his troubles. The instinct to keep her bound like a deadly predator had been a sound one.
One way or another, she would find him. And when she did, what she would do to him would make whatever nightmare had burned his face off seem like a Hawaiian vacation.
Chapter 7
Jet’s footsteps thudded against the hard-packed dirt of the road shoulder. She hadn’t seen a single vehicle since leaving her prison’s grounds, but she knew it was just a matter of time until her captors mounted a search. Twenty minutes after escaping, she came to a clearing that housed a few rural buildings – a market, gas station and a restaurant with an attached bar, its tired neon sign blinking intermittently.
A dozen vehicles sat in the seedy lot, almost all pickup trucks. The place looked like a working man’s watering hole, where after a long day on the construction site, its patrons could throw back a few to soften life’s inevitable harsh blows.
Perfect for her purposes.
She slowed, checking to ensure that the pistol was completely concealed by her top. Satisfied with the result, she pushed her way through the doors and took a quick survey of the patrons. Mostly male, mostly mid-thirties to late forties, almost everyone sporting a baseball cap adorned with a heavy equipment company’s logo. She moved easily to the long wood bar, most of the eyes in the room on her, and then pulled up a stool and sat down. A bald man with a flushed face and about a hundred pounds of extra bulk waddled from a corner where he’d been cleaning glasses while watching a talent program on the Seventies-era television that served as the primary point of interest.
“What’ll you have, darling?”
“I’m sorry. Nothing just yet. I’m…I’m waiting for a friend.”
He appraised her.
“I wouldn’t leave someone like you waiting very long,” he said, then returned to his position near the TV.
Jet caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that lurked behind an army of half-empty liquor bottles that were seemingly lined up for inspection. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. All things considered, she didn’t look bad for a woman who’d been kidnapped and imprisoned, had neutralized three armed guards and run at least a good three miles.
She sensed the presence of a body sidling up to her before she turned to face the man. Decent enough looking, with a day’s growth of stubble and a profile starting to go to fat, but with twinkling blue eyes that hinted at some joke known only to him.
“Hello there.”
Jet ignored him for a few measured seconds, then smiled. “Hello yourself.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Nothing right now. I’m waiting for someone. We’re supposed to meet, but I got here late, and he’s not…I’m waiting for someone,” she repeated.
“Barkeep! A drink on me!” he yelled to the desultory bartender, who reluctantly tore his eyes from the screen and glared over at them. “What can I get you?”
“That’s very sweet, but it’s not necessary…”
“Of course it is. So what’s it going to be?”
She hesitated. “A light beer?”
“A light and another Seven and Seven,” he called out, and then returned his attention to her face. “What’s your name?”
“Alison.”
“Alison,” he pronounced the name slowly, rolling it in his mouth like a fine wine. “Alison. That’s a beautiful name. For a beautiful woman – fortunately for me, alone in my favorite bar on the outskirts of nowhere.”
“Maybe not for long. Remember, I’m waiting…”
“Then it sounds like I don’t have much time.”
She smiled again, wanting to encourage him. “Better work fast.”
“He only brings drinks at one speed.”
“Not really a race car, is he?”
“More dependable transportation.”
“Like a bus.”
“Or a tractor.”
They both laughed easily as the bartender approached with their order.
“What’s your name?”
“Jim. Jim Bassenger.”
She held out her hand, and he
One way or another, she would find him. And when she did, what she would do to him would make whatever nightmare had burned his face off seem like a Hawaiian vacation.
Chapter 7
Jet’s footsteps thudded against the hard-packed dirt of the road shoulder. She hadn’t seen a single vehicle since leaving her prison’s grounds, but she knew it was just a matter of time until her captors mounted a search. Twenty minutes after escaping, she came to a clearing that housed a few rural buildings – a market, gas station and a restaurant with an attached bar, its tired neon sign blinking intermittently.
A dozen vehicles sat in the seedy lot, almost all pickup trucks. The place looked like a working man’s watering hole, where after a long day on the construction site, its patrons could throw back a few to soften life’s inevitable harsh blows.
Perfect for her purposes.
She slowed, checking to ensure that the pistol was completely concealed by her top. Satisfied with the result, she pushed her way through the doors and took a quick survey of the patrons. Mostly male, mostly mid-thirties to late forties, almost everyone sporting a baseball cap adorned with a heavy equipment company’s logo. She moved easily to the long wood bar, most of the eyes in the room on her, and then pulled up a stool and sat down. A bald man with a flushed face and about a hundred pounds of extra bulk waddled from a corner where he’d been cleaning glasses while watching a talent program on the Seventies-era television that served as the primary point of interest.
“What’ll you have, darling?”
“I’m sorry. Nothing just yet. I’m…I’m waiting for a friend.”
He appraised her.
“I wouldn’t leave someone like you waiting very long,” he said, then returned to his position near the TV.
Jet caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that lurked behind an army of half-empty liquor bottles that were seemingly lined up for inspection. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. All things considered, she didn’t look bad for a woman who’d been kidnapped and imprisoned, had neutralized three armed guards and run at least a good three miles.
She sensed the presence of a body sidling up to her before she turned to face the man. Decent enough looking, with a day’s growth of stubble and a profile starting to go to fat, but with twinkling blue eyes that hinted at some joke known only to him.
“Hello there.”
Jet ignored him for a few measured seconds, then smiled. “Hello yourself.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Nothing right now. I’m waiting for someone. We’re supposed to meet, but I got here late, and he’s not…I’m waiting for someone,” she repeated.
“Barkeep! A drink on me!” he yelled to the desultory bartender, who reluctantly tore his eyes from the screen and glared over at them. “What can I get you?”
“That’s very sweet, but it’s not necessary…”
“Of course it is. So what’s it going to be?”
She hesitated. “A light beer?”
“A light and another Seven and Seven,” he called out, and then returned his attention to her face. “What’s your name?”
“Alison.”
“Alison,” he pronounced the name slowly, rolling it in his mouth like a fine wine. “Alison. That’s a beautiful name. For a beautiful woman – fortunately for me, alone in my favorite bar on the outskirts of nowhere.”
“Maybe not for long. Remember, I’m waiting…”
“Then it sounds like I don’t have much time.”
She smiled again, wanting to encourage him. “Better work fast.”
“He only brings drinks at one speed.”
“Not really a race car, is he?”
“More dependable transportation.”
“Like a bus.”
“Or a tractor.”
They both laughed easily as the bartender approached with their order.
“What’s your name?”
“Jim. Jim Bassenger.”
She held out her hand, and he
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