Jillian Chantal

This week’s word is evil. Since I am writing a romantic thriller, I have this one! Easy peasy.  This is when the hero and heroine are in New York City being pursued. Check out the other authors posts here.

They settled in and as the driver took off, Olivia squeezed his thigh. “Look, right there. It’s him.”

Graham glanced out the window, memorizing the face and body size of the man on the sidewalk. Now he had his enemy in his head and would never forget him.

“We barely made it.” Olivia’s face reflected the horror she had to be feeling.

“But we did and now we move forward, right?”

“Yes. Moving on. Not looking back.”

Graham hoped she was right and that they could move on. He didn’t think the man would’ve done anything to her on the crowded street but he’d shown how persistent he could be. Knowing Bernard wasn’t going to give up merely strengthened Graham’s own resolve.

This woman beside him in the cab was going to survive even if he had to die to make it happen. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that but he was ready to take that step if necessary. Evil couldn’t win out.

It took the taxi fifteen minutes to make it to Columbus Circle. Traffic was dense but it always was as he recalled from when he lived in town.

Once they paid the fare, Graham led Olivia into the building that housed a shopping mall as well as offices. His Army pal was going to meet them at the door to the suite that housed the headquarters to the man running against Lisa. Graham wanted to be sure to have his ally there in case the candidate doubted his sincerity since he was related to the opposition.

They stepped off the elevator to find Graham’s friend pacing the area in front of them. “Hey, Rockford. Long time, no see.”

“For sure, Roberts. Been too long. We need to go for a beer later.”

“No can do, man. I’ve given up the demon drink. Got me a reckless driving offense and promised not to touch the stuff again.”

“Good for you to keep it up.”

“Who’s the pretty lady?”

“This is my friend, Olivia Jacobs. She’s the one who needs to see your man.”

“Since she’s such a looker, I’m sure he’ll want to help her.” He turned and walked down the corridor.

Graham knew the comment about her looks wasn’t going to go over well with Olivia and hoped she wouldn’t voice her displeasure. He cast a glance in her direction and even though she looked like she would burst, she kept quiet. Sure he’d get an earful later, he cupped his hand around her elbow and led her toward the door Roberts opened.

Entering the room, they were faced with a receptionist holding a phone to her ear.  She indicated for them to take a seat.

When she hung up, she smiled at them. “Let me buzz the boss and let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Graham said.

In a few moments, the door to an inner office opened and a large man with a handlebar mustache stepped out. His face was florid and he looked like a heart attack waiting to happen.

Time for Tuesday Tales again. I hope you had a great Thanksgiving and have hit the ground running. This week for Tuesday Tales, we have a picture prompt. I am still sharing from my NaNoWriMo story and this one is a little further back from the one from last week since I wanted to get something about the barn without going back too far. Be sure to check out the other stories here.

The doors opened and Sam got out on the passenger side followed by Russell on the driver’s side.

Olivia let out a pleased sigh. Good. Things were at least looking up for at least one of her friends’ lives. Sam had long had a crush on Russell so seeing the two of them together made her happy.

She took three long strides to Sam’s side. Hugging him, she said, “Thanks for being such a great friend. You’ve saved us for sure.”

“No problem.” Sam held her for a second then took a long look at her. “Girl, I have to say, thank God you asked me to bring some other clothes. You need them.”

“Thanks and I love you, too.”

“You know I love you no matter what but as soon as you find a place to land, you need a long shower and some make-up refreshing time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Olivia laughed the first real laugh she’d had since the night those punks walked in her bar. Sam was always good for morale.

“We need to go. Thanks Sam.” Graham shook Sam’s hand and then did the same for Russell. “Sorry I can’t offer you the best ride but if you take that hay baler back to my barn, you can drive the ‘vette.” He handed a set of keys to Russell. “They’re all there. Use whatever you want. The car or the bikes.”

“Oh, speaking of keys, here’s the key to the bar. You and Sharon run it for me until I can get back.” Tears filled Olivia’s eyes, blinding her for a moment. “No matter how long it takes. You’re both already on the bank accounts so be sure to keep the doors open.”

“Come back soon. We’ll miss you.” Sam hugged her and whispered in her ear, “And you need to come back so we can gossip about Russell.”

“You bet. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks for encouraging me.” Sam let her go and clapped Graham on the shoulder. “Take good care of our girl.”

This week’s word prompt for Tuesday Tales is nasty. I like that word. There’s a lot of ways to use it but I’m sticking to the basics today. Be sure to check out the other stories here. Lots of great snippets on hand for your pleasure. I’m still working on my NaNoWriMo story.

As she slept and he drove further north. Graham cast a sidelong glance at her every few miles. He’d somehow let her in past all the guards he’d set up in his heart. In the years since Clara’s death, he’s only allowed himself freedom to care about and dote affection on the children he met in his volunteer work at the hospitals.

Children and his farm animals. They were easy. No expectations other than a treat once in a while and a hug and pat on the back. Grown-ups were much more complicated.

Sure, a man could have his drinking and card-playing buddies and while he might care for them, the tie was loose and not dependent. This caring for another woman was something he’d told himself was never going to happen to and now, somehow, he’d let her in.

He wanted to beat the steering wheel in frustration and anger at himself but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her.

That elicited a snort.

Olivia started and sat up. She ran a hand over her eyes. “How long did I sleep?”

“A couple of hours. We’re coming into a town. Do you want to eat something?”

“Absolutely. You’re a pretty awesome instant oatmeal stirrer and the dinner of granola bars was exceptional, but I could sure use a real meal.”

“Same here.” He grinned in her direction. “But thanks for the compliments on my culinary skills.”

“Somehow—and don’t ask me how it happened—even my least favorite food, nasty old oatmeal, tasted pretty good with you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment even though you called my food nasty.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean your oatmeal in particular. I just never eat it anymore since I don’t have to. I had a nanny as a kid that thought it was not only essential to eat for breakfast every day no matter the season but also thought it was a cure-all for whatever ails you. So, in addition to having way too much of it on a daily basis, I also met my quota when I was sick.”

“Funny. I feel the same way about 7-Up. If I drink it, I start to feel sick because that was what my mother always gave us to settle our stomachs.”

“Isn’t weird how we get these food and drink aversions?”

“Sure is but speaking of food, where do you want to eat?” Graham glanced out the car window. “I see an IHOP, a couple of burger joints and a Pizza Hut. Or did you want to go more upscale?”

“Absolutely not. I haven’t had a bath in over twenty-four hours and as Sam said, I need some make-up refreshment so fast food is best, I’m afraid.”

“Let’s do the IHOP then. They have both breakfast and lunch.” He grinned. “You never know, they may have oatmeal.”

“And 7-Up.” She playfully punched his arm. “If you make me order oatmeal, I’m ordering you all the 7-Up in the place.”

“Deal. No making each other eat or drink evil concoctions.” Graham pulled in the parking lot of the IHOP. “Unless I get sick. Then I’ll be wanting the 7-Up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She opened her door as soon as he parked the SUV.

It’s that time again. Time for Tuesday Tales. Come on in and sit a while and read some stories. This week’s word prompt is cup. I’m still in my #NaNoWriMo story- I made the 50,000 words on November 14 but I’m still working on the story. This snippet is just past the part where Olivia has hit two would-be robbers of her bar with a large wrench. The other tales are here at this link. Check them out, too. 

“Oh good grief. Everyone get out of my office. If you want to take a statement from me, I’m not talking until I know there will be no charges against me.” Ollie turned to Castro. “Go earn your fee. Listen to the other people as they give statements and then let me know the next step.”

“It don’t work like that pretty lady,” the sheriff said.

“Stop calling me anything besides my name. Just because you’re law enforcement, you don’t have the right to talk down to me.” The lady reminded Rocky of some kind of avenging angel. Those green eyes sparked and practically spit fire as she glared at the sheriff. If he knew the cop, he knew the guy had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to intimidate Ollie.

Glad she was strong enough to stand up to the sheriff—why he’d be surprised after she whacked two dudes with a wrench he didn’t know—Rocky smiled at her, trying to send her mental kudos for being so brave.

She glanced over at Rocky. “What are you smirking about? Glad to see me in the hot seat?”

“I wasn’t smirking. I was being encouraging. The only thing I’m glad about is seeing you standing up to this guy.” He hiked his thumb in the direction of the cop.

“Stop talking to my client. She might say something she shouldn’t.” Castro stepped between Rocky and Ollie.

“I’m not about to do that. What I am going to do is close my door and have a cup of coffee to settle my nerves.” She stared at the four men. “And I may even add some whiskey to that cup so please, all of you, go about your business.”

“I’d like to stay for a moment, if you don’t mind,” Rocky said.

“I mind,” Castro said.

“Your permission isn’t required, man. Just the lady’s.” If he had to manhandle Castro to get him out of the room, Rocky would. He needed a moment to chat with Ollie. Not that he thought she’d listen to him but he wanted to warn her.

“Fine. Suit yourself but talk fast. I’m suddenly exhausted.” She moved to her desk and flopped into the chair behind it.

He studied her face. She did look done in.

“This isn’t over, missy. You still need to give a statement,” the sheriff said as he retreated from the room.

“My name’s not Missy,” she called out.