Survival Rules Series (Book 1): Rules of Survival

  RULES OF SURVIVAL

  JACK HUNT

  Direct Response Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by JACK HUNT

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  RULES OF SURVIVAL book 1 is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by JACK HUNT

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  The Agora Virus series

  Phobia

  Anxiety

  Strain

  The War Buds series

  War Buds 1

  War Buds 2

  War Buds 3

  Camp Zero series

  State of Panic

  State of Shock

  State of Decay

  Renegades series

  The Renegades

  The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath

  The Renegades Book 3: Fortress

  The Renegades Book 4: Colony

  The Renegades Book 5: United

  The Wild Ones Duology

  The Wild Ones Book 1

  The Wild Ones Book 2

  The EMP Survival series

  Days of Panic

  Days of Chaos

  Days of Danger

  Days of Terror

  The Against All Odds Duology

  As We Fall

  As We Break

  The Amygdala Syndrome series

  Unstable

  Unhinged

  Survival Rules series

  Rules of Survival

  Rules of Conflict (coming soon)

  Mavericks series

  Mavericks: Hunters Moon

  Time Agents series

  Killing Time

  Single Novels

  Blackout

  Defiant

  Darkest Hour

  Final Impact

  The Year Without Summer

  The Last Storm

  For my Family

  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

  A Plea

  Readers Team

  About the Author

  1

  Ten minutes late. He should have known it would end badly from the moment the cabbie swerved into Las Vegas rush hour. Tyler Ford leaned forward in the cab and glanced out the windshield. Vehicles were bumper to bumper, silhouetted by the sun setting between the buildings of the concrete jungle. He sighed as the cab crawled forward a few inches and then the driver slammed the brakes on again. Tyler jerked forward. Exasperated, he fished into his pocket and dropped forty dollars over the driver’s shoulder before getting out.

  “What the…?”

  “Keep the change. I gotta go.”

  He hopped out just as a green Kawasaki dirt bike with two people on darted through the narrow space between vehicles and nearly plowed into him. The bikers shouted something before slaloming around him and the next vehicle like a professional racer. Tyler glanced at his phone to see if she had replied to his text. Nothing. That wasn’t a good sign. Damn it. He didn’t want to screw this up. She looked good, really good and pickings had been slim lately. He was still two blocks from the restaurant but at the pace the traffic was moving he would be lucky to get there within an hour.

  He took off running, adjusting a green backpack as he went. The damn thing was the last and only attachment he had to his family. Over the years the bag had changed but the contents really hadn’t. A few items had been rotated but not much. Still, he found ways to use it and avoid explaining why he took it everywhere he went.

  Moving traffic honked as he darted between vehicles, trying to get to the sidewalk. “Hey!” someone shouted, shaking an angry fist at him as he slid across the front of their hood just as they were moving forward. He didn’t stop to argue, he simply threw up a hand to acknowledge and apologize.

  Downtown Las Vegas was buzzing with activity. It was always like that. Not much had changed in the years he’d lived there. Old flea-infested motels were always being replaced by larger upscale hotels, billboards updated every month as new acts and services came to the city. Casino lights shone brightly, luring in another sucker with the hopes of riches only to spit them out with empty pockets.

  “Hey darlin’ you need someone to keep you warm tonight?” A prostitute walking her stretch of road tried her worn-out line only to have him ignore her. He used to stop and chat to them with the grand ol’ hope of convincing them that it wasn’t the life for them but it never worked. The second they knew he wasn’t interested, they moved on. Vegas was all about commerce. Getting people in the door, relieving them of money and keeping the circus going twenty-four seven. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to a tourist town, he was born and raised in Whitefish, Montana, but a population of 7,000 was a far cry from 641,000, at least that’s what his father said before he departed at the age of eighteen for college.

  But that was nine years ago.

  The truth was he couldn’t wait to get away. It wasn’t that the town was awful, it was his father’s strict rules. Had it not been for his Uncle Lou who now resided in Las Vegas but at one time lived in Whitefish, he might have still been there.

  Sweating and out of breath, Tyler arrived at Andiamo Steakhouse on Fremont Street. It was a swanky upscale restaurant, certainly not the type of place he frequented. That was what worried him. He wasn’t exactly rolling in money and the thought of having to act different from who he was only brought up painful memories of the past. It hadn’t been selected by him but by her. In fact, she seemed quite adamant about where they would meet even though he’d been the one to suggest dinner. It struck him as odd. Previously, when he’d taken out other women on dates, they’d allowed him to select the place, and in all cases, he went for something middle of the road. Of course, he’d done his homework on the restaurant and that was when he balked. One glance at an uploaded menu online and he realized either she had a taste for the finer things in life or didn’t care because she wasn’t going to be footing the bill. As it would be their first date, and he didn’t want to screw it up before he had a chance to meet her, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Tyler rea
ched into his bag and pulled out some deodorant and gave himself a spray. He was wearing the only dress jacket, shirt and pants he owned. It was terribly wrinkled. In fact, the last time he’d worn the clothes, it was to his grandmother’s funeral. He was more accustomed to wearing jeans and a T-shirt than anything fancy. He glanced at his reflection and quickly ran a hand through his dark floppy hair, breathed into his palm and sniffed. Okay, good. Stay calm. It had been a while since he’d gone on a date — at least eight months but that was because of his job. Management had put him on the night shift, and it had taken a while before he’d managed to convince his boss to give him days. Still, regardless of night or day shifts, his uncle had given him heck, trying to persuade Tyler to work for him, but he was done with all of that. It served a purpose when he first arrived but the whole point of getting away from Montana was to carve out a life of his own, free from the past.

  Tyler stepped inside and walked through the brick archway and breathed in the smell of fine food. The sound of cutlery and glasses clinking could be heard as he caught a glimpse of the dining area which was partially exposed through a narrow doorway.

  A well-dressed woman in a dark navy suit and white blouse, stood behind a leather counter looking down. Behind her was an elegant gold sign with the restaurant’s name affixed to the hardwood wall.

  The woman’s gaze lifted, immediately making him feel self-conscious, as if in some way she was trying to suggest that maybe he’d walked into the wrong establishment.

  She lifted her nose ever so slightly, all snooty like. “May I help you?”

  “Yeah, I have a reservation,” he said as he tried to peer around her shoulder and see if he could spot his date. All he had was a few photos from her Tinder profile. The woman in front of him shifted into his field of vision.

  “Can I get a name?”

  “Of course. Um. Ford. Tyler Ford. My date should already be here. I’m running late. Do you think I could just go through and see if I can find her?”

  “I shouldn’t be a second here,” she said gazing down and running her finger over a page. As she was doing that, Tyler spotted her. His eyes widened. Holy cow, she looked good. Too good for him. Erika Lyons was sipping on a glass of wine, wearing a tight- fitting black dress. She had dark wavy hair that came down to her shoulders, and intense green eyes. Her profile pics didn’t do her justice.

  “Ah, yes, here we go.” The woman glanced at her watch and made a huffing sound as if she wasn’t impressed by his tardiness. She scooped up a menu. “Follow me.” Her high heels clattered across the hardwood floor as she escorted Tyler into the busy room. Either side of the room were private booths with brown leather backing, down the center were a dozen white cloth-covered tables each surrounded by four green leather chairs, and at the far end was an illuminated bar. Waiters in white dinner jackets, bow ties and black pants threaded around tables filling up glasses and smiling. He’d specifically requested a private booth, and he was relieved to see they’d accommodated. But not as relieved as he was to see Erika. She glanced up from her phone as they got close and Tyler smiled warmly before immediately rolling into his rehearsed apology.

  “I am so sorry. The traffic was a nightmare,” he said. As he slipped in across from her, his foot caught on the table and her drink toppled over. “Oh shit!” he said without even thinking. He snatched up a handful of napkins in front of him and immediately started patting down the table. “Again, sorry. I…”

  “It’s okay. Just um…” she said as the woman who had guided Tyler to the table shook her head and called out to a waiter to give him a hand. By now he was feeling like a complete fool. The look on Erika’s face said it all. The chance of getting a call back, let alone experiencing a pleasant evening, was out the window. A waiter rushed over and within a matter of minutes he’d changed out the tablecloth and had everything dry. What he couldn’t do was mop up the wine that had spilled on her dress. Erika dabbed at it and waved a hand when Tyler offered to help. “Just give me a minute,” she said getting up from the table and swaying her way to the women’s bathroom at the back of the room. As Tyler sat there feeling like a chump, he glanced at the menu and balked again at the prices.

  The same waiter who’d assisted in the clean-up returned with a notepad in hand. He said, “Can I start you with a drink, sir?”

  Tyler chuckled thinking of the irony. “Yeah, I’ll take a beer.”

  “What kind? We have…” he began rattling off a whole host until Tyler told him to make the choice for him. As he walked away, Tyler noticed Erika’s phone across from him. It began buzzing. He pulled out his own and tried to relax and act as though he wasn’t fazed but the truth was, he felt like a world-class buffoon. Erika’s phone buzzed again and he looked towards the bathroom. She still wasn’t back. He envisioned her standing near a hand dryer vent cursing under her breath. Her phone buzzed again. He wasn’t one for poking around in anyone’s business, and certainly not someone he’d just met or planned on dating, but call it a gut feeling or the fact that he’d shown up late, he couldn’t resist leaning forward. The cover was open leaving the messages she got in full view. Maybe that’s why he didn’t feel too bad turning it ever so slightly as one message after the other came in. That’s when he noticed his name in a reply. A wave of guilt hit him and he leaned back in his seat as the waiter returned with his beer.

  “Thanks,” he said as he tried to push the thought of reading the message from his mind. Who was it? A friend, brother, mother? Ex? It wasn’t like he needed to know. They were probably just wishing her all the best with the date. Or… his mind started churning over. Every few seconds he glanced up to check that she wasn’t on her way back. And then, after waiting a few more minutes he couldn’t resist. He took a swig of his drink and leaned forward turning her phone around, and reading the last message that was in full view. There was a comment from someone called Trish.

  “Ha, order the most expensive thing on the menu. Will serve him right. Anyway, there is Michael on Saturday, and Darren on Sunday. I’m choosing the next restaurant.”

  Tyler frowned as he looked up again, then flicked the screen. There was no password so it opened and the text message system was in full view. He flicked it a few times to go back and see what Erika had said.

  “Let’s hope he wasn’t using a fake photo on his profile,” Erika said.

  “Ah, like that slob who showed up on Tuesday? Oh well at least the meal was good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you going to do about Chad?”

  “I’m still meeting with him tonight. If this guy doesn’t show in the next ten minutes I’m leaving.”

  “Even if he does, I would block him.”

  “Already have,” Erika replied.

  “Ha! At least this one will make a good blog post.”

  “I’m thinking it would get a lot of hits on it.”

  What kind of game was she playing? Tyler glanced up. Still no sign of her. Her purse was still on the seat so she hadn’t gone out the back. He continued reading and it didn’t take him long to realize that she was a serial dater. A woman who used online dating sites to fish for men and then have them bankroll her dinner, only to later go on and blog about the encounter in unflattering terms. More emojis were posted, along with a link to her last blog post from the day before. Tyler scanned it quickly and made a mental note of the blog. The post was about telling a guy she would go back to his place after dinner only to bail on him after finishing dessert. The blog came across cold, heartless and kind of shallow.

  He closed the message program and turned the phone around, pressed the button on the side to make the screen go dark then leaned back waiting for her to return. A number of thoughts went through his mind. He could get up and leave. He could out her and tell her the gig was up. Or they could order a number of expensive items and he could do exactly what she’d done to the fat slob (her words) the night before, and bounce before the bill showed up. He frowned, and drummed his fingers on the table.
Before he could make a decision, he looked up and she was there.

  “Ah that’s better.”

  “All dry?” he asked, trying not to give away that he really didn’t care. Within a matter of minutes his view of her was tainted. Her beauty was now seen through a dirty lens. Even the least attractive woman in the restaurant looked more appealing than her.

  “Yeah,” she said with a wave of the hand. “Anyway, let’s order.”

  “Let’s do that,” he said running his hand over his chin and wondering how someone could be so cold and calculating. Was she hard up for cash? Hell, he wasn’t living the high life, but stooping so low as to date men only for a meal at restaurants she’d picked, now that was below the belt.

  “Tell me, you ever dined here before?”

  She swallowed some wine. “No,” she said looking around. “But I’ve been meaning to.”

  “Yeah, I bet you have,” he said. “What about Vic and Anthony’s Steakhouse?” He’d seen it mentioned in her blog the night before. Curious to know what her response would be, he tossed it out there.

  She glanced up and without hesitation said, “No. Can’t say I have.”

  Tyler took a sip of his beer and his lip curled at the corner. He’d recalled the names of a few other establishments so he threw those out for good measure, and one after the other she denied it. Wow, this girl was damn good at lying.

  The window of opportunity to walk away soon came and went as the waiter took their orders and brought them from the kitchen. Still unsure of what he was going to do, he’d begun to think that perhaps turning the tables on her would be best.