Read Racing the Moon for Free Online

out for at least twelve hours."
    Where exactly did he lose control of this conversation? MJ got up, poured himself another cup of coffee. "It's not a big deal. I don't fly. Simple as that. My jobs are spaced to accommodate."
    "Nice work if you can get it." Sonny winked, managing to look devilish as hell with the bruises and scrapes. "You want some more? I think I can stand on one leg and cook this round."
    "One-legged cooking? That's either a sport or a terrible idea looking for a redneck."
    "What's being a redneck got to do with it? Look, you wanna take a shower? I'll make the second course." Those eyes were wide and butter wouldn't melt in that mouth. "Oh, hey, you got a passport?"
    "Yes..." Of course he had a passport. Hell, he had five of them, just in case.
    "With you?" Sonny asked, popping up off the stool and doing a decent job of one legging it around the tiny counter to the kitchen.
    He found himself nodding before he stopped short. "Like that's anything to you. You couldn't pass as me."
     
    Hell, a small-time moonshiner would be a fool to try to pass as him.
     
    "Precious, I may make a pass at you, but I won't try to pass for you." That drawl got deeper, just plain infuriating.
    "I can't begin to tell you how comforting that is." He stood, poured another cup. That shower sounded better and better.
    Shower. Jack off. Get his head on straight. Pack the car.
    "I know it. Amazing what you'll do when you think someone is out to get you." Sonny gave him a wink as he limped away, starting to whistle a jaunty little tune.
    Bastard.
    MJ grabbed himself a couple of towels and his ditty bag. Water.
    Hot water.
    Then he'd get himself out of this current mess and onto a nice, sandy beach.

 
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Sonny hummed to himself as he cooked up some sort of meat that the guy at the market had assured him was pork. He wasn't so sure, but he hadn't argued. As soon as he got it browned and got those weird banana things and the sauce in it, he'd go check on MJ.
     
    Really, he was getting a little worried about the guy. Maybe the last time he’d given MJ a shot he'd used too much.
    Could that lead to brain damage? Fuck knew if the guy could stand to lose anymore.
    There. Spices. Water. That milk-like substance. It kinda looked like gravy. Sonny liked gravy way better than "sauce". Unless it was booze.
    Booze. He should check in with Woody, too. He'd called his buddy before he'd stuffed MJ on a first class flight to Jamaica, claiming fear of flying and an overdue vacation when the flight attendant had asked. Woody had about shit a brick when Sonny had told him what he was doing.
    But Woody'd said he would pick up the car and make sure it got stabled. And that he'd take care of finding a new location for their little business, so it was all good.
    Scratching his ass, Sonny wandered back into the bedroom and looked down at MJ, who was all mussed, his mouth half open. The guy was moaning a little, making these weird assed noises that sounded kinda like pain, kinda not. Was kinda a pretty sight, though. The man was tanned from here to there, covered in big black tattoos in strategic places. Not bad. Not bad at all.
    He grinned and sat on the edge of the bed so he could prop his sore ankle up. MJ'd done a pretty good job with it, according to the local witch-doctor. It was healing. Then he reached out and picked a random spot, poking MJ's hip.
    MJ rumbled, brushed his hand away, turned over, giving him a nice look at that butt.
    Pretty. Firm. Sonny grinned and poked that.
    Hard.
    "Goddamn it. Lemme alone !" MJ's voice wasn't doing a damn bit better after the last shot. Sounded sorta... dry. Well, he knew he'd been dry as a bone when he'd woke up from that shot MJ had given him that first night in Wilmington. Maybe some water would help.
    "Can't," Sonny said, getting up by means of putting a hand square on that sweet ass and pushing up. "Want some water?"
    "Yeah..." MJ's eyes fluttered open, forehead creasing. "Shit, I got