Read 3 A Brewski for the Old Man for Free Online Page B

the dash.
    I waited. Sweat slid down my face, itched under my tee-shirt and trickled down my spine. Slowly his head came back up.
    “Bastard,” I mouthed at him.
    He grinned at me, daring me to shoot him. The pickup rocked forward as he gunned the SUV.
    I saw the attendant coming out of his kiosk to tear a strip off two reckless people he thought were playing games.
    I took the safety off the gun and took aim on Ray John’s chest. I thought I’d convinced him when he backed off. But it was only so he could take another run at me. The force of the hit drove the pickup forward and broke the barrier.
    Behind the SUV the attendant saw my gun. The shock registered on his face before he fled back to the safety of his kiosk.
    “God, let him call the cops,” I prayed. For once in my misspent life I would be glad to see them.
    Ray John’s grin told me he was becoming more confident, less convinced I’d shoot him.
    “I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” I screamed even though he couldn’t hear me. “I won’t die alone.”
    Still up against the bumper, he revved his motor but he didn’t slam into me again. Even this crazy bastard knew how far he could go. Even he could see the determination in me, the conviction that he would be killing two people. We stared at each other, waiting for the next move. Time slowed down and my pulse speeded up. Sweat dripped and my mouth grew dry. My hands began to shake. How could I make this right?
    When the water traffic cleared, the wise attendant decided his own personal safety lay in getting rid of the problem instead of keeping us trapped there waiting for the cops. The siren sounded the all clear, signaling that the bridge had swung closed.
    I put my foot on the brake, trying to still keep Ray John covered with the gun, while I jammed the transmission into drive and then I shot forward, driving for my life.
    The narrow twisting beach road wasn’t meant for speed. Driving like maniacs, taking the sharp turns too fast, with palm fronds raking against the sides of our vehicles, we raced towards Jac. God help anyone coming south towards us.
    There was no safe place to pass, not that that wouldn’t have mattered to Ray John, but I stayed well over the middle line, forcing him to keep behind me. If he wanted to overtake me and cut me off he had to drive through the edge of palmetto and risk slamming into a palm tree, never mind oncoming traffic.
    Twice our bumpers clashed on the four-mile race to Cypress. Once, an oncoming car was forced into the palmettos to avoid a head-on collision. I didn’t look back.
    Still going too fast, I pulled up into the parking lot of the town plaza with the cop shop. The black monster pulled in behind me but kept on going through the parking lot when I shot into a slot in front of the police office.
    I couldn’t go on, couldn’t even get out of the truck and go for help. Shaking and trembling, I leaned forward, putting my head on the steering wheel, limp beyond bearing and asking unanswerable questions. Why had I let myself get involved? How had I let this happen? What had I unleashed and how could I end it? I knew our dance of fear had just begun. It wouldn’t end until one of us was dead or in prison. I had to stop the terror.
    With hands still trembling with fear, I called Detective Styles on my cell. I met Styles when Jimmy was murdered and Styles thought I was the most likely candidate for the electric chair. Go figure. But he was a good guy to have on your side and I needed him there now.
    “Sherri, what’s happening?” No hello. The man never changed. Small talk just wasn’t the way he operated.
    “I need to talk. Got any time?”
    “For you, yes. Want to meet for coffee?”
    “This needs privacy.”
    “I’ll come to you at the Sunset.”
    “Perfect. I’m on my way there now.” That turned out not to be true. It took time to get the courage to leave the safety of my spot in front of the police station, while checking the mirror and waiting for