FASTLANDER FURY (FASTLANDERS #1) BY T. S. JOYCE – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: T. S. Joyce
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Gunner would’ve ridden his motorcycle all night if he hadn’t been
running on fumes.
No help for it, he had to stop for gas.
He eased into a gas station on the outskirts of Laramie, Wyoming. He’d
been trying to escape Damon’s Mountains for weeks, but he just kept
circling Saratoga. His damn inner grizzly had issues and wouldn’t leave
territory he’d claimed as his.
Gunner pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and did a quick scan of
the station. There were two cars parked up by the door. One silver Civic that
still looked wet from a car wash, which made sense because there was a
wash-by-hand joint next door. The other car was a beat-up old truck that
would’ve drawn a smile to his face if he had a heart. It was the same model
his dad drove.
At one of the pumps, there was a black truck with dark-tinted windows.
A man was talking on the phone inside. His sensitive shifter hearing picked
up bits and pieces of the conversation.
“…how should I know?…”
“…what do you want me to do about it…”
“…I don’t know, you’re the one tracking her…”
“…she’s talking to the guy behind the counter…”
It was that last part that dragged his attention back to the black truck.
He could barely make out the outline of the man from here. He had a visor
over his helmet to shield his face from the world, and the dark tint on the
man’s front windshield was not legal at all.
The man was quiet, head turned toward the gas station—that much
Gunner could see.
He put his credit card in the slot and settled the gas nozzle into his tank.
God, it was a good thing he had stopped. He was nearly dry.
Inside the gas station, a woman was paying for some snacks. Skittles, a
bag of potato chips, a Sprite…nice.
All he could see was her back, but she had long brunette hair that had
been curled into soft waves. She wore a baggy neon-pink hoodie that hung
down to her hips and cutoff jean shorts—the kind with the white strings
hanging down the curves of her thighs. Nice ass. Pretty figure. She had a
tattoo of some kind of bird with outstretched wings on the back of her thigh,
partially hidden by her shorts. She wore a backwards hat on her head.
Looked comfy.
“…yeah, she’s wearing those shorts you hate again…”
Gunner’s snarl kicked up, and he was glad for the helmet. It hid most
of the sound. What was this dude’s problem?
“…want me to follow her?…”
He was so distracted, Gunner nearly flooded gasoline over the lip of his
tank. He clicked it off and cursed when the nozzle dripped a few drops onto
the black paint of his Ducati. He quickly wiped it off with the hem of his
black T-shirt.
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