One Last Bullet: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 3) (26 page)

2.

07:49 CDT

In a small town like Devil’s Spring, businesses open up early. I’m running low on a few things for the bar, so I get an early start on my shopping.

I walk out to the street, the early morning sun still pale and harmless. Directly across from me is The Fire Pit, a small, family-owned restaurant, that’s easily the best place I’ve ever eaten. I take Tori there on the odd occasion neither of us has to work. Two brothers from Argentina run it—I can’t pronounce their names, but they’re real friendly, and they always save a table for us by the window whenever we go. They have a large, open fire pit in the center of the restaurant where they cook the food. Their steak is the best around, and the way they marinade their chicken is exceptional. Tori’s a big fan of their wine as well. I see one of the brothers in the window, mopping the floor, and he turns and waves. I wave back as I walk left toward the end of the street.

The crossroads at the main junction isn’t busy at this time, but a few cars and trucks pass by. My first stop is the grocery store, as I need to stock up on snacks for behind the bar. I’ve got a delivery coming in a few days, but the last couple of nights have been extra busy, and I’m running low.

I cross the street and head into the store. It’s the closest thing to a franchise we have in Devil’s Spring. It’s no Wal-Mart, but they have everything you could ask for at a decent price, so that’ll do for me. I pick up a basket and head for the snack aisle. I’m thinking of getting some nuts, and maybe some small bags of chips.

“Hey, Adrian,” says a voice behind me, interrupting my train of thought as I study the shelves.

I turn and see Bob standing before me—a friendly guy who runs an auto shop a few streets over. He’s a big guy, massive beard… always wears dungarees over a different checked shirt. He couldn’t be more Texan if he tried, bless him. He’s a regular in The Ferryman and was actually in last night with a few of his friends.

“Hey Bob,” I say. “How you feelin’ today?”

He sighs heavily. “Man, lemme tell ya, I’m feelin’ a little delicate today, Adrian.”

He chuckles to himself, and I smile along with him.

I say, “Glad I could help.”

He laughs some more. “Yeah, you kept servin’, so I kept drinkin’, God love ya. Listen, I’m glad I bumped into you—me and some of the boys were wonderin’ if you’d reconsider your stance on legal substances in your bar?”

I take a breath and let it out, trying to come across as sympathetic. But I shake my head. “Sorry, Bob, no can do. You know how I feel about it, and I don’t want that going on in my bar.”

“Oh, c’mon, man, get with the times. It’s not like it’s illegal to take a little coke anymore.”

“Honestly, Bob, I don’t care if the President himself walks into my bar and gives me his blessing. I don’t agree with it, and it’s not against the law for the owner of a drinking establishment to reserve his right to prohibit the consumption of narcotics on their premises.”

He’s silent for a moment then simply shrugs. “Hey, no problem, Ady—your house, your rules. Ain’t gonna stop me from drinkin’ in there!”

He pats me on my shoulder and walks off laughing to himself. I watch him go before resuming my shopping.

Okay, so I understand there may still be a few blanks you need me to fill in here…

A couple of years back, not long after I moved down here to Texas, the Presidential elections took place, and a new guy was sworn in—Charles Tobias Cunningham the sixth. He’s a real media darling, this one. Ivy League educated, handsome guy—bred for politics and destined for the Oval Office. He got himself elected by the largest majority since FDR.

The weird thing was his campaign. He spoke at a Republican conference one day and addressed the state of the economy, where he basically asked the question why no one has ever thought to legalize drugs and prostitution. Pretty bold, I’m sure you’ll agree. But then he produced the figures... Cocaine was a thirty-eight billion dollar industry. He said, if we made it legal, imposed tax on it, and then used the revenue to provide better healthcare and education, not only would we climb out of the recession, we’d nearly double the GDP within five years. Suddenly, people weren’t so skeptical. It’s amazing the difference the almighty dollar can make.

He had the same argument for prostitution. Another multi-billion dollar industry. He said if we take away the taboo factor, legalize it, unionize it, offer a safe working environment for the people who are in the business, provide good healthcare and so on, but add tax to the charges for companionship—as they now call it—the money the country could make is mind-boggling.

His winning personality and, frankly, brilliant marketing campaign meant that he soon won over his peers and his public. And, surprisingly, he was right. Within his first three months in office, we saw the crime rate drop by sixty percent. We saw unemployment drop by eighty percent. We saw international relations with South America strengthen. We publicly gave all the Cartels that monopolized the illegal drug trade a choice—either agree to work alongside the U.S., legitimately, or face a prison sentence longer than Route 66.

I tell you, I’ve never seen such an era of peace and prosperity in this country. In
any
country. Ever. President Cunningham made the world sit up and take notice. But he was smart. At the same time, he said he’s not forcing anyone to participate in any of these now-legal activities. He just wants the people who do, to feel like they’re still contributing to a better America.

That’s why I exercise my right to stop any drug use in my bar. While I appreciate everything the guy’s done for the country, I’m still pretty old school about certain things. Drugs are never going to be good for you, and I don’t care what anyone says… I want no part of them. If you don’t like it, you don’t drink in my bar—simple as that.

And I’m not the only one to think that way. But while people exercised the First Amendment, there was never any trouble. No rioting or protesting. People just discussed it and decided as communities what they wanted to do and believe in, and Cunningham’s White House encouraged it.

The guy is a genius.

And that’s the world we live in now. It’s certainly made it easier for me to start over. Everybody is, to some extent, so it doesn’t feel strange for me to leave my old life in the past and begin a new one.

08:06 CDT

In the time it took me to catch you up, I’ve managed to do my shopping, so I’m walking back down the street toward my bar. A few doors before The Ferryman is a companion club. The place looks amazing, to be fair. The facilities are clean, there’s healthcare advice at the front desk, and a few of the guys and girls who work there often come in for a drink after their shifts are over. They’re nice people. One of the girls, Laura, is a good friend of Tori’s, and always fusses over Styx when she comes in.

One of the things some people
did
struggle with was changing their perception of the people who work as companions. But they soon came round, and now working there is no different from working the pump at a gas station or the checkout of your local supermarket.

Crazy days we’re livin’ in…

I walk back into the bar and see Tori behind the counter, cleaning some glasses from the night before.

“Hey babe,” she says with that earth-shattering smile of hers. “You get everything?”

I look at her admiringly. She’s wearing very short denim shorts and a Metallica t-shirt. Could a woman be any hotter?

I hold up the two bags in my right hand. “Sure did,” I reply. “Should cover us until the delivery at the end of the week.”

“Just put it on the bar. I’ll fill the shelves when I’m done with the glasses.”

I smile and do as she says. “You want some breakfast?” I ask as I walk over to the back. “Bacon and eggs or something?”

“Sounds great,” she replies.

As I look at her, I catch a glimpse out the window at a car parked across the street. It’s an anonymous white rental. It’s facing to the right, and with the window down, I can see who’s sitting in the passenger seat. He’s wearing mirrored sunglasses, and has thick dark hair with a couple of days’ worth of stubble. He’s staring at the bar. Staring straight at me, through the window. Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze for a few moments before turning to the driver, who I can’t see. They drive off, casually.

“You okay?” asks Tori, who must have seen me looking distracted.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine darlin’… Bacon and eggs comin’ right up.” I smile, convince her I’m okay, and then walk into the back.

I have a small kitchen area set up there, more for personal use than anything, as not many of my patrons ask for food. I get some bacon out of the refrigerator and put four slices in the frying pan.

I try to focus on what I'm doing, but my mind's now fixating on that car. It’s been a while since my spider sense tingled, but something definitely wasn’t right. I’ve scoped a place out enough times in my past to be able to spot someone else doing it. I’ve never seen them, or the car, before, and they were definitely checking my bar out… I know everyone in town. I don’t know them, and that worries me…

Ah, I must be going crazy in my old age...

I smile to myself and think how far I’ve come in the last couple of years. So what if I get a little paranoid once in a while? After the life I’ve had, can you blame me?

So, there you have it!

To find out what happens next in this exciting new Adrian Hell action thriller, head on over to
www.jamespsumner.com
today for details on where you can purchase the full book—available now!

Thanks for reading!