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    What Matter Wounds
    What Matter Wounds
    What Matter Wounds
    Ebook296 pages4 hours

    What Matter Wounds

    By Geonn Cannon

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    About this ebook

    In the sequel to Chasing Dragons, Claire Lance’s road is coming to an end...Lance and Jodie take to the road together, wandering through the southwest with no particular destination in mind. In the middle of the Nevada desert, they stumble across something neither of them can ignore and walk into the middle of a local sheriff’s private kingdom. Offended by the abuse of power the cops display, Lance takes it upon herself to take the sheriff out of power no matter what the cost.

    Meanwhile unlikely forces from Lance’s past align, shedding new light on Elaine’s murder and Lance’s alibi. FBI Agent Faye Mallory takes it upon herself to tie everything together and, she hopes, put an end to Lance’s running for good. But with Lance facing one of her most brutal enemies to date, her luck may already be running out.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSupposed Crimes, LLC
    Release dateMar 31, 2014
    ISBN9781938108266
    What Matter Wounds
    Author

    Geonn Cannon

    Geonn Cannon was born in a barn and raised to know better than that. He was born and raised in Oklahoma where he’s been enslaved by a series of cats, dogs, two birds and one unexpected turtle. He’s spent his entire life creating stories but only became serious about it when he realized it was a talent that could impress girls. Learning to write well was easier than learning to juggle, so a career was underway. His high school years were spent writing stories among a small group of friends and reading whatever books he could get his hands on.Geonn was inspired to create the fictional Squire’s Isle after a 2004 trip to San Juan Island in Washington State. His first novel set on the island, On the Air, was written almost as a side project to another story he wanted to tell. Reception to the story was so strong that the original story was put on the back burner to deal with the world created in On the Air. His second novel set in the same universe, Gemini, was also very well received and went on to win the Golden Crown Literary Society Award for Best Novel, Dramatic/General Fiction. Geonn was the first male author to receive the honor.While some of his novels haven’t focused as heavily on Squire’s Isle, the vast majority of Geonn’s works take place in the same universe and have connections back to the island and its cast of characters (the exception being the Riley Parra series). In addition to writing more novels based on the inhabitants of Squire’s Isle, Geonn hopes to one day move to the real-life equivalent to inspire further stories.Geonn is currently working on a tie-in novel to the television series Stargate SG-1, and a script for a webseries version of Riley Parra.

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      Book preview

      What Matter Wounds - Geonn Cannon

      What Matter Wounds

      Geonn Cannon

      Smashwords Edition

      Supposed Crimes LLC, Falls Church, Virginia

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      All Rights Reserved

      Copyright 2014 Geonn Cannon

      Published in the United States

      ISBN: 978-1-938108-26-6

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this 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 not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Prologue

      Northwestern Nevada

      The rocks popped and cracked under the tires as the car veered off the road. Two other cars followed it, moving slow across the uneven terrain. Only the lead car had its headlights on since the full moon was bright enough to expose the stretch of nothingness in front of them. Only the odd tree or shrub stood in their way, and the jackrabbits jumped out of the way well before the cars could run over them.

      The lead car finally rolled to a stop, and the other two parked behind it. The driver threw open his door and unfolded his lanky frame from the front seat, smoothing his hands down the fronts of his trousers as he looked back at his followers. James Guthrie was a tall man with the barrel chest of a turn of the century carnival strongman. His head was shaved bald, and a bushy mustache the color of desert sand covered his top lip. He wore a pair of aviator sunglasses despite the darkness.

      He hooked his thumbs in his belt and hitched his pants up and scanned the landscape as the other car doors opened. C'mon, Crowe. Ain't got all day. Get him out here.

      Crowe, the driver of the second car, opened the backseat and roughly hauled the passenger out by his collar. The man stumbled to the ground, and Crowe manhandled him back to his feet and forced him to walk forward to where Guthrie stood. The passenger's hands were cuffed behind his back, his feet struggling to stay under him as Crowe half-dragged him across the broken shale. His unbuttoned white shirt stood out against his dark skin, the untucked tails swinging as he was pushed roughly forward. He tripped over his own feet more than once, but Crowe's hands on his collar kept him from falling face forward on the alkali rock.

      When they reached Guthrie, Crowe put his foot in the back of the passenger's knee and pushed. The man collapsed to his knees, sagging his shoulders in exhaustion as he lifted his head to face his captors.

      Guthrie took a deep breath of the dry air and looked down at the man kneeling before him. Figured it was time you and I met in person, Mr. Burke. He stepped in front of his car so that the headlights were shining on him. He pinched the thighs of his trousers and pulled them up slightly before he crouched down. Considering the lies you've been telling about me, it's only right I get to face my accuser.

      Burke turned his head and spit on the ground next to Guthrie's shoe. I haven't written a single word that wasn't true. And you know that. Otherwise I'd be getting a letter from your lawyer instead of being dragged out of my house in the middle of the night by your goons.

      The mustache twitched. Lawyers? We don't bother with lawyers in this neck of the woods. See, middlemen muddy the waters. They complicate matters. You bring in a lawyer, this becomes a whole ordeal and it takes two, three years before there's any resolution. The smile faded and he leaned in. We like to settle problems a little faster out here.

      Guthrie lashed out with his right arm before anyone, even his own men, saw it. He buried his fist in Burke's stomach. Burke doubled over from the blow, and Guthrie grabbed his collar and kept him from falling. He moved closer, pulling Burke's head under his arm like a country boy talking to a good buddy. Now, my boys here have some issues with your investigation. I'm going to let them air those grievances. Nice and democratically.

      Burke struggled to escape, but Guthrie's grip was too strong. You and your friends are all going to jail, Guthrie.

      The group laughed at the threat, and Guthrie patted Burke's cheek. That'll be the day. He stood up, cracked his back and gestured at the man kneeling in front of him as he left the reach of the headlights. Okay, boys. Air your grievances.

      Guthrie lit a cigarette as the first blow landed, drawing deep on it. He looked out over the desert, letting the smoke from his mouth slowly. A person climbed out of the furthest car and trotted up to meet Guthrie. Boss. We just got a call come in on the radio. Figured you oughta take it.

      Guthrie looked over his shoulder to examine the situation. Burke was lying facedown on the dry lakebed struggling to push himself upright with both hands cuffed behind his back. Blood dripped from his lips and nose, already pooling on the sand and rock beneath him. Guthrie's men were standing around him like fence posts, one occasionally stepping forward to deliver a well-placed punch or a kick to knock Burke back down.

      Crowe, you got this?

      Sure enough, boss, Crowe said. We'll be out here a while. You go on ahead.

      Guthrie drew on his cigarette, hissed between his teeth, and said, Yeah. You're probably right. Let me know how things work out. He flicked the cigarette at Burke's prone body and hitched his belt again as he walked back to his car. He had left the door open and he groaned as he dropped down into the seat. He could still see the silhouettes of his men as he grabbed the radio microphone and pulled it from the dashboard hook.

      Hey, Nancy. Heard you're looking for me.

      The response was immediate. Where in blue blazes have you boys gotten to? This place ain't a ghost town yet. Can't have you boys running off to smoke cigarettes and tell fish stories whenever you damn well please.

      Guthrie smiled as he closed the car door and started the engine. It's the middle of the night, dear, and we answer to no one. We can do whatever we want. Where you sending me?

      Eighteen Claim Road. It's another domestic.

      Ain't it always, he sighed. I'm on my way.

      He returned the mic to the hook and flipped a switch that sat underneath it. The blue and red bars on top of his car came to life, casting eerie shadows in the desert to either side of the road as the sheriff drove back to Crystal Springs.

      #

      Chicago, Illinois

      The Reverend was born Abednego Williams, his named picked by his mother thumbing through a Bible while she was in the hospital. Every Sunday morning and evening, she would dress him in his finest clothes, take his hand, and walk him down the street to their church. Whenever there was a sermon, Althea Williams was there with her little boy in tow. On their walks home, she would quiz him about what lessons he should have learned.

      The Sunday that Althea was killed for the thirty dollars in her wallet, Abednego slipped past the mugger and disappeared down an alley. It was the first escape of many, it wasn't long before the twelve-year-old discovered drugs, and not much longer until he was selling them to support himself. Before long, Abednego was being called 'Escape Artist' by the people who worked for him, and 'the Reverend' by his more respectful customers.

      Tonight, the Reverend was praying for escape.

      He could hear the uniformed cops shouting at each other behind him, and the squawking on their radio filled the air. He didn't even know where the first wave of cops had come from, or how they'd found him. Fortunately one of Abednego's spotters saw a uniform and sent up the alarm, and Abednego was moving before the echo of the kid's voice faded. Realizing they'd lost the element of surprise, the cops came out of the woodwork and swarmed the entire block. Shadows seemed to grow hands, faces and badges, all of the phantoms snatching at him as he ran past. Abednego swirled and skipped and ducked away from the clutching fingers and managed to get to the end of the alley without being snatched.

      Abednego jumped, his sneakers echoing off the dumpster he used as a launch pad. He grabbed the chain link fence with both hands and twisted his body over the top like an Olympic high-jumper. He landed on the other side, the impact cushioned by his sneakers but still hard enough to rattle his knees. He touched his fingers to the ground, just a brief glancing brush, and ignored the twinge of pain as he took off again. There wasn't time to stop or rest; he had to get gone.

      He was almost home free when a black and white cruiser suddenly swerved into the opening of the alley ahead of him. The spotlight by the driver's window found him and temporarily blinded him. He cursed under his breath and changed his direction as the cop shouted at him through a loudspeaker. A fire escape ladder was hanging just within reach, and Abednego leapt for it. He hooked his long fingers around the bottom rung and his feet swung as they left the ground. He pulled himself up, scrambling over the rungs until he could get his feet onto a rung.

      After that it was clear sailing to the roof, smiling as he heard the cops shouting beneath him. One of them grunted and jumped for the ladder, falling hard with a heavy grunt of exertion. Abednego shook his head and whispered, Gotta keep up with those physical fitness requirements, my man.

      When he reached the roof, he took a second to think about where he was and consider the remaining escape routes. He had just started running to the street-side of the building when an authoritative voice shouted, "Freeze! Stop where you are or I will shoot you, goddamn it."

      Abednego's feet skidded another few inches, not getting the signal from his brain that this was the end of the road. He held his hands out to his sides, arms spread wide with his fingers splayed. Somehow one of the cops had managed to get onto the roof with him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the officer standing in the doorway of a stairwell, gun held out in front of him with both hands. The kid was a rookie, fresh from the academy. No wonder he'd been able to run. But standing in front of an armed newbie was also a very dangerous place to be.

      Abednego waved his fingers and said, Just take it easy, man. I'm not resisting. I don't have no weapons, no nothing. You guys know me, you know I don't carry weapons, so just ease up, Dirty Harry.

      Yeah, you guys always want it easy. Easy means not running, asshole. Now put your hands on the back of your head.

      Abednego did as instructed. First Corinthians, ten-thirteen; 'Along with the temptation, He will also provide for you the way out.'

      The cop snorted as he cuffed Abednego's hands behind his back. God's gonna get you out of jail, huh? Think that's real high on His to-do list?

      Abednego chuckled. He works in mysterious ways, officer. He helps those who help themselves. Abednego turned his head to look at the cop. He also doesn't like the cursing.

      Shut the fuck up. The cop tugged Abednego by the arm, pulling him toward the stairwell door. As they moved, he called down to his partner to let him know he'd grabbed a fleeing drug dealer.

      Abednego smiled as he was led downstairs. The cops had been after him for quite a while, but this was the first time they'd actually managed to catch him. He knew he should have been worried about never seeing daylight again, fearing the eight-by-ten cell they were going to shove him in. But he was calm. The Lord worked in mysterious ways indeed, and the Lord had provided him with a trump card that would get him back to freedom within twenty-four hours.

      We've been looking for you for a while, Mr. Williams. Hope you like prison food.

      Abednego shook his head. Luke, twenty-one thirteen; 'This will be a time for you to bear testimony. Settle it therefore in your minds, not to meditate beforehand how to answer; for I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your adversaries will be able to withstand or contradict.'

      Whatever, asshole. You've been selling drugs to little kids. It's gonna take a lot of testimony to get past that.

      I've never sold drugs to children, and never to anyone who didn't know what they were getting. People got a craving and I got a hole in my pocket where their money will fit. And before you judge me, you should remember Romans three twenty-three. For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.

      You're right, the cop said as he pushed open the outside door. I don't know how I'll sleep tonight.

      Abednego lifted his head and looked up at the night sky as he was led to the police car. It wasn't a goodbye, or one last look. It was a promise that he would be back soon. With the information he had, the cops would give him whatever he asked for.

      He was going to be back in no time.

      #

      Chapter One

      The signs on the road announced the hotel was the last building in Oregon before crossing the state line. Claire Lance sat on the trunk of her Mustang and looked into the darkness that hid Nevada from view. Her arms were on her knees, hands dangling, and she tried to find the spot where one state became another. She had crossed so many of these invisible lines without thinking about it that she thought it would be nice to know the exact moment she crossed over into someplace else.

      It was hard to see much of anything now that the sun was down, but she could just barely make out the shapes of mountains against the dying light of the day. She was surprised by how arid the land was here; she always pictured Oregon to be lush forest from the border to the coast, but apparently topography didn't pay attention to invisible borderlines either.

      She heard the bell ringing over the door of the hotel office and looked over her shoulder. Jodie held up a key and smiled. Lance was again struck by the sight of her partner; Jodie had started wearing her hair longer since their time in Alaska, and often wore it down as opposed to the ponytails she'd favored when they first met. It was currently to the shoulders of her button-down shirt, swaying with her movement as she walked to the car.

      Being on the road was different with Jodie; with Jodie to take over driving while Lance slept, they had been able to avoid stopping at hotels. A helpful trucker had escorted Lance, Jodie and Sara Tamirova through Canada, and they parted ways when they crossed back over into Washington. They got another ride to take them the rest of the way to Shepherd, where Jodie picked up her Mustang and drove them to Squire's Isle to drop off Sara at her home. After that, it was just a matter of keeping off the main roads and avoiding the police as much as they could. They drove over the Cascades, crossing into Idaho before turning south and cutting through Idaho and then swinging back into Oregon.

      The constant movement kept Lance sane and helped her focus on the moment. She was just on the road with the woman she loved, enjoying the beautiful countryside. They had no schedule and no obligations, occasionally stopping in a small town to earn some money bartending or bussing tables before they picked up stakes and headed out again. The other times they did stop were for the essentials; refueling, restrooms, and getting reacquainted. Lance planned for the current stop was going to take care of the latter.

      They were far from the only people staying at the hotel, but it was late enough that they had the parking lot to themselves. Lance slid off the trunk and moved to the backseat to take the bags out, handing one to Jodie before sliding her arm around her waist. Did the guy behind the desk give you any trouble?

      He barely even looked away from my chest, Jodie said. No wonder none of these clerks ever turned you in; none of them ever saw your face. Jodie led her to the last room on the lower level. And do you see? I'm learning. I picked a room with an easy route of escape.

      Lance wasn't quite as pleased with this revelation as Jodie seemed to expect. She turned and kissed Jodie's forehead. I wish you didn't have to learn stuff like that.

      Jodie unlocked the door and pushed it open. We've been over this, Claire. She turned on the light and tossed her bag onto the bed. She put her hands on her hips and turned to face her. I started running when I was a teenager. Home wasn't safe for me, so I high-tailed it as soon as I could. And then one day, I stopped running in Shepherd. I thought I was settling down, but that's not it. That's not it at all. She walked forward and cupped Lance's face. I was waiting for you to catch up to me.

      Lance laced her fingers together behind Jodie's neck and bent to kiss her lips. Jodie turned her head and pressed herself tighter against Lance, pulling her toward the bed. Lance allowed herself to be led, relaxing her hands and moving them to Jodie's shoulders.

      Jodie moved her hands to the collar of Lance's shirt and began undoing the buttons. She broke the kiss and looked down, smiled, and pulled Lance down onto the bed. They fit together perfectly, Lance's leg sliding between Jodie's, and they kissed as Jodie pushed Lance's shirt off her shoulders.

      Hey, Lance said. Jodie kept her hands on Lance's bare shoulders, teasing the straps of her bra. She licked her lips, staring into Jodie's eyes as she tried to vocalize what she was thinking. Finally, she touched Jodie's cheek and said, I know I was kind of stubborn about bringing you with me. But I couldn't have been alone much longer without going crazy. I'm glad you're here.

      Jodie turned her head and kissed Lance's palm. She moved her hands down to undo the clasp and Lance helped her pull the bra off. Jodie rolled over onto Lance, straddling her as she kissed down the front of her chest. Lance pulled at Jodie's shirt after undoing only the top three buttons. Jodie lifted her arms and let Lance peel the shirt off of her before going back to her re- exploration of Lance's body. Lance closed her eyes and ran her hands through Jodie's hair, sighing as her jeans were undone and pulled down.

      Jodie moved down to take off Lance's boots to take her jeans off completely. She guided Lance's legs onto her shoulders as she kissed her way back up.

      Lance had a momentary flashback to nights like this when she first went on the road. The nights when she was still suffering from withdrawals of the drug cocktail forced on her by Madrid's goons, when she still woke in the middle of the night expecting Elaine to be next to her. To that version of herself, things like pleasure and happiness were alien, and sounded foreign in her mouth. As far as she was concerned, her life was over.

      Jodie settled between her legs, and Lance grunted. She put a hand between Jodie's shoulders as Jodie pushed her underwear aside and kissed sensitive flesh. Lance bit her bottom lip as Jodie's tongue slipped inside of her, curling the tip before she treated. She put her hand on Lance's thigh and massaged gently, kneading the flesh as she began to stroke with her tongue. Lance braced her feet on the mattress on either side of Jodie and lifted her hips to meet each pass of Jodie's tongue.

      Jodie's free hand moved up Lance's body, coming to rest on her breast, and Lance arched into her palm. When Lance looked down, she saw Jodie looking up at her. Jodie smiled without raising her head, and Lance moaned Jodie's name as she came, rocking her hips against Jodie's lips and tongue until she sagged to the mattress with a sigh.

      Jodie kissed her way up Lance's body, resting her head on Lance's chest. Lance wrapped her legs around Jodie's waist and her arms around her chest. She bowed to kiss the top of Jodie's head and whispered. This is a heck of a rest stop.

      Our goal is the satisfaction of our customers.

      Lance ran her hand up the smooth line of Jodie's spine. Jodie looked up, and Lance kissed her lips as she undid the clasp. Well... the least I can do is leave you a good tip.

      It better be more than just the tip, Jodie whispered. She smiled and reached for the catch of her jeans.

      #

      At first, Jodie wasn't sure where they were. She stayed still, Lance's arm draped across her stomach, and stared at the window until her memory caught up. They were almost out of Oregon, near the Nevada border. Tomorrow they would head out into the desert. The route was Jodie's choice. She had always wanted to see Las Vegas, and she figured that it was as good a place as any to fade into the crowds. Afterward they would go to the Grand Canyon, drift south into California and after that maybe Arizona or Utah. She didn't really matter where they went or what they saw as long as she was with Claire.

      She looked over her shoulder to see Claire was sleeping with her face pressed into the pillow, her lips slightly parted. Jodie smiled and eased out from under her arm, crawling out of bed and moving quietly across the room. She picked up her T-shirt off the floor as she passed it, untangling the sleeves to pull it over her head. She squinted in the bathrooms light and looked at her reflection in the mirror, tried to fix the mess of her hair, and then smiled. She was here, she was on the road, and the woman she loved was asleep in the next room.

      It had been a true ordeal to get Claire to agree to her coming along. Even after she agreed Jodie could come with her, a promise whispered in an Alaskan cabin, she tried to renege when they were back in the States. They argued about it all the way to Shepherd, with Claire swearing she would take off again just as soon as she retrieved her Mustang. After that, it would be in Jodie's best interest to stay there. Jodie disagreed and refused to stay behind.

      In the end, Claire had given up and loaded Jodie's bags into the car herself. And then, right

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