Free Ramsey's Gold (Drake Ramsey Book 1) by Russell Blake

know anything about finding lost cities.” He shook his head. “Nope. Not for me. I’m in the same boat you are. Filling out apps for a reporter job. My degree’s in journalism. I’m not cut out to be some kind of adventurer living off roots and berries in the bush.”
    “It’s not like that. Although it’s funny because that’s exactly what I did study to do. But different strokes. What do you do to make ends meet?” she asked.
    He told her about his bounty-hunting sideline, and it was her turn to be incredulous. “No way. You mock hunting for lost treasure, and you chase felons for a bounty? Are you kidding me?”
    “It’s not that hard.”
    “Are you going to get your own TV show? Drake the Bounty Hunter? That’s too funny,” she teased, genuinely amused. “So, fill me in. Do bounty hunters do well with the chicks? Is it like being in a rock band or something? Do you go all Clint Eastwood on the ladies? Give ’em the steely eyed squint and pretend you’re shooting them in the bar?” She pointed her finger at him and made a pow sound when she brought her thumb down like a hammer. “Hey, baby. They call me ‘The Hunter.’ And I’ll take you down.”
    Drake had to laugh at the merriment dancing in her eyes – she was clearly delighted with herself, and it was infectious.
    “You should try stand-up comedy instead of archeology. You’re a natural.”
    “Maybe. But you didn’t answer my question.”
    “I do all right,” he said, hating how defensive he sounded.
    “That’s not what I meant. It was just a joke. Did I touch a nerve?”
    “Not at all. I’ve got a whole harem of hoes. ’Cause that’s how I roll.”
    She returned to washing the last dish. “I have no doubt.”
    “How about you? Line of suitors outside the gate?”
    She chuckled good-naturedly. “Hardly. Around here, a classy pick-up line is asking whether I’d like to do beer bongs in the back of some yeehaw’s truck. Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open while I’m in transition.”
    “You don’t like beer bongs?”
    “Back to the subject. No girlfriend?”
    “Just the hoes.”
    “Besides them.”
    “Can’t tie me down…”
    She eyed him with amusement. “That’s actually pretty popular these days, looking at the bestseller lists.” He almost choked on his tongue as he struggled with a comeback. She waved him off. “I think my dad’s waiting for you in the living room. Probably wants to talk about old times some more.”
    “Oh. Right. Sorry for taking up so much of his day. It’s just…I never knew my father, so finding his best friend…I’m just being greedy, I guess.”
    “I don’t know about that. Seems natural to me. Go on. You’ve kept him waiting long enough, regaling me with your bounty-hunting stories.”
    “I didn’t tell you any.”
    “We can save those for another time. Should I call you Hunt? Hunter? Which do you like better?”
    “‘Hey you’ works pretty well.”
    Drake returned to the living room, where Jack sat with a photo album in his lap. He looked up when Drake settled into the couch again, and passed it over to him.
    “There’s some shots of me and your dad in there. Back in the day. A few from South America. Not many. We weren’t playing tourist.”
    Drake opened it and went through the pages. There, and there, a photograph of his father. Grinning as he held up a fish. Another where he was toasting the camera with a half-empty beer. On the next page, Jack and Ford standing by a pair of Harley-Davidsons, wearing bandannas and sunglasses.
    “You’re welcome to take any you like. I’ve looked at them all enough. About time they made it out of here.”
    “That’s…I’ll probably take you up on that, Jack. Thank you.”
    “Think nothing of it. Oh, and I almost forgot. I have something for you. Something of your father’s I’ve been keeping for over twenty years. His pride and joy.”
    “Really?” Drake said, looking up from the album. “What?”
    Jack rose