by T. S. Hill
Adventure Across Texas
An Erotic Adventures Book
Book One
Second Edition
By
T.S. Hill
Everybody has a story, but mine is a legend!
Copyright 2017 by T.S. Hill
Copyright © T.S. Hill,
2017
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. You must not circulate this book without the authority to do so.
Amazon Kindle Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this e-book are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy/read this e-book if strong sexual situations, multiple partners, violence, drugs, alcohol, domestic discipline, and explicit language offend you.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, brands, works of artists, and incidents, historical or otherwise, are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
First Digital Publication Date: August 1, 2017
Second Edition Publication Date: October 30, 2017
Table of Contents
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One - Fate Can Be A Hard Thing
Chapter Two - Rolling with the Punches
Chapter Three - Do I Feel Lucky?
Chapter Four - All Dressed Up with No Place to Go
Chapter Five - Preparing to Ride
Chapter Six - The Ride
Chapter Seven - Prepping for the Fire Pit
Chapter Eight - Cooking in a Fire Pit
Chapter Nine - Cammo and Ammo
Chapter Ten - Coming off the Road
Chapter Eleven - A Wake-Up Call
Chapter Twelve - Breakfast at a New Level
Chapter Thirteen - Every Problem has a Solution
Chapter Fourteen - Not All Change is Bad Change
Chapter Fifteen - Painlessly Facing the Truth
Chapter Sixteen - Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda
Chapter Seventeen - Beginning to Sort It All
Chapter Eighteen - Unraveling Our Own Tangles
Epilogue
Prologue
An insanely hot, tanned, pair of legs, attached to a shapely hot ass, in a short pair of cutoff jeans is the last thing that thirty two year old Tagg Hill should let distract him just now. He’s been an elite corporate investigator for going on nine years. When business has been slow, he’s sometimes taken on government and police assignments. However, the assignment he took on almost three year ago, for a federal organized crime task force, to get conviction evidence on a New Orleans Dixie Mafia kingpin, has led him down a crooked path, that has him falsely framed for multiple crimes. Now he’s racing to retrieve, and turn in, the evidence that he’s stashed, which he hopes can clear him, convict his nemesis, and pay him a multimillion dollar commission on the gangster’s forfeiture of ill-gotten gains.
Although, quiet the proficient ladies’ man, Tagg hasn’t even looked at a woman, much less hit on one, while he’s been on the run for the last six months. But, on a routine fuel stop in the middle of nowhere Texas, the most beautiful woman he could imagine in his wildest dreams, literally falls into his lap. In addition to her hot body, she’s smart, hot headed, smart mouthed, and is also keeping a secret, that will lead to conflict within their rapidly developing attraction, and Tagg’s goals.
As their attraction heats up, so does the sex. The hotter the sex gets, the hotter everything else around them gets. As they flee across Texas, their adventures become wild, both in bed, and out, and their true identities and secrets could wreck their scorching, but fragile relationship. But then, why don’t I let Tagg tell you their story. After all, he knows it best.
Chapter One
Fate Can Be A Hard Thing
A hard life lived, easily accommodates hard things.
I pulled the latch handle and swung the Mustang’s driver door fully open. Setting my left foot to the ground, I watched curls of dry dust rise from the parking lot gravel, and encircle the gleaming black top of my left boot. Out of my far left peripheral vision, a movement caught my eye. Instinctively, my line of sight shifted to focus on the hottest set of legs that I had seen since leaving New Orleans six months ago.
For those six months, I barely had time to breath, much less chase after a woman. Hopefully though, all of this was about to change, and I took this moment to savor the sexy sight as it was presented in the bright early autumn sun.
Those hot, tanned, sexy legs, were not only shapely and perfect, but also connected to one well rounded, fine, female ass, the owner of which, obviously, and very naturally, moved, her whole body, in a sensual rhythm. The well-worn, low riding, cut off blue jean shorts, that wrapped that fine ass, were the core of her whole hot presentation.
Her white cotton, high waist blouse gave her a cool look in the desert heat. Meanwhile, the dusty brown, high heeled, cowboy boots, that perfectly matched the color and tone of her shapely, long, tanned legs, hinted at a feisty personality. I sat in the car thinking, that if the front view of that girl offered up as much hotness as this rear view, then the clerk in the country store was in for a real eye treat.
This woman really carried herself with a confidence that said, she could suddenly slam a door in the face of anyone not measuring up. Yep. She was advertising, a tough, sophisticated, image. I still remember wondering at the time, for some unknown reason, whether her confident strut was a message for men or women.
That didn’t really matter to me, not because I wasn’t interested, but rather, because my own survival, and ultimate freedom, depended on my staying focused on my tasks at hand. However, I still intently watched her lovely form, until the hot tanned legs, and their sultry blonde owner, disappeared through the country store doorway at the opposite end of the parking lot.
Even though I needed to stretch my legs, I decided to sit a bit, and catch her flip side, when she came back out of the store. I hadn’t seen her face, and there really was no reason to. Right now, the immediate goal was to get back to New Orleans as quickly as possible, without getting tangled up with the police, or getting killed by Dixie mafia goons.
I had managed to get embroiled, and implicated, in some unsavory circumstances, while chasing down leads, and compiling an evidence backed dossier, that would help lock away one of the kings of the Dixie mafia. For the last six months, I had managed to dodge the law, and a few near miss bullets, intended to collect the underground bounty on my life. This sexy eye candy, was a welcomed stress breaker.
Dixie crime syndicates, when the business is threatened, show no mercy, to even their own. There’s more than one former king pin lining the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, or s
erving as part of the foundations for some of Atlanta’s, Birmingham’s, and New Orleans’ finest high-rises. Now my life had an envious bounty attached, and the police would like very much to talk to me. That’s not a good position to be in, but I had two main stops scheduled on my trip back to New Orleans, that hopefully would provide me with relief.
My Oklahoma City stop, should determine if my evidential links were court worthy to prove the links between the shady New Orleans gangster and dealings of other crime activity on a huge local scale. And, my Dallas stop, hopefully would provide the evidence that would clear me.
If I was successful, this assignment could really punch my ticket. If I failed, I might just end up dead, or worse, in prison. I had to stay focused, but for some reason, I had let this blonde vision with the sexy tanned legs, distract me, at least momentarily.
I still needed to badly stretch my legs. It had been three hours, and about two hundred miles, since I had bought gas, and hit the can just east of Amarillo. When traveling, I always try to take a break, either every two hours or two hundred miles, which includes a brief walk to keep my legs and brain optimally functioning.
However, this Mustang had a full tank range of just over three hundred miles, which didn’t exactly correlate to my break schedule. But then, neither did getting shot at periodically, or attempts to run me off of bridges. So, I just had to make do with how the miles, and hours, rolled out. Often life seems to go like that. We frequently have no choice, but to roll with the punches, or swim against the current. But, but at least, the choice is always ours.
Just as I was thinking, that perhaps, I wouldn’t wait for the blonde’s return, a loud gunshot rang out across the parking lot from the direction of the country store. Instinctively, I ducked behind the car door, and lifted my booted foot off the ground to pull my whole body out of the potential line of fire.
The first thought crossing my mind was, “How the hell did Sam Milinni’s goons track, and catch up to me again, and this fast!” But then, I heard a loud, angry, male voice shouting across the parking lot, “Come back here, you two-bit thief of a slut!”, followed by another gunshot. That didn’t sound like Milinni’s goons shouting at me, and they surely weren’t shooting at me, or bullets would have riddled the Mustang long before I heard the shouting or second shot.
Cautiously, I leaned down between the car body and the open door, peeping under the door, across the face of the parking lot, and toward the county store. All I could see was parking lot gravel and a pair of dusty, brown, cowboy boots, filled with a pair of sexy tanned legs, running straight for me.
It didn’t take but an instant to realize that if the gunshots were aimed at the owner of those legs, and if the legs continued moving on their current track, it wouldn’t be but a few seconds until all three of us, the blonde with the legs, me, and the bullets, would be in the same vector.
“Damn you to hell Kathleen! You thieving whore!”, the angry male voice called out, just before the third shot rang in my ears.
I immediately sat upright in the seat, reached for the switch key, simultaneously screamed out at the man standing in the doorway of the store, “Hey! What the fuck?” He replied by taking aim and blowing out the window glass behind me with his fourth shot.
I can take a hint. I had already turned the switch key as I was yelling at the man with the gun. I knew what I should do next, and that was to smack the Mustang’s shifter into low, and stomp the accelerator. But, my knee jerk reaction to someone laying down fire at me took control. This would not go unanswered.
Without taking my eyes off of the man in the doorway, I flipped open the console with my right hand, and pulled out my already cocked and locked, old army issue, Colt forty-five. Instinctively, I flipped the safety off as the familiar grip of the old reliable weapon, fell into my palm. Then, in the fraction of a second that it took to level the Colt at my target in the doorway, I decided to not kill him, but to merely teach him a painful lesson.
I waited the two seconds that it took the running, blonde to clear herself to the left of my line of fire. Then expending another half second to zero my target, I carefully snapped off the round.
The old .45 caliber lion, roared across the parking lot, and I watched the man in the doorway fall forward with a look of shock on his face, as his left foot exploded rearward of where he had been standing. His handgun flipped out of his hand, and his face began that pitiful decent, to meet the face of the earth beneath him. He would live, but it would be a damn, long time before he would walk again, and maybe even longer before he fired off a round at an innocent bystander.
Just as I reached to drop the forty-five back into the console, something big blindsided me from my rear left, hit my left jaw and crashed into my lap, the steering wheel, and across the console. Yep. It was the hot blonde, in the cutoff jeans and white blouse. Along with her came the tanned legs, and the great round ass, cowboy boots and all.
Next, I did part of what I meant to do before she had even gotten close. I stomped the accelerator. But, I hadn’t smacked the shifter into low, or even drive, and the engine just revved to nearly blowing.
I took a deep breath, glanced back at the store to be sure no one else was about to fire on me. Then grabbing the blonde’s shapely legs, I finished flipping her, head first, into the passenger side floor board, leaving her hot tanned legs up the back of the passenger’s front seat.
I winced as her boot heels dug into the head liner. That would cost me pretty good when I returned the rental, along with the blown-out window, and, as I would find later, a bullet hole in the rear passenger arm rest. Taking one last glance back at the store, and seeing no one but the guy that had been shooting, rolling around on the ground hugging his foot, I finally shifted the Mustang into drive, and pulled the car door shut.
Easing out onto the road, I began accelerating at a semi normal rate. I sure didn’t need the attention that this kind of incident could bring. And, I didn’t need to get caught with this incriminating blonde as a tag along. I had no idea what manner of crap she was mixed up in. But, it was evidently, something extreme enough to get shot at.
After having cruised about a half of a mile since flinging her head first, and face down, into the car floor, the blonde still hadn’t moved, or spoken. I didn’t know if she was unconscious, or just waiting to see what would happen next. Apparently, it was the latter.
“You alright?”, I asked her, in I guess what she thought was too nonchalant of a manner.
“Gee fucking thanks for caring!”, she shouted sarcastically.
“I gather that you’re fine then!”, I snapped back.
“Fuck off asshole!”, she retorted, “You wanna get me the fuck up from here?”
“Actually, I want to get you the fuck out of here!”, I fired back, as I slammed on the brakes steering the Mustang off of the pavement and onto the dusty road shoulder. Even before the Mustang had slid to a complete stop, I had reached across the console, just under the front of the passenger seat, and pulled the seat adjustment release.
With one fluid motion, I pulled the seat rearward until it stopped. Leaning across her tanned legs and noticeable round ass, I reached for the passenger door latch handle, tripped it, then shoved the door open, grabbing at her flailing legs.
“What the fuck are you doing?”, she cried out, “Stop you fucking bastard!” Grasping a knee with my left hand, and an ankle with my right, I bent her kicking legs at the knees and shoved her legs out of the car door. Her legs and ass hit the ground with such force, that they pulled her torso more than halfway out of the car, leaving only her shoulders, head, and outstretched arms inside. As she hit the ground, a small dust cloud rose around her.
At first there was no sound from her, then she growled, “You fucking bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!” That’s when I noticed, and she noticed, my Colt laying in the passenger’s floor, and within an inch of the outstretched fingers of her left hand.
As she had blindsided me, diving into the car, s
omehow the pistol had been knocked from my hand and into the passenger floor. I had been so intent on clearing the scene, that I hadn’t bothered, just yet, with seeking out where it had landed.
I lunged at the Colt, hoping that she was right handed, but either way, both of our fingers wrapped and tangled around the forty-five at the same instant. My right hand, and her left, became like a tangle of worms. Then her right hand joined what had already become a hard knot of flesh and bone.
Moving on pure instinct, I balled my left hand into a fist and brought it down with all the force that I could muster, on the top of her blonde head. She went immediately limp. I pulled her seemingly lifeless, but well-manicured, fingers from the Colt, and sat up in the bucket seat. Flipping the Colt’s safety to the off position, I noted mentally, “Cocked and locked, one in the chamber, six in the magazine.”
I always carry one in the chamber and a full magazine, and I had expended a round, but now was not the time to be fiddling with ammo, especially over one round. Tucking the Colt into my left front waistband, I climbed out of the Mustang and glanced quickly up and down the highway.
There was no traffic coming, nor going, from either direction, and the country store was out of sight, blocked by a hill, and just around the curve. Finally, a break, I thought. I hoped that, just maybe, I could clean up this mess, and get away from here, without getting further embroiled with anyone else or the law. I quickly moved around to the passenger side of the Mustang to survey the damage.
The first thing that struck me was the absolutely, awesome, beauty of the woman that I had just struck in the head, hard enough to cause real damage. This was the first time, during this whole ordeal, that I had actually seen the whole of her, all at once. I have to confess, her beauty left me momentarily awestruck and amazed, with a twinge of guilt for having pummeled her so hard.
