Darker than Night
It wasn’t the worst day on record for Brant Leavins, bail bondsman, but it was close. A client with no head showed up in the bay costing him ten-K, one of his fugitive retrieval experts had gone missing and his back was killing him from an extended workout with Lucy Love—well, that wasn’t the bad part, it was the inflamed vertebrae from trying one of the Kama Sutra positions that had done him in. He might have noticed it at the time if he hadn’t been so high. But on his night off, it was his business what illegal drugs found their way into his pockets.
Brant kept the records of incoming stash hordes and was the only one with the master key to the transfer safe. The drugs he fenced with ease, and he took a hefty chunk off the top before he wrote them up. The excess paid for his fetish for handmade Italian leather shoes and his retrieval specialists were happy with the extra cash that came with almost no risk.
Night showing up with a police report on a DOA bounty was not making Brant happy. The bastard she’d been after was a prime candidate for being dead. Brant had raked in a ton of cash up front, but he was going to have to soak the rest.
© J. Morgyn White