Whiskey Sunrise - a Christian Suspense Novel: A chilling tale of a desert that buries its secrets. Read Free Page B

come willingly, and when I approach, he starts to kick and spit. Didn’t want to taser him just yet.”
    Rye pulled the bowstring a couple of times, enjoying the stretching creak, an ominous sound of pending death. The Mexican stared at the bow with narrowed eyes.
    “I see,” the prisoner said. “The Lone Ranger arrives to help his little Tonto …
sí
?”
    “Why you little …” Zach bunched his hands into fists and started toward their captive.
    Rye grabbed the officer’s arm. “I’ll handle this.” Rye sauntered over to the prisoner and knelt down to invade the suspect’s space.
    “What’s your name, amigo?” Rye asked.
    “Go stuff yourself, pig.”
    Rye nodded as if he would consider the idea. “Interesting name.” Rye smiled like nothing was wrong in the world. “Sun’s coming up. You’ll be gettin’ mighty thirsty. Think about that.” He patted the door to the truck. “Metal’s already hot.”
    Rye stood, and his damaged knee nearly gave out. Nonetheless, he managed to get to his feet without a groan despite the shot of pain.
Nothing a couple of beers wouldn’t dull.
    “Don’t Move.
¿Comprende?
” he said.
    Rye limped back to Zach.
Stupid knee
. Back at his vehicle, he turned around to face the suspect.
    “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide to give yourself up peaceful-like and get into some air conditioning. Or, you can fry here on the blacktop. Doesn’t matter to me. I’d just as soon watch you fry as make the effort to take you to jail. Since you seem to think I’m a pig and all.”
    The Mexican’s eyes flashed hatred.
    “Think about it.” Rye fished a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweaty face.
    Moments later, one of the waitresses strutted out of the diner carrying two glasses. Auborne Day, Rye recalled her name. The sound of ice clinking in the glasses carried across the parking lot. With her high-heeled clogs clicking on the pavement, her whole body moved with a sexual swagger.
    “Hey, fellows,” she said, winking at Zach.
    Rye shot a glance at his officer and twisted his lips to suppress his surprise.
    “Here’s some lemonade, Chief,” she said. “Compliments of the Drivin’ Diner.”
    “Mighty grateful.” Zach touched the brim of his hat and took the two lemonades. Leaning in so his lips brushed her hair, Zach whispered, “Aub, you can come over to my place and play with my lemons anytime.”
    Rye pulled his hat lower and averted his gaze at Zach’s lack of decorum.
    She threw back her head and laughed as if he just said the funniest joke. The highlights in her hair danced in dawn’s glow. She touched Zach’s arm and raised one foot. She leaned forward to whisper into Zach’s ear, causing her short skirt to rise higher on her thighs.
    “If you ask nice, I’ll bring the glasses,” she said in a silky tone and stood upright. Louder, she added, “Gotta go back to work. I’ll come ’round later to fetch the glasses. See y’all soon.” She hurried back inside the diner.
    Rye took his glass from Zach and downed a long swig of the lemonade, grateful for its sweet replenishment. By now, his prisoner had to be feeling the effects of the heat. He smacked his lips with a satisfied, “Ahhhhh. They make the best lemonade here.”
    Zach downed a large gulp. “Yep.”
    Rye took another drink. “Mighty nice of them to bring these to us.”
    “Yep.”
    Rye shook the glass to make the ice clink against the glass. “That’s one crazy good sound. Wouldn’t you agree, officer?”
    “Aren’t many sounds purtier than that.”
    “Especially with the heat index getting close to what …”
    “I’d say it’s over 100 …”
    “What do you say, hombre?” Rye displayed the glass of lemonade. “Ready to give up?”
    The suspect dropped his head and nodded. Sweat dropped from his chin to sizzle on the pavement. The swagger left him like air from a flat tire. Zach and Rye set their lemonades on the hood of the Tahoe and sauntered over to him. They