SPIN-OFF TEASER

Hello! Since it's Monday, been a busy long day but it's The Walking Dead night, so I'm in a good mood to give you a teaser to this spin-off that I have been working on for the past month. Geez, I know, I'm too slow for a writer. But here's the first look to my first original one-shot story featuring Officer Gavin Boyle from my fanfiction Strong Steele. I think I have the right to call it 'original' since I have created his character, right? Anyway, not that really important. The title... still a secret. But I'm going to reveal it eventually. The Chapter 44 for SS, still on the works but it's going to be a long week so crossing my fingers I could finish it soon. And the Email Subscription is finally working! Yay! That's all. Thanks guys! 

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There were red and blue flashing lights behind me.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

This was not good.

What in hell was a cop doing out here in a county area so remote the radio stations had static? I’d no idea how fast I was going, but I was sure it was at least twenty miles over the speed limit.

Life wasn’t fair.

It had been a long week. Well, scratch that, two long years already.

The night, as predicted, didn’t go too well for James’ liking. All I ever did was to laugh at a joke. The girlfriend of one of James’ co-workers had made the observation, not unkindly, that James’ boss looked like a giraffe. The likeness had been so obvious, I couldn’t help the snort of laughter.

“That was inappropriate behavior. I expected more from you than that.”

Inappropriate behavior.

Maybe it had been too loud. Maybe a couple heads had turned. But all I’d done was laugh, for heaven’s sake.

On Monday, I had to accompany my father to his weekly leg therapy and had been too stubborn to cooperate. On Wednesday, my mother had needed her diaper changed. When she’d cried through the indignity of it, I had cried too. I’d made multiple calls to the insurance company about a ten-thousand-dollar charge my sister insisted was incorrect and therefore refused to pay. Finally, to top off this terrific week, I’d been roped into being James’ arm candy for this business party, the annual “Summer Fling” for which he had to have a date.

God, I was so sick of worrying about what I said, how I did things. Maybe I’d overreacted. But seeing James’ face when I’d told him to “go to hell” had been worth it. I’d even taken his car, a car that certainly shouldn’t belong to a stuffy corporate ass kisser who color-organized his sock drawer.

That’s why I wasn’t afraid to let it loose this time. Driving James’ Porsche Cayenne Turbo was like heaven. God…it felt so good. On these quiet rural roads, nothing around for miles and miles but corn and a rosy summer sky getting ready for sunset, it felt incredible, like riding a horse. Or riding a man. Maybe both were a form of running, but I didn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled over.

I could handle one cop. The threat of jail had all the appeal to me of a weekend spa session. With a full body massage.

I glanced in the side view mirror as the cop’s car door opened. If I hadn’t been used to seeing refitted drug dealer cars used in the city all the time by the police, I might have suffered a fleeting worry about a blue light bandit posing as a police officer. The car was a sleek black Range Rover. It was an interesting choice of a car. It didn’t answer what a city cop was doing way out here, though. Then he unfolded and straightened from the car and I lost the desire to wonder about anything.

Holy God.

As if I’d been going so fast the world had spun on its axis and now was going way, blissfully slow, his first few steps toward me were like the movies where the hero’s initial walk-on scene was in slow motion.

He wasn’t wearing a uniform. With my earlier thought of a sexual predator posing as a policeman, that should have alarmed me. But when dormant hormones surged to life as they did now, like a pack of wild dogs out of control, it sort of cancelled out brain cells.

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