Talkin' Jive Read online

  Hendrix did have one last bargaining chip. An immensely powerful one. That was the thing about resourceful weasels like Darrell Asa Lutz. They could always dredge up one more option, one more means of escape.

  Hendrix had alluded to capital punishment for his treason. He was a man with nothing left to lose, just like he’d said. A man with the ultimate bargaining chip resting in his hand.

  What choice did Dale have?

  He started to lower the gun …

  And then he fired.

  Three times.

  The bullets blasted through the disk and Hendrix’s hand.

  Hendrix screamed out.

  Dale wasn’t the best shot in the world, but he was only a few feet away from Hendrix, and the big, black disk had been a perfect target. He’d eyeballed the building past the overpass, beyond the highway, and figured it would be a decent insurance against errant bullets flying into the city. A calculated risk.

  See, Dale was an ingenious man too. Like Hendrix, he always managed to find another option. In this case, Dale knew that there were literal earth-shattering implications to the information on the disk, but he also knew that it was only a copy of information still back at Y-12. He couldn’t let it out in the world, nor could he let Hendrix get away.

  So, instead, he just destroyed the information.

  And Hendrix’s hand.

  Dale lived by the idea that everything works out if you give it time. It was his philosophy. And Hendrix had made the fool mistake of giving Dale half a moment to think things over.

  Dale holstered his gun and slowly walked toward Hendrix.

  “It’s over, Lutz.”

  Hendrix was bent to his knees. He held the tangled mess of shredded disk and torn flesh that had been his hand tightly to his stomach. He watched Dale approach then looked over the short wall beside him to the highway below.

  Hendrix threw a leg over the edge, looked back at Dale, and disappeared.

  Chapter Eighty

  Dale dashed over to where Hendrix had stood and looked over the edge. Hendrix dangled from the side of the overpass with his good hand, clinging to a small ledge below the wall. His ruined hand swung at his side, blood dripping down onto the highway. There was a look of fear and defeat on his face, which was rapidly turning white with shock. The wind blew his hair. His cheeks were speckled by droplets of blood.

  “Like I said, Dale,” Hendrix said solemnly, “you know the punishment for treason. They’re gonna fry me.” He looked at the noisy traffic rushing past below them. “At least this way I can go out on my own terms.”

  Dale shook his head. “No. Not like this. Give me your hand.”

  He reached out and took Hendrix’s wrist. Hendrix wrapped his hand around Dale’s wrist and looked at Dale with that expression of deep defeat.

  And then the expression morphed, the corners of his lips sliding up his face — it became a look of pure malice.

  “Yes, Dale, I’m going out on my own terms. And those terms involve taking you out with me, the asshole who ruined everything for me.”

  He dug his fingers hard into Dale’s arm, five points of sharp pain pushing into Dale’s muscle.

  Hendrix yanked violently.

  Dale stumbled forward, his stomach smashing into the barrier wall. Dale’s free hand had been on the guardrail atop the wall, and he removed it to go for his gun, in the holster behind his back.

  This just made the situation worse. Hendrix’s weight pulled him farther down, and Dale reached out to grab the handrail again. He caught himself, stopped the descent. He was bent halfway over the wall now, his waist hooking the guardrail.

  “I bet you never thought it would end like this, did you?” Hendrix said. “Falling off an overpass in Tennessee outside a damn bus station?”

  Hendrix laughed then and gave Dale’s arm another solid tug. Dale went farther over the edge. His feet were no longer touching the ground. He was holding on solely with his free arm and the strength in his abdominals.

  “Join me, Dale. It’ll be fun! Come on, now!”

  Hendrix tugged again.

  Dale slid more. His weight teetered over the crest of the guardrail.

  He kicked desperately, trying to pull his weight to the other side.

  But it wouldn’t go.

  He slid over.

  A wave of panic swept over Dale’s flesh. A cold sweat. He and Hendrix began falling toward the traffic.

  And then they stopped.

  There was a jolt. A sudden halt. They weren’t falling. Something was latched onto Dale’s legs. He glanced back over his shoulder.

  It was Penny.

  She had her arms wrapped around Dale’s thighs. Her eyes were closed, grimacing, as she dug her feet into the concrete, fighting the combined weight of both men.

  Dale put his free hand against the wall, stabilized the swinging.

  Below, Hendrix yanked again.

  Dale and Penny stumbled forward.

  Another tug from Hendrix.

  Penny lost her footing. Dale slid out of her grasp until she squeezed tight again, securing him by the calves. Both she and Dale started going over the edge along with Hendrix. Penny’s feet shuffled on the sidewalk.

  Dale looked up at Penny, struggling, and back to Hendrix, then to the traffic zipping by on the highway below.

  The situation was critical.

  And critical situations called for drastic measures.

  He looked Hendrix right in the eye.

  “You always told me I needed to use my head,” Dale said.

  He swung his head down hard. Hendrix’s eyes went wide just before Dale’s forehead made contact with his.

  Crack!

  Hendrix’s face whipped back. His hand slipped. And he fell, limbs flailing, to the road below. He hit with a solid thud and some very sickly snapping noises. A pair broken legs.

  There was a tiny bit of life left in him. Still. His head slowly looked back up toward Dale …

  And then a screeching semi truck smashed right into him.

  Absolutely splattering him.

  Dale turned away in disgust.

  Yikes.

  There was a tugging at Dale’s legs. Penny was pulling him back up. When his body cleared the guardrail, Dale’s ab muscles finally stopped straining. They screamed at him, and refused to contract again. He collapsed onto the sidewalk beside Penny just as she fell in next to him, both of their backs leaning against the wall.

  There was the sound of sirens in the distance.

  Penny, panting, turned to him. She shook her head.

  “You saved me,” Dale said.

  “I owed you one. You saved me first.”

  “Well, you know what they say—a penny saved is a penny earned.”

  Penny groaned. “Horrible pun. Doesn’t even fit the situation.”

  “It was charming, though.”

  Dale winked.

  “If you say so.”

  Penny released a long breath, clearly shaken by all her misadventures with Dale, the sort of things a person like her was never supposed to see. She scooted closer to him. He put his arm around her, and they sat there against the wall, silently, catching their breath as the sirens grew louder.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  The following afternoon.

  Dale sat at a bench at the edge of a city park, facing Gay Street. The sun was bright, and the sky was blue. There was a calm demeanor to the traffic on the road as well as the foot traffic on the sidewalk. It reminded Dale of the mood that had been on Gay Street during his first night in town, when he’d sat in the cool nighttime air waiting on Penny to return.

  It was warmer now, the warmest it had been during Dale’s Tennessee assignment. About seventy degrees. The sun felt fantastic. Not too hot, just perfectly warm. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the sky, feeling the heat on his cheeks.

  A green Cadillac pulled up in front of him and stopped. There was a woman in the passenger seat, hunched over, concealed.

  Becker
stepped out of the car and walked toward Dale. He limped badly.

  Dale stood and pointed to Becker’s ankle as he approached.

  “Battle wound, huh?”

  “No one ever said it was gonna be easy.” He looked at Dale for a moment, nodding his head slightly like people do before they say something deep. “Listen, Conley, Y-12 owes you a debt of gratitude. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Dale shrugged. “Pfft. Don’t sweat it.”

  “All assets were contained last night. And our investigation into Hendrix’s spies in the facility has already begun.” Becker paused. “I couldn’t have handled this without you. I want you to know that.” He looked left and right, searching the area around them. “Your friend isn’t here yet, I hope? We don’t want to interrupt.”

  “Not yet,” Dale said.

  Becker took a deep breath then pointed toward the Cadillac. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  Becker nodded and turned back to the car. He opened the passenger side door and leaned inside, speaking to the woman. After a moment she slowly stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  Joan Becker had dark hair, streaked with gray, frazzled and unkempt. Her complexion was extremely pale, and there were bluish bags under her eyes. She wore a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. She blinked rapidly against the daylight, threw her hand over her eyes.

  Becker kept his arm around her and led her toward Dale. She moved just as slow as Becker, even with his hobbled ankle.

  When she stopped in front of Dale, she squinted, looked up at him. After a moment, her mouth opened. She gasped, stared at him slack-jawed.

  Then she brought her free hand up, slowly, toward Dale’s face. She placed it on his cheek.

  “Bertie …”

  She rubbed her thumb over his skin and brought her other hand up to the opposite side of his face.

  “You look so much like my Bertie.”

  A tear fell down her cheek. And she smiled.

  She threw her arms around him, began to cry.

  Dale hugged her back and looked at Becker.

  He remembered his earlier thoughts on stoicism. Like Becker, Dale tried to wall off as much of his emotions as possible. What begins as an exercise in hiding one’s feelings — lest the outside world mercilessly taunt you, which it would — quickly changes to shutting down one’s tender side altogether. This had happened to Dale long ago. It was a de facto requirement for his line of work. But there were still moments like this that yanked violently at his heartstrings.

  He let his eyelids close, and he squeezed Joan tighter.

  When he opened his eyes again, he saw Penny approaching from the opposite end of the block. She wore a bright blue shirt dress with sleeves to her elbows, white buttons running down the center, a wide collar, and a little belt cinching it around her waist. There was a matching blue plastic bracelet on her wrist, an orange scarf around her neck, and a pair of wedge heels on her feet.

  Becker noticed Penny too. He put his hand on Joan’s shoulder.

  “Come on, Joan. Time for us to go.”

  Joan stepped away from Dale as Penny approached.

  Dale ushered Penny over.

  “Penny Whitworth, please meet Roy and Joan Becker.”

  Penny smiled her standard, radiant smile. “Hello.”

  “Pleasure,” Becker said and motioned his wife toward the Cadillac.

  Before she turned to the car, Joan took Dale’s hand, squeezed.

  “Thank you.”

  Dale bowed his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Becker helped Joan into the car and shut the door behind her. He then stepped up to Dale and shook his hand.

  “I appreciate everything, Conley.” He looked at Penny. “You kids have fun.”

  Becker went to the car.

  Dale turned to his date. “Hey-a.”

  “Hi, handsome.” She gave him a look, one of playful suspicion. “So, the front desk at the hotel rang me this morning. Said they had a package for me.”

  She stuck out a leg, rotated her foot, showing off her heel.

  “I couldn’t find the exact same shoes,” Dale said. “Those were pretty close.”

  Penny’s original pair that Dale had destroyed had been block heels, but these new shoes were wedge heels. They did have similar glossy white straps, though. They were the best Dale could do on short notice that morning.

  “I love them. Thank you.”

  Dale gestured to the sidewalk before them. “Shall we?”

  Penny smiled brighter, bounced once, then squeezed up beside him, taking his arm. She seemed truly, completely excited.

  Dale recognized then that this individual was just about the most resilient person he had ever encountered. When he first met her, it had been immediately apparent that Penny’s beaming smile was genuine, but it took time for him to realize that it was also incorruptible. Since Dale had breezed into her life two and a half days ago, she’d been put into some of the toughest situations one could possibly imagine. And still she smiled.

  The world needed more of that, smiling in the face of anything that life throws one’s way. Everyone could stand to be a bit more like Penny Whitworth.

  “What do you want to do?” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “There are so many options in this city. I’m already learning my way around. We could go down to the river, we could go to one of the museums …”

  She trailed off. She’d spotted something on the opposite side of Gay Street—a gelato shop. It was a small, cozy place. The walls were turquoise. Two little tables sat outside, and planters full of flowers lined the windows.

  “Oh! Gelato! Why don’t we just sit down and chat for a while. We never really got to know each other. I warn you, though, I’m a talker. Once I get going it’s blah, blah, blah. Is that okay? Do you mind if I talk your ear off for a while?”

  Dale was already leading her across the street. He smiled at her.

  “Not at all, Penny. Not at all.”

  SPECIAL OFFER

  BE STILL — Dale Conley Book 6

  If you loved Talkin’ Jive, be sure to continue the adventure with BE STILL, the next standalone thriller in the Dale Conley series, coming 25 June 2019.

  Available now for pre-ordering at the introductory price of ONLY 99c.

  JUST CLICK HERE

  Thank You

  Thanks for reading Talkin’ Jive. I hope you loved it.

  Reviews are extremely important for authors to get their books ranked on Amazon. Without honest reviews, we can’t get sales, and without sales, we can’t write more books for you.

  If you enjoyed Talkin’ Jive, I kindly ask that you leave a review on Amazon. It only takes a minute, but it makes a huge difference.

  Thanks for the support!

  Readers Club

  Enjoyed the book? Want more? Then SIGN UP for my spam-free Readers Club email list.

  •FREE Starter Kits with samples of ALL my books

  •Be the first to know about FREE and discounted e-books, sneak peeks, contests, promotions

  •Follow me on my journey as I share videos, photos, stories, and all the exciting things I find on my adventure as an author

  Acknowledgments

  For their involvement with Talkin’ Jive, I would like to give a sincere thank you to:

  My ARC readers, for providing reviews and catching typos. Thanks!

  April Snellings, for editorial polish on the first few chapters.

  April and Jami, for introducing me to John Hendrix, the historical element of this Dale tale.

  Mom, for some more ’70s female fashion info.

  Dad, for some technical assistance.

  My friends and family, for the support.

  Also by Erik Carter

  Dale Conley Action Thrillers Series

  Stone Groove

  Dream On

  The Lowdown

  Get Real

  Talkin’ Jive

  Be Still

&nb
sp; —

  Box Set: Books 1-3

  Barnaby Wilcox Mystery Series

  (Coming Spring 2019)

  The Clements Kettle

  The Preston Emerald

  —

  Box Set: Books 1&2