Gunning For Truth, Jo Gunning Thrillers: Book 2

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

The thump awoke Jo Gunning from a fitful sleep.

She lay on the bed and listened. It was dark in the small motel room, just a hint of moonlight trickling its way in through a crack in the heavy curtains that covered the lone window. Jo listened and assessed, a habit as natural as breathing.

No one was in her room. They couldn’t be—she’d wrapped a hand towel around the door stopper and placed a chair under the handle. Also habits.

She was always careful, had been since she was in Civil Affairs, the Army branch where she’d worked alongside Special Operation Forces in some of the most dangerous areas around the world.

Another thump.

Jo sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stared at the far wall, past the armoire and television. The noise had come from the next room, and raised voices now broke through the silence. She glanced at the clock.

Just after two in the morning.

She sighed. All she wanted was a decent night’s sleep before she traveled on. The motel was near Marion, Alabama, a rural community in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t much, but it was cheap and halfway clean. Perfect for anonymity.

The voices grew louder, the decibel about to hit shouting level. Then a popping sound, a bit tinny, slightly muffled. She knew exactly what it was. Quieter than the thumps on the wall, but far more dangerous. Not uncorking a champagne bottle either. That was a gun shot.

Jo jumped up, slipped on jeans and a T-shirt, and strode to the door. After removing the towel from the door stopper and pulling the chair away, she put her hand on the doorknob. The voices had grown louder.

“… gonna let me…”

That was a man, loud and furious.

Then something from a woman that Jo couldn’t understand.

She opened the door and peeked out.

The parking lot was washed in a hazy yellow glow from the lights hanging along the side of the building. The lone, flickering streetlight at the far end was useless. A dark Dodge Ram pickup truck, parked a few spaces down from Jo’s door, was the only vehicle. Jo didn’t have a car; she hadn’t owned one in a long time. When she was stationed in DC, she could use the Metro, and she didn’t want to deal with the extra expense when she’d been overseas so much. No other guests at a small motel in a lazy town where a large part of the population had drifted off to bigger cities with more economic opportunities.

The shouting continued, and Jo stepped out to the sidewalk, then strode next door. The window was partially open, the voices clearer.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

The man’s voice was low now, with a thick Southern drawl that couldn’t mask the lethal mix of anger and threat.

“I said I was sorry.” The woman sounded shaky.

“Sorry don’t cut it.”

A crack, like skin on skin. A palm on someone’s face.

“I oughta kill—” the man started to say.

Jo knocked on the door before hearing anymore, almost out of reflex. So much for anonymity.

“Now you’ve done it,” his voice came from inside.

Footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a man in black boxers. He stood a couple of inches taller than Jo’s five foot nine, with big arms and legs, a bit of a paunch, and thinning, reddish-blond hair.

“What?” he snapped, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. He stared at her with bloodshot brown eyes.

Jo glanced past him. Light from a nightstand lamp shone on a woman perched on the edge of a queen-size bed. She looked to be about forty, with streaks of gray weaving through her long brown hair. All she had on was underwear and a plain bra. Even though the light was dim, Jo could see red on her cheek.

“Grady . . .” she said as she put a hand to her face.

“Are you okay?” Jo asked.

“She’s fine,” Grady said.

Jo glanced back and forth between them, taking the whole scene in. “Is there a problem here?”

His gaze was icy. “Mind your own business.”

Jo tilted her head, considering him. Grady seemed like the kind of man who expected to be listened to, for people to jump when he said jump. She’d run into his type before. They didn’t bother her. She smiled at him, friendly.

“I’m in the room next door, and your arguing woke me up, so this”—she gestured toward their room—“is my business.”

Grady’s eyes narrowed, and he jabbed a finger toward her room. “You better get back there right now if you know what’s good for you.”

Jo stared past him to the woman. Once again, she found herself jumping in to help a stranger. And once again, she couldn’t stop herself. If she could right a wrong, she would. It was in her DNA.

“Do you need help?” Jo asked her.

Before the woman could answer, Grady took a step to the left. Jo followed his glance to a half-empty bottle of whiskey, which sat next to a Glock 43 pistol on a round table underneath the window. Grady looked back at Jo.

“Don’t go for it,” she said.

His spine stiffened. “What’re you going to do?”

Jo sighed. “I don’t want any problems, okay? Why don’t you get your stuff and go.” She pointed to the woman. Just leave her alone.”

The man puffed out his bare chest and took a step toward her. “I said, what are you gonna do about it?”

He was bigger than Jo, but his muscles looked flabby, out of use. And he was drunk. As he raised a fist, she stepped toward him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him in front of her. The move was rapid and unexpected, and it took him off-guard. Just as quickly, she spun him around. He swore and tried to twist out of her grasp, but unlike him she kept herself fit, and she had the element of surprise.

Jo shoved him against the door jamb. His head bounced off the wood, and blood spurted from his nose, a cartoon-bright red spattering the wall. Grady grunted in shock and pain. He tried to resist, but she held him firmly in place.

“I’m going to mess you up good,” he snarled, his face against the wood.

Jo yanked his arm up until he winced again and even let out a small mewl of pain. She looked at the woman.

“Get his clothes.”

The woman blinked at Jo, then went to the end of the bed and picked up Grady’s clothes—worn jeans, a blue shirt with a Budweiser logo, tube socks, and black leather boots.

“Darlene, you better—” he said.

Jo twisted his arm to shut him up. Darlene stood rooted in place.

“Is that his truck?” she asked Darlene.

The woman nodded.

“Put his clothes in it,” Jo said.

Darlene took a couple of hesitant steps, then dashed past Jo and into the parking lot. She hurried to the truck, opened the door, and tossed in Grady’s clothes.

When she turned back, Jo nodded toward the room. “Now get me the gun.”

Darlene hurried back inside, ignoring Grady’s threats. The man continued to struggle, but between the booze and being out of shape, he was no match for Jo. He cursed even more as Darlene grabbed the Glock and handed it to Jo. She took the weapon, then stepped back and aimed it at Grady. He turned around carefully, his hands up, hatred in his eyes.

“What, are you gonna shoot me?” He sneered. Blood dribbled over his lips, and he snorted and spit onto the sidewalk. The space was probably becoming a biohazard.

Jo shook her head. “That would be a waste of a bullet.” He glared at her, and she gestured with the Glock. “Get into your truck.”

“Can’t I at least get dressed?” he asked.

Jo let out a snort of laughter. “Get in now or I’ll make you strip down and walk away naked.”

His foul language filled the air as he walked barefoot to the truck and got in. Jo removed the Glock’s magazine and locked the slide to the rear to eject the live ammo from the chamber. Pocketing both, she walked to the truck. Grady rolled down the window but didn’t say anything, just continued that hateful glare. She handed him the gun.

“Go home, wherever that is,” Jo said. “Try to mess with Darlene again, you’ll have to deal with me.”

His eyes burned like they wanted to consume her, but he seemed to believe her threat, and he rooted around in his jeans for his keys. He didn’t say a word as he started the truck and jammed it into reverse.

“You better move on if you got any sense,” he said, though his threat didn’t sound nearly as serious as hers, choked by the blood in his nose and throat. “I don’t want to see you anywhere around here again.”

Tires squealed as he backed up and peeled out of the parking lot. She waited until the taillights disappeared down the road and then turned back to Darlene.

“What a pleasant guy.”

Darlene laughed nervously and ran her hands over her arms as if she were washing away any feeling of Grady.  She seemed unaware that she was wearing only her underwear and bra.

“Will you be okay?” Jo asked.

Darlene nodded and waved toward the road.

“You really pissed him off.”

Jo shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“What do I do if he comes back?”

“He’s too embarrassed.” Jo sighed, suddenly tired, and took a step toward her room. “He’s not going to bother you.”

Darlene crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have a car.”

At that, Jo looked around the empty parking lot. “Grady brought you here?”

She nodded. “I guess I could call somebody in the morning to give me a ride back to Greensville.”

“Why not now?”

Darlene sighed and shook her head, looking down. “I don’t want to bother anyone at this time of night.”

“How far is Greensville from here?”

The woman scrunched up her face. “About ten miles southwest.”

Glancing up at the stars, Jo took in a deep breath of the night air. “It’s quiet around here.”

Darlene looked past her at the empty two-lane highway. “What if he comes back?” she repeated.

This time, Jo gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll deal with him. Put a hand towel around the door stopper and jam a chair under the doorknob.” She pointed at Darlene’s room window. “And I’d close that, too.”

“Okay. But it’s hot out, and I gotta sleep.”

“Use the air conditioner.”

“It don’t work so well,” Darlene muttered.

Jo tried not to let her exasperation show on her face. It was almost as if the woman was hoping Grady would return. She didn’t want to get beat up by him, of course, but she couldn’t resist him, either.

As Jo opened her door, she said, “I’ll keep an eye on things. You get some rest. We’ll deal with everything else in the morning.”

“Why do you wanna help me?” Darlene asked.

Jo didn’t hesitate. “You sounded like you were in trouble. I couldn’t let it go.”

“Let’s hope trouble hasn’t found you,” said the woman.

With a grim nod, Jo opened her door and went back into her room.

 

I read it in one sitting. Great characters, great storyline, a must-read! If you like Lee Child's jack Reacher, you'll love this book! Yeah, it is that good! ~Reader review