Page 2 of Tyrant Blood

‘Thank you,’ Joaquin said, feeling the burn of the vodka and passing the bottle back to the woman. ‘I think I needed that.’

‘I could tell,’ the lady replied, chuckling to herself as she finished off the bottle in one swoop. ‘Urgh. There isn’t another stop now until morning. So I’ll bid you good fuckin’ night.’

‘Yeah, good night,’ Joaquin replied, smiling as he felt the vodka warming him from the inside out. ‘And thanks again for the drink.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ the lady said, her eyes already shut as she turned to face the window. ‘Now get some damn sleep. You look like I freakin’ feel.’

Joaquin was about to reply but saw that the lady was pretty much asleep already. And in that moment, Joaquin thought that she might just be onto something.

But rather than allow himself to swiftly drift off and get some much needed rest, Joaquin took a sharp intake of air into his lungs and rubbed his eyes. As far as he was concerned, sleep simply wasn’t a viable option. Not now. And not for the rest of the bus journey either.

Joaquin gripped his bag tightly and looked out of the bus window and into the night sky outside. In all his twenty-three years, Joaquin had never been in trouble like this – and he knew that one wrong step could be the last mistake that he ever made.

Don’t fall asleep.

I can’t trust anyone on here.

If I lose my bag… I’ll be even more fucked than I am already.

Chapter 1

Cole

‘Reacher!’ Cole bellowed, his voice carrying through the rain sodden undergrowth of Ridgeback Forest as he called out for his trusty hound. ‘Quit chasing rabbits and come the hell back to Daddy.’

Cole pulled the hood of his black and grey camo raincoat over his head and called out for his dog once more. With the rainclouds closing in and the light dipping, the last thing that Cole wanted was to be out in the forest for any longer than he needed to be.

‘One more time, and you’d better come running,’ Cole muttered before blasting out one more time. ‘Ranger! Get your tail back here.’

And it was less than five seconds later that Cole heard the familiar sound of twigs and leaves rustling as his great big old hound came charging toward him through the dense, wet bush.

A loud bark and some nuzzling later, and both Cole and Reacher were making their way back to Cole’s place on the edge of the forest.

‘There’s a storm brewing,’ Cole said, increasing the pace of his walk and watching with pride as Ranger stalked ahead of him, ever vigilant and full of energy. ‘And my old ass doesn’t need to get caught out in it.’

Cole Tyrant was forty years old, and his strong body was very much feeling the effects of a lifetime playing hockey and a full fifteen year professional career that was brought to an abrupt end five years ago.

With an arthritic hip, three knee operations, and several back injuries over the span of his career on the ice, Cole wasn’t exactly as fit and flexible as he used to be. But one thing that Cole had in abundance though was strength and grit. Oh, and the kind of right cross and uppercut combination that was still more than able to get him out of most bar room brawls in one piece.

But bare knuckle dustups and overnight visits to the local police cell were something that Cole was trying to avoid as much as he possibly could these days. After the three year county jail sentence that brought a swift end to his hockey career, Cole was very much of a mind that if he could avoid trouble he most certainly would.

And while avoiding trouble wasn’t exactly Cole’s strong suit, the fact that he was well known and generally well liked in Ridgeback Falls was something that worked in his favor. The town sheriff was very much from the old school and saw no reason to throw fighting men into jail provided that everything was settled fair and square on the night. Cole knew that as long as he didn’t take anything too far, he was good to go.

Of course, not taking things too far wasn’t always part of Cole’s natural makeup.

During his hockey career, Cole had risen to the top by playing harder and faster than his rivals. Cole might not have had the finesse of hockey’s greats, but when it came to aggression, attitude, and winning mentality Cole Tyrant was legendary.

However as Cole racked up disciplinary issues for his on ice aggression, he had also found himself accumulating controversies off the ice too. Being known as a hard man on the ice saw Cole targeted off the ice by drunks and blowhards who wanted to make a name for themselves – and Cole was rarely able to resist the temptation to fight back either.

A trusted team manager and supportive head coach meant that Cole was able to keep on playing hockey despite his suspensions and fines, but if Cole ever thought that this loyalty would be never-ending, then he had been given a rude awakening in the aftermath of that one fateful night that ended his career.

‘Ranger, follow me,’ Cole said, switching routes as he felt the first drops of rain hit his raincoat. ‘We’re going to need the shortcut.’

Ranger barked and happily switched routes, trotting ahead of Cole as the pair of them made a left and took the steeper but significantly shorter route back home.

Cole couldn’t wait to get back to his cabin.

With a hot stew slowly cooking its way to perfection and a loaf of perfectly chewy sourdough bread to accompany it, Cole was ready to fill his belly in preparation for a few beers down at Smokers Tavern that evening.

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