BAD DEEDS: A Dylan Hunter Thriller (Dylan Hunter Thrillers) Read Free Page B

watching us? He expects Brad to show his little lady who’s the boss in this relationship.”
    “‘Little lady,’ huh? Have I told Brad lately just how much I want to dump him and get back to my charming, well-mannered boyfriend in Washington?”
    “About ten minutes ago, I recall.”
    “So, what’d you finally do with that bear you shot?” Sherry asked Denny while she scooped up some silverware and napkins for them.
    “Had the head mounted on the wall in our living room. Tucker’s Taxidermy up in Warren, they did a real nice job. The skin—it’s a nice, thick fur blanket in our bedroom, now.” He rotated his stool to face their table. “Hey Brad—you do any huntin’?”
    Dylan looked up from the menu. “Used to. Deer, mostly. Did I just hear Sherry say you bagged a bear?”
    Denny beamed. “I sure did. You know where Yellow Hammer Road goes off 666?
    “Sure.”
    “You go all the way up Yellow Hammer to 209, then keep going to where it turns into Forest Service Road. You park there and hike on in, and down near Otter Creek you’ll find lots of bear. I nailed a five-hundred pounder a few months back.”
    “That must have been a thrill.”
    “You better believe. Hell of a thing for us to haul it outta there, though, let me tell you. I had to borrow my brother’s F-350, and bring along—”
    He was interrupted by a sudden commotion. At the entrance, a man stood holding the door open for two women, who hurried inside. None wore coats or gloves.
    They all looked scared.

TWO
    Annie noticed that Dylan had already pushed back from the table and was poised to leap to his feet.
    The man, in dress shirt and tie over slacks and wing-tip shoes, moved quickly toward the counter. “Sherry, I need you to call the state police.”
    She dumped the silverware on the counter with a clatter. “What? You okay?”
    Denny slid off his stool and intercepted him. “What the hell happened, Ed?”
    “WildJustice,” the man said. “A bunch of them just stormed into our office and started smashing things with clubs. Lucky for us we were in the back on coffee break when they came in. We didn’t have time to grab our cell phones or do anything except run out the back to my car. Lucky I had my keys in my pants pocket. We got out of there fast. But in the mirror I saw one of them run out to the road and watch us drive off.” He glanced back at the door. “I’m afraid they may come after us.”
    One of the women, a young redhead in her twenties, hugged her bare arms around her body and stood at the front window. “I don’t see them. Maybe they decided not to follow.”
    Annie watched as Dylan got up and approached the man.
    “Excuse me. What’s ‘WildJustice’?”
    “You know—that environmental gang,” the other woman interjected. A thin brunette in her fifties, she stood trembling, one hand on the back of a chair to steady herself. “The paper calls them ‘ecoterrorists.’”
    “Sons of bitches,” Denny said. “They spike our trees, wreck construction equipment. Set fire to sawmills—the one up in Kane last fall. Cost my brother-in-law his job. Tree-hugger bastards are tryin’ to put us all outta work.”
    “And now they’re after fracking companies. Like ours,” Ed said. “They cornered a couple of our workers out on a drilling pad a couple of days ago and roughed them up. One of them needed stitches … Helen, please get away from the window! You don’t want them to see you.”
    Annie stood and walked over to the older brunette. She put a hand on the woman’s quivering arm. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us what’s going on.”
    The trio looked at each other and moved to a table. Dylan, Annie, and Denny pulled up extra chairs; Dylan’s faced the door. As they were settling in, Sherry emerged from the kitchen and came over. Annie saw the worry on her face.
    “Cops are all tied up with a big truck accident in Tidioute. Say they’ll be down here soon as they can. It may be half an hour,