EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK OF VENGEANCE

 Bulverde, Texas
 
Jon mounted the ATV, straddling the seat. Luanne got on behind him. 
   “Sure you don’t want to drive?” Jon asked. 
  “Yeah, I’ve done this before. Go for it.” Luanne’s nose and mouth were covered with a black bandana, muffling her voice. Both donned helmets and goggles protecting them from the upcoming onslaught of flying dust. 
   Luanne couldn’t help but laugh. Jon was certainly multi-faceted. He seemed more in his element here than he did sitting at the FBI office bantering with his boss. He was smart, complex, quick on his feet. Also, sexy and a bit of a jerk. But she liked him. 
   Jon revved the engine, and she took the cue, wrapping her arms around his waist. He drove toward the off-road circuit. They had rented the ATVs for the next hour and could go wherever they wanted as long as they brought the vehicle back on time. Luanne could already tell Jon was going to take it to the max. Boys will be boys. Well, she could play just as hard. Always had. A tomboy throughout her early childhood, she grew up literally climbing the walls. In her house, on the playground. “Fearless Lu” is what they’d called her. Regretfully, she’d lost some of that wildness. 
   Jon took the first hill getting his bearings. At the top they had a view of the rugged expanse, the ground dry and rocky. Luanne could see several dirt bikes in the distance, their wide threaded tires jumping and swerving, like Evel Knievel of the ‘70s, the stuntman her dad had once told her about. The noise was near-deafening and she wondered why they weren’t given ear protection like at the shooting range.
   Within five minutes, Jon had the hang of it and was speeding along, the dry grass shivering in their wake, stirring up clouds of dust. She shouted, “Having fun?”
   He turned his head a bit and yelled back. “This is amazing!”
   She felt a jolt of joy that she was the one to introduce him to what could become a favorite pastime. Get a grip. Her last relationship had spanned a two-year period. Leading nowhere. Mostly because he had no drive. Her thoughts were broken by the powerful sounds of a dirt bike descending the hill ahead of them. The rider wore a black helmet, the visor making it impossible to see his face. It took a moment for her to realize he was heading straight for them. 
   “Jon!” she shouted, bracing herself for a head on collision. 
   “Hold on!” Jon shouted. 
  In an instant, Jon shoved the handlebars, careening to the left, swerving out of the biker’s path, missing the collision by a hair. They had come so close Luanne could have reached out and touched the fringes on the biker’s jacket. She turned to see the guy brake hard, his booted leg hitting the ground . . . and rev up again. 
   “He’s coming back!” 
  Dead ahead was a hill, its steep rise preventing her from seeing what lie on the other side. Instead of slowing, Jon sped up. She had a vise grip on his waist as they went airborne, landing on the back wheels, then coming down hard, their bodies bouncing forward. It felt like her spine had compressed like an accordion. Miraculously, they were both still in the saddle. The maneuver had allowed Jon to make a U-turn, face his adversary. He wasted no time. Luanne sensed his strategy. It was the only thing that made sense—try to take the guy down while he was airborne. 
   Jon slowed as if timing his attack. The moment the biker crested the hill, Jon went for him, cutting off his descent. The biker’s instinct to turn his handlebars was futile without ground beneath his wheels. At the last moment, Jon sped out of the way. Luanne watched in horror as in mid-air, the bike—its wheels still spinning fast—went one way—the man another, his body rolling to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He wasn’t moving.
   Jon braked abruptly. “Stay here!”
  Luanne watched him pull out a pistol from a holster under his jacket, held it outward as he approached the motionless biker. He shouted, “FBI! Don’t move!”
   Jon took a step at a time, finally hovering over the man, remaining out of reach of the man’s splayed arm, ready to shoot if need be. No movement. He kicked the guy’s leg, hard. Still nothing. “You can come here, Lu. Hold the gun on him.” 
   She did as he asked and watched as Jon kneeled down beside their pursuer and lifted the man’s visor. His eyes were closed. She felt the bile rise, pushed it down. “Is he dead?”
   Jon lifted the man’s sleeve, took his pulse. “He’s alive. Call 911. He look familiar to you?”
   “No, I’ve never seen him before.”
   Luanne got her phone out of her pocket and dialed. 
 
 

Jon and Luanne spent the rest of the day dealing with the local authorities, updating Matthews and IDing the guy—a thug for hire with a rap sheet a mile long. They had yet to determine who he worked for.
  Back at the hotel, Luanne collapsed on the bed. Her back was killing her. A medic at the scene had checked her, and despite his coaxing, she declined going to the hospital. He said she would be sore for a few days, but it was likely nothing was broken. Still, there would be no roughhousing tonight. 
  “Someone’s dead set on stopping our investigation,” she said to Jon lying beside her. He looked the same as she felt. Sore, drained.
​   “Sorry you had to go through that, Lu.”
   She had a hard time keeping her eyes open. “So much for a fun time, huh?” she mumbled.
  He turned his body toward her. “Until that nut came after us, it was an amazing time. That hasn’t changed. I appreciate the effort. I totally understand if you want to go home. Just say the word.”
   “No chance. I’ve got a huge story. I’m staying with this.”
   He kissed her on the nose. “All right. Get some rest, cowgirl.”
   If Jon had said anything more, she didn’t hear it. She was already fast asleep.