Hot Pursuit

Hot Pursuit by Lorie O'Clare

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Authors: Lorie O'Clare
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    Wolf really hoped he was here. There was nothing more exciting than narrowing in on the hunt.
    He turned at the end of the block and was taken aback by the sunrise. It was beautiful yet blinding. Just like a woman, he thought morosely, so beautiful you couldn’t look away, but then when you didn’t she’d make you regret it to your dying day. In this case, his eyes would suffer if he didn’t get sunglasses. It sucked that he’d left his pair in his Escalade.
    “Damn good excuse to enter some of these stores,” he muttered, squinting as he approached downtown Zounds. Looked like he was going to buy a second pair of sunglasses and get an opportunity to chat with a few more of the town folk.
    Maybe he’d find a cute salesclerk who might know who had moved to Zounds in the past year. Goddamn he was a glutton for punishment. No one burned Wolf Marley twice! Although, he mused to himself, there was a big difference between flirting or even enjoying a one-night stand or two and entering into a long-term relationship. He would never do that again.
    Downtown Zounds was only a couple blocks long. What a ridiculous name for a town. Wolf wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the story behind the naming of this town. After he passed a few shops his mood dropped. It appeared no one around here opened before eleven. Was there even a twenty-four-hour grocery store or drugstore in this damned town?
    At the end of the two blocks of shops, the road ran a circle around a grassy garden courtyard with a large statue in the center of it. Wolf stared at the statue of a man, or sailor it appeared, with his hand above his eyes, as if warding off the sun, except he was facing the wrong direction. The man stared off toward the sea.
    Wolf searched for a plaque, didn’t see one, and decided he didn’t care. He wasn’t in Zounds to learn about its history or to care if some guy named Cortez was giving the town people grief. The only reason Wolf would care was if it would draw the Mulligan Stew assassin out of his hiding place. Even at that, Wolf almost preferred the assassin remained hidden.
    “I’ll find you,” Wolf whispered to himself, and looked away from the statue.
    Something caught his eye, and he started across the street, glancing both ways then shaking his head in disgust. There probably wasn’t a running vehicle in a two-block radius, if not farther. What time did people get up and go to work around here?
    Wolf tilted his head and looked alongside the edge of the building in front of him, down an alley. Not a dark alley. He doubted Zounds had any dark alleys. The town was too quaint, and so far its citizens appeared just as quaint, if not gullible. The last store on the street was next to the alley, the side of the building painted white. A field stretched out on the other side. It was probably the brightest alley he’d ever seen.
    He glanced at the sign attached to the building over its front doors. ANGELINA’S BOOKSTORE. He saw rows of books through the tall glass windows on either side of the entrance. Books weren’t exactly his thing. If he needed information he couldn’t get by using his wit and keen observation, he looked online.
    Wolf’s thoughts shifted to the Cortez guy Betsy had mentioned. If Cortez was persecuting and bullying the town, people who lived here might be existing in denial because they didn’t know how to stop him. They didn’t leave their homes unless necessary. The stores were only open six, or so, hours a day, then shopkeepers hid from this Cortez monster. Wolf shook his head, pulling his attention from the bookstore back to the alley. What a sad way for people to live their lives.
    A woman was in the alley doing something with boxes. If that was Angelina in the alley, stomping on boxes or doing some bizarre type of alley dance, she was one hot mama. With a body like that he hoped she was anything but an angel.
    The woman looked up from her task when Wolf started in her direction. Brown curls

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