Dead Peasants by Larry D. Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

next two weeks.” Boss handed Hawk a piece of paper. “Here’s what I’ve got on him. Gotta look like an accident. Clear?”
    “You got it, Boss,” Hawk replied as he ground his cigarette under his boot. “I assume you’ll wire $20,000 to my bank account tomorrow. I’ll let you know when the job’s done.” Hawk turned. Again Boss heard the creaking of boards on the bridge as Hawk disappeared into the darkness.

15
    Once the house was complete, Jack invited Colby over for a housewarming dinner. She did as Jack directed. She punched in the code at the driveway gate and drove around to the back where she found Jack dressed in shorts, flip-flops and a blue T-shirt. When he saw her Lexus appear in the driveway, he hustled to help her out. Colby was wearing her own T-shirt, green shorts and sandals. Her shirt had a slogan emblazed on the front,
Where The Best Begins
. Jack hoped that was prophetic as his gaze took in green eyes accentuated with laugh lines showing through her sun-browned face, sensuous red lips that broke into a smile that revealed near-perfect teeth, a figure that had to see the gym three or four days a week and deeply tanned legs.
Damn
, he thought.
She’s not wearing make-up. Better yet, she doesn’t need any. And that hint of perfume coming from behind her ears reminded him of a vineyard at harvest time. She says she’s got a boyfriend, but, at least, I can give it my best shot.
    Her eyes sparkled when she asked, “I presume this is not a formal occasion.”
    “Formality is in the eyes of the beholder,” Jack replied. “And my eyes tell me you are perfectly dressed for this occasion. What can I get you to drink?
    “My usual, of course,” Colby said as she walked over to check out the barbecue pit. “I don’t think I ever noticed this until now.”
    The pit was made of brick to match the house. It had a gas grill for most cooking but had a smoker on one end. Jack had filled the smoker with mesquite earlier in the day and had been carefully tending ribs and reading Steve Berry’s latest novel as the sun moved across the horizon and was now creating a rainbow-hued sunset.
    “Oh,” Colby said, as she inhaled the smell of sizzling pork being cooked over mesquite. “Are you cooking ribs? I hope not. I’m a vegetarian.”
    Jack stepped back from the outdoor bar where he was mixing two Tito’s martinis on the rocks and turned, about to apologize when he saw her face break into a laugh.
    “Just kidding. You’re not allowed to live in Cowtown if you’re a vegetarian. I just hope you cooked enough ribs.”
    Jack noticed she wrinkled her nose when she laughed as he handed her a drink and threw open the pit to reveal what appeared to be ribs from half a pig. “That enough?”
    “That’s about right for me. What are you having?”
    Jack shrugged his shoulders and said, “Suppose I’ll just have to eat your leftovers. Here, come sit in one of these recliners and we can watch the sun finish painting the clouds.” They each took a seat and watched the sun dance from cloud to cloud, each of them content to sip their drinks and watch the Great Artist at work. Jack broke the quietness of the evening.
    “I’ve been sitting out here a lot in the past couple of weeks. I look at the old bomber plant off in the distance beyond the Trinity and think back to when I was a kid. Once a year they had a family day, complete with a picnic and games. They’d haul a few planes out from the hangers, and we kids got to climb around on them. I even got to sit in the cockpit of an old B-36, the one with the propellers facing the rear. I know it’s closed, but I still see fighters taking off, particularly on weekends.”
    “That’s the Air National Guard,” Colby interrupted. “Ever since the plant and Carswell Air Force Base closed, they fly out of there.”
    “Most folks would say I’ve come a long way from Byers Street to here. I certainly accomplished my goal of making money. Now, I suppose I’m