The Great Jackalope Stampede by Ann Charles, C. S. Kunkle Read Free Book Online

semi-darkness, video games sported plastic rifles to practice killing Bambi and his buddies. The musky smell of sweat filled the warm, humid air, mixed with different notes of cheap cologne and bargain-bin perfume. Butch’s multiple no-smoking signs posted throughout the bar undoubtedly saved her from a lungful of smoke on top of it. Behind the bar, a cue-ball wearing glasses with lenses thick enough to view the Horseshoe Nebula tugged on the tap.
    Butch, the owner of the place—aka her youngest sister’s current heartthrob, was out of town at the moment according to Katie, who had just joined her at the table. A bit pasty-looking with pink blotches on her cheeks and watery eyes, Katie looked like she’d been paying homage to the porcelain god recently. She claimed to be feeling fine, but Ronnie saw the tension lining her lips and fanning from the corners of her eyes. Something was up with her little sister, but she would dig into that later. Right now, goons were waiting to pounce.
    She took a rough count of the other patrons, coming up with fifteen women and about twice as many men, including the goons. More men were pouring in as she sat nursing her drink, savoring the hint of lemon along with the sharp bite of gin while contemplating her potential escape options. Maybe there was a window in the women’s restroom she could squeeze through, or a back door out of the kitchen. Katie would know.
    “Katie, if I needed to—”
    “What is she doing?” Katie asked, half-standing up from her chair across the table, her forehead all crinkled like when she’d caught Claire giving their dog a reverse Mohawk.
    Ronnie followed her sister’s line of sight. Oh, shit! What was Claire doing over by the two goons? She was going to get herself hurt if not killed. Those two hadn’t been admiring Ronnie’s fake Tiffany earrings for the past hour. She’d bet her last two hundred-dollar bills they had been sent by whomever Lyle had stolen from before he was busted by the Feds. Sent for what, she didn’t know and shuddered at the idea of finding out.
    As she watched, Claire snatched the black hat off one, flipped it over, and pointed at something inside of it before throwing it back at him. The hat bounced off his chest and dropped to the floor. His whole face pinched up, like somebody had wound it too tight.
    “Oh, he didn’t like that one bit.” Katie rose fully to her feet. “I’m going over there before she gets herself into another fight.”
    Before Ronnie could catch her arm, Katie was gone, zig-zagging between tables on her way over to where Claire now stood on her tiptoes, nose-to-nose with the scrunch-faced goon.
    Ronnie stood there, frozen in dilemma. Her instincts told her to use this distraction Claire had created to escape, but she hesitated. Claire didn’t understand who she was up against here. These men were hired to break bones and crack skulls, not play patty cake with nosy sisters.
    Katie made it to Claire’s side at the same time the second goon slid between the two contenders, stiff-arming both. Ronnie took a step toward them, her fists clenched so tight her fingernails bit into her palms. Tugging Claire back by the T-shirt, Katie joined the goon who was playing monkey in the middle; her head bowed slightly, her body language all apology as she shoved Claire in Ronnie’s direction.
    Claire reached around Katie, blasting the dark haired goon with a middle finger salute. “Next time take a picture, asshole!” Ronnie heard her yell over Glen Campbell starting in on the jukebox about being a lineman for the county.
    The goon strained in his friend’s hold, his face rippling in fury. Ronnie grinned in spite of the whole mess. Claire had a real knack for pissing people off. A true gift. Just ask their mother.
    Her escape window was closing. Ronnie made a break for it. She glanced back as she reached the door, making sure nobody had noticed her flight. All focus was still on Claire, who was threatening