Repo Chick Blues (The Leah Ryan Series - Book One) by Sharp Tracy

Author:Sharp, Tracy [Sharp, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Tracy Sharp
Published: 2012-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Oh, no. Please tell me we don’t have to do this.”

“No, we don’t have to do this,” Callahan said. “You have to do this. Just because you’ve proven yourself to be a hard-ass doesn’t mean you get off the hook for finishing proper training in the repossession business.”

I looked at the transport truck that sat in the driveway of the weathered house in the outskirts of town. The house was little more than a shoddy cabin. Some pretty frightening folk live in this area. I began hearing dueling banjos playing in my head. “Not this one, Cal. Anything else, not transport trucks.”

He eyed me. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“No. Look, truckers saved my ass when those bikers were after me, in case you’ve forgotten. It just seems wrong to repossess a transport truck now. I feel a kind of … kinship with them.”

Callahan rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“I do,” I said. “Besides, I don’t have a trucker’s license.”

He laughed out loud. “Like that would ever stop you!”

I glared at him.

“Leah. A career in auto recovery is going to sometimes involve repossessing transport trucks.”

I slid down a little behind the wheel of the tow truck, sulking.

“Those suckers are expensive to buy and really expensive to run. It happens a lot,” Cal explained.

This didn’t make me feel any better. “God. I’m not gonna have a friend left in the world pretty soon.”

“Welcome to auto recovery,” Cal said.

I sighed heavily, grabbed my Slim Jim and lock lifter from the back, then climbed out of the tow. “Hand me my picks.” I eyed the truck. “What if he’s sleeping in it?”

Cal handed me my pack of assorted picks, perfect for manipulating the inner mechanisms of practically any lock. “Guess you’ll need to use your sparkling personality, then.”

“Gee. Thanks.” I walked slowly but with purpose toward the transport truck. It was dusk and a lamp burned near the front window of the cabin. I could make out the flickering images on a television as I approached. Looked like the trucker was inside, watching TV. Of course, it could be a family member. Jethro or Jeb or some other back hills name.

I quickened my pace, making my way to the truck quickly now. Like any repo job, this one had to be done fast. I really didn’t want a confrontation with the trucker. I pictured him being the one who’d rallied the other three trucks to help me on the freeway that day. I could see the hurt expression on his face when he realized I was taking his truck.

However, it could also be the other one. The one who seemed to instantly dislike me because I was a woman on a motorcycle. He might not look hurt. He might look homicidal.

I shoved these thoughts aside, hoisted myself up and reached for the door handle. I breathed a sigh of relief. The door was open. I pulled myself into the truck. I couldn’t believe my luck. The keys were in the ignition. Of course! Who would steal a transport truck? Especially one out here.

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