Kissing Asphalt by Dharma Kelleher

Author:Dharma Kelleher [Kelleher, Dharma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Pariah Press

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Murph as I started the Lexus. “I’m in charge.”

I barked a laugh. “You? ’Fraid not, slugger. I’ve got seniority. You don’t.”

“You’re asleep on your feet. I don’t need you getting me killed, too.”

“Deez isn’t dead, asshole. And I took you down with one knee. So I can’t be too far gone.” I squealed the tires pulling out of the parking lot and hopped on the I-10 west to Tolleson. “Tell you what, hot shot,” I continued, “I’ll let you choose—front of the house or back?”

“Front.”

“Figures,” I chuckled. “Fine. I’ll take the back. Bet you fifty bucks, I bag him and you don’t.”

“Ha! I’ll gladly take that bet.”

Ransom’s sister’s house was nothing like the two-story McMansion in Laveen. It was a small, one-story clapboard house that dated back to the 1930s. Ransom’s red pickup was nowhere in sight, but he could’ve hidden it in the one-car garage.

I parked the Lexus a couple houses past our target. Another adrenaline surge gave me my second wind. I pulled on my wraparound shades and fingerless leather gloves, then drew my Ruger. “Turn on your walkie. We go on my command.”

“Whatever.” Murph rolled his eyes and hopped out of the truck, grabbing the battering ram from the back.

I hustled around the house, ducking under the side windows. In the dirt backyard, I found Ransom’s red truck facing the house. Must’ve pulled in from the alley that ran behind the row of houses.

Before I could get into position, I heard a crash from the other side of the house, followed by Murph barking commands. Damned asshole jumped the gun.

The back door flew open and a shirtless man with long, dark hair blew past me, hightailing it barefoot toward the truck. Bobby Ransom.

“Stop! Bail enforcement!” I aimed my Ruger at him as he climbed into the truck.

I put a round through the passenger side of the windshield, trying to scare him into surrendering. Instead, Ransom floored it in reverse and swerved into the alley. I vaulted into the bed of the pickup as he put it in Drive and roared down the alley.

I could’ve shot him through the back window, but if I killed him, there’d be no bounty. And unless I could prove it was self-defense, I’d be charged with murder. I had to subdue him without getting myself killed in the process. Not an easy task with a guy like Ransom.

He swerved like a maniac down the alley, smashing into plastic garbage cans in an attempt to throw me off. I clung to the roof of the cab as cans and trash blew past me.

The truck lifted onto two wheels when he pulled a sharp right onto the paved street. I nearly slid off but planted my foot on the top of the truck bed.

Hoping to kill the engine, I fired two rounds into the hood. Twin geysers of blistering antifreeze and steam erupted from the bullet holes, blocking my view of the road, and Ransom’s too, no doubt.

The world shuddered in a thunderous crunch of metal and brick.

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