Blown by Nolon King

Author:Nolon King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling & Stone

Chapter Twenty-One

Friday …

* * *

Alison pulled into her driveway, eyes fixed on the rearview as she killed the engine and sat.

No Tahoe. No sedan. No rental.

And yet not seeing any signs of her usual watchers only unsettled her further.

She got out of the SUV, her nerves on fire thanks to the baggie of coke, jostling around like a pack of gum in her purse. One of her clients was a no-show.

Most of her wanted to leave the coke in her Cayenne, unreasonably sure that Detective Ian Banks would accost her at some point between the driver’s side door and her porch. But a big enough part of her knew she was being paranoid, and another part unreasonably wondered if they would search her SUV with drug-sniffing dogs.

She opened her front door, ducked inside while still managing to look like a perfectly normal woman entering her house. Alison planted her back against the door on the other side, a gesture she saw all the time onscreen, but never really believed or had the inclination to do in real life. Until now.

She looked at her watch. Sarah should be home any minute now.

Fifteen minutes to decompress. She wanted to open a bottle, but didn’t want Sarah to see it, so she emptied a glass of water down her gullet instead, gulping the whole thing before she refilled it two-thirds to the top and started to slowly sip.

She sat on her sofa, thinking. Parsing her thoughts into two separate piles. The stuff she couldn’t get out of her head, but needed to box up and ponder later, and the stuff she had to leave churning up front because those thoughts were too powerful for her to even try and order them around.

Her drop-offs were … interesting. Her second day at it, and the gig wasn’t really anything like she expected. The first two calls had been exceptions to the rule, due to their extreme nature. Eleanor was the only person in the world who would have been a worse first client than Tiffany. And Jake was the one of Tom’s friends she would have most wanted to have a conversation with. Those polar experiences boosted her confidence enough to text most of Tom’s list.

Around half of her lines in the water replied, with a handful trying to make appointments, and others either wishing her well or telling Alison that an order would be coming soon. She always identified herself as Tom’s wife immediately, and kept the language vague. Maybe the half who didn’t answer weren’t willing to risk it, making her wonder how she might recover those missing clients.

She took five and deferred the rest for later. Even that felt like too many, but without any other means of generating income, she had to get going.

Alison had taken the first five clients who accepted her conditions. She wanted no more than five transactions — again, even that felt almost absurdly risky — with all of them taking place in Provisions. The cops wouldn’t

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