Read Online Crossroads Shadowland by Keta Diablo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Keta Diablo
Ads: Link
can map out boundaries too, prick. See this,
McGuire, you just fucking crossed my line." He turned,
looked toward the window of their room and
shouted, "I'm not a dog you rescued from the shelter that
wags its fucking tail every time you
speak."
Lost in black thoughts,
Rand almost missed the three short beeps and frantic hand-waving out the car window. "Hey, buddy, over
here!"
Rand walked toward the
idling vehicle. He didn't know the man slouched down in the passenger seat, but peered through the
window and recognized Martin, the desk
clerk from the Provincial.
"Rand, not leaving New
Orleans before you've seen the sights, are you pal?"
"Seen enough; I'm catching a flight back to
Baltimore in about an hour."
"Ah, sorry to hear that.
Ringo and I are headed that way. Let me give you a lift."
Rand looked down the street
and frowned. Not a taxi in sight. "I don't want to impose."
"No bother, get in."
Before he had a chance to
grab the door handle, Ringo popped out of the front seat and into the back.
"Come on, the airport is just down the
road," Martin said.
Rand pushed the bag off his
shoulder, set it between him and Martin and climbed in. With his anger abating, his thoughts drifted to
his fight with Frank.
In his heart he knew the
man had acted out of a need to protect him, but he couldn't live with his I-don't-need-anyone attitude. If
McGuire wanted him in his life, it had to
be for reasons other than lust and sexual need. Panic washed over him. What if Frank didn't want him in
his life anymore?
For a split second he
wanted to tell Martin to turn the car around and head back toward the Provincial, but stubbornness
won out. He had to get on that plane, had
to prove to Frank once and for all he wasn't a damn piece of furniture he could move around whenever it suited
him.
"What's up?" Rand asked.
"You said the airport was close to the hotel. What are we doing in the suburbs?"
He heard the familiar click
of a gun before he felt the cold steel at the back of his neck. "Why don't you just relax, pretty boy." The
cold-blooded tone in Ringo's voice set off alarm bells in his head.
"We'll let you know when we arrive at our
destination."
"Martin, what the hell are you up to?"
"If I were you, faggot, I'd
keep my mouth shut. Ringo's got an itchy trigger finger and no telling when that snub-nose might go
off."
Rand snuck his hand around
the door handle and thought about his options. The tires just swallowed the last block of suburbia
and nothing but a row of abandoned
warehouses came into view.
A dilapidated street sign
flashed for a brief moment, Industrial
Park . Might have
been industrial at one time, but the buildings had seen better
days decades ago. Whatever Martin and his
bone-headed sidekick had in mind didn't
bode well for him.
"I wouldn't try for that
door. Ringo will drop you before your shoulder clears."
"What the hell do you
want?" Rand struggled to keep his voice calm. "If you're looking for money, I got some bad news for
you."
"Money?" From the back seat, Ringo's
laughter rang out.
The car veered left and
came to a halt at the back entrance of a brick structure, its metal door partially ripped from the
hinges.
Desolate. Deserted. Not a soul in sight.
Rand heard the back door of the car open
simultaneously with Martin's.
"Get out," Ringo said. "Oh,
you won't be needing that shoulder bag anymore." Just like in the movies, Rand's life flashed
before him as he exited the vehicle and
waited for their next move. Martin led the way into a
warehouse that looked like it served as a
shelter for homeless people now. Not surprising after Katrina's destruction several years ago.
An odious stench permeated
the empty room, rancid food, and the rank smell of humans who hadn't benefited from a shower in ages.
Empty pallets lined the walls, with more
scattered throughout. Vandals had been at play here.
Daylight streamed through a
narrow block of smashed windows and sections of wooden floor planks had been ripped out,
McGuire, you just fucking crossed my line." He turned,
looked toward the window of their room and
shouted, "I'm not a dog you rescued from the shelter that
wags its fucking tail every time you
speak."
Lost in black thoughts,
Rand almost missed the three short beeps and frantic hand-waving out the car window. "Hey, buddy, over
here!"
Rand walked toward the
idling vehicle. He didn't know the man slouched down in the passenger seat, but peered through the
window and recognized Martin, the desk
clerk from the Provincial.
"Rand, not leaving New
Orleans before you've seen the sights, are you pal?"
"Seen enough; I'm catching a flight back to
Baltimore in about an hour."
"Ah, sorry to hear that.
Ringo and I are headed that way. Let me give you a lift."
Rand looked down the street
and frowned. Not a taxi in sight. "I don't want to impose."
"No bother, get in."
Before he had a chance to
grab the door handle, Ringo popped out of the front seat and into the back.
"Come on, the airport is just down the
road," Martin said.
Rand pushed the bag off his
shoulder, set it between him and Martin and climbed in. With his anger abating, his thoughts drifted to
his fight with Frank.
In his heart he knew the
man had acted out of a need to protect him, but he couldn't live with his I-don't-need-anyone attitude. If
McGuire wanted him in his life, it had to
be for reasons other than lust and sexual need. Panic washed over him. What if Frank didn't want him in
his life anymore?
For a split second he
wanted to tell Martin to turn the car around and head back toward the Provincial, but stubbornness
won out. He had to get on that plane, had
to prove to Frank once and for all he wasn't a damn piece of furniture he could move around whenever it suited
him.
"What's up?" Rand asked.
"You said the airport was close to the hotel. What are we doing in the suburbs?"
He heard the familiar click
of a gun before he felt the cold steel at the back of his neck. "Why don't you just relax, pretty boy." The
cold-blooded tone in Ringo's voice set off alarm bells in his head.
"We'll let you know when we arrive at our
destination."
"Martin, what the hell are you up to?"
"If I were you, faggot, I'd
keep my mouth shut. Ringo's got an itchy trigger finger and no telling when that snub-nose might go
off."
Rand snuck his hand around
the door handle and thought about his options. The tires just swallowed the last block of suburbia
and nothing but a row of abandoned
warehouses came into view.
A dilapidated street sign
flashed for a brief moment, Industrial
Park . Might have
been industrial at one time, but the buildings had seen better
days decades ago. Whatever Martin and his
bone-headed sidekick had in mind didn't
bode well for him.
"I wouldn't try for that
door. Ringo will drop you before your shoulder clears."
"What the hell do you
want?" Rand struggled to keep his voice calm. "If you're looking for money, I got some bad news for
you."
"Money?" From the back seat, Ringo's
laughter rang out.
The car veered left and
came to a halt at the back entrance of a brick structure, its metal door partially ripped from the
hinges.
Desolate. Deserted. Not a soul in sight.
Rand heard the back door of the car open
simultaneously with Martin's.
"Get out," Ringo said. "Oh,
you won't be needing that shoulder bag anymore." Just like in the movies, Rand's life flashed
before him as he exited the vehicle and
waited for their next move. Martin led the way into a
warehouse that looked like it served as a
shelter for homeless people now. Not surprising after Katrina's destruction several years ago.
An odious stench permeated
the empty room, rancid food, and the rank smell of humans who hadn't benefited from a shower in ages.
Empty pallets lined the walls, with more
scattered throughout. Vandals had been at play here.
Daylight streamed through a
narrow block of smashed windows and sections of wooden floor planks had been ripped out,
Similar Books
