2017 Red Ribbon winner, The Wishing Shelf international book awards (Adult-Fiction).
A tattoo artist is pursued by the man of her dreams, but her biker-gang friends mistake him for a hit man out to get her.
It's 1995, and Galen Randall, the world'...
Randall emerged from the Arrivals terminal at the airport in Los Angeles and, as he had confidently expected, his liveried chauffeur, Fritz, was waiting at the curb with a stretch limousine. Randall, smiling, appeared actually chipper as he tossed his leather carry-on bag playfully to Fritz.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Before Fritz could recover his upright stance after making a spectacular leaning-snagging-bobbling catch of the heavy bag, Randall had opened the passenger door of the limo for himself.
Fritz choked out, with what little breath remained after managing the heavy bag, "Good to see you again, Mister Randall. How did you manage on the flight out?"
"Great, Fritz! Thanks! Listen, how would I go about chartering a small plane to Moab, Utah?"
To say Fritz looked surprised would be calling the Mississippi River a drainage ditch. Indeed, he reacted almost as if he had been Tasered. [5] Slowly he said, "You wish to ride in an airplane, sir? ... A small airplane?"
"Small is okay," Randall said, still smiling. "I only care that it's fast."
Fritz was certain now that, although it wasn't obvious to the naked eye, Randall was falling-down drunk. The chauffeur spoke in the way people speak when they are trying to change someone's mind without exactly, overtly disagreeing with that someone, who might be, oh, their boss, for example. "But ... but you've always said small planes are so dangerous, sir."
Randall's smile broadened into a Puckish grin. "Not half as dangerous as what you're going to do while I'm gone, old friend. Let's get going; I'll tell you on the way."
Randall hopped in the limo and gestured for Fritz to do the same.
Fritz moved toward the driver's side of the car, never taking his eyes off Randall. The chauffeur stopped once and looked under the car before getting in.
"We're in a hurry, Fritz! What are you doing?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Just checking for pods, sir. You'll forgive me for saying that you don't seem quite yourself. You weren't abducted by aliens on the way here, were you, sir?"
"I think I'm in love!" Randall said. "I met my soul mate on that beautiful airplane, Fritz, and it's clear to me that I've simply got to have her in my life!"
"Of course, sir." Fritz started the car and they pulled away from the curb.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~o~~o~~o~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Will Randall really get on a small plane without anesthesia? What is the dangerous chore Fritz must handle while Randall flies away? Will Meriweather really murder Randall if he doesn't go to that award dinner in Los Angeles? Is Debbie serious about Officer Falconi? Answers await us in the coming chapters of Lou's Tattoos.
