The Gunstock Club 3: The Call...plus a free chapter.

 Okay, so here's the Big News. The third episode of Gunstock Club is no available. You can find it here: 

https://books2read.com/u/4D5Opk

Like I say, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this up and running, but, I had a glitch. Specifically, I had planned to give away the third chapter as I had the first and second chapters. But, guess what? Draft2Digital didn't like that. It said that the chapter was too short, for one thing, and I was already giving away books for another.

So...I took three chapters, put into a single episode, and published that as a book. Unfortunately, it is no longer free. It is now $2.99. But, still...that's not so bad.

Just to keep something free in the mix, here's the first chapter, which you read at no cost. If you like it, head over to you local ebook retailer.

cheers

mjt

Here's the free stuff:

3. The Call

“Gabe,” he said. “Gabriel Roy...”

“One and the same,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “I’m alive.”

“You are...they told me...you were dead.”

“I know. I know.”

“They said I killed you.”

“Yes. Yes. But I’m fine. I’m alive. Everything is going to be alright.”

“You vanished. They arrested me. I’ve been in jail...”

“Yes, yes, I know all that. Listen, we haven’t got much time. I can’t go into detail right now. But, we’re getting you out. We’ll meet soon. I’ll explain then.”

“I’m getting out? You mean, out of here? Out of jail?”

“Listen. I have to be careful. They...they are after me. They’ll try to kill me.”

“Who’s they?”

“The family. George, Jack, Matthew...all the brothers. And the women. Nina, Matthew’s wife. And her daughter. Christina? You remember her? Vicious little bitch.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, they’re all in on it. They tried to kill me that night. But I got away. I’ve been in hiding. Belize. France. Two years. I’ve been hiding for two years.”

“In France. And the Caribbean.” 

“Living in hotels,” he said again. “I’m sorry. But, like I said, we’re going to get you out of there.”

“We?”

“Me. Harry Blanche. Some others.”

“Harry Blanche? The company’s director of security?”

“Yes. It’s a long story. I’ll explain. When we meet.”

“I understand.” He didn’t. Seemed best at the moment to just let it slide, though. “So, what now?”

“Like I said, we get you out. The guy who’s there...uh...”

“Mr. De la Torre?”

“Ah...oh, yeah...that’s him. De la Torre. Del. ah Tore. He’ll take you out of the prison. Right now. He’ll take you someplace where you can get cleaned up. Then we’ll get you to states-side. We’ll meet. I’ll explain.”

“I see.” 

“Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. Everything will be fine. We’re going to get back at them. We’re going to take down those bastards.”

“I see.”

“You’ll see. We’ll win. Everything will be okay. Just trust me.”

“I will,” he lied.

“Atta-boy. See you soon.”

 And the line went dead.

De la Torre, or whatever his real name was, stood up. “Shall we go?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” They walked to the door of the room. Outside, his favorite guard was standing with a plastic bag. It was full of Andy’s few possessions from his cell. They nodded at each other. De la Torre tipped the man with several bills. 

And the next thing he knew, they were outside.

The lawyer, or whoever he was, put him in a car and drove him to a hotel. It wasn’t a five star luxury resort, he thought, but it was a hell of a lot better than a prison cell. And, it said something about the well-trained staff that the clerk did not gawk excessively when he appeared ragged and filthy, and checked in, the “lawyer” immaculate and dapper by his side.

Safely in his room, he showered and shaved and put on clean clothing that was mysteriously waiting for him. A few moments later,  De la Torre appeared at the door and handed him a small suitcase. “Here,” he said. “Be ready at six tomorrow morning.”

Then, he vanished again. Andrew opened the bag. Inside was more clothing, all his size and very new. Also, his passport was there, the same one he’d had when he’d been arrested, two years before. How had they gotten it? 

There was also a wallet. Inside it were five crisp $100 bills.  But the really creepy thing was that there was a driver’s license, in his name, with his picture, and apparently new. A forgery, obviously, but a rather good one. He supposed it would do for the time being. 

Still...he’d have to remember to get a real license as soon as possible on his return. His passport would do to get him on and off planes and so forth. But he didn’t want to get caught with a fake ID, and hauled once more to durance vile, because of a traffic stop or something equally stupid.

He put everything back in the bag, except the wallet, which he placed in his pocket, and considered the situation. 

Well, whoever these people were, they had considerable power. They’d been able to put him in jail. Then they’d protected him while he was there. Then they’d pulled him out again. Now, they were sending him back to the U.S. for purposes of their own--presumably as part of a plan to bring down “The Family,” the Hamiltons. What was it Gabe had said? We’ll take down those bastards.

But how much, if anything, should he believe of what they told him?

Probably, right now, best to assume that nothing they said was true.

He hesitated for a moment, then went to the pile of dirty prison clothes that he’d discarded and dropped on the floor. He went through them and carefully extracted his razor and the card showing Santa Muerte. The clothing would go into the trash, but these two he would keep.

He had the feeling he wasn’t quite done with them.

Not yet.