With a Ruger Blackhawk .357 under her pillow, a Browning A-Bolt Stainless Stalker rifle in her broom closet, and a Saturday Night Special in her road-hog cookie jar, Detective Leslie Bolt’s sarcastic attitude and inability to trust, alienates her from most people. Forced to work a serial murder case with her ex-lover, doesn't improve her disposition. The "State Quarter Killer” is selecting victims that appear to have nothing in common except for the State Quarter placed under their lifeless bodies. When her sister goes missing the question rises, will Detective Bolt capture the serial killer before her sister is the next victim?
In BOLT ACTION, Detective Leslie Bolt gives Medical Examiner Jack Donington a ride on her Softtail Deluxe:
Arriving at Al Muth’s Harley Davidson shop front, several customers were mounting their cycles. We received nods and smirks. I wanted to turn and look at Jack and see if any color registered on his face or if he truly didn’t mind riding bitch.
While Jack endured the paperwork process of purchasing a black Dyna Wide Glyde complete with ape hangers I abandoned him and searched through the Harley clothes. Jack seemed to be enjoying seeing the rebellious side of my personality, so instead of my usual choice of a black T-shirt I tried on a leather halter-top. Although, not in need of more clothes I also chose a short sleeve white and orange number one Harley racing blouse. If I get uncomfortable baring the majority of my skin in the leather halter I can chicken out and cover my half nakedness with the blouse for modesty.
A virtue my usually half-naked sister should attempt.
Jack checked on my shopping progress between phone calls for a credit check, bank loan, and insurance verification. I felt confident I’d be arrested for solicitation when he suggested I model a black pair of Harley Davidson Jeans with black lace were the sides of the pants should be.
“Wow, they look great. Turn around,” Jack encouraged.
I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. “They’re a bit snug.”
Jake made a circle with his index finger. “Don’t be shy come on, turn around.”
“I’m not gonna turn around, because my panties show through the lace on the sides.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to wear panties with those jeans.”
Before I could retort, with one hand Jack pushed open the dressing room door and with his other hand he glided me into the mirror covered cubical. In one swift movement he pressed my back against the mirror and his body against mine, and as Jack kicked the door shut with his boot he kissed me with urgency.
Jack’s strong gentle hands began to move up and down the side lace of the Harley jeans as I heard the attendant say, “The guy was here a minute ago.”
Jack placed his face against my neck and kissed me. After a chuckle he abandoned me in the dressing room as he heard his summons over the loud speaker to the small corner office to sign the final papers for bike ownership. Emerging from our make-out room with a sheepish feeling advertised on my face I purchased the jeans.