BUT NOT
FOR LUST
A Clint Wolf Novel
(Book 19)
___________________
BY
BJ BOURG
www.bjbourg.com
BUT NOT FOR LUST
A Clint Wolf Novel by BJ Bourg
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
Copyright © 2021 by BJ Bourg
Cover design by Christine Savoie of Bayou Cover Designs
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
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
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 1
Saturday, January 30th, 9:42 PM
Mechant Loup, Louisiana
Ty Richardson stared intently at the box on the doorsteps of his camper trailer. How had it arrived? He didn’t remember putting it there. Could it have been put there by the soldier in the army tank? He shot a quick glance toward the street in front of his camper and shuddered. It had been two nights ago—or was it last night? He shook his head, not able to remember, but realizing the date wasn’t important. What was important was that he had almost been killed.
Ty closed the door to his camper. There were surely snipers out there, and he didn’t want them to get him while he figured out what to do. He mumbled aloud to himself as he paced back and forth in the tight quarters. His foot made contact with a pile of garbage on the floor and he winced as an empty can of corn went crashing into the opposite wall.
“Quiet down, boy!” he hissed. “They’re gonna hear you and storm the place! Think! Think!”
Could the pizza box be a trap put there by the enemy to eliminate him? But why would they want to do that? What did he know?
“Damn it!” Ty slapped the side of his head with an open palm. “Think, son!”
He stopped pacing and pursed his lips. What did he know so far?
“Okay, I saw a tank driving down the street yesterday or last week,” he said in a soft voice. “A long-haired soldier was driving and he looked right at me. Wait a minute—was it a man or a lady? No, it was definitely a man and he was dressed like a lady.”
Ty nodded and began pacing again. The soldier had definitely seen him. Was that why he attempted to kill Ty later?
“Okay, video diary,” Ty said, speaking to the microwave, “if this is my last will and testimony, you need to know it was the soldier who was a man dressed like a woman who was driving the tank who planted the bomb on my front steps. The tank drove to the back of Orange Way and disappeared for about an hour or two. Or was it a whole day?” He turned away from the microwave and scowled. “How long was it back there?”
Ty walked away from the microwave and moved toward the window at the front of the camper. He carefully peeled back the curtain and tried to see the box on the steps. It was still there. Why hadn’t it exploded? What if they weren’t trying to kill him? After all, the tank stopped before running him over.
“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, “I was on my hands and knees reading the tracks in the road when it roared up. It stopped before hitting me. It could’ve run me over and exterminated me right there, but it hadn’t. Why not?”
Ty was confused more than ever now. He remembered bright lights illuminating the road. It had helped him to see the caterpillar tracks from the tank—and they were deep!—and he was thankful. But then he realized the lights were from the tank itself. He had jumped up and slapped the front of the tank with both hands and stopped it.
“Wait a minute!” He slapped his hands together. “They did try to kill me, but I stopped the tank with my bare hands! I’m stronger than they are! I can stop anything!”
With renewed confidence, Ty marched right to the front door and flung it open.
“Come and get me!” he shouted, beating his fists on his chests. “I’m right here! Come and get me if you dare!”
Ty stopped and listened. Other than the singing of frogs from the ditches, there were no other sounds. He laughed. It was a haughty laugh. He glanced down at the box. If there was a bomb inside, it wouldn’t hurt him. Nothing could hurt him now.
“What have we here?” He bent quickly and snatched the box from the steps. When he opened it, he was surprised to see a large supreme pizza. He suddenly gasped. It wasn’t a bomb after all! They knew a bomb couldn’t kill him. His outer shell was too strong. No, they were trying to poison him—trying to get to his inner cortex. He kicked the door shut and raced to the table, where he threw the box and started ripping it apart, searching for white powder.
Suddenly,
