Trouble on Tap Read Free Page B

lumberjack called timber, she was face first in the sloppy sludge. The cold, dank mud went up her nose and into her open mouth.
    That.
    Was.
    It.
    She propped herself up on her elbows, spit out a mouthful of mud, and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. Handsome was one dead cat. Of course, she’d have to catch the surprisingly fast three-legged monster first.
    Rising to her feet, and now covered from nose to kneecaps in muck, she lifted her face to the sky. At least the rain would be good for cleaning her face. The torrent washed over her, taking with it the tension locking her shoulders tight since she’d left L.A. in her rearview mirror. Sure, she was still broke, homeless, jobless and her shithead of an ex had posted naked pictures of her to a revenge-porn site, but at least she would be with her sisters—as soon as she could get her ass up this hill.
    Lightning flashed, showcasing the quarter-mile mud pit between the highway and Uncle Julian’s house.
    Well, almost.
    First, she had to slog her way up the driveway.
    Girding herself for what would undoubtedly be an ugly trek, she pulled her purse strap tight and flicked off her useless right shoe. Mud and only God knew what else squished between her toes.
    “Meow.” Handsome strutted over to her—as much as he could with his signature loping style on two front legs and one back leg—and sat down on her bare foot.
    She wiggled her toes. “So you figure I’m better than the local wildlife, eh city boy?” Olivia hefted the cat up and tucked him back into the opening of her trench coat. “Don’t get too comfy. I’m still mad at you.”
    His purr vibrated against her damp skin.
    Picking her foot placement carefully, she marched forward, intent on conquering the last quarter mile. She’d spent years as a model stomping in five-inch heels down the catwalks in New York and Paris, once in little more than a diamond-encrusted bra and panties. Surely she could manage to overcome a little mud. Using the house’s front porch as a beacon, she continued onward and upward.
    It wasn’t the prettiest sashay she’d ever taken, but eventually she made it to the wraparound porch. She’d no more than squished down one mud-covered bare foot on the wood before Handsome sprung from her hold and scurried away—probably to cleanse himself of his dirty humiliation in private.
    If only she could be so lucky. Per usual when it came to being a Sweet in Salvation, she had to take her medicine in public, but she wasn’t the same flaky wild child who’d left this place after high school graduation. She was stronger, smarter, more with it—fingers crossed, people would see past the layers of mud and see past the retired model to the real Olivia underneath.
    Stopping in front of the door, she took a deep breath and pressed her wet finger to the dry doorbell.

    Hands at ten and two and one foot riding the brake, Mateo Garcia rounded the bend on Highway 28. The rainstorm had gone from a low-level pain in the ass to white-knuckle worthy three curves in the road ago.
    What he wouldn’t give for a Humvee and night-vision goggles. Even on high speed, windshield wipers couldn’t keep up. The police-department-issued SUV’s tires hydroplaned every time he ran over a puddle. Worse still, he had two miles of twists and turns to traverse before he hit the straightaway into Salvation, Virginia.
    “Out-fucking-standing,” Mateo grumbled.
    His headlights reflected off an abandoned yellow car half a click ahead. The tail end stuck out onto the roadway, forcing anyone driving by to slow down.
    His heart clogged his throat, expanding until he couldn’t take in any air.
    An explosion of lightning lit up the area, showing the rugged Afghanistan countryside instead of Salvation County’s lush rolling hills.
    Mateo blinked and the raindrops turned into blood splattering against the windshield.
    The thunder became an IED explosion, a roar louder than anything he’d ever heard before, followed