Clint Wolf Mystery Trilogy: Boxed Set

by BJ Bourg

  “This is it, Godzator,” I said aloud. “Time to meet your maker.”

  Godzator didn’t move. He just hovered there in the water staring at me. I gently placed my finger against the trigger and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. When I’d reached my respiratory pause, I began to apply slow, steady pressure on the trigger, focusing on my crosshairs. I felt the trigger start to slowly creak rearward—

  “He did what came natural…that don’t rate a death sentence.”

  The voice was so real in my head that I jerked around looking for Dexter, knowing he was nowhere around.

  “He did what came natural,” I repeated. “That don’t rate a death sentence.” As I turned his words over in my head—words that had been spoken two years earlier—it finally occurred to me what he meant. We’d tried to harpoon Godzator after he ate Mrs. DuPont’s German shepherd, which was no different than someone shooting a spear trough my chest after I’d grabbed a hamburger for lunch.

  The sun was slowly setting behind me and it painted the beautiful swamps in a golden hue, setting a magnificent stage for what would happen next. As we faced each other down—two battle-scarred warriors doing what came natural to us—I realized we were a lot alike.

  “I’d be pissed off, too,” I said, “if someone shot me with a spear.” Knowing what Dexter would want me to do, I slowly lowered my rifle and stood there staring into Godzator’s eyes. There was a brief moment of uncertainty when I thought he might attack, but with a subtle swish of his tail he turned away from me. As though bidding me farewell, he closed both eyes and slowly faded into the depths of the murky water, the duckweed swallowing up the hole left behind by his absence.

  I sank to my seat and stared for a long moment at the spot I’d last seen him, thoroughly pleased with my decision. I sat there until the shadows began growing long and darkness started to fall across the swamps. Realizing I’d better leave before he changed his mind and came back to eat me, I started my engine and began the return ride home.

  CHAPTER 57

  “Did you get him?” Susan asked when I walked through the door of the old plantation home and entered the living area. She was standing on a ladder and held a paint roller in her hands. The last time I’d been in that room the walls were bare, but now most of it was coated in a fresh coat of white paint. There were blotches of paint on her arms and even a few droplets in her hair, but she didn’t seem to care.

  “You’re getting more paint on you than on the wall,” I joked, picking up a brush to help her finish the room.

  We’d been working on the building for months trying to get it ready for the secret opening in October. At first, I’d felt weird about keeping the place since it had been illegally purchased in Michele’s name for nefarious reasons, but Susan had made an offer I couldn’t resist.

  “I’ve always wanted to run a battered women’s shelter,” she’d said, “but I’ve never had the opportunity. This is the perfect location, we’re the perfect people to run it, and we have the time to make it work.”

  We had driven out to the property and I’d stood beaming as Susan bustled about, relaying her dreams to me. She pointed out which rooms could serve as private living quarters, described where she would be putting the gym to teach the women self-defense, and even suggested a shooting range in the back yard where we could teach them how to safely handle firearms. “They’ll feel safe here because it’s in the middle of nowhere,” she’d said, “and they’ll fall in love with the view.”

  We’d gone to work immediately and had begun spending all of our extra time remodeling the place. “We’ll be able to launch just in time for Domestic Violence Awareness Month,” Susan had explained one evening as we looked over a calendar, “but we won’t be able to make any announcements because it has to be kept secret.”

  With brush in hand, I moved to a corner of the room that needed attention and went to work. As we painted, I told her about my encounter with Godzator and how I’d decided to let him live.

  “Wait a minute,” Susan twisted around on the ladder to look at me. “After all the time you spent trying to find and kill him, you just let him live?”

  I nodded, explaining my reasons. She smiled warmly, agreeing it had been the right thing to do.

  When Susan had finished her side of the room, she dropped from the ladder and began cleaning up. “I’m ready for a hot shower and some personal time with you.”

  She didn’t have to draw me a picture. I helped her clean up and we were soon on our way home. Once we arrived, we raced to the bathroom and began ripping each other’s clothes off. Even after all of our time together, I still had a hard time containing myself when we were alone.

  We hurried through a shower and I snatched her up when we were done—both of us still dripping wet—and carried her over the threshold of the bathroom door. She began giggling, but stopped when I bent to kiss her. Her lips were soft and moist and I moaned as our tongues came together. I kept walking and kissing her until my foot bumped against the bed. I then pulled my face away and lowered her onto the soft mattress. Looking into her dark eyes, I could see how much she wanted me. I felt the firmness of her breasts against my chest as I pressed my body to hers, and it turned me on even more.

  We made love deep into the night, ignoring Achilles’ whining and scratching at the bedroom door. When we were finished, we lay beside each other, breathless and fulfilled. As she played with my hair, I ran my hand over her breasts and down her stomach, enjoying how smooth her skin felt against my fingers.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” I said.

  Her face turned red and she buried her face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, loving the way she still got embarrassed when I complimented her.

  After a while, she pulled her head back and stared up at me, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’m thinking about taking a break from the police department after we get married.”

  “Well,” I said slowly. “I was kind of hoping you’d take some time off for the honeymoon.”

  She chuckled. “Of course, I am—Pauline already approved it—but I’m thinking beyond the honeymoon.”

  I scowled. “Really? Why?”

  “I want to have your child, Clint,” she said softly. “I’m ready to start a family with you.”

  Like BJ Bourg on Facebook

  BJ Bourg

  BJ Bourg is an award-winning mystery writer and former professional boxer who hails from the swamps of Louisiana. Dubbed the "real deal" by other mystery writers, he has spent his entire adult life solving crimes as a patrol cop, detective sergeant, and chief investigator for a district attorney's office. Not only does he know his way around crime scenes, interrogations, and courtrooms, but he also served as a police sniper commander (earning the title of "Top Shooter" at an FBI sniper school) and a police academy instructor.

  BJ is a four-time traditionally-published novelist (his debut novel, JAMES 516, won the 2016 EPIC eBook Award for Best Mystery) and dozens of his articles and stories have been published in national magazines such as Woman's World, Boys' Life, and Writer's Digest. He is a regular contributor to two of the nation's leading law enforcement magazines, Law and Order and Tactical Response, and he has taught at conferences for law enforcement officers, tactical police officers, and writers. Above all else, he is a father and husband, and the highlight of his life is spending time with his beautiful wife and wonderful children.

  http://www.bjbourg.com

 

 

 
v>