He bent over automatically.He felt her hand hit his butt hard, on the right side, copying where he'd smacked her. It stung. She'd hit him a LOT harder...than he'd hit her. He staggered forward and came up without the napkin, his face flushed. He was half angry ... and half titillated.Quite suddenly he remembered something. It wasn't from his past ... at least not from before the accident. He remembered writing the scene in which Quigley had picked up a squealing captive, over his shoulder, and. "Good day to you, young lady." Thank you, Mister." Where are you going to?" To grandmother's." And what are you carrying under your cloak?" Grandmother is sick and weak, and I am taking her some cake and wine. We baked yesterday, and they should give her strength." Little Red Riding Hood, just where does your grandmother live?" Her house is a good half hour from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees."There's a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place," said Little Red. His dad even gave in with a touch of admiration on his face for Marc's business savvy and audacity when Marc presented him with a well-reasoned argument, backed up with actual data from talking with their domestic staff as to household food costs, that since he was saving his folks the cost of feeding him for nearly two months by leaving early, and his own food costs would not benefit from the economy of scale that a full household enjoyed, he ought to be entitled to his share of the food. Maybe. It has to be in good working order.Chapter OneCarl Barley looked around the corner of the bus terminal. He had to figure out a way to get on that bus and get out of Las Vegas. Carl shifted the revolver to a more comfortable position. He looked all around him, watching to make sure that no cops were in the area. Since he shot that cop over on the strip and took the cop's gun Carl knew that every cop in the country was looking for him. Carl had been wise enough to take the cop's belt also..
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