Keeping Denver Novels & Stories

Another pause, one that goes on for too long, and my grip tightens around the phone. Mike Donovan has been my agent since I was nineteen years old, back when I still thought aggression was a personality and money solved more than it actually does. Over the years I’ve learned the difference between his negotiation silence, his bad-news silence, and the kind of silence he uses when he knows I’m not going to like what comes next. This is the third one. “What happened, Mike?” "Denver wants you." The bottle stops halfway to my mouth. "What?" "The Rockies." "I heard you."

I’m not even there yet, and I’m already aching to get back to her. Reid and I arrive in Denver late on Monday afternoon, rolling up to a gated community on the outskirts where most of the pack resides. I throw my Jeep in park at the gate, hitting the intercom button and telling the person on the other end who we are and who we’re here to see. After a few seconds, the gate slides open and we drive through, winding through the residential streets until we reach the large packhouse situated at the top of a hill. They must’ve really tightened up their security recently, because we’re barely out of the Jeep when we’re greeted by two bulky guys coming down the driveway in our direction.

8 - Kyle & Janssen) -KEZ interview - Sat 12th - play 3 songs -Call realtor ASAP - down payment -Fund transfer Charlotte : 209 Bakersville, NY -Start packing stuff for moving Reading through the rest of her to-do list took her another few seconds. Veronica glanced up from the glowing screen while her phone turned cold in her hand. Did someone just call her name out loud? A lamppost lit the spot near the tall iron gates, helping her see clearly. She stood still and hugged her coat to herself. Darn. It was below 60 degrees tonight. The nippy weather in this part of the city just made her grumble.

"And where was said shitty job?" "Kansas City." That cloud of...something...flickered in her eyes again. "I like to keep my distance from that time and place." "Fair enough." God knew, Denver understood that sentiment. He sipped his wine and met her gaze. "I'm more interested in the now anyway." The moment caught and held, drawing out until neither of them could mistake his meaning. Then she smiled into her glass. "Now's looking pretty good to me, too." * * *

Saturday dawned over Denver with a sky so blue it looked painted, the kind of day that begged for something big, something unforgettable. The city buzzed with anticipation, every sports bar and living room tuned to the same story: Jeremy Davis, once the heart of the Denver Mustangs, now owner and GM of the Colorado Cannibals, was making his improbable comeback as quarterback. The Cannibals’ season, their locker room, and maybe even Jeremy’s own future, all hung in the balance.

“No single reason, or at least none that I can remember. We were at the bus station and we were looking to get a lot of distance between Iowa and wherever we ended up, plus we wanted a city. We figured that a bigger place would be more accepting of her, so Denver just seemed to tick the boxes.” “How long ago was that?” “Well, I’m thirty-two years old,” she mused. “So that’s – wow. I’ve been in Denver for thirteen years now. Hard to believe.”

Denver, Colorado Wolf Connor, President of The Road Devils MC, leaned back in his chair and glared at the cell phone on the meeting room table. “What do you mean that there’s no sign of that prick Michael?” he growled at the phone. “How’s that fuckin’ possible, man?” “Dunno.” Ice Johansson’s voice over the speaker was as cool and detached as ever. “All I can tell you is that I’ve been camped outside the goddamn Desert Bloom cult compound for almost two weeks now, and he hasn’t shown up.”

Her voice broke with pain, and Jayden’s arms tightened around her in silent comfort. “When are you home?” “Almost never,” she admitted. “Mostly in the winter.” “For avalanches and blizzards?” Jayden asked dryly. “Mostly for skiing,” she teased. “And the Broncos games.” “Seriously?” Jayden sounded mock offended. “You switched to the Broncos? What happened to the Patriots? You’re a Boston girl.” “I’m fickle,” she teased back. “The Broncos stole my heart.” “They haven’t won a Super Bowl in fifteen years,” Jayden muttered near her ear.

The ID badge did most of the talking. He pulled up the log. “Train ID 9-Kappa-Seven. Departed early due to… says here ‘structural instability event.’ Ran hot. Skipped normal holding. Went express to next node.” “What’s the next node?” “Junction Delta-Seven. That’s the DUMB in western Colorado. Deep facility—rumors say it’s connected to NORAD, but that’s all above our pay grade. From there, 9-KS links to long-haul subterranean spine lines—Las Vegas, Groom Lake, Cheyenne Mountain. Even as far as Dulce if you swap rails.”

DENVER P.O.V Two nights and one full day of pretty much nothing except making love — in the bed, in the shower, and everywhere except anywhere outside my room, on the couch, in front of the fire, and that isn’t all... I’m certain we’ve christened every square inch of my room.