Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”

Fredrick_Udele · Fantasie

Zu wenig Bewertungen

69 Chs

CHAPTER 54

Lucy and I had reserved a small suite because we wanted to have a little room to relax. I had set up Max's bowls in the small bar area knowing that neither Lucy nor I was going to drink anything other than water or soda. We cleaned up then went back downstairs to a reception that was being held by one of the major vest manufacturers. We took Max with us, of course, and had no problem getting him into the room with us. We met Paul and Steven Johnson, the Bascomb's County Sheriff. My impressions from our prior meetings were that he was an efficient lawman, but a bit too political for my tastes. Nonetheless, we had a cordial meeting talking with them and a few others who knew either Paul or Steven.

We left early—before eleven—to return to our room for a much needed rest. But first, we did the same thing we always did—we made the most incredible love with lots of touching and kissing and foreplay that got us so hot for each other that we were almost on fire. Lucy pulled me into her, surprising me with her strength.

Once I was deeply seated she held me in place with her legs around my back. "Afraid I'm going to run away," I asked teasingly.

"Oh no; you're not going anywhere except in and out of my puss. It's the best exercise I've ever done…believe me!" I did. It was my favorite, by far. I gave Lucy two screaming orgasms by the time I finally came, drowning her pussy by the time I was done. Lucy lay beneath me with an angelic smile on her face when I kissed her and backed away. Her eyes opened suddenly as if in shock.

"I'll be back. I have to take Max out." I climbed into a pair of shorts and sandals then I grabbed one of the plastic bags I'd brought and my garden trowel, just in case. Fifteen minutes later I climbed into bed as Lucy squirmed into my body before kissing me and falling sound asleep seconds later. I lay on my back for several minutes reflecting on my life and how it had changed since I lost my way just a few months ago.

>>>>>>

The rest of the conference was pretty much what I expected. There were lectures on new scientific techniques and panel discussions on common problems like getting sufficient funding for equipment. I did appreciate one session on federal grants since that was something totally new for me. Mostly, I enjoyed the vendors' booths and displays. I went through them with Paul while Lucy spent time in the expensive shops with Max. Only once had a clerk objected to his presence by grabbing Lucy's arm, something I doubted she would ever do to a customer again. Lucy told me that Max growled and bared his teeth, but held back from anything more at Lucy's command.

Paul and I were wandering aimlessly when we came across a shooting contest. He laughed as he told the vendor, "Just give him the prize now. He hit a cherry tomato at eighty yards on the first try." I took the pistol grip and checked out the laser on one of the booth's drapes.

"It's totally realistic," the vendor told us.

"Does the shot drop the way a bullet does," I asked.

"Um…no, but that's the only difference. I can simulate shooting at any distance and I can make the target as big and as small as you'd like. It's a great way to practice shooting."

"Put the targets at 100 yards and make them apples. Can you do that?"

"I can and it will only take a few keystrokes." When he told me to take ten tries I gave Paul a wry smile. Taking the pistol which, unlike mine, was as light as a feather, in both hands I aimed, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. Ten seconds later I had hit all ten targets, amazing the vendor.

"That's the best so far. If you check back with me on Thursday afternoon I'll let you know how you did."

"What's the prize?"

"First place is a new special edition .30-.30 lever action carbine from Winchester. It's a beautiful rifle. I saw it before I left the showroom." He took my name and position from the card on my lanyard and I gave him the P.D. phone number and address even though I thought that there would be plenty of chiefs who could match my shots. After thanking him, Paul and I continued to meander through the crowds. I did pick up a few give-away items like coasters, solar powered calculators, pens, Post-It Notes and key rings. They all went into a canvas bag I'd picked up at another booth. There was one booth where I could have putted for a new golf driver, but it was a sport I'd never found all that interesting so I stood by while Paul tried his best which unfortunately wasn't very good. We did get a few good laughs out of the experience.

I did return to the shooting booth on Thursday afternoon shortly before taking a cab to the airport with Lucy and Max. The vendor representative recognized me immediately and congratulated me on my victory. I thanked him even though the last thing I needed was another rifle. I already had four in my gun safe. It was an impressive rifle when I received it. There was a solid brass plaque built into the stock with my name, the name of the conference and the words "Presented by Five Star Ballistic Vests, Inc., and Las Vegas, 2019 neatly engraved into the metal. I bought a horizontal wall mount for my office in our headquarters and hung it right behind my desk. Of course, I had to take a ration of grief from Daryl, but it was still my trophy.

>>>>>>

Chief of Police is an administrative job that involves entirely too much paper. Some days I must have signed my name two hundred times at a minimum. Thank God I had Lucy to help with my stress. Unfortunately, she had a difficult pregnancy—experiencing morning sickness almost every day during her second trimester. I told her this was it—no more kids; I hated seeing her suffer so much, but she just laughed it off. "This is an annoyance, but Dr. Murphy says that I'm healthy and that it will pass eventually. Matt, my love, this is a very small price to pay for having a family. I'm okay, really." Then she pulled me to her, whispering, "Kiss me, Matt. Kiss me then take me upstairs and fuck the shit out of me."

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