin darker than his own.
Shawn had been more attracted to her friend, Carmelita Martinez … yeah, that was her friend’s name. As to the name of the woman Shawn had fucked in a drunken stupor—the one sprawled naked next to him now—he couldn’t recall
her
name just yet.
And for his part, Shawn had been cagey; he’d never gotten beyond “Shawn.”
And thank God he’d had the good sense not to take her back to his own place.
Shawn slid quietly from the bed and lifted the sheet to take another look at her bare brown body. Jesus—she was a bit heavier than he would ever go for sober. Big breasts … thick ankles. She was already showing signs of being one of those Mexican women who’d run a bit more to fat with each passing year. Stretch marks! Christ, she probably had a kid somewhere. Maybe she was sleeping around in search of a father for her child. He eyed the red and blue butterfly tattooed on the small of her back. Shawn remembered staring at it while he was doing her doggie style.
The snoring was louder down the hall. Carmelita, maybe? Drunk as they all were, why the hell hadn’t he pressed for a three-way?
The reporter didn’t want to risk waking anyone, so he slipped on his underwear and jeans, then picked up his socks, shoes and shirt and slid out the front door, leaving it unlocked behind him.
He threw his clothes over his shoulder and quietly let himself into his car. He was parked on a sloped driveway in front of a string of West Side townhouses. Shawn knew the neighborhood from dozens of crime
“You still seein’ improvement this quarter?” Able asked around a mouthful of cornflakes.
“Think I’m gonna be okay,” Amos said.
“Good. That’s good, Amos. I’m proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know you are, Grandpa.”
“Met the new chief of police of New Austin last night,” Able said. “I’m having lunch with him later today. Seems a solid sort. Former Border Patrol agent who paid a terrible price for doing the job. Fella name of Tell Lyon. New Austin’s police department has always run internships for up-and-comers like you. I’ll see if maybe he’ll consider taking you on come winter, if you keep your grades up.”
“Sounds great,” Amos said.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” the old man said. “Want to head out to the cabin for the weekend, Aim?”
Able owned a small piece of property on a private pond on the far side of Vale County, a stocked pond with a small cabin built on the pond’s wooded northern rim. It was about forty-five minutes’ drive from Horton County.
Amos said, “Maybe for the morning into afternoon? Kind of have plans for tomorrow night, Gramps.”
Able shook his head, talking with his mouth full. “The mystery girl again, huh? Gonna have to let me meet her soon, Amos. Or am I gonna have to go sleuth on your ass?”
Amos smiled and said, “Soon, Grandpa, if it looks like it’ll last. Your time’s too valuable to waste.” Amos tried to sound casual about it—not tip the old man that there might be something there that Amos thought would be an issue for Sheriff Able Hawk.
The old lawman said, “Okay. Let’s plan on bein’ up extra early then. We’ll hit the road at four thirty so we can be there just after five, when they start biting. You can do that, lazybones?”
“Hell yeah, I can do that, Grandpa,” Amos said.
* * *
Shawn O’Hara awakened to snoring from someone other than the woman who was jammed up bare-assed against him.
He awakened realizing he was in a strange bed—too short and narrow to be his own. He realized he was naked next to the woman he’d met the night before. In the dim light, Shawn could see that her hair was dark, like he always liked them, and her skin darker than his own.
Shawn had been more attracted to her friend, Carmelita Martinez … yeah, that was her friend’s name. As to the name of the woman Shawn had fucked in a drunken stupor—the one sprawled naked next to him now—he couldn’t recall
her
name just yet.
And for his part, Shawn had been cagey; he’d never gotten beyond “Shawn.”
And thank God he’d had the good sense not to take her back to his own place.
Shawn slid quietly from the bed and lifted the sheet to take another look at her bare brown body. Jesus—she was a bit heavier than he would ever go for sober. Big breasts … thick ankles. She was already showing signs of being one of those Mexican women who’d run a bit more to fat with each passing year. Stretch marks! Christ, she probably had a kid somewhere. Maybe she was sleeping around in search of a father for her child. He eyed the red and blue butterfly tattooed on the small of her back. Shawn remembered staring at it while he was doing her doggie style.
The snoring was louder down the hall. Carmelita, maybe? Drunk as they all were, why the hell hadn’t he pressed for a three-way?
The reporter didn’t want to risk waking anyone, so he slipped on his underwear and jeans, then picked up his socks, shoes and shirt and slid out the front door, leaving it unlocked behind him.
He threw his clothes over his shoulder and quietly let himself into his car. He was parked on a sloped driveway in front of a string of West Side townhouses. Shawn knew the neighborhood from dozens of crime
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