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Adventure Across Texas

An Erotic Adventures Book

Book One

Second Edition


T.S. Hill

Everybody has a story, but mine is a legend!

Copyright 2017 by T.S. Hill

Table of Contents


Chapter One - Fate Can Be A Hard Thing

Chapter Two - Rolling with the Punches

Chapter Three - Do I Feel Lucky?

Chapter Four - All Dressed Up with No Place to Go

Chapter Five - Preparing to Ride

Chapter Six - The Ride

Chapter Seven - Prepping for the Fire Pit

Chapter Eight - Cooking in a Fire Pit

Chapter Nine - Cammo and Ammo

Chapter Ten - Coming off the Road

Chapter Eleven - A Wake-Up Call

Chapter Twelve - Breakfast at a New Level

Chapter Thirteen - Every Problem has a Solution

Chapter Fourteen - Not All Change is Bad Change

Chapter Fifteen - Painlessly Facing the Truth

Chapter Sixteen - Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

Chapter Seventeen - Beginning to Sort It All

Chapter Eighteen - Unraveling Our Own Tangles


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Warning and Disclaimer

This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this e-book are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy/read this e-book if strong sexual situations, multiple partners, violence, drugs, alcohol, domestic discipline, and explicit language offend you.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, brands, works of artists, and incidents, historical or otherwise, are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Digital Publication Date: July 29, 2017

Second Edition Publication Date: October 30, 2017


An insanely hot, tanned, pair of legs, attached to a shapely hot ass, in a short pair of cutoff jeans is the last thing that thirty two year old Tagg Hill should let distract him just now. He’s been an elite corporate investigator for going on nine years. When business has been slow, he’s sometimes taken on government and police assignments. However, the assignment he took on almost three year ago, for a federal organized crime task force, to get conviction evidence on a New Orleans Dixie Mafia kingpin, has led him down a crooked path, that has him falsely framed for multiple crimes. Now he’s racing to retrieve, and turn in, the evidence that he’s stashed, which he hopes can clear him, convict his nemesis, and pay him a multimillion dollar commission on the gangster’s forfeiture of ill-gotten gains.

Although, quiet the proficient ladies’ man, Tagg hasn’t even looked at a woman, much less hit on one, while he’s been on the run for the last six months. But, on a routine fuel stop in the middle of nowhere Texas, the most beautiful woman he could imagine in his wildest dreams, literally falls into his lap. In addition to her hot body, she’s smart, hot headed, smart mouthed, and is also keeping a secret, that will lead to conflict within their rapidly developing attraction, and Tagg’s goals.

As their attraction heats up, so does the sex. The hotter the sex gets, the hotter everything else around them gets. As they flee across Texas, their adventures become wild, both in bed, and out, and their true identities and secrets could wreck their scorching, but fragile relationship. But then, why don’t I let Tagg tell you their story. After all, he knows it best.

Chapter One

Fate Can Be A Hard Thing

A hard life lived, easily accommodates hard things.

I pulled the latch handle and swung the Mustang’s driver door fully open. Setting my left foot to the ground, I watched curls of dry dust rise from the parking lot gravel, and encircle the gleaming black top of my left boot. Out of my far-left peripheral vision, a movement caught my eye. Instinctively, my line of sight shifted to focus on the hottest set of legs that I had seen since leaving New Orleans six months ago.

For those six months, I barely had time to breath, much less chase after a woman. Hopefully though, all of this was about to change, and I took this moment to savor the sexy sight as it was presented in the bright early autumn sun.

Those hot, tanned, sexy legs, were not only shapely and perfect, but also connected to one well rounded, fine, female ass, the owner of which, obviously, and very naturally, moved, her whole body, in a sensual rhythm. The well-worn, low riding, cut off blue jean shorts, that wrapped that fine ass, were the core of her whole hot presentation.

Her white cotton, high waist blouse gave her a cool look in the desert heat. Meanwhile, the dusty brown, high heeled, cowboy boots, that perfectly matched the color and tone of her shapely, long, tanned legs, hinted at a feisty personality. I sat in the car thinking, that if the front view of that girl offered up as much hotness as this rear view, then the clerk in the country store was in for a real eye treat.

This woman really carried herself with a confidence that said, she could suddenly slam a door in the face of anyone not measuring up. Yep. She was advertising, a tough, sophisticated, image. I still remember wondering at the time, for some unknown reason, whether her confident strut was a message for men or women.

That didn’t really matter to me, not because I wasn’t interested, but rather, because my own survival, and ultimate freedom, depended on my staying focused on my tasks at hand. However, I still intently watched her lovely form, until the hot tanned legs, and their sultry blonde owner, disappeared through the country store doorway at the opposite end of the parking lot.

Even though I needed to stretch my legs, I decided to sit a bit, and catch her flip side, when she came back out of the store. I hadn’t seen her face, and there really was no reason to. Right now, the immediate goal was to get back to New Orleans as quickly as possible, without getting tangled up with the police, or getting killed by Dixie mafia goons.

I had managed to get embroiled, and implicated, in some unsavory circumstances, while chasing down leads, and compiling an evidence backed dossier, that would help lock away one of the kings of the Dixie mafia. For the last six months, I had managed to dodge the law, and a few near miss bullets, intended to collect the underground bounty on my life. This sexy eye candy, was a welcomed stress breaker.

Dixie crime syndicates, when the business is threatened, show no mercy, to even their own. There’s more than one former king pin lining the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, or serving as part of the foundations for some of Atlanta’s, Birmingham’s, and New Orleans’ finest high-rises. Now my life had an envious bounty attached, and the police would like very much to talk to me. That’s not a good position to be in, but I had two main stops scheduled on my trip back to New Orleans, that hopefully would provide me with relief.

My Oklahoma City stop, should determine if my evidential links were court worthy to prove the links between the shady New Orleans gangster and dealings of other crime activity on a huge local scale. And, my Dallas stop, hopefully would provide the evidence that would clear me.

If I was successful, this assignment could really punch my ticket. If I failed, I might just end up dead, or worse, in prison. I had to stay focused, but for some reason, I had let this blonde vision with the sexy tanned legs, distract me, at least momentarily.

I still needed to badly stretch my legs. It had been three hours, and about two hundred miles, since I had bought gas, and hit the can just east of Amarillo. When traveling, I always try to take a break, either every two hours or two hundred miles, which includes a brief walk to keep my legs and brain optimally functioning.

However, this Mustang had a full tank range of just over three hundred miles, which didn’t exactly correlate to my break schedule. But then, neither did getting shot at periodically, or attempts to run me off of bridges. So, I just had to make do with how the miles, and hours, rolled out. Often life seems to go like that. We frequently have no choice, but to roll with the punches, or swim against the current. But, but at least, the choice is always ours.

Just as I was thinking, that perhaps, I wouldn’t wait for the blonde’s return, a loud gunshot rang out across the parking lot from the direction of the country store. Instinctively, I ducked behind the car door, and lifted my booted foot off the ground to pull my whole body out of the potential line of fire.

The first thought crossing my mind was, “How the hell did Sam Milinni’s goons track, and catch up to me again, and this fast!” But then, I heard a loud, angry, male voice shouting across the parking lot, “Come back here, you two-bit thief of a slut!”, followed by another gunshot. That didn’t sound like Milinni’s goons shouting at me, and they surely weren’t shooting at me, or bullets would have riddled the Mustang long before I heard the shouting or second shot.

Cautiously, I leaned down between the car body and the open door, peeping under the door, across the face of the parking lot, and toward the county store. All I could see was parking lot gravel and a pair of dusty, brown, cowboy boots, filled with a pair of sexy tanned legs, running straight for me.

It didn’t take but an instant to realize that if the gunshots were aimed at the owner of those legs, and if the legs continued moving on their current track, it wouldn’t be but a few seconds until all three of us, the blonde with the legs, me, and the bullets, would be in the same vector.

“Damn you to hell Kathleen! You thieving whore!”, the angry male voice called out, just before the third shot rang in my ears.

I immediately sat upright in the seat, reached for the switch key, simultaneously screamed out at the man standing in the doorway of the store, “Hey! What the fuck?” He replied by taking aim and blowing out the window glass behind me with his fourth shot.

I can take a hint. I had already turned the switch key as I was yelling at the man with the gun. I knew what I should do next, and that was to smack the Mustang’s shifter into low, and stomp the accelerator. But, my knee jerk reaction to someone laying down fire at me took control. This would not go unanswered.

Without taking my eyes off of the man in the doorway, I flipped open the console with my right hand, and pulled out my already cocked and locked, old army issue, Colt forty-five. Instinctively, I flipped the safety off as the familiar grip of the old reliable weapon, fell into my palm. Then, in the fraction of a second that it took to level the Colt at my target in the doorway, I decided to not kill him, but to merely teach him a painful lesson.

I waited the two seconds that it took the running, blonde to clear herself to the left of my line of fire. Then expending another half second to zero my target, I carefully snapped off the round.

The old .45 caliber lion, roared across the parking lot, and I watched the man in the doorway fall forward with a look of shock on his face, as his left foot exploded rearward of where he had been standing. His handgun flipped out of his hand, and his face began that pitiful decent, to meet the face of the earth beneath him. He would live, but it would be a damn, long time before he would walk again, and maybe even longer before he fired off a round at an innocent bystander.

Just as I reached to drop the forty-five back into the console, something big blindsided me from my rear left, hit my left jaw and crashed into my lap, the steering wheel, and across the console. Yep. It was the hot blonde, in the cutoff jeans and white blouse. Along with her came the tanned legs, and the great round ass, cowboy boots and all.

Next, I did part of what I meant to do before she had even gotten close. I stomped the accelerator. But, I hadn’t smacked the shifter into low, or even drive, and the engine just revved to nearly blowing.

I took a deep breath, glanced back at the store to be sure no one else was about to fire on me. Then grabbing the blonde’s shapely legs, I finished flipping her, head first, into the passenger side floor board, leaving her hot tanned legs up the back of the passenger’s front seat.

I winced as her boot heels dug into the head liner. That would cost me pretty good when I returned the rental, along with the blown-out window, and, as I would find later, a bullet hole in the rear passenger arm rest. Taking one last glance back at the store, and seeing no one but the guy that had been shooting, rolling around on the ground hugging his foot, I finally shifted the Mustang into drive, and pulled the car door shut.

Easing out onto the road, I began accelerating at a semi normal rate. I sure didn’t need the attention that this kind of incident could bring. And, I didn’t need to get caught with this incriminating blonde as a tag along. I had no idea what manner of crap she was mixed up in. But, it was evidently, something extreme enough to get shot at.

After having cruised about a half of a mile since flinging her head first, and face down, into the car floor, the blonde still hadn’t moved, or spoken. I didn’t know if she was unconscious, or just waiting to see what would happen next. Apparently, it was the latter.

“You alright?”, I asked her, in I guess what she thought was too nonchalant of a manner.

“Gee fucking thanks for caring!”, she shouted sarcastically.

“I gather that you’re fine then!”, I snapped back.

“Fuck off asshole!”, she retorted, “You wanna get me the fuck up from here?”

“Actually, I want to get you the fuck out of here!”, I fired back, as I slammed on the brakes steering the Mustang off of the pavement and onto the dusty road shoulder. Even before the Mustang had slid to a complete stop, I had reached across the console, just under the front of the passenger seat, and pulled the seat adjustment release.

With one fluid motion, I pulled the seat rearward until it stopped. Leaning across her tanned legs and noticeable round ass, I reached for the passenger door latch handle, tripped it, then shoved the door open, grabbing at her flailing legs.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, she cried out, “Stop you fucking bastard!” Grasping a knee with my left hand, and an ankle with my right, I bent her kicking legs at the knees and shoved her legs out of the car door. Her legs and ass hit the ground with such force, that they pulled her torso more than halfway out of the car, leaving only her shoulders, head, and outstretched arms inside. As she hit the ground, a small dust cloud rose around her.

At first there was no sound from her, then she growled, “You fucking bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!” That’s when I noticed, and she noticed, my Colt laying in the passenger’s floor, and within an inch of the outstretched fingers of her left hand.

As she had blindsided me, diving into the car, somehow the pistol had been knocked from my hand and into the passenger floor. I had been so intent on clearing the scene, that I hadn’t bothered, just yet, with seeking out where it had landed.

I lunged at the Colt, hoping that she was right handed, but either way, both of our fingers wrapped and tangled around the forty-five at the same instant. My right hand, and her left, became like a tangle of worms. Then her right hand joined what had already become a hard knot of flesh and bone.

Moving on pure instinct, I balled my left hand into a fist and brought it down with all the force that I could muster, on the top of her blonde head. She went immediately limp. I pulled her seemingly lifeless, but well-manicured, fingers from the Colt, and sat up in the bucket seat. Flipping the Colt’s safety to the off position, I noted mentally, “Cocked and locked, one in the chamber, six in the magazine.”

I always carry one in the chamber and a full magazine, and I had expended a round, but now was not the time to be fiddling with ammo, especially over one round. Tucking the Colt into my left front waistband, I climbed out of the Mustang and glanced quickly up and down the highway.

There was no traffic coming, nor going, from either direction, and the country store was out of sight, blocked by a hill, and just around the curve. Finally, a break, I thought. I hoped that, just maybe, I could clean up this mess, and get away from here, without getting further embroiled with anyone else or the law. I quickly moved around to the passenger side of the Mustang to survey the damage.

The first thing that struck me was the absolutely, awesome, beauty of the woman that I had just struck in the head, hard enough to cause real damage. This was the first time, during this whole ordeal, that I had actually seen the whole of her, all at once. I have to confess, her beauty left me momentarily awestruck and amazed, with a twinge of guilt for having pummeled her so hard.

My initial intention had been to finish pulling her from the car, and leave her there on the side of the road. After all, she had charged my car, involving me in whatever mischief she was up to, threatened to kill me, then tried to grab my gun to do it with. I owed her nothing. Still, I reasoned, I had hit her, and maybe hurt her badly. And, she was, well, just too damn beautiful to leave on the side of the road.

“Why am I such a sucker for a pretty face and a well-turned leg?”, I asked myself aloud, reaching down, and gently brushing aside her shoulder length, blonde, curly hair. Touching her soft, small neck, I felt her pulse beating smooth and regular.

I let the back of the passenger seat back into a reclining position, then carefully lifted her into my arms, pausing for just a second, to gaze at her beautiful sleeping face. Then, positioning her on the seat as I imagined would be comfortable, I stepped back to see if any adjustments were necessary.

She took a slow, deep breath, like a sleeping child. Her pert, ample breasts rose and strained against the white cotton material of her blouse. Despite feeling a slight pang of guilt for ogling an unconscious woman, I stood mesmerized for probably a full minute, studying her form, from the top of her blonde head, to the tip of her tanned cowboy boots. She was the most exquisite creature that I had ever looked upon. Everything that I was a sucker for, she had.

Finally, I snapped back to myself, realizing what a risk being here on the side of the road was. Quickly glancing up and down the still clear highway, I fastened her seatbelt and shoulder harness over her.

As I adjusted the shoulder strap placement, just above her right breast and under her left, my head was in the car and up close to her face. Her lips were as perfect and rosy as a sculpted doll’s, and only hinted of lipstick. She had the face of a movie star, but without needing the movie star makeup. She was just naturally, and totally, beautiful.

I didn’t recognize it then, but I was already, at least partially, chained in an emotional way to this potty mouthed, tanned, blonde, beauty. Not understanding exactly why, I leaned into the car just a little further and kissed her gently on her forehead.

At the same instant that I kissed her, I realized what I was doing, and blurted out loud, “What the hell?” For a moment, I thought of dragging her back out of the car and leaving her just as I first intended, but then with another glance at her goddess body and face, I carefully closed the car door, and ran to jump into the driver’s seat.

A quick check in the rearview side mirror, then straight ahead, gave me the last clear highway view that I would see for days. The right rear tire spun, and screeched a short complaint, as I steered the Mustang back onto the east bound black top.

Glancing once more at the sleeping beauty, I then fixed my eyes and attention on the road ahead. The sun would be going down soon, and after that, it would be easier to hide in plain sight on the highway. I flipped on the car radio. An oldies AM station was playing an old Neil Diamond tune, Thank the Lord for the Nighttime. “Amen!”, I said aloud, “Amen!”

As soon as darkness fell, I would able to push some speed on the desert highway, and get a little closer to resolving the final issues that were complicating my life. But for now, it would only be a few more miles until I had burned the last one hundred of the three-hundred-mile tank of gas. I needed to find a gasoline station soon, and I knew, or hoped, at some point the blonde beauty would wake up.

I decided to enjoy what silence that would be left of the ride, between now and whichever occurred first, and flipped the radio back off. Being alone with my thoughts, would allow me to develop a strategy for dealing with the blonde. This was not what I needed right now, another complication in my life.

I wondered what the hell I was thinking when I put her back in my car. I knew for sure that I had just bit off a whole shit load of trouble, that I didn’t need or have to have. Yeah. What the hell was I thinking? Glancing over at her peacefully sleeping face, I knew what I was thinking. I knew exactly what I was thinking.

I had been thinking that I wanted to make mad love to her, more than I had ever wanted anyone, and I didn’t even know her. I was thinking that once would not be enough. I was thinking that I could never get enough of her. I was thinking of all the different ways we could make love, and in many places, sometimes soft and gentle, and sometimes rough. I was thinking about blind folding her and tying her up in a barn loft and then having my way with her.

I was thinking of bending her over my lap, and spanking her ass until it was rouge red, then spreading her out on the kitchen table. I was thinking of taking her to my tree house in the swamp, and fucking her naked on the rough plank floor. I was thinking about kissing her beautiful cherry red lips, and how wonderful they would feel wrapped around my hard cock. I was thinking and thinking of her, and not thinking of what I needed to be thinking of.

“I’m thinking that I’m in deep shit!”, I announced aloud. “Yep! Mighty deep shit!”

“You don’t know the half of it.”, the blonde groaned, slowly rolling her head to the side facing me, then opening her eyes. This was the first time that I had seen her eyes open and I was glad that the sun hadn’t gone completely down yet, or I would have missed their wild hazel color, and eerie beauty.

“Wow!”, I said, “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Really?”, she said. I was about to respond when she interrupted me, and I was glad that I hadn’t. “Really? You fucking near kill me, and that’s the first fucking thing you have to say to me? Really?”

“Okay, I’m glad that you’re alive.” I stammered.

“Well, fuck if you’re not mister nice guy.”, she said with a sneer in her voice.

“Fuck!”, I blurted, frustrated. “I knew that I should have left you on the side of the damn road!”

Closing her eyes and raising her left hand to the top of her head, she moaned, “I wish the fuck you had.”

“Yeah, I should have.”, I popped back, “And, left you to whatever fate that gun slinging store clerk had in mind for you.”

“Oh, yeah, that.”, she, said meekly, “Okay then, thanks for saving me.” She almost sounded sincere.

“Don’t thank me.”, I responded, “You saved yourself when you dove into my car. I actually threw you out before you were knocked out, if you can remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”, she responded meekly, lowering her hand from her head, and turning again to face me, “Then what am I doing here?” I didn’t answer, but kept my eyes straight ahead on the road. My grip tightened a little on the wheel, and my foot pressed a little harder on the accelerator. I couldn’t think of an answer to give her that wouldn’t have given away the real reason, so I kept silent. But, I knew instinctively that she, somehow, probably already knew the answer. And that, put me at a great disadvantage.

Another ten miles down the road and we were in complete darkness, but I could see a glow over the next hill that indicated, most likely, a small town. That would have to be Canadian, Texas. I remember that when I thought of the town’s name it lit up something in my mind. There had been a slight hint of a Canadian accent in the blonde’s voice. Not a lot. Not enough to readily recognize it. But it was there, no doubt.

There would be gasoline in Canadian, and hopefully a rest room, and some space I could walk the cramps out of my legs. I put the Canadian accent out of my mind for the time being, and started watching for road signs for a good place to stop. Not another word had passed between us, since our brief conversation when the blonde came to, which had suited me just fine. But, I knew that whatever she was up to, was spinning in her head, as well as a plot to play me to her advantage. It takes a brave and confident woman to dive into a stranger’s car, under fire. It takes a woman who can think on her feet, and roll with the punches. She had beauty, brains, and bravery.

That combination could play out to be deadly. My added job now was to see that it didn’t play out on me, or interfere with my finishing what I had to do. Whatever happened to her from here on wasn’t really my responsibility. But I was inexplicably pained to think about letting go of her, and never setting eyes on her beauty again. I didn’t even know her name, and yet I was having these feelings. These kinds of thoughts and feelings were all new, and weird, for me, and I didn’t understand why I was having them. Without thinking further, I interrupted the dark silence.

“You awake?”, I asked.

“Yes.”, was her terse response.

“My name’s Stan.”, I partially lied.

“So?”, she responded.

“I just thought that maybe you could call me by some name besides bastard, or mister nice guy.”, I proposed.

“And why would I want to do that?”, she retorted.

“Maybe for a ride to the next town.”, I gruffed back at her.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Stan.”, she relented.

After a moment of silence, I asked, “So, you got a name?”

“Yes.”, was her response, and then more silence.

“You’re not easy, you know?”, I responded. She said nothing. After a few more minutes of silence I spoke again, “So, is there a name you would like for me to call you, besides blonde, hateful, bitch?”

“Look, you fucking asshole!”, she started, but cut herself off. Then, after a couple of seconds pause, she started again in a more moderated tone, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch, but if you didn’t happen to notice, I’m having something of a shitty day.”

“No shit!”, I responded, “Guess whose day immediately turned shitty, promptly upon meeting you?” Even by the glow of the instrument panel, it was too dark in the car to see her face, but I could feel her cold stare at me.

“Kody”, she stated flatly, “Spelled with a K”.

“That store clerk thought your name was Kathleen, but I don’t know if he spelled it with a C or a K.”, I responded to her, trying to keep my voice even and nonchalant.

“I lied.”, she said flatly, and then returned to silence.

After a few seconds, I continued, still trying to sound nonchalant and calm, “About which, Kody or Kathleen, C or K?”

“Both of both”, she responded, followed by more silence.

Continuing with the even keeled voice, I asked, “Then what should I call you?” I could hear her taking a deep breath, and then slowly releasing it, with a little sigh at the end.

“Just call me whatever suits you”, She said in a soft, even tone, “and take my word for it, telling you my actual name would complicate things for the both of us, and not in a way that you would like.”

I don’t know why I responded to her in the way that I did. Perhaps it was because I believed her, and perhaps it was because it was the same reason that I wasn’t revealing my actual real name to her.

“I can respect that, Lori.”, I said.

“What?”, she snapped.

“Lori”, I responded, “I said that I can respect that, Lori. I think that I’ll call you Lori. You look like a woman that would be named Lori. Yes. Lori, it is. Stan, meet Lori. Lori meet Stan.”

“Look Stan,” she started, “I’m just trying to roll with the punches here and survive. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lori.”, I replied, “I’m, all about rolling with the punches, and sometimes, I even swim against the tide.”

“Yeah, me too.”, she quipped back, “I was swimming against the tide when we met.”

“No shit!”, I laughed back.

“No shit!”, she giggled. Then there was silence again for the next few minutes as we digested our new, very limited, understanding, and respect of, and for, each other. So far, I knew that she was smart, brave, and beautiful. Holy shit was she beautiful! I also knew that she was in some kind of trouble, and could be trouble herself. I wondered if she thought that I was handsome, smart and brave, and definitely in trouble. That really didn’t matter though. Getting from where we were to where I needed to be, with everything in between resolved, did matter. I knew that at least my life depended on it, and maybe hers.

After a bit longer, I broke the silence again, “Obviously, I have decided to give you a ride, but you haven’t told me which way you’re headed.”

“You’re headed in the right direction.”, she readily responded this time.

“East? How far east?”, I questioned further.

“How far you going?”, she asked, coyly answering my question with a question.

“Obviously, we’re not going to swap that info either.” I answered. “So, I’ll tell you what. If I’m going at least as far east as you want to go, then you can ride with me. If I’m not going that far, then you’ll have to make other arrangements, when I reach my getting off place.”

“Why don’t you just keep heading east until either you get off, or I tell you it’s my spot to unhitch my boxcar.”, she countered. Yeah, I wanted to get off with her alright, and what I really wanted, was to hitch up with her boxcar. Of course, I knew that short of rape, I would ruin any slim chance that I had, if I said anything like that, so although I thought it, I bit my tongue.

“This whole conversation makes me wonder if either one of us knows where we are going.”, I stated frankly.

“Good point. “, she countered, “Very good point.”

“Well, Lori,”, I ventured, “I guess we’ll just see where we wind up.”

“Yes, Stan. I guess we will.”, she said, as her voice trailed off. Silently, I was wondering if she was on to what I was secretly thinking. The strange thing about being in the company of this woman, was that no matter how bitchy she was, or evasive, with every minute that I spent with her, I found myself attracted to her even more. At first, I had just admired her beauty. Then, I wondered if that fabulous tan of hers was an all over tan. Soon after, the thought crept in of how lovely her lips would be on mine, and how wonderful having her hot tanned legs wrapped around me would be.

Now, weirdly, I seemed to be attracted to her voice, her company, and our interaction. I felt as though a spell had been cast on me. The further we had traveled, I had fantasized even more about her. If this kept up, I would be a horny train wreck by the time I reached my Oklahoma City and Dallas destinations.

Somehow though, I had to keep my “head between my shoulders” in charge, and keep the “head between my legs”, out of the business at hand. It was proving to be a hard thing to do though. With every glance that I took at her, it was proving to be a very hard thing indeed.

Chapter Two

Rolling with the Punches

When you’re having a bad day, one path back to stability, is to pass it forward to someone else.

The fuel indicator was bouncing on the E when we eased into the outer western reaches of Canadian, Texas. I could see as we passed under the glow of the street lights, that the young woman I was now calling Lori, was still very much awake, and holding her right hand to her head.

Lori, your head hurt much”, I queried, breaking the silence again. She simply turned her face toward me and glared. “I’ll pick you up something when we stop for gas.”, I let her know, “and that won’t be long or we’ll be out of gas and walking.

“Then find a fucking station, now!”, she snarled, with unexpected panic and urgency in her voice.

“Easy!”, I tried to sooth her, “I’m not your enemy.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to tell my head that.”, she groaned.

“I think I see something just ahead.”, I offered. “Oh, good!”, she sighed with relief, I can’t afford to get stuck out on the road, and my head is fucking pounding.”

I pulled the Mustang into the lot of the convenience store/filling station, and directly to the fill pumps. There wasn’t another car in the lot when I pulled in, save one, rust bucket of a Toyota, at the outer far edge of the lot, which I assumed would be the store clerk’s ride.

I left forty dollars cash with the clerk, intending to fill the Mustang‘s tank, but upon returning to the parking lot, it seemed that cars came from everywhere, and people began pumping gas, calling out to each other, and running in and out of the convenience store.

It was a crowd of young people, high school students I surmised, all of whom seemed to know each other. Their socializing seemed more important to them than their other business. They bought snacks, pumped gas, joked, and gossiped with a quick-witted ease, characteristic of familiar acquaintances. I figured they were harmless, and so took my time in pumping the gas, and watching their interaction with amusement.

There was one girl in particular that most of the boys seemed to be trying to impress. She was indeed a pretty girl, and quite sexy in her blue and white, cheerleading uniform. Her shining, long, black hair, which was pulled away from her face and pinned at the back of her head, contrasted against the pale white skin of her face. Her dark eyes sparkled when she laughed, and she would switch her hips with every opportunity, flipping the short hem of her cheerleader skirt high upon her smooth white thighs.

All the boys noticed, as did I. In fact, I noticed too much, and missed the police cruiser pulling into the lot from just behind me. I first noticed the head lights sweep across the group of teens just ahead of me, and turned to be surprised, by the two uniformed cops climbing out of their car. They were both young guys, and both were looking at the teens and grinning.

“Heelloo, Jimmy Raaay” purred the dark-haired cheerleader to one of the cops. He grinned, and called back to her, “Hi Chris Ann!” The cop that had spoken, strolled on in through the door of the store, and appeared to be making a purchase.

The other cop leaned against the door of the prowl car, folded his arms, and without speaking, watched the teens banter and play at each other. I was glad the teens were there to keep the cops distracted and occupied, so as to not notice me. Evidently, they weren’t looking for a smoky grey 2017 Mustang, rental car, or I would have already had their attention. Just as I was finishing up with the gas, the first cop exited the convenience store.

“Y’all be careful out there Jimmy Ray!” cooed the dark haired cheerleader, again directing her flirtatious attention to the young cop that was opening the driver door on the patrol car.

“We’ll be careful, Chris Ann. You be good!”, admonished the cop, as he removed his service hat and climbed back into the cruiser.

“Oh, I’m always good Jimmy Ray! Always!”, she called back. As the cops backed out, I could see them both laughing, and then, they were gone. Closing the gas lid, I put the pump handle back on the stand, then strode across the lot, to pick up my change, and buy some headache remedy for Lori.

Half way across the lot, I overheard one of the girls ask the dark-haired cheerleader, “Why are you always flirting with that cop, Chris Ann?”

“Who? Jimmy Ray? Because I want to fuck him!”, she answered bluntly. All of the other girls squealed, almost simultaneously.

One of the boys piped up, “If all you want is fucked, I’ll do that right now!”

“Ernie Rogers! It’ll take more dick than you’ve got, to properly fuck me!”, she piped back. The girls all squealed again, and the boys all erupted with laughter.

Not to be out done, the embarrassed boy grabbed his crotch, and hunching forward, shouting back, “You’re just afraid of this anaconda!” The girls all squealed again, and the boys all erupted in even louder laughter. The cute dark-haired cheerleader grinned and flipped the guy a bird, as she climbed into a car full of girls.

“You want it and you know it!”, the boy shouted after her, as the car full of teen girls pulled away. The car full of girls moved down the street, and the boy yelled out after them, “Holy shit! I want to fuck that!”

One of the other boys shouted back at him, “Hell, Ernie, we all wanna fuck that!”

When I returned to the car, all of the teens had left, and the parking lot was again empty, save the Mustang, and what I assumed was the clerk’s rusty Toyota at the other end of the lot. I handed Lori the headache remedy, with a bottle of Gatorade, and told her that I hoped she liked fruit punch flavor. She silently took both from my hands.

I told her that the clerk had said that there was a string of fast food spots, just up the highway, a couple of miles ahead, where we could get something to eat and use the rest rooms. She nodded her head silently, as she tore at the packaging of the headache remedy.

I cranked the Mustang and slowly cruising across the lot, eased back into the roadway. Just as I straightened in the road, and began to accelerate, I saw the rusty Toyota’s lights come on. That, startled me. I had assumed, wrongly, that the car belonged to the store clerk.

I watched in the rear-view mirror intently as the Toyota pulled into the street and began following us. I knew that it might be nothing, or, it might be Milinni’s men. I couldn’t take a chance, but I also didn’t need to panic. I kept moving down the street, sticking just under the posted speed limit. The rust bucket kept its distance, but its head beams were constantly there.

The Toyota followed us all the way through downtown Canadian and almost to the eastern outskirts of town. Finally, I pointed at a burger joint on the left and asked Lori, “This okay with you for getting something to eat?” She lowered the Gatorade bottle from her lips, but still didn’t speak, only nodding her head. I put on my turn signal and turned into the drive that was just past the restaurant. The drive circled the store and arrived back on the other side of the store, at the drive through window.

As I turned into the driveway, I watched intently, as the Toyota sped up and continued down the street. I was relieved to see it pass on down the street, and out of sight.

Pulling the Mustang up to the billboard style order station, I asked Lori what she would like. I hoped she wasn’t going to give me the same silent treatment that she had before, nor a hateful potty mouth response. I was pleased when she only took a moment, and ordered a burger, fries and a large chocolate shake.

I relayed that, with my order, to the microphone and speaker, and after being told the total, was asked to pull to the window to pay for, and pick up, my order. I handed the clerk, a twenty.

She was a pretty brunette with huge tits, wearing a very low cut, bright yellow, stringed halter, top that showed them off handsomely. Surprisingly, as soon as she had handed me back my change, she immediately handed me two bags of food, and then, my lemonade and Lori’s chocolate shake.

Just as I handed Lori the chocolate shake, I heard the sound of a revving engine, then saw the rust bucket Toyota tearing around the corner of the building next to the restaurant, within the adjacent parking lot. As the car turned near the curb separating the two parking lots, I saw a barrel poke from the back window of the Toyota. It was a shotgun barrel.

I grabbed Lori by the top of her head and shoved her down hard, following her myself, as low in the Mustang as I could get us. Then we heard the blast.

Both of our windows had been down and we could hear the pellets whizzing over our heads and tearing into parts of the car, and the service opening of the drive through. Next, we heard tires squealing, and the Toyota speeding away. I raised up and saw the Toyota heading east, the same direction that we had been heading.

I flipped open the console and pulled out the Colt. As, I was shifting the Mustang back into drive, I looked to my left and saw what had happened in the drive through window. This was going to get attention.

I pulled away from the drive through window as fast as I could. I didn’t want Lori raising up and seeing what I had just seen. The shot gun blast had torn the cute, big-titted brunette into a mess. There was nothing that we, or anybody else, could do for her. I pulled out of the restaurant and headed back in the direction from where we had just come. Lori raised up now and asked, “Where the hell are we going?”

“Just hang on!”, I replied back to her firmly, “and tighten up your seat belt. “. I flew down the street for two blocks with everything the Mustang could give me, then locked up the brakes and made a right

“Where the hell are you going?”, Lori demanded.

“I am going on the premise that there is a street that runs parallel to highway sixty.”, I yelled at her, and continued, “I figure that those clowns will be waiting to ambush us, somewhere along sixty. If we can get far enough ahead of them before crossing back over to highway sixty, then we can avoid the ambush.

“How about we just head north or south for tonight instead of east?”, she responded coolly.”

“Normally, that would be a good idea.”, I responded to her, still shouting. “But the guys pulling the strings of those goons, will be expecting that, and probably already have dispatched people to intercept us on both the north and south routes. They also know enough to know, that I can’t afford to turn back. So, our best chance is to get ahead of that fucking rust bucket of a Toyota, and hope that no one else is dispatched east.”

She didn’t argue, which surprised me, but just calmly said, “Okay, let’s go! And, please quit yelling!”

It struck me how calm she was in the face of just being shot at, and facing the distinct possibility that there were other people out there gunning for us. “Yeah”, I said a little more calmly, “I just didn’t want you to get all upset, and hysterical, or anything.”

“Right!” she said, as I turned onto the street running parallel to highway sixty. Gilmer street only ran for a few blocks and then we faced, a left to who knows where, or a right back toward highway sixty.

“Well it looks like we’re going to get ambushed, Cowboy.”, she bluntly commented.

“Look, we don’t have much choice at this point but to face this head on.” I told her. “. So, get down as far into the floor as you can, and I’ll do the best I can.”

“Fuck that!”, she popped back. You got another gun?”

“What? So, you can shoot me with it?”, I shot back. Just then, we reached the stop light at highway sixty. Across the street, parked under the street light, was the rust bucket Toyota, with two guys sitting in the front seat. The shotgun barrel was visible, laying on the side mirror of the passenger side.

“In the glove box!”, I shouted, as I flipped the .45 to my left hand. She had the glove box door open, my backup, nine mil Smith in her hand, and had racked a round into the chamber as she leaned out the window, pointing the nine at the Toyota. I looked both ways and hit the accelerator.

As the Mustang’s tires screamed, and we charged forward, I fired the first round into the passenger side of the Toyota’s windshield, and almost simultaneously heard the nine release two rounds. As I spun the Mustang into a hard left, we watched the Toyota’s windshield shatter into a spider web. It appeared that all three shots found their mark, so as I straightened the skidding Mustang into highway sixty, I stomped it.

“Lighten up!” Lori shouted, “You want to get the cops on us?”

“We just shot two guys!”, I popped back at her.

“The cops don’t know that!”, she yelled at me. Then as I let off the gas and slowed down, she added, “Yet!” Then, I swear, I heard her giggle.

As hard as it was to believe then, and even now, we peacefully rode out of town and made our way into the night, unmolested any further by gangsters, or cops. About ten miles out of town, I saw the light of the glove box come on. Lori laid the little Smith inside, then closed the door.

“Does that answer your question?”, she asked. This time, I didn’t answer. I also didn’t mention the mess the goons had made of the fast food girl. It upset me bad enough, but I found myself wondering if maybe, it hadn’t upset me more, than it would have Lori. But, I didn’t really want to test that out.

A little later, somewhere in the darkness, I pulled off onto a side road, and we found a dark spot to relieve ourselves. Back on the road, she silently ate her burger and some fries, and drank her chocolate shake. Then after thanking me for the food and headache remedy, she rolled to her side, and promptly fell asleep. This damn girl could roll with the punches. I rode into the darkness thinking quietly to myself, but in an awfully troubled way.

I had managed to keep the empty cartridge case in the Mustang when I had shot the store clerk in the foot, but we had both sent casings flying into the street, from both my Colt and Smith, in Canadian. Those casings could tie my guns, and hence me, to that shooting. It wouldn’t be safe to continue the trip without weapons though, so I couldn’t afford to dump them, and besides, where in the hell would I get another decent pistol out on the road like this? We would just have to take our chances, hang on to what we had, and roll with the punches.

A foreign thought rolled through my head, and I could not understand why I was thinking it. I thought, if I had to go through this crazy shit, then I couldn’t think of another person, that I would rather go through it with, than this bitchy, cool, gorgeous, sexy, blonde, that I was calling Lori.

And to think, that I almost left her on the side of the road. I was glad that I swam against the current on that one. Even though I still didn’t know her name, I still really wanted to fuck her. I wanted her bad, and at the same time, couldn’t understand why I was letting my own yearnings override what little good sense I had.

Riding in silence, I realized, that Lori probably wasn’t aware, that just before she dove into my car, that I shot the store clerk in the foot. I thought too, that she probably wiped the Smith before putting it back in the glove box. This girl had obviously been to a couple of rodeos before this one. To her list of qualities, I had to add, that this girl could shoot, and stayed cool under fire.

Her list of positive qualities kept growing, along with my lust for her. She was just like a knock out rosebush; beautiful, and just keeps on blooming. But, I wasn’t picking roses. I was on a mission to clear myself, and see that those that would have me killed, wound up either as food for their own kind, or forever off the streets. I had to find a way to keep my mind focused on that. In the darkness of the highway, I wished myself luck.

Chapter Three

Do I Feel Lucky?

Good looks, hard work, clean living, and honesty, are worthless when luck is at play. Only preparation can hold the hand of lady luck, and seduce her into his bed.

I had driven into the night, until about three in the morning, and I was getting pretty groggy. I shook Lori gently, not bothering to call her by her fake name, since she wouldn’t recognize it coming out of sleep.

“I’ve got to pull off the highway, somewhere secluded, and get some sleep, or you’re going to have to take over driving.”, I told her. I had become accustomed to her, mostly hostile, potty mouth, but her civil answer, this time, surprised me.

“I can’t drive.”, she matter-of-factly stated.

“What?”, I asked, not sure that I had heard her correctly.

“I can’t drive.”, she stated again, only just a little slower.

“You’re kidding me!”, I exclaimed.

“What’s the big deal?”, she earnestly asked. “A lot of people don’t drive.”

“Well, okay”, I replied and paused. “Then we’ll just need to get off the highway and find a place where I can safely catch a few zees.”

“Okay.”, she responded.

“Stay awake and pay attention”, I told her. “Later, I may need your help finding our way out of here.”

Once again, she simply responded, “Okay.” Then I heard her mutter under her breath, “What the fuck does he have a fucking GPS for?”

Within a half mile of our brief conversation, I spotted a secondary road sign off to the right, and took the road. About two miles down that road I saw a small dirt road to the left, just as we ran past it. I stopped and backed up, saw no fresh tire tracks on the road, and decided to take it.

About a half mile out that road, it emptied into an open grassy area, with an old unpainted barn on the far-left side of the opening, and two rock chimneys, some one hundred yards to the right of the barn, where obviously a house had once stood.

I circled the Mustang in the open area with the high beams on and didn’t see any other structure, other than a wooden corral fence adjacent to the barn, an old, raised, wooden, water tower, with a windmill to the right, and some barbed wire fencing, beyond the cleared grassy area.

“This looks like as safe a place as any.”, I said as much to myself as to Lori.

Again, she only answered, “Okay.”

I cut the engine, killed the lights, and let the back of my seat recline.

“I’ll stay awake and keep an eye out while you sleep.”, Lori volunteered.

“Sounds good.”, I replied, although I still wasn’t up to fifty percent on trusting her, and I figured, it probably never would be a hell of a lot higher. Still, I thought, trust her or not, I’d really like to take that gal in my arms and fuck her brains out. And, with that thought floating around in my head, somehow, I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke well after the sun had been up a while. I intended, hoped that is, to be awake about sunrise. I definitely had some thinking to do. I wasn’t sure if there would be an APB out for the Mustang with two occupants, or if the area would be flooded with Milinni’s, and his associates’, goons.

I needed to think this situation through very carefully, before venturing back onto the road. I dared not make a cell call. In fact, my cell phone had been packed away in the trunk of the Mustang since the beginning of this trip. It probably needed charging by now.

Just then I saw Lori coming from the barn area towards me, with a large basket in her arms, pushed out in front of her. Well, I thought, she must have done a good job at keeping an eye out. We were both alive, and not surrounded by cops or goons.

In the morning light, I could see that the twin chimneys, that we had observed last night, were all that was left of a farm house, that had, sometime fairly recently, burned to the ground. Knowing that someone’s home was lost to fire made me a little sad. I imagined that lives had been lived out here happily, children raised, and that somewhere in that old heap of ashes, was a bedroom where a lot of love had been made.

That old tree trunk in the clearing, probably once held a swing, where shrieks and laughter prevailed. I imagined squeals and bare feet had chased balls, dogs, and other bare feet through the now overgrown grass. Now, it was all gone, and nothing was left but a history forgotten.

Finally, Lori finished her methodical slow plod from the barn to the Mustang, and set her basket down. My attention withdrew from the old house, and I now focused on the lovely girl before me.

“Whatcha got there girl?” I asked.

“Well good morning to you, Stan.”, she uncharacteristically replied in a cherry voice, but emphasized “Stan”. I think that may have been her way of acknowledging that she knew that wasn’t my name.

“Good morning, Lori”, I retorted, with emphasis on the “Lori”, to signify that I got her message., “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, you’re going to be surprised!”, she said with a hint of excitement in her voice, while easing the basket to the ground just outside of my car door. “I found several old chests in the barn with clothes and other stuff in them. The clothes are all clean, and neatly folded, so I brought a few with me that I thought we could change into. They look like they’ll fit us.

And, I found a cellar, except that it’s dark down in there, and I didn’t have a light and couldn’t see in it. And then, I found that just under that water tank, is a homemade shower, with some soap and a few towels hanging there. And, the shower works!”, she ended, with an excited look on her face. Jeepers! She sure was beautiful in the full morning sunlight.

“Okay, give me a sec, and we’ll have a look.”, I replied. I got out of the car and stretched. “You want to excuse me for a minute?”, I directed to her, and raised my eyebrows.

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