Chimichangas and a Couple of Glocks

By David H. Hendrickson

When Peter tries to slip a roofie into a target’s drink, he triggers events that lead to blackmail and harsh street justice. To defend himself, he sends his unsuspecting fiancée, Lizzie, into the scariest neighborhood in Chicago to buy the protection he needs from, of all places, a taco truck.

Ever subservient because she knows a Plain Jane like her doesn’t deserve him, Lizzie fights back her terror and resolves to help Peter however she can, even in ways hidden from him.

“David H. Hendrickson is one of my favorite writers.” —Edgar-nominated author Kris Nelscott

“One of the most diverse writers I have had the pleasure to meet.” —USA Today bestselling author Dean Wesley Smith

• Language: English
• Publisher: Down & Out Books
• Release date: Sep 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005026905

Book preview

CHIMICHANGAS AND A

COUPLE OF GLOCKS

Guns + Tacos Season Three Episode 3

David H. Hendrickson

Series Created and Edited by

Michael Bracken and Trey R. Barker

Copyright © 2021 by David H. Hendrickson

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Down & Out Books

3959 Van Dyke Road, Suite 265

Lutz, FL 33558

DownAndOutBooks.com

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover design by Zach McCain

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 your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author/these authors.

Visit the Down & Out Books website to sign up for our monthly newsletter and we’ll deliver the latest news on our upcoming titles, sale books, Down & Out authors on the net, and more!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chimichangas and a Couple of Glocks

About the Author

Books by the Author

Preview from the sixteenth episode of Guns + Tacos

Refried Beans and a Snub-Nosed .44 by Hugh Lessig

To Michael Bracken

For the opportunity

Peter looked terrified and he never looked like that. That scared the living daylights out of Lizzie Hosker. In the eight months she’d known him, and the four months they’d lived together, she’d never seen him even the least bit frightened. He was always cocky as hell with his thick, dark hair, his muscular build, and blue eyes. His snug designer jeans and dress shirts fit him just right, the top three buttons on his shirts left unbuttoned to show a thin, gold chain nestled in his black chest hair.

Cocky, always. And why wouldn’t he be? Frightened, never.

Lizzie knew what other people thought when they saw the two of them together: what the hell does he see in her? He had the movie star good looks and the bright smile; she was Plain Jane. Scrawny, barely five feet tall, flat-chested, and mousy. Drab, brown hair that just hung there, not quite to her shoulders. Boring brown eyes. As glamorous as cardboard. Yet they were engaged to be married. The ultimate odd couple.

She sat at the circular kitchen table, facing the apartment’s front door, her textbooks fanned out in a semi-circle atop the plain white tablecloth, her laptop centered in the middle. A junior year pre-med at the University of Chicago, she was studying for her Pathogenic Bacteriology and Immunology exam next week. It was the first week of October, a month into what UC referred to as the Autumn Quarter, and she already knew the textbook inside and out, had her notes memorized, and was at least a week ahead in all of her other studies. But you could never be too prepared.

The smell of garlic bread and lasagna—Peter’s favorite—filled the kitchen, emanating from the oven behind her. To her left, the refrigerator hummed beside a sink and stove. Though she’d been a vegetarian for years prior to meeting Peter, she made the lasagna with sweet Italian sausage because that was how he liked it.

And what Peter liked, Peter got. She couldn’t even pick out the pieces of sausage of her own slice of lasagna. The one time she’d tried that had infuriated Peter, and he’d made her pay. It had been painful to sit for a week.

Never again.

So tonight she would follow all his rules to the letter, eat the pieces of meat, smile at the right time, laugh at his jokes, and maybe for a change they could actually make love, not that other stuff. Actually kiss and share nice romantic gestures like in the movies, like she’d heard people engaged to be married did.

Not that other stuff.

A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

But all such dreams flew out the window when Peter burst through the front door and slammed it behind him. Lizzie looked up and tried her prettiest smile, knowing full well it really wasn’t pretty at all. But it was the best she had.

Her painfully ordinary smile faltered, then was gone.

Peter was in trouble. Big trouble. Had to be. His eyes were wild, his breathing ragged. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he stood across the table from her.

What’s wrong? Lizzie cried, trying to get to her feet but falling back into her chair, her legs suddenly weak.

You’ve got to help me, Peter said, and took a big gulp of air. "I’ve got a…got an emergency. You gotta help."

Was it money again? Peter always needed money. He was always broke, and it was always an emergency. She paid for everything. The apartment. The food. The last four payments on his Acura. He would say he needed the money, she would pay, and that was that. It was, she thought, an investment in their future together.

But the requests for money—that somewhere in the back of her mind she acknowledged were actually demands—had never come like this. Not with panicked eyes. Or rasping breath. Or such obvious fear. At least no fear on his part. He would smile and ask nicely, cajoling her, laying on the charm, pointing out that eventually when that diamond ring she wore—a ring she’d also paid for, though she would deny that humiliating fact to her dying day—when it was joined by a wedding ring, their money would all be shared anyway. So what difference did it make?

He’d be sweet, or at least as sweet