Over The Edge: A Short Joe Beck Thriller by Alastair Brown

Author:Alastair Brown [Brown, Alastair]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Joe Beck, Joe Beck Series, Alastair Brown, Over The Edge
Publisher: Ablaze Books
Published: 2021-09-02T23:00:00+00:00

NINE

I got down there in ten minutes. I followed I-4 for a couple of junctions, cutting off at Heathrow and heading east along Lake Mary Boulevard in light traffic. Big Luke's was near Crystal Lake, off a residential street, by a pizza place and a small mom-and-pop homeware store.

It was a red-brick building with a barn-type feel. It had wooden beams and a wooden gable and valley roof with an entrance door on the other side of a wooden wraparound porch at the top of a few wooden steps, a strip of parking bays by the road out front. I steered the Camaro into the far-most bay and killed its engine. I looked around and got out of the car. The air was hot and humid still. I took the short walk up the wooden steps and headed into the bar.

It was a classic dive. Dark and grungy. My kind of place. I saw wooden tables and chairs ahead, some wooden booths to the left, and a long wooden bar to the right. There were rock-and-roll emblems and flags all around, glowing orange lights on the walls and ceiling above, and rock music playing from speakers by the corners of the room.

I made my way to the bar, the hard wooden floor sucking at the soles of my sneakers with each step. There were a couple of guys behind the bar fixing up beers and wiping down the wooden counter with a cream cloth rag. They were dark-haired and dressed in jeans and black t-shirts emblazoned the bar’s name across their chests.

The guy wiping the place down looked at me as I approached. “What you drinking?” he asked, tossing the rag somewhere on the floor where I couldn’t see.

"Get me a Bud," I said to him.

He nodded and grabbed a bottle from a fridge on the other side and uncapped it, laid it down on the wooden counter, and told me the price. "Four bucks."

I took out my wallet and slipped a five from the bill slot, gave it to him, and lifted my beer. It was ice cold to the touch. I took a drink and casually looked around while he ran the transaction through the cash register. The beer was as refreshing as the first cold touch.

I saw some people sat at the tables and sitting in the booths, mostly men drinking beers, and a couple of fine-looking women. The real easy kind. But I wasn’t there for them. I was looking to find myself a piece of a tall, muscular, bearded man.

I saw no sign of anyone that fit the bill.

I dismissed the women’s gazes, took another drink, and waited.

Time crawled past.

A woman walked over. She was dressed in sleek black boots, jeans, and a low-cut black top. I could see her intentions in her eyes.

“I’ve got nine kids,” I said and shook my head.

She pulled a face and walked off.

I took another drink and waited some more.

Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable roar of motorcycle engines on the road outside.

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