Shine

SHINE JACOB CHANCE Copyright © 2023 Jacob Chance All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Cover design by Quirah Casey from Temptation Creations Edited and Proofread by Ink Machine Editing This book contains mature content. CONTENTS Author’s Note 1. Tyson 2. Bobbi 3. Tyson 4. Bobbi 5. Tyson 6. Bobbi 7. Bobbi 8. Tyson 9. Bobbi 10. Tyson 11. Bobbi 12. Tyson 13. Tyson 14. Bobbi 15. Tyson 16. Bobbi 17. Tyson 18. Bobbi 19. Tyson 20. Bobbi Resisting The Rookie Chapter One Acknowledgments About the Author AUTHOR’S NOTE For the purpose of this story, I took the liberty of placing a medical marijuana dispensary in Charleston, South Carolina, even though it is currently not legal in that state. CHAPTER 1 TYSON “I’m pulling up to Greene’s place now.” Gerald Greene is a career criminal, who owes money to his attorney, Marvin Moran, and I’ve been hired to do the collecting. “Good, I just got off the phone with him,” Marvin tells me. “What did he say?” “He gave me some bullshit excuse, but I know he’s there.” “What floor is it?” “What are you, stoned? I just told you less than an hour ago when we spoke.” “So, tell me again.” I like to be prepared. “He’s on the second floor, around back.” “Gotcha.” “Are you sure?” “Fuck off.” “Good man. Call me when you get my money.” Hanging up, I grab my pistol from the glove compartment as I park along the curb out in front of the triplex. I get out and casually walk down the alley toward the back. Once I’m behind the house, it’s straight up a set of shoddy wooden stairs to the second floor landing, and the door to Greene’s apartment is directly in front of me. I listen first and hear music faintly playing inside, but I can’t see anything through the dirty windows, so I bang on the door. The music cuts off immediately and then there’s silence. “I think we both know I heard the music,” I call out. “Who is it?” “I work with Marvin. He sent me to collect.” “Oh.” I hear someone moving around and then the shuffle of feet approaching the door. “Well, come on in.” The door swings open, and I immediately find myself staring down the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun. “Wait!” I reach for the gun in my waistband, but it’s too late. He pulls the trigger. The force instantly blows me back and straight through the rotting banister. Lucky for me, the collection of overflowing trash cans on the ground below break my fall. My chest feels like it’s on fire as I gasp for my next breath. I frantically pull and tear at my shirt, looking for bullet holes in my skin but there are none. I do, however, see a large, dark red spot in the center of my chest from where the bean bag round just struck. Oh, thank God. “Are you still breathing?” Gerald looks down on me from the second floor porch, laughing. “These bean bag rounds are painful, right?” He smiles as he saunters down the stairs. “I took one in the gut a few months back and damn if it didn’t feel like I was never going to breathe again.” Gerald cracks the barrel open, pulls another round from his pocket and reloads. “I wonder how bad it hurts to take one of these fuckers in the nutsack.” He snaps the barrel shut again. “I guess we’re about to find out.” Gerald doesn’t notice the nine millimeter I had tucked into my pants. “Drop it.” Now he sees it, as it’s pointing directly at his chest. “You wouldn’t.” “Try me.” I move the barrel lower, until it’s aimed at his right knee. “Okay, relax.” He slowly places the shotgun on the ground and retreats a step, holding his hands in the air. “I was just having a little fun with you. I’ve got Marvin’s money upstairs.” “Back up.” I keep the gun trained on his chest while I slowly climb to my feet. Everything hurts. “It’s cool, man.” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but want to hit him. I crack the barrel of the nine millimeter across the side of his face. “You know, you were right.” I spin the gun in my hand and whip it back across the other cheek, knocking him up against the house. “Yep. This is fun.” “No more.” Gerald drops to his knees and raises an arm in submission. “Please.” “Get up.” I yank him to his feet by his collar. “Asshole.” I push, pull, and eventually drag him back up the stairs and into his apartment. “Where’s the money?” He sheepishly points to the fridge. “You’re kidding me? And stop holding your face like that. You just knocked me off the second floor porch with your goddamn bean bag gun and you don’t see me holding… everything.” “It’s in the butter tray.” Gerald does as he’s told and begrudgingly stops massaging his jaw. Sure enough, there’s a white envelope full of cash sitting in the otherwise empty tray. He watches closely as I count