One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 3, page 3

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Zhíno Zhudıro yanked the cruiser’s door shut and slammed the gearshift into drive. He’d wasted too much plagued time already, rebandaging his bleeding arm and dragging the dead Enforcer’s body out of the road.

The radio blurped, for not the first time. “Enforcer Sıvího, do you copy?” The dispatcher was beginning to sound worried.

As Zhíno spun the steering wheel and hit the accelerator, he switched off the radio. Hopefully, the Ahísıhíta-damned Enforcer dispatcher would think it was just a malfunction. But Zhíno knew it wouldn’t be very long before somebody realized that the Voro-fucker who belonged in this auto was lying dead on the sidewalk.

With the car fully turned around, Zhíno straightened the wheel and stomped on the fuel pedal. Kickass acceleration slammed Zhíno back against the seat and held him tight. That Vítí-twin Fírí must be thirty kilometers away by now, but he’d catch her in no time with this beast.

How could Fírí do this to him? This was all her fault. If she hadn’t abandoned him, he wouldn’t have had to kill that Enforcer. Soon, both Gogzhuè and the Colonial Enforcers would be after his blood, and it was all that Tara-fucking Névo-brained twin of Vítí’s fault.

Zhíno’s eyes drifted to the siren and lights buttons, clearly marked on the dashboard. He grinned. What the plague. You can’t hide in a police auto. The click of the buttons was almost drowned out by the instant blare of the siren.

He dropped his injured right arm to his lap and fingered the Enforcer’s semiautomatic. Older than Zhíno’s, but bigger. He could barely lift it with his injured arm, much less aim it, but that wouldn’t stop him from scaring the shit out of Fírí and the Zhéporé-spawn who shot him.

Zhíno’s shoulder still throbbed from the bullet wound. When he caught that bastard, he might just have to torture him a little before he finished him off. Shoot his feet. Shoot his hands. Shoot his knees. Shoot his ass-loving dick.

Zhíno cackled a laugh. “I’ll fill you full of every last bullet in both these guns before you’re dead, you Voro-fucking Zhéporé-spawn!”

Except some bullets for Fírí. That Vítí-twin deserved at least half a clip, too.

Zhíno laughed again, excited by the image of the life dwindling from Fírí’s eyes as blood flowed free from a gaping hole in her chest, right between her marvelous tits.

The desert ahead was lit up bright from some floodlights way off to the left. And there, parked mostly off the road, was Fírí’s auto. Across the highway in a ditch was the Zhéporé-spawn’s truck.

Both of them!

Zhíno slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed.

He didn’t know what Fírí was thinking by stopping here, but he did know she was about to die.

(next page)