A Turtle Roars in Texas: an Al Quinn Novel, #2 by Russ Hall

Author:Russ Hall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
Published: 2015-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Al looked back in his rearview mirror and saw they were gaining. He’d have been okay except for that brickhead of a kid and Al’s own tendency to step in and back the downtrodden. In this case, one not smart enough to know when he was being trodden down.

Bikers liked this two-lane ranch road because it was hilly with lots of curves—more interesting for a Sunday ride. It had been a while since Al had been on a motorcycle and even longer since he’d had one open all the way. It took all the concentration he had to maneuver the curves, leaning into them and accelerating out of them. Each glance into the mirror showed the bikers gaining on him. They must spend time with their machines, keeping them in tip-top tune, and they certainly rode a helluva lot more than Al. The road was pretty clear, with only an occasional pickup going past in the other direction. He hit a straight stretch and opened the throttle all the way. So did they, and they were getting more out of their machines.

He rocketed past a bait store on the right and caught the glitter of three black SUVs snugged up close to the building. At least it wasn’t a patrol car waiting to give him a ticket. On second thought, a patrol car would have been welcome if it meant interfering with a chase that was almost certainly destined to turn out badly for him.

As soon as he was past, the string of three black vehicles pulled out onto the road, forming a blockade. He could see men in black SWAT gear pouring out of the vehicles and swarming to the other side. He imagined the bikers were braking for all they were worth. Relief flooded through him but was as quickly replaced by white-hot anger. That damned Jaime Avila. He’d used Al as bait once again. Al squeezed the handlebar grips tight and let the emotion wash through him. It began to trickle away until it was only red, then faintly pink. Finally cold, clear logic returned. He was calm again, as quickly as the rage had come. He’d been the one to ask to borrow a bike after all, to nose around because he wanted to know more about what was going on. Jaime had gone along for his own reasons, whatever they were, though they probably tied in somewhere. That was part of what he needed to untangle. For the first time, pieces started to fit together for Al. He could make a glimmer of logical sense out of what had been a confused muddle before. But he needed to check a thing or two. Where was the nearest library? Oh, hell. It was Sunday. None of them would be open. Think, man, think.

Ah, Dougie Stanton, and chances were he’d be home. Dougie was a reporter for half a dozen small newspapers that existed by selling ads to smaller communities. They needed good enterprise reporting to

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