Taken

Начало книги

Jack Berman wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, Krista Morales, and watched his breath fog in the cold desert air. Twenty minutes after midnight, fourteen miles south of Rancho Mirage in the otherwise impenetrable darkness of the Anza-Borrego Desert, Jack and Krista were lit in the harsh purple glare of the lights that blossomed from Danny Trehorn’s truck, Jack so much in love with this girl his heart beat with hers.

Trehorn gunned his engine.

“You guys comin’ or what?”

Krista snuggled deeper into Jack’s arms.

“Let’s stay a little longer. Just us. Not them. I want to tell you something.”

Jack called to his friend.

“Manana, dude. We’re gonna hang.”

“We roll early, bro. See you at nine.”

“See us at noon.”

“Pussy! We’ll wake your ass up!”

Trehorn dropped back into his truck, and spun a one-eighty back toward town, Ride of the Valkyries blaring on his sound system. Chuck Lautner and Deli Blake tucked Chuck’s ancient Land Cruiser in tight behind Trehorn, their headlamps flashing over Jack’s Mustang, which was parked up the old county road where the ground was more even. They had come out to show Krista a drug smuggler’s airplane that had crashed in 1972 because Krista wanted to see it.

Читать дальше →