Read Online Champagne for Buzzards by Phyllis Smallman - Free Book Online Page B

wanted to be alone in a dark alley with — nor the kind of men you wanted to meet out in the bush.

CHAPTER 15
    The noise of the machines was deafening. Joey backed his rear deeper into the brush. Barbs snagged my clothes and raked my body. Branches scratched Joey’s sides. He didn’t seem to notice.
    Forcing his way sideways and back through the underbrush, he worked his way out of the circled machines, then turned and faced his enemies. He blew out a loud snort of disgust and tossed his head.
    The guy on the lead three-wheeler was young — late teens or early twenties. I took my eyes off the long gun slung across the handles of his machine and had a good look at the revolver he wore in a holster at his hip. But there was something more in his eyes, something besides guns to worry about. He swung a leg the size of a tree trunk over the seat and dismounted. Hitching up his jeans, he swaggered towards me. Blond and beefy, he would have been handsome except for the sneer and fifty extra pounds that gave him a bloated look.
    I recognized the look on his face, a predatory look — like he’d just been handed a brand-new toy. But I’m no one’s toy.
    I glanced at the two guys behind him. They were staying with their machines, waiting and watching to see how it would play out, maybe waiting to be given orders. No help there. Marley and I were on our own.
    The young fool coming towards me smiled.
    I have to say it did a lot to improve his looks. Then he licked his lips. I felt like a prime cut set in front of a man who hadn’t seen food for days.
    â€œI’m Boomer Breslau,” he said, loud and proud like I should know him and be real delighted to be in his presence.
    And in a way I did know him. His grandpa’s ranch ran alongside Clay’s to the east. Clay had lots to say about this family and their use of illegal aliens to farm their land, some twenty-five hundred acres of tomatoes and such.
    â€œI’m Sherri Travis. I’m a friend of Clay Adams. Does Clay know you’re here?”
    â€œFriend?” he roared and then laughed, choosing to ignore my question. “I hear you’re more than friends. You’re the sweet piece that warms his bed.”
    He moved closer. “He’s pretty old for you, ain’t he? But when a man has as much money as he does, guess he doesn’t have to be real good to keep a woman happy.” His laugh warned me. There was no use making nice with this guy. There was only one thing he’d understand and I’d only get one chance.
    â€œSherri,” Marley said from behind me, “let’s go back.”
    â€œWhy you want to do that?” Boomer Breslau said while Boomer’s face said, “I can have anything I want. I can have you. And no one can stop me.”
    â€œLet’s go, Sherri,” Marley said again.
    Marley was ignoring the fact that there was just this one track, nowhere else to go, and I was pretty sure we couldn’t outrun them.
    Boomer laughed. “Stick around, girls.”
    Without turning my head or taking my eyes off him, I said to Marley, “You start back, I’ll catch up.” Hopefully she’d ride like hell and bring help.
    â€œI’ll wait for you,” Marley said.
    â€œNo. You hurry on back and tell Tully and Ziggy we have company. Make sure they prepare a real warm reception.”
    â€œOh,” she said, suddenly understanding.
    Boomer Breslau held up a hand to stop her, “No reason to do that.”
    â€œOkay, I’m going,” Marley said. I heard Wildflower’s hooves beating the earth as they galloped away but I kept my eye on the nasty bastard in front of me.
    â€œNow why’d you go and do that?” Boomer asked. “You ain’t afraid of me, are you?” He stepped closer, his eyes locked on me. I knew that look, seen it in too many drunk’s eyes not to know what it meant. I eased my foot out of the stirrup. He