Promises Part 1 (Bounty Hunters #1)
A.E. Via
“Get 'em before he goes in that house Duke!” Quick’s deep voice could be heard a half block away. Knowing that his long-time trusted friend was there always made doing the job that much easier. Quick was not only his best friend, but his most efficient bounty hunter. He rarely made mistakes and his retrievals were almost always clean.
Duke saw his bail skipper clear the four-foot fence, running full speed towards a small, ranch-style home whose front yard was littered with toys. Oh no. Not kids. Duke only had a second to decide if he could clear that gate. He wasn’t a spring chicken at forty-five years old and aging–what felt like every day. Duke pumped his legs faster and leaped into the air, his back foot just grazing the top of the fence. He landed harder than he wanted, losing speed as he righted himself. Fuck me, that hurt.
The young bail skipper dodged a few toys but face planted into the kiddie pool when he turned to gauge Duke’s distance. Double-timing it, Duke hurled himself forward and collided with the kid’s back, sending him back down to the wet grass with an angry thud. Air left Duke’s lungs with the impact, but he didn’t have time to rest. He scrambled to get the scared kid’s hands behind his back.
“Stop fighting, Troy,” Duke hissed. “It’s over. It’s over.”
After tussling for a few more seconds, Quick was there, coming down on one knee and helping secure the skip’s other arm. “Easy kid. Easy,” Quick grumbled, his voice like something out of a scary movie.
Duke let Quick take over and crab walked backwards, plopping down on his ass to drop his head between his knees, still gasping for breath.
“You alright over there?” Quick laughed, his green eyes glistening with humor, while zip tying their skip’s hands behind his back.
“Yeah, I’m good, man. But that fuckin’ fence wasn’t a great idea.” Duke huffed a breath.
When they heard the sound of tires squealing, Duke and Quick both rolled their eyes. “Why the fuck does he always do that?”
“Beats the fuck out of me.” Duke shrugged. “It’s like the cliché scene in action movies; when the cavalry comes barreling up the street, lights and sirens blaring—after all the shit has already gone down.”
Quick pulled their skip up to his feet. “When you gonna let Charlie go, man? He’s not feeling this anymore, Duke, and you know it. He hardly shows up to the office, much less for recon; which is his damn job.”
Duke raised his hand, cutting off Quick’s tirade, because he knew the man could go on for days. “I’m not firing him. He was my dad’s right hand man, and when I took over this business I swore that Charlie would always be welcome.”
“This is a business, Duke. Now that Judge is gone and you’re back in the field again, we all need to be capable, or someone’s gonna get hurt. This ain’t a barbershop, dude. No loitering,” Quick urged.
“Shut up. Here he comes.”
“Duke.”
“We’ll talk about this later. Now shush.”
“Boss, you okay? Got here as fast as I could. There was traffic on Cascade Ave,” Charlie said, out of breath, like the short walk from the truck to the yard where they waited took a lot out of him.
“You do know you can put the siren on and go through the traffic, right?” Quick said sarcastically. Duke shot his friend a warning scowl.
“I didn’t want to scare anyone,” Charlie said defensively.
Duke stood up. “It’s cool, Charlie. Here. Load our skip up and get him ready for transport. Call County and let ‘em know we’re coming in.”
“Duke, please. I was gonna go to court. I swear,” Troy whined.
Duke shook his head sadly. Troy was only twenty years old. He’d been arrested more than a few times on petty drug charges since he was seventeen, and Duke had bailed him out every time. But this was the fourth time in two years that Troy hadn’t shown up for court, and instead of Duke taking Troy’s mom’s car – which she’d used as collateral this time – he chose to pick him up. Bail skippers were the most unpredictable defendants they dealt with. They made a million promises to get out on bail, but once they were released they had no loyalty.
“Your court date was nine days ago, Troy. You are breaking your momma’s heart. She hasn’t seen you in days. Getting off these streets is the best thing for you right now, buddy. You’re gonna have to stay behind bars until your next appearance is scheduled.”
Quick and Duke stood there talking while Charlie ambled over to the large, gutted-out Silverado and loaded Troy into the back.
“He should’ve retired ten years ago.” Quick checked his weapons while they walked back to Duke’s truck.
“Maybe. But everyone doesn’t retire at sixty anymore,” Duke said wearily.
“No. Most people retire from this job by fifty. He can’t run at all, his reflexes are nonexistent. He shouldn’t be in the field like that. It’s dangerous,” Quick retorted. “Hey. Maybe we can throw him a surprise retirement party and just have him show up to realize he’s the guest of honor.”
Duke laughed, slapping his friend on his broad shoulder. “I don’t think that’ll work.”
“You’d better think of something.” Quick got in the passenger side of Duke’s F350. They followed Charlie, driving less than forty miles per hour, to the jail so Duke could make sure the paperwork was done correctly. As much as he hated to admit it, Quick was right. Charlie was having a hard time pulling the hours needed to do the job. His eyesight hindered him when using the computers and especially doing surveillance. He’d have to come up with a tactful way to retire Charlie. If his hunters didn’t want to have Charlie in the field covering their backs, he had to do what made his employees feel safe.