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derment, "are all women from Chicago preoccupied with sex?" |
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"What difference does it make? You've got your hands full with just one." She grinned, spun him around and began working him toward the door. |
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He was just crawling in his truck when Moxie arrived. The back of his ancient yellow Ford was loaded down with sheets of plywood. Bartholomew barked out a few instructions, rolled up his window and backed out. He didn't want to waste anymore time. He had checked his watch, and Pasquel Morgan had already used up 40 of his minutes. Plus, just in case the old boy was planning something, Bart didn't want to give him anymore of a head start than he already had. |
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The first few sparse drops he had noticed on the way to Linda s had turned into a series of blustery off and on showers. The intensity varied several times in the short drive back to Morgan's place. The lightning, only a now and then thing 30 minutes ago, had become almost continuous. There was an occasional rumble of thunder overhead and more frequently out over the gulf. He turned on the radio again. This time he could barely hear the voice through the barrage of static. |
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"THE HURRICANE CENTER IS NOW LOCATED ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY |
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