Dawn slapped the new day awake. Hammer slipped outside to the patio and beach. The sand under his Italian shoes cried out a soft crunch against the wood. The salt air was tangy. A bruise at his ankle reminded him of the snub-nose there as insurance, and the brunette last night, the one who said it was just a boleo. He cocked his head around the corner. A sprint and he pounced through the car door into her Jaguar.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2010
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