by Jim Heskett
Harry giggled a little as the remnants of nervous energy flowed through him. “Sure, yeah. I can get you an address.”
Serena rounded the car and retrieved her pistol, which she slipped into the back of her waistband. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot him.”
“Me too. I thought I might have to.”
Serena patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a good guy, Harry Boukadakis.”
“Thank you.” He reached back into the car to grab his phone. “If we go to this guy’s house, you promise I won’t have to shoot anyone?”
“I promise. Plus, I’ll buy you dinner on the way back.”
He nodded and worked his jaw left and right. It ached from prolonged grinding. “Deal. Just need to call my wife real quick.” He unlocked his phone and took a couple steps away as he cradled it to his ear. “I’ll be right back.”
Serena nodded as she ejected the Ruger’s magazine. “Before, I meant it was a good thing you didn’t try to shoot him because this is an empty mag.”
The top of the pistol caught the moonlight, and Harry could see it was empty as he listened to the phone ring.
For Lisa, Keller, and Kemba; my pod.
2020 was a shit year.
All material copyright 2021 by Jim Heskett. No part of this work may be reproduced without permission.
Published by Royal Arch Books
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About the Author
Jim Heskett writes stories about outsiders who fight crime.
The author was born in the wilds of Oklahoma, raised by a pack of wolves with a station wagon and a membership card to the local public swimming pool. Just like the man in the John Denver song, he moved to Colorado in the summer of his 27th year. He's never looked back. Aside from a wild year traveling the world, he hasn't let the Flatirons mountains out of his sight.
Jim fell in love with writing at the age of fourteen inside a copy of Stephen King's Carrie. Poetry provided his first outlet for teen angst, then later a smattering of mediocre screenplays, and eventually crime thriller fiction a la Elmore Leonard. In between, he worked a few careers that never quite tickled his creative toes.
He hasn't ever forgotten about Stephen King.
You can find him currently huddled over a laptop in an undisclosed location in Colorado, dreaming up ways to kill beloved characters.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, he believes the huckle is the king of berries and he refuses to entertain any arguments to the contrary.
He writes award-winning crime thrillers seasoned with a dash of snark. Sometimes he writes these books with co-authors like Nick Thacker.
Details and FREE, exclusive books at www.jimheskett.com