Lucky Break Read online

  Lucky Break

  Lucky John Adventures Book 1

  Mark Stone

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  The End

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Prologue

  I took a left into the service station with the radio turned up loud. There were a lot of things about being a trucker that I liked, but none more than being able to listen to music on a nearly constant loop. I was going through an Eagles phase right now, which would probably be followed up by a Grateful Dead period and then some Jimmy Buffet and Bob Seger for good measure. You know, all the good stuff.

  Now, being a trucker wasn’t the kind of glamorous, kickass life I expected for myself when I was a kid. But after two tours in Iraq, I figured it was time for me to slow down a little. Besides, the pay was pretty good and I got to see a hell of a lot of places in this country I never would otherwise.

  For instance, I got to feast my eyes upon the roaming splendor of Grayville, Illinois. Sure, it looked like nothing more than sprawling corn fields and a handful of truck stops, but it was corn kerosene I wouldn’t have seen sitting on my couch at home, and that was a good thing.

  Witchy Woman poured from the speakers as I hopped down from the rail of my big rig, a red beauty with the word Wonder written across it. I hadn’t named it that. I bought the gorgeous thing used, and the last owner had already branded it with that name. I wasn’t complaining, though. Damn thing was a wonder. I didn’t see the harm in letting every person passing me on the interstate know as much.

  Walking into the truck stop, one of those large places that had pizza under heating lamps and overpriced DVDs because I guess they thought truckers were too behind the times to have Netflix, I caught sight of the woman behind the counter. She was a cute thing with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and the kind of eyes that made you feel at home even though you were miles away from it. I had already run my card at the pump for the fill-up, though, so if I wanted to talk to her, and I certainly did, I was going to have to pick something up.

  Grabbing the first thing I saw, a sample pack of cold and flu relief pills, I ran a hand through my sandy, windswept hair, put on my patented ‘up to no good’ smile, and walked up to her. I tossed the meds down in front of her and leaned against the counter. Watching the way her eyes expanded and then ran up and down me, I knew I had a shot.

  “Hey, there,” I said, my smile widening. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “It has its moments,” she answered. “What’s with the smile, Cowboy? I’d figure someone who’s under the weather would look a little less chipper than this.” She motioned down at the meds.

  “Oh, those are just so I can talk to you,” I said, shooting her a wink.

  “You don’t have to pay to talk to me,” she said, scooping up the medicine and running it under the scanner. “But you do have to pay if you want to stand in the line. ID?”

  “You need my ID for cold pills?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her and pulling my license out of my back pocket.

  “State law,” she explained. “I guess people are making meth out of it or something.”

  “Weird world,” I said as she picked up the card.

  “It is,” she answered. ‘Of course, maybe I just wanted to find out your name.” She read the license. “John Lucky.”

  “That’s what it says.” I grinned as I handed her a couple of wadded up dollar bills for the medicine.

  “Is it true?” she asked, smiling back at me a little.

  “Is what true?”

  “Are you really lucky?” the woman asked, biting her lower lip in that way women do that just drives you crazy.

  ‘I suppose that depends on the situation,” I responded.

  “Good to know,” she said, “though I have to imagine that a name like that must have made you tragically unpopular in high school.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I answered. “I have other, more affirming, qualities.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” she answered. “And a Florida boy,” she said, reading the state on my license. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “You should. It’s paradise,” I answered.

  “If it’s so awesome, then why aren’t you there?” the woman dared me coyly.

  “To be fair, I only ever lived there while I was on the army base. So, I didn’t see a whole hell of a lot of it. Still, the parts I did see were so awesome that I’m working my way back,” I admitted. “That’s the goal, anyway. One day, I’ll pile up enough money to open up a little watering hole down there. I’ll cook fish and sling tequila and have a damn good time. There’s this place called Buddy’s. It’s right out by the water. Me and my friend Davey used to go there almost every weekend. We’d play darts and get drunk.”

  “And pick up girls?’ the woman asked, letting her finger trace her lip for just a second.

  “Every once in awhile,” I replied. “I’m not sure I’m very good at that, to be honest with you.”

  “You might be better than you think,” she cooed.

  “Good to know,” I said, smiling. “Anyway, I always thought I’d open a place like that one day, a place where you can just come to hang out, have some good food, and shoot the breeze.”

  “Sounds like a nice dream. Maybe you could tell me some more about it,” she said, brushing a few strands of blonde hair from those eyes that felt like home. “I guess I’m getting ahead of myself. What are your plans tonight?”

  “Originally? I was going to head up to Champaign and set up shop there for the night, but now I’m starting to think I might just grab some champagne and call it a night right here in town.” I leaned in further. “Assuming there’s anything to do in town.”

  “I’m sure I can think of a couple of things,” the woman answered. “Champagne is in the back refrigerator.”

  “I’ll be right back, then,” I said. Turning with a smile on my face, I made my way back to the fridge. That was the thing about life on the road. It might not have been the easiest slog in the world, but you never knew what was going to be around the next turn. Anything was possible with anyone, and more often than not, that was a very good thing.

  Pulling open the fridge, I saw that my options for champagne were limited to exactly one. It was a brand I’d never heard of before, but it had an alcohol content strong enough to knock me on my ass, and that was what was important.

  Grabbing the bottle, I turned just in time to hear a yelp from the front of the store. Looking forward, I saw a man had entered. He wore a long brown coat, even though it was the middle of the summer, and a ski mask over his face. Even if I hadn’t seen the gun in his hand, I’d have known what he was doing. This sonofabitch was actually going to try and rob a truck stop in broad daylight. He had his gun, a sleek black pistol, pointed at the woman I was just talking to. In that moment, I realized two things—I had to help her out, and I still didn’t know her name.
Now, if I was just going to save her life, the ‘not knowing her name’ part wouldn’t really be that big of a deal. But if I was going to do all the things I wanted to do with her after I saved her life, then I was probably going to have to figure out what to call her.

  Watching her eyes slide over to me, I held a finger up over my mouth, gesturing for her not to say or do anything that might let this idiot know I was behind him. The thief, it seemed, picked a pretty decent time to make his move. While this was a big store, there didn’t seem to be anyone other than me, him, and my future date in the entire place. That meant it was up to me to put a stop to this, and that was just the way I liked it.

  In the army, they taught you to seize the moment. Just like being on the road, you never knew what was going to come at you in a war zone. Every second could provide a new surprise. So, when you got a shot, you took it. And right now, I had a shot. Sure, this guy might have had a gun, but I had my training. I also had a pretty heavy bottle of champagne, and if I could get close enough to this bastard, I could prove that its alcohol content wasn’t the only thing that could knock somebody on his ass.

  Moving slowly, I remembered what they taught me while the government was whipping me into shape. You had to be precise with your movements. You had to be deliberate with your decisions, and once you made a choice, you had damn well better see it through. I had chosen to take this dude out, and I was about to see it through.

  As I neared him, I heard the guy talking. It was the normal ‘burglar’ bull. He went on about wanting all the money in the register and asking the woman about a safe that might be in the back. It took all I could do not to roll my eyes. This guy was being so cliché, what with the ski mask and the ‘stick ‘em up’ routine. I might as well have walked onto the set of a movie. If I had, that movie was about to go differently from how this robber had scripted things.

  I edged my way nearer to the guy, passing through the cereal aisle as the woman started pulling cash from the register. This was my chance. Movement on her side meant this guy’s attention was going to be on her and what she was doing. Because of that, I could make my move. In a flash, I stood up straight, moving toward the man with the champagne bottle over my head.

  The woman’s eyes widened, and I knew I was in trouble. That was a sign, and it was the kind of overt one that no one would miss, not even a guy stupid enough to rob a truck stop in the middle of the day.

  “Damn,” I muttered as the man turned around, pointing his gun at me. I had just a second, enough time to make one move. It couldn’t be for the head, though. I couldn’t take the chance on not knocking this guy out. I needed to get rid of the danger first. As such, I whipped the bottle toward his hand and the gun pointed at me. I flinched as it smacked into the gun and then gasped when the next thing happened.

  I totally expected to hear the thud of metal against the ground. There was a part of me that was even afraid the gun might fire upon impact. Instead of either of those things, the gun smashed, folding into tiny plastic pieces as liquid spilled out over the both of us.

  “Really, dude?” I asked. “A water gun? You’re robbing this place with a water gun?”

  The would-be thief looked down at the pieces of his toy weapon, both on the floor and in his hands, then he looked back up at me. Throwing his head forward, he slammed his forehead into my nose. It hurt like hell as I stepped backward, grabbing my nose and tasting metal. Blinking, I saw the man dig into his pocket and pull out what I immediately recognized as a switchblade.

  “Be careful, it’s a knife!” the woman behind the counter said, stating the obvious as she threw her hands up to her mouth.

  “I see that,” I muttered, repeating my gesture from before. Swiping at the man’s hand proved futile a second time. He pulled away before darting toward me, the blade pointed toward my gut.

  “Nope,” I said, falling back as I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down over me. Then, throwing my feet out, I rolled on my back and tossed him off me, sending him upward right before he crashed to the floor. I did a quick turn and ended up on my knees. The man looked up at me, fumbling for the knife he’d dropped when he hit the floor.

  “Not today, dude,” I said, bringing the bottle over his head just hard enough to get him to see stars and then nothing else. “A water gun,” I muttered, shaking my head as I stood, looking at the unconscious man. “Seriously?”

  Turning back around, I caught a huge hug from the woman as she lunged across the counter. She kissed me squarely on the lips, letting her mouth linger on mine for a second or two longer than she had to, before pulling away and saying, ‘You’re my hero.”

  “Anytime,” I said as she pulled out of the hug we had shared.

  “I have to call the police now, but you’re gonna be around, right? I’ll be able to see you tonight?” She winked at me. “You’ve earned a reward.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Dinner at eight?”

  “It’s a date. You have your phone? I’ll give you my number,” she said.

  “It’s in the truck,” I muttered. “Got a pen on you?”

  She started looking around the counter. “No. Damnit,” she said. “You know what? This isn't a problem. Give me a dollar.”

  I gave her another crumpled dollar bill. “I thought you said I didn’t have to pay to talk to you.”

  “Guess I lied,” she answered. “The Super Mega Jackpot lets you pick ten numbers. Today, you’re picking my area code and phone number, Cowboy.”

  She grabbed a paper as it printed from the register and handed it to me. True to her word, I had just bought a ticket to one of the biggest games in the country, complete with her phone number on it.

  “I’ve never played the lottery before,” I said, looking at the slip.

  “Don’t worry,” she answered. “I have a feeling you’re going to get lucky.”

  Chapter 1

  “I still can’t believe you won the lottery, like the actual lottery,” Davey said, looking over at me as we lugged the last of my stuff from the moving truck to the front porch of a beautiful blue and white beach house that now belonged to me. It had been almost a month since that day up in Iowa when I saved a girl (whose name turned out to be Charlotte, by the way) from getting robbed. It had been a little over three weeks since I’d found out the numbers she printed on my ticket, her phone number, actually won the grand prize. It had been two weeks since I received the money, three days since I returned to Florida, and three hours since I signed the paperwork on one of the most beautiful homes I had ever seen. To say my head was still spinning would be an understatement. To say it was spinning in the best possible way would be the understatement of the century.

  “Seventy million dollars!” Davey said, shaking his head as we set the couch we were carrying on the front porch. It as the third time he’d said the amount of my winnings since he got in the moving van to bring my things to my new home. It was like he couldn’t believe how much it was. I definitely knew how he felt.

  “That’s before taxes,” I reminded him, shaking my head.

  “Oh, shut the hell up,” he answered, rounding the couch and throwing himself down on it.

  “I’m just saying, I’m still me,” I answered, shrugging as I looked over at the beach house where I’d be living from now on.

  ‘I know you’re still you, you Jackass,” Davey answered. “That’s why you came back here in the first place.”

  My friend was partly right. When I got the money, after being handed some big ass check and having my picture taken and put in the paper, it never occurred to me to go anywhere but here. Florida might not have been heaven, but it was as close as I had ever been, and if the nuns who taught me all the way through Catholic school were right, it was probably as close as I was ever getting. So, I wrangled up my best friend in the world, threw a dart at a map of the country’s southernmost state, and went where the damn thing landed.

  Bonita Springs, Florida. It was on the Gulf coast and miles away from any p
art of the state I’d seen when I was stationed here. Still, with pastel houses, streets lined with bike lanes, and an atmosphere that made you believe a Midwestern small town had been plucked up and dropped off at the beach, Bonita Springs seemed like the perfect place for a guy like me to settle down. I wouldn’t even have to deal with the Midwestern winters.

  “You know, my sister is single now,” Davey said, looking over at me with a goofy grin on his face.

  “Your sister?” I asked, arching my eyebrows at him. “Is this the same sister you told me I was never allowed to touch when we first met each other?”

  “You know, we had bullets flying at our faces when we first met. I’m not sure I was thinking clearly,” Davey said, and immediately, my mind went back to that bunker on the other side of the world. I didn’t know, back then, that I was going to find a friend for life in the lanky idiot next to me humming Beach Boys tunes to calm himself down. Looking back, though, I probably should have. Davey might have been as goofy as the day was long, but he was a damn good guy, a great friend, and the best wingman this side of the Atlantic. Of course, I never thought his duties as wingman would extend to his trying to set me up with his sister.

  “And you’re thinking clearly now?” I asked, chuckling at my friend.

  “Funny how seventy million dollars will do that to you,” Davey admitted.

  “You know, I never did say a proper thank you for dropping everything and coming down here with me at a moment’s notice. I can’t think of another person in this whole damn world who’d do that for me, even with a couple million backing me.”