After Love Read Online Free Page B

one at a time, and they never checked IDs. If they paid fifty bucks for a carton and sold each cigarette for a dollar, that would be a $150 profit. A good salesman could sell six to ten cartons a day.
    The phenomenon hadn’t really made the transition to Middle America, but now in Austin, where several large colleges had active campuses, there was a new twist. Someone was making cigarettes, but instead of tobacco they were packed with synthetic cannabis, also called K2 or spice, and mixed with fruity flavors. Students and even kids smoked them, some thinking the loosies were a form of pot and others thinking the cigarettes were a blend of herbs that would be healthier than tobacco.
    Neither was true. In spite of its name, synthetic cannabis contained no marijuana. And even though the filler was usually a blend of herbs, they were mixed with a dangerous combination of chemicals and heavy metals that produced a quick, cheap high…often with deadly side effects. The fruit flavor made it seem all the more innocent and lured in underage kids.
    All of which made loosie-gooseys, whose name separated them from the traditional cigarette loosies, a trend reaching epidemic proportions. Nick’s current assignment was to work with the Austin Police Department to find the source. And the best place to start the search was the no-name bar that was frequented by the loosie-goosey’s target market: students, mostly male, up to the age of about twenty-six.
    Nick waited until the sun dropped below the distant hills. He checked to make sure his Glock was fully loaded before sticking it into the back waistband of his faded jeans and pulling his shirttail down to hide it. With a battered Dallas Cowboys cap on his head and a pair of black Nikes on his feet, he knew he would blend in with the other patrons in the bar. He got out of his truck, locked the doors, adjusted his pants so the automatic settled more securely, then strode toward the front door.
    The interior was several shades darker than the night outside, and it took a couple minutes for his eyes to adjust. There were groups clustered at several tables in the dining area, and a couple of middle-aged regulars were slumped on barstools, already several drinks ahead. Off to the right in another room, there was the crash and clatter of pool balls, and all around the bar dozens of televisions, with the volume turned up, were broadcasting different sports channels. As if it weren’t noisy enough, a jukebox in the corner was pulsing with the heavy beat of a rap song. This was definitely not an easy place to eavesdrop on conversations…until the alcohol kicked in and the shouting began.
    Nick looked around at the heavily male customer base. This wasn’t the type of place a guy would bring a date. The few women who were here were either professionals or chicks with a drinking problem. Nick was careful to avoid both.
    The young bartender didn’t even bother with a coaster on the scarred wooden countertop as Nick straddled a stool at the end of the bar where he could keep an eye on the door.
    “How’s it going?” the young man asked, recognizing Nick from past visits, although no one had any idea of Nick’s true identity.
    “Good enough….Give me a small draft….Surprise me.”
    “Cool. Got just the thing.”
    In a minute he returned with a glass of dark beer, which he set on the bar. “Let me know what you think.”
    Nick took a long swallow. “It’s good. What is it?”
    “Our own brand. A dark wheat beer with molasses. We call it Pig Dog.”
    Nick’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Pig Dog?”
    “Before the Longhorn, Bevo, the UT mascot was a dog named Pig…Pig Dog.”
    Nick nodded as if it made sense. He personally had never gotten into the whole rah-rah college fanaticism. Always a mediocre student, he had dropped out his junior year to join the Marines. He’d gotten his degree online while he was in Afghanistan, which didn’t promote school loyalty.
    The bartender slid a