Two Shrimp Tacos and a .22 Ruger

By Adam Meyer

If someone attacked the love of your life, how far would you go for payback?

Private investigator Coleman Perkins is the kind of man who tries to do the right thing. His years of committing petty crimes and being locked up in juvenile prison are over. These days, he does his best to help people like Burt Glaser, the ex-cop who took him under his wing and helped him get on the straight and narrow.

All Cole really wants is to do his job, find a good woman and start a family. It’s a life he might’ve had--except for Max Delaney.

Years ago, Delaney attacked Cole’s pregnant ex-girlfriend. After that, Cole lost the woman he loved. And he’s been dreaming of revenge ever since.

Now Delaney’s out of prison. Burning with rage, Cole makes a late-night visit to a very special taco truck, where he gets a .22 Ruger. That’s not a lot of firepower, but it should be more than enough to do what Cole has in mind--take down Delaney once and for all.

First, however, he’s got to find him. When Cole ties the ex-con to a robbery at a high-end department store, he’s got two choices: go back to his law-abiding life and forget about Max Delaney. Or make him pay for what he’s done.

Cole won’t walk away. He can’t, not after he starts looking into this new crime and meets the prime witness, a store clerk named Julia. She’s as beautiful as she is vulnerable, and for the first time in years, Cole finds some part of himself coming alive. Maybe it’s just desire. Or maybe it’s hope.

As Cole connects with Julia, he quickly finds himself falling for her, and dreaming of the life they could have together. All he has to do is take care of Max Delaney. But as Cole soon discovers, he may not be the only one looking for payback.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Down & Out Books
• Release date: Oct 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005251277

Book preview

TWO SHRIMP TACOS

AND A .22 RUGER

Guns + Tacos Season Four Episode 22

Adam Meyer

Series Created and Edited by

Michael Bracken and Trey R. Barker

Copyright © 2022 by Adam Meyer

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 and Margo Nauert

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

Two Shrimp Tacos and a .22 Ruger

About the Author

Books by the Author

Preview from the twenty-third episode of Guns + Tacos

Nachos, a Stun Gun, and a Wedding Ring by Karen E. Olson

I heard the voice in my head again, the same one that had been piping up for weeks, as loud and clear as the clank of a cell door being shut, a sound I remembered from my days in juvie jail at Harrisonburg, a lifetime ago.

Don’t do this. Let it go.

I wanted to listen to that voice, I really did, but it was drowned out by the screech of an ambulance nearby and the high-pitched laughter of some drunks and most of all by the shockwaves of grief that radiated from my skull.

I got out of my car and headed toward the taco truck.

I’d been looking for it for almost a month now, driving all over the city, but whenever I asked someone if they’d seen it, they gave me the same story: it was there last week or last year, but they hadn’t seen it in a while, maybe it was gone for good. Besides, they’d tell me, their tacos weren’t that good anyway, no need to chase them down.

You’re making a mistake.

Maybe the voice was right. I wasn’t going to get back what I’d lost, not like this. But maybe I could stop feeling sick every time I saw a dark-haired woman smile, and maybe I could sleep for more than two hours a night.

And maybe I could start living again.

I walked up to the truck, got in line behind a couple of guys speaking in a foreign tongue. Their words had a kind of music, the rise and fall of the sentences vaguely soothing. When they reached the front, they placed their order in English with no accent at all, and I felt a little disappointed. I wasn’t sure why.

Help you? a woman asked, her buzz cut showing faint white scars along her scalp. She had big red glasses and owlish eyes peering out, her gaze so hard I wanted to escape its forcefield.

Yeah, I’m looking for Jessie.

I’m Jessie, she said.

Well, Jessie, can I get the special?

Jessie studied me, her gaze as sharp as the spikes in her gelled hair. The special? Who told you about that?

I couldn’t remember the first time I’d heard about the taco truck and the special. On the streets in Pullman, where I’d run with a group of kids who smoked too much dope and played too many video games? Or in the raucous cafeteria at Harrisonburg, where the city’s lost boys were sent when their parents and the justice system had given up on them? I’d surely heard it whispered about among the junkies and homeless people I crossed paths with on missing persons cases, though they also talked of stolen elections and the mayor poisoning the water system.

In my line of work…I hear things, that’s all.

Jessie shrugged. One special!

I shifted from foot to foot, glancing behind me. I was the only one waiting. But that didn’t make it go any faster. I heard movement inside the truck, looked up the street at a man shuffling through shadows. How had he ended up like that? Had it been one huge turn or a slow steady slide?

Here you go. Jessie held out a greasy brown bag inside a white plastic one. Two shrimp tacos, fresh off the grill. Hope you like ’em.

Sure, I said, taking the bag by the handles. Thanks.

She slapped her hand on top of the bag and stared. The special ain’t free, y’know.

I let go of the handles long enough to toss a wad of twenties on the counter. Turning away, I felt the weight inside the bag bump against my right leg. A short ways from the truck, I opened the brown bag and found something wrapped in foil. I reached in past it, taking in a noseful of citrus, and tried to make out the object at the bottom.

You got any change?

The man I’d seen earlier had moved in. He had long stringy hair and a face as creased as an old map. When he opened his mouth, he let out a stench that overpowered the sweet aroma from the paper bag. His eyes were heavy-lidded and crusted around the edges but somehow alert, despite the late hour.

Sorry, I don’t.

"Trying