I love writing my bounty hunters. They have the best adventures with criminals who could all compete for top honors in the Darwin Awards. I love finding out who my heroes are while they are in the midst of a new hunt. Jackson is no different. If you’ve enjoyed the stories so far, you’ll love this one, too. If you’d like a peek inside Jackson’s adventure, read on!

The games begin when a lone bounty hunter, who likes working alone, clashes with a cable TV showrunner who’s determined to make him a part of her show…

Long Excerpt from Jackson…

Jackson Black crept closer to the encampment, going to his belly as he neared the clearing where the group was partying. Light from a fire penetrated the foliage, giving him enough illumination that he could clearly see the occupants of the campsite.

Pulling his miniature binoculars from a pocket on his vest, he peered around the group ringing the open fire. They were all drinking beer and passing a blunt, person-to-person, around the loop. They were laughing, mostly looking droopy-eyed and chill. They made enough noise that it masked the sounds of him crawling toward their clearing.

Sweeping the group with his lenses, he paused when he found her. Christine Pollack. Mud-colored, curly hair cut chin-length. Pale eyes. Slim. Not bad-looking, just generally unkempt. She wore a tank top, cutoff jeans, and short hiking boots with slouchy socks. A tattoo of a spider’s web trailed from her right shoulder up the side of her neck. Another of a dragon snaked up her left thigh.

His target was seated on the ground between the spread knees of a male who sat on a camp stool. The male was scrawny but hard-faced. A long scar stretched from one eyebrow down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. He was the boyfriend Chrissy’s mother had described. The one who’d led her “down a fool’s path, straight to the devil.”

Jackson didn’t believe in devils or righteous paths—or following the rules. Certainly, neither Chrissy nor Nate Stritch liked following rules. However, they’d bent them until they’d broken, robbing a gas station outside Butte before joining this group of losers squatting inside the Bitterroot National Forest on the Montana side of the park.

What looked like a tiny deer was roasting on a spit over the fire. The scent of roasting meat and marijuana burning was what had given Jackson his first break of the day. After slipping a hundred to a friend of Chrissy’s who’d known they were heading toward the forest and getting the approximate area they’d be camped, he’d been looking for a needle in a haystack until he’d smelled the roasted meat and sagey weed.

Jackson had plenty of paper on Chrissy. How she’d been granted bail when she’d already had a date for another charge was beyond him. Nate, he’d leave for another day when the bondsman who’d handled his bail got really worried. Chrissy had a prior charge for taking a joyride in a stolen front loader. The two-time loser was worth more to him. Although getting them both would’ve been nice, he knew taking Chrissy, when he was working alone, was the smart thing to do.

He placed his binoculars back into his vest and then pulled out his camera to film the rest of the group. He was sure he’d see them again, and it was good to remember faces and the places folks like this thought were safe to hide out. Now, he just had to wait until she headed into the shadows to take a piss. He’d take her then.

Rustling sounded to his side, and he lowered his head, peering under the brush to see whether it was more of Chrissy’s friends or an animal approaching.

Instead, he caught the silhouette of a man and the glint of something shiny on his belt.

Fuck, had the law found them, too? Or was someone here to scoop his bounty out from under him?

He remained still, waiting to see what would unfold while keeping his eye on Chrissy because she was his target, and no one was getting to her first. He got to his knees, ready to spring into the clearing.

“Stand down,” came a whisper to his left. Read the rest of this entry »