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Ryder jerked the body toward him, dipped into a squat, and hauled the corpse over his shoulder.
He carried Petey to the edge of the swamp in a fireman’s hold and then tossed the body.
It was like watching the Hulk throw a car.
The splash wasn’t that big, but the ripples were pronounced, blood drifting on the surface of the water as the body bobbed like a cork.
Both men watched in silence, arms folded across thick chests.
Reptilian eyes, barely visible above the waterline, eased closer.
In minutes, the water churned as a gator came up from the depths, claiming its prey, and a tail flashed as it rolled the body beneath water to its murky grave.
Satisfied, Brick turned away from the swamp. “Don’t get blood in my truck.”
Ryder circled to his side of the truck, stripping out of his tee. He wiped his hands on his shirt, popped the door, and then threw the tee in the floorboard.
Brick shook his head on a grin and started the engine.
*************************
Jenna
The Monday morning after swearing I’d never think of Talon again, I sat in the university cafeteria staring out a window, thinking about Talon.
Wondering how I’d established so much of my identity around a lie and trying for the life of me to figure out how one man could be such a massive dick.
“I see the force is with you this fine, spring day,” Gabby said, plonking her tray down across from me.
I turned and took in Gabby’s gray Star Wars tee, this one declaring that Darth was Luke’s father in bold black letters, her ponytail, and Converse sneakers. She was a doll. A weird doll, but a doll all the same.
“The force?” I asked, moving the lettuce I wasn’t eating around in my salad bowl with a plastic fork.
“You know, Star Wars? The greatest mythological treatise in modern times?”
I blinked at her.
Gabby picked up her sandwich. “How you’ve never gotten into the literary archetypes of Star Wars I’ll never know.”
I dropped my fork in the still full salad bowl and pushed my tray away. “Motorcycle clubs haven’t done me that many favors. Maybe I should rethink my curriculum and jump on the hero’s journey bandwagon.”
Gabby’s eyes lit up. “See? Something for everyone.”
“Afternoon, ladies,” Kevin greeted, pulling up a chair.
I started to roll my eyes, but I caught myself and remembered that Talon, as well as every other biker in the greater Savannah area, was off limits. Therefore, maybe I should pay a little more attention to Kevin. He wasn’tthatbad.
I smiled, “Hey, Kev, what’s up?”
Kevin sat, paused a second while he studied my face, and then waded into conversation. “Stopped by to see if you’ve heard the new publication requirements.”
Gabby set her half eaten sandwich on her plate. “What the hell?” she asked, her level of pissed off evident in her tone.
Professors at most colleges and universities were required to contribute to the literature in their field by publishing articles and research. Some universities were more stringent with their publication demands than others.
My tenure at Savannah State had been pretty reasonable. Publish well and as often as you can, but don’t sacrifice quality for quantity. And none of my colleagues were stabbing each other in the back over it either. Which made teaching here kind of a dream come true.
Southern hospitality, Tybee Island, haunted tours, solid art community, and great colleagues who supported rather than tore down.
