Deadly Intent: A Team Reaper Thriller by Brent Towns

Author:Brent Towns [Towns, Brent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781641198080
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2019-03-05T22:00:00+00:00

Thurston and Ferrero had the same idea. And they had their eyes on the perfect ride. A 2015 Ford Mustang F-35 Lightning II. The only problem was that there were five armed men standing around it.

“That is one sweet ride,” Thurston said with more than a hint of appreciation in her voice as she peered around the corner of the large building.

“Are you a car nut, ma’am?” Swift asked her.

“I can appreciate the finer things in life, Slick,” she said to him. “All we have to do is get it.”

The sound of boots on gravel sounded behind them, and Ferrero appeared. He said, “There’s company coming up behind us. Four shooters that I could see as they passed under the street lamp.”

“I guess we’d better get this car then,” Thurston said and tucked her M17 in the back of her pants. Then she let her hair down and shook it out. It fell down to her shoulder blades, and the transformation was almost complete. Finally, she grasped the top of her T-shirt with her hands and gave it a sharp pull. What followed was the sound of tearing material as it ripped down to just below what Swift adjudged to be her well-rounded breasts, revealing a lacy black bra. She adjusted them in their cups, pushed them up a touch and stared at Swift. “How does that look?”

The corner street lamp showed the dumb expression on his face and Thurston nodded. “I’ll take that as OK.”

“Ahh, yep. Yes … I mean yes, ma’am.”

“What are you doing, Mary?” Ferrero asked her.

“Going to steal us some wheels. Just be ready in case it goes south, and I need help.”

Ferrero took his own M17 out of his pants and said, “If it gets too hot, get out.”

Thurston smiled, “I’ve got this.”

She walked around the corner and out of sight. Swift turned to Ferrero and said, “She’s hot.”

The ex-DEA man said, “Shut up.”

Meanwhile, Thurston strode purposefully towards the five men crowded around the Mustang. They saw her coming and stretched out into a line in front of her. Which suited her just fine.

One of them gave a low whistle when she emerged into the orange light of the street lamp. He ran his gaze over her, letting it linger long enough to take in her semi-exposed breasts.

“Hola, Cielo. Hablas Español?”

Thurston gave a giggle and shook her head, making sure it was hard enough to give her breasts another jiggle. She said, “Sorry, sweetie, I don’t, and I’m a little lost.”

Every last one of them had some sort of tattoo on display. The man who’d spoken had the most, and she guessed that he was their leader and the owner of the car. She also noted that they all had handguns tucked into their pants.

“We can help you, Chica,” the Mexican said.

“Really. That would be great. At least I’ll be safe with some big strong boys like yourselves.”

They all gave each other knowing looks. The leader said, “Sure. You come with us, and we’ll keep you safe.

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