Sleeping Beauty

Trayrock, Present Time

As Talen eased open the sliding door onto the balcony, Rhett surreptitiously inspected the gunshot wound on his ribs. It was just a graze, but it had stung like a mother-fucker as he’d hauled the body up onto the balcony, and it had ruined his brand-new shirt, sticking it to his side with blood. He couldn’t tell if he was still bleeding, or whether the slick wetness under his fingers was just blood left on his skin from the initial wound. It smarted to touch the wound, so he imagined that it was still closing up.

He poked his finger through the hole in his jacket. It might improve the look, he thought ruefully, if he got shot up a few more times. The store hadn’t exactly offered a wide range of clothing, and everything he’d chosen fit into the “basics” range. Basic dark or black jeans or slacks, basic dark or black tops and t-shirts, and the basic black denim jacket. None of it had any spice or attitude, and he didn’t have the accessories to add it.

The bullet h