Jamie DeBree's Blog, page 15
December 6, 2013
Serial Story: Jasmine Betrayal, Part 18
This story is presented weekly in draft (that means unedited)
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 18
The moon was high when Max finally walked down the block to his house, doing his best not to hobble on a badly twisted knee. The neighborhood was quiet, but he remained alert just the same. It had taken longer than he’d thought it might to shake his captors, but they’d made the mistake of putting his plastic-tied wrists close to a sharp metal edge, and that had been the only chance he needed.
He didn’t see any sign of movement or light as he went around to the back door, but it would make sense for Genevieve to be in bed. The very thought of climbing in next to her and pulling her body close to his was enough to send blood rushing south of his waistband, and he moved a little quicker.
No vehicle in the driveway either, he noted on the way by. Good girl. Reaching up, he found the spare key above the door frame and let himself in, bolting the door after himself as he turned on the kitchen light.
The room was clean - too clean, once he thought about it for a moment. Not even a glass beside the sink, but there was a piece of paper on the long island counter, with a note on top of that.
Taking a seat on one of the bar stools, he picked up the note and read.
“It’s in the tea. I have to go back. G.”
Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the other paper - an inventory list of numbers and corresponding packages, from what he could tell. Scrolling through them, he didn’t see it at first. Then the tiny marks at the side of the page caught his eye, and while he couldn’t be sure, it looked like they corresponded to at least some of the numbers in the sequence on the title to the diner.
Folding up the papers, he gave the bedroom and the shower that lay beyond a quick, longing glance before turning out the light and heading back into the night.
Assuming she’d gone back to the diner, he stopped at a convenience store for a map, trying to decide between the quickest route with the potential to get ahead of her or the route she was most likely to take, in hopes of catching up. She should have waited for him. He wished he knew when she’d left.
Deciding on the quickest route, he was back on the road in less than ten minutes, hoping he’d get there in time. At the late hour, traffic would be light and with any luck, he’d reach the diner before sunrise.
* * * * *
It was dark when Genevieve reached the diner, and she was cautious, abandoning the car behind some large boulders out of sight and going the rest of the way on foot. Hanging back behind her father’s trailer, she watched for what seemed like hours for any movement or sign of Jenkins’ men, but everything was dark and quiet.
Her heart racing at every tiny noise, she moved past the trailer, past the old cars, and ran across the small distance between the homestead and the diner, one-hundred percent sure that she’d made enough noise to raise the alarm and get herself shot as she flung herself against the side of the building and tried to catch her breath.
Still, no one came. She went to the back door and fitted her key in the lock, relieved when it still opened the door. Not bothering with lights, she wrinkled her nose at the coppery smell of blood that still hung in the air, and went as quickly as she could to the walk-in freezer.
The electricity was still on, and the unit hummed louder as she approached, visualizing the square door that was her target half way up one of the sides between the shelves. Her father had showed it to her once when she was visiting - his own personal stash of specialty items he kept back for special occasions. If he’d been stealing tea from the shipments, she’d put money on finding them there.
The light automatically came on when she pulled the freezer door open, and she cringed, wedging a box in the door to keep it from swinging shut while she searched. There was a failsafe handle inside the freezer to ensure that no one could be trapped, but it still made her nervous to be in there with the door shut.
Making her way quickly to the back, she shoved boxes of spoiling food aside and tried to ignore the smell as she reached out and pulled open the square door to her father’s stash. Several stacks of small packages in plain brown paper sat neatly to one side, and she took the first one out, noting that the number on top matched the last number in sequence from the title.
Carefully ripping a hole in the package, she wiggled her fingers through the tea leaves, the scent of jasmine and fresh grass wafting up into her grateful nose. She was just about to give up when one of her fingers brushed something small and hard, and with a little work, she pulled it out and held it up to the light.
“Wow,” she breathed, watching the light play in the many faucets of what appeared to be a small diamond. “Beautiful.”
At just that moment, the light went out and the door to the freezer slammed shut with a loud, angry click.
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 18
The moon was high when Max finally walked down the block to his house, doing his best not to hobble on a badly twisted knee. The neighborhood was quiet, but he remained alert just the same. It had taken longer than he’d thought it might to shake his captors, but they’d made the mistake of putting his plastic-tied wrists close to a sharp metal edge, and that had been the only chance he needed.
He didn’t see any sign of movement or light as he went around to the back door, but it would make sense for Genevieve to be in bed. The very thought of climbing in next to her and pulling her body close to his was enough to send blood rushing south of his waistband, and he moved a little quicker.
No vehicle in the driveway either, he noted on the way by. Good girl. Reaching up, he found the spare key above the door frame and let himself in, bolting the door after himself as he turned on the kitchen light.
The room was clean - too clean, once he thought about it for a moment. Not even a glass beside the sink, but there was a piece of paper on the long island counter, with a note on top of that.
Taking a seat on one of the bar stools, he picked up the note and read.
“It’s in the tea. I have to go back. G.”
Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the other paper - an inventory list of numbers and corresponding packages, from what he could tell. Scrolling through them, he didn’t see it at first. Then the tiny marks at the side of the page caught his eye, and while he couldn’t be sure, it looked like they corresponded to at least some of the numbers in the sequence on the title to the diner.
Folding up the papers, he gave the bedroom and the shower that lay beyond a quick, longing glance before turning out the light and heading back into the night.
Assuming she’d gone back to the diner, he stopped at a convenience store for a map, trying to decide between the quickest route with the potential to get ahead of her or the route she was most likely to take, in hopes of catching up. She should have waited for him. He wished he knew when she’d left.
Deciding on the quickest route, he was back on the road in less than ten minutes, hoping he’d get there in time. At the late hour, traffic would be light and with any luck, he’d reach the diner before sunrise.
* * * * *
It was dark when Genevieve reached the diner, and she was cautious, abandoning the car behind some large boulders out of sight and going the rest of the way on foot. Hanging back behind her father’s trailer, she watched for what seemed like hours for any movement or sign of Jenkins’ men, but everything was dark and quiet.
Her heart racing at every tiny noise, she moved past the trailer, past the old cars, and ran across the small distance between the homestead and the diner, one-hundred percent sure that she’d made enough noise to raise the alarm and get herself shot as she flung herself against the side of the building and tried to catch her breath.
Still, no one came. She went to the back door and fitted her key in the lock, relieved when it still opened the door. Not bothering with lights, she wrinkled her nose at the coppery smell of blood that still hung in the air, and went as quickly as she could to the walk-in freezer.
The electricity was still on, and the unit hummed louder as she approached, visualizing the square door that was her target half way up one of the sides between the shelves. Her father had showed it to her once when she was visiting - his own personal stash of specialty items he kept back for special occasions. If he’d been stealing tea from the shipments, she’d put money on finding them there.
The light automatically came on when she pulled the freezer door open, and she cringed, wedging a box in the door to keep it from swinging shut while she searched. There was a failsafe handle inside the freezer to ensure that no one could be trapped, but it still made her nervous to be in there with the door shut.
Making her way quickly to the back, she shoved boxes of spoiling food aside and tried to ignore the smell as she reached out and pulled open the square door to her father’s stash. Several stacks of small packages in plain brown paper sat neatly to one side, and she took the first one out, noting that the number on top matched the last number in sequence from the title.
Carefully ripping a hole in the package, she wiggled her fingers through the tea leaves, the scent of jasmine and fresh grass wafting up into her grateful nose. She was just about to give up when one of her fingers brushed something small and hard, and with a little work, she pulled it out and held it up to the light.
“Wow,” she breathed, watching the light play in the many faucets of what appeared to be a small diamond. “Beautiful.”
At just that moment, the light went out and the door to the freezer slammed shut with a loud, angry click.
Enjoy
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Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
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December 4, 2013
Talkin' Books: Slow Progress
Books Finished: None
Books In Progress: Two Graves by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Tatterdemon by Steve Vernon
The Proteus Cure by F. Paul Wilson and Tracy L. Carbone
Hajar's Hidden Legacy by Maisey Yates
Short Fiction: None
Comics Read:None
*sigh* Last
week was just total chaos (see Monday's post), and I didn't even get a
reading post up on Wednesday. This week is still a bit chaotic, but sort
of settling into something resembling normal for a couple days, at
least, which is handy. Either way, I'm not getting much reading time
these days aside from a few minutes grabbed at lunch, and late nights.
There's just so much to do and catch up on...and I keep looking rather
longingly at the Harley Quinn #0 comic sitting by my chair that I
really, really want to read...
In any case, I've been enjoying The Proteus Cure
quite a bit, but took a break from that last week because I didn't
really think a medical-themed thriller would be helpful while hubby was
having surgery and recovering. I'll get back to that this week. It's a
DNA thriller that is quite intriguing, if a little disjointed.
But not as disjointed as Two Graves ,
which I'm still working on. I'll finish it - I'm invested enough in the
characters from *all* the other Pendergast books that I can't just put
it down, but the latest Rollins book is screaming at me from the
nightstand, waiting for me to finish...
Hajar's Hidden Legacy
was a freebie on pre-order, but I like Maisey Yates (personally as well
as professionally, though I don't know her well), so I was excited when
it loaded to my kindle and I was more than ready for something lighter
just then. I'm nearly finished with it - it's a modern Beauty and the
Beast story - great characters and a nice, easy rhythm. Typical
Harlequin, and sometimes that's just exactly what I need.
And
that's it, really. I've got this one more month of fall/winter
craziness, but January is just around the corner, and that will most
definitely bring more reading time into my sphere. Still, I'm enjoying
the books I have going now, and really looking forward to that Harley
Quinn comic book...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Books In Progress: Two Graves by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Tatterdemon by Steve Vernon
The Proteus Cure by F. Paul Wilson and Tracy L. Carbone
Hajar's Hidden Legacy by Maisey Yates
Short Fiction: None
Comics Read:None
*sigh* Last
week was just total chaos (see Monday's post), and I didn't even get a
reading post up on Wednesday. This week is still a bit chaotic, but sort
of settling into something resembling normal for a couple days, at
least, which is handy. Either way, I'm not getting much reading time
these days aside from a few minutes grabbed at lunch, and late nights.
There's just so much to do and catch up on...and I keep looking rather
longingly at the Harley Quinn #0 comic sitting by my chair that I
really, really want to read...
In any case, I've been enjoying The Proteus Cure
quite a bit, but took a break from that last week because I didn't
really think a medical-themed thriller would be helpful while hubby was
having surgery and recovering. I'll get back to that this week. It's a
DNA thriller that is quite intriguing, if a little disjointed.
But not as disjointed as Two Graves ,
which I'm still working on. I'll finish it - I'm invested enough in the
characters from *all* the other Pendergast books that I can't just put
it down, but the latest Rollins book is screaming at me from the
nightstand, waiting for me to finish...
Hajar's Hidden Legacy
was a freebie on pre-order, but I like Maisey Yates (personally as well
as professionally, though I don't know her well), so I was excited when
it loaded to my kindle and I was more than ready for something lighter
just then. I'm nearly finished with it - it's a modern Beauty and the
Beast story - great characters and a nice, easy rhythm. Typical
Harlequin, and sometimes that's just exactly what I need.
And
that's it, really. I've got this one more month of fall/winter
craziness, but January is just around the corner, and that will most
definitely bring more reading time into my sphere. Still, I'm enjoying
the books I have going now, and really looking forward to that Harley
Quinn comic book...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
December 2, 2013
On Mornings, Chaos and Rollin' With It...
If you've been acquainted with me long at all, you know I hate mornings. And you've probably heard me say that I'm pretty much useless until around 9am as well. Which is one hundred percent true, and I proved it twice this week. The most obvious instance was at the hospital while waiting for my husband to get out of surgery last week (he's doing just fine, thanks). I took my knitting project, thinking it would be easier to work on that than to try to write or anything of that nature, and I also figured that it would allow me to be better company for my MIL than burying my nose in a book (which it did).
The problem is, I have zero multi-tasking skills that early in the morning, and we had to be at the hospital by 5:30am, which meant we got up at 4am. You may find it ironic that 4am is also the time I finally got to bed this Saturday night/Sunday morning. In any case, I completely (and I mean *completely*) screwed up the knitting pattern, and it took me two days to gather up the courage to try to fix it (I was *not* ripping the whole thing out!), and then I "fixed it" wrong, so had to "fix my fix", so to speak. But yes, I do know what I did wrong now, and how to fix it properly if it happens again, so all is not totally lost. It was rather frustrating though. All because I wasn't awake enough to focus even on a very simple pattern, much less doing that and chatting with someone at the same time.
Yeah. So if you ever need anything from me between...say, 1am and 9am, be sure to speak slowly, and ask for one thing at a time. Even then? No promises...
My life is kind of in chaos at the moment, what with the odd work/surgery/holiday thing last week, and now hubby home for two weeks. Lucy-dog has something wrong with her ear that's going to require a vet visit this week, which sucks, and there are a few other things going on that are messing with my normal schedule. I don't really tend to do well with interruptions/disruptions to my daily routines, and while I'm doing my best to stay calm and even-tempered, it's really only working part of the time.
Needless to say, if I seem quiet or absent online, I miss blog posts, or if it takes me longer to answer emails at the moment, it's because the majority of my mental energy is being consumed dealing with the fluctuations in my life. I have quite a few book deadlines I'm trying to meet before the end of the year as well, so any energy not used up on day-to-day life is being diverted to book stuff. Yes, I know it's bad for business to be absent online, but it is what it is. Being an introvert and a rather anti-social one at that, I have to prioritize social energy when it's in short supply. I'll be back to my normal online self once calm returns to the other areas of my life. Say...January.
It's no wonder that January is my favorite month of the year. Aside from the fact that I was born then, life seems to slow down in January and it's the start of a new year as well. It's generally peaceful and calm and perfect for rest and relaxation. If I can just roll with all the chaos going on around me for one more month, I'll be able to just coast for awhile. Bliss!
So - I need a plan for this week. Let's see what's on the To-do list:
- Write three more serial scenes- Write the final three holiday serial installments- Proof an audio novella (or finish...I started this weekend)- Covers for the holiday series and Jasmine Betrayal- BSB newsletter- Get Lucy-dog to the vet for her ear- Get hubby to his post-op appt. on Friday- Costco trip tonight for gas before sub-zero temps hit- Finish current scarf project- Three more afghan squares- Decorate for Christmas (inside...got the outdoor stuff done yesterday)
I have a pretty good idea how I'll fit these in, so hopefully, everything will go smoothly and the week won't be too stressful. Here's hoping...
Have a great week, all. One more month to the new year! Yay!
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
The problem is, I have zero multi-tasking skills that early in the morning, and we had to be at the hospital by 5:30am, which meant we got up at 4am. You may find it ironic that 4am is also the time I finally got to bed this Saturday night/Sunday morning. In any case, I completely (and I mean *completely*) screwed up the knitting pattern, and it took me two days to gather up the courage to try to fix it (I was *not* ripping the whole thing out!), and then I "fixed it" wrong, so had to "fix my fix", so to speak. But yes, I do know what I did wrong now, and how to fix it properly if it happens again, so all is not totally lost. It was rather frustrating though. All because I wasn't awake enough to focus even on a very simple pattern, much less doing that and chatting with someone at the same time.
Yeah. So if you ever need anything from me between...say, 1am and 9am, be sure to speak slowly, and ask for one thing at a time. Even then? No promises...
My life is kind of in chaos at the moment, what with the odd work/surgery/holiday thing last week, and now hubby home for two weeks. Lucy-dog has something wrong with her ear that's going to require a vet visit this week, which sucks, and there are a few other things going on that are messing with my normal schedule. I don't really tend to do well with interruptions/disruptions to my daily routines, and while I'm doing my best to stay calm and even-tempered, it's really only working part of the time.
Needless to say, if I seem quiet or absent online, I miss blog posts, or if it takes me longer to answer emails at the moment, it's because the majority of my mental energy is being consumed dealing with the fluctuations in my life. I have quite a few book deadlines I'm trying to meet before the end of the year as well, so any energy not used up on day-to-day life is being diverted to book stuff. Yes, I know it's bad for business to be absent online, but it is what it is. Being an introvert and a rather anti-social one at that, I have to prioritize social energy when it's in short supply. I'll be back to my normal online self once calm returns to the other areas of my life. Say...January.
It's no wonder that January is my favorite month of the year. Aside from the fact that I was born then, life seems to slow down in January and it's the start of a new year as well. It's generally peaceful and calm and perfect for rest and relaxation. If I can just roll with all the chaos going on around me for one more month, I'll be able to just coast for awhile. Bliss!
So - I need a plan for this week. Let's see what's on the To-do list:
- Write three more serial scenes- Write the final three holiday serial installments- Proof an audio novella (or finish...I started this weekend)- Covers for the holiday series and Jasmine Betrayal- BSB newsletter- Get Lucy-dog to the vet for her ear- Get hubby to his post-op appt. on Friday- Costco trip tonight for gas before sub-zero temps hit- Finish current scarf project- Three more afghan squares- Decorate for Christmas (inside...got the outdoor stuff done yesterday)
I have a pretty good idea how I'll fit these in, so hopefully, everything will go smoothly and the week won't be too stressful. Here's hoping...
Have a great week, all. One more month to the new year! Yay!
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
November 29, 2013
Serial Story: Jasmine Betrayal, Part 17
This story is presented weekly in draft (that means unedited)
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 17
Genevieve took her time finding the address Max had given her, changing vehicles twice and abandoning the last one on the other side of town, catching a bus to the area she needed to be in. The neighbor was accommodating, as Max said she’d be, and it wasn’t long before Genevieve was enjoying her first hot shower in days.
That’s when the tears came. One minute she was scrubbing down with soap that smelled like him, and the next she was sliding down the tiled wall, hugging her knees to her chest as the pain and stress and anger finally spilled over. It wasn’t until the water ran cold that she forced herself up, dried off with a towel and found a clean t-shirt in one of his dresser drawers to put on.
Upon entering the house, she’d stashed the file between his box spring and mattress, just in case. Retrieving it, she sat on the bed and started reading, spreading the papers into organized piles as she went. There were transcripts of conversations, ledger pages and lists of names, plenty of evidence to implicate Jenkins and a lot of other people in the tea and drug shipping ring. Not to mention a copy of the documents Jenkins had already drawn up for the transfer of the diner and land willed to her.
But it didn’t make any sense - why would her dad leave all the evidence hiding in plain site, more or less? He had to know that Jenkins would come after the files, and the deed because he wanted the land. Everything all nice and neat for him to get a hold of and destroy. It didn’t make any sense.
Stacking everything back into the folder, she returned it to the hiding spot and went to the kitchen. Her stomach was growling, and she knew the refrigerator would be empty, but she searched the cupboards and came up with a can of soup to heat up. As she stirred, images of the documents swirled through her mind, taunting her to figure out the one piece that would surely pull everything together.
She ate. Did the dishes. Paced. Wondered where Max was, and if he was even alive. Her mind was going in so many different directions she wasn’t even sure where or how to focus anymore. When she finally crawled between the sheets of Max’s bed and turned the light off, she was no closer to a conclusion than she’d been earlier, and she was sure she’d never be able to sleep.
The next morning, birds were chirping and the sun was shining through the window when Genevieve’s eyes popped open wide, and she sat up in bed, unsure whether she was dreaming or not. Reaching down, she fumbled to pull the file back out and flipped quickly through the pages until she found the one she was looking for.
Running her index finger down the page, she stopped abruptly, her lips moving silently as she re-read the section. The page dropped to the bed and she looked up at the wall, her mind numb with shock.
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 17
Genevieve took her time finding the address Max had given her, changing vehicles twice and abandoning the last one on the other side of town, catching a bus to the area she needed to be in. The neighbor was accommodating, as Max said she’d be, and it wasn’t long before Genevieve was enjoying her first hot shower in days.
That’s when the tears came. One minute she was scrubbing down with soap that smelled like him, and the next she was sliding down the tiled wall, hugging her knees to her chest as the pain and stress and anger finally spilled over. It wasn’t until the water ran cold that she forced herself up, dried off with a towel and found a clean t-shirt in one of his dresser drawers to put on.
Upon entering the house, she’d stashed the file between his box spring and mattress, just in case. Retrieving it, she sat on the bed and started reading, spreading the papers into organized piles as she went. There were transcripts of conversations, ledger pages and lists of names, plenty of evidence to implicate Jenkins and a lot of other people in the tea and drug shipping ring. Not to mention a copy of the documents Jenkins had already drawn up for the transfer of the diner and land willed to her.
But it didn’t make any sense - why would her dad leave all the evidence hiding in plain site, more or less? He had to know that Jenkins would come after the files, and the deed because he wanted the land. Everything all nice and neat for him to get a hold of and destroy. It didn’t make any sense.
Stacking everything back into the folder, she returned it to the hiding spot and went to the kitchen. Her stomach was growling, and she knew the refrigerator would be empty, but she searched the cupboards and came up with a can of soup to heat up. As she stirred, images of the documents swirled through her mind, taunting her to figure out the one piece that would surely pull everything together.
She ate. Did the dishes. Paced. Wondered where Max was, and if he was even alive. Her mind was going in so many different directions she wasn’t even sure where or how to focus anymore. When she finally crawled between the sheets of Max’s bed and turned the light off, she was no closer to a conclusion than she’d been earlier, and she was sure she’d never be able to sleep.
The next morning, birds were chirping and the sun was shining through the window when Genevieve’s eyes popped open wide, and she sat up in bed, unsure whether she was dreaming or not. Reaching down, she fumbled to pull the file back out and flipped quickly through the pages until she found the one she was looking for.
Running her index finger down the page, she stopped abruptly, her lips moving silently as she re-read the section. The page dropped to the bed and she looked up at the wall, her mind numb with shock.
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
November 28, 2013
Serial Holiday Shorts: Mr. Mysterious - Thanksgiving
Mr.
Mysterious is one branch of a three-pronged holiday short series by
myself and two of my alter-egos. We follow three women through the year,
each with a different goal that may be achieved in ways they can't even
fathom just yet. This is Laura's story. You can read the first part here. All stories are posted in draft form. The combined, edited version will be released in December 2013.
Valentine's Day | St. Patrick's Day | Easter | Memorial Day | Independence Day | Labor Day | Halloween |
Reconnecting
Thanksgiving morning, Laura sat sipping coffee at a table in the End-of-the-Road Diner, looking out the window and wondering if Jodi would come. Aside from a brief conversation after David had resurfaced and Melanie had disappeared, they hadn’t spoken in weeks.
Laura had tried to call a few times, but it always went straight to voicemail. It had yesterday too, when she’d called to propose breakfast rather than drinks for their holiday get-together. Neither of them were looking for a date anymore, and it seemed silly to have the guys pick them up at a bar, especially since David was waiting at home for her. Was Jodi with Ty? Was she happy? Laura had hoped to find out. So much had happened over the course of the year...
She’d left a message. That’s all she could do.
The Kit-Kat clock read eight-thirty, and she’d asked Jodi to meet her at eight. She’d wait another half-hour, and then go home.
“More coffee?” the waitress asked, and Laura nodded, returning the friendly smile.
“Thank you.”
Just as the woman turned to go, Jodi slid into the booth across from Laura, a shy grin playing at her lips.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, nodding when the waitress held up the coffee pot in a silent question. “I overslept.”
Laura shook her head, waving off the apology.
“I’m just glad you made it.” She took in Jodi’s happy, relaxed expression. “Sleeping in agrees with you, I think. Or is it a certain guy who agrees with you, perhaps?” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, earning a wry chuckle from her friend.
Jodi shook her head, looking down at her hands on the table. “I have a lot to tell you, Laura. And to be honest, I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it, but you need to know. I’ve made some really big decisions in the past few weeks. I’m still not sure myself if they’re good or bad.”
She looked up, and Laura saw the discomfort and fear reflected in her eyes. She reached over and covered her friend’s hand with her own, squeezing gently.
“You know you can tell me anything. Is it Ty? Did you two break up? Or does it have something to do with Melanie? Did she call you?”
“No, no...nothing like that. Melanie didn’t call, and as for Ty--”
The waitress stopped back to get thier orders, and it was all Laura could do to be polite and order quickly, wishing the woman away. When she finally left, Laura leaned forward again.
“So? It’s about Ty? Are you still together?”
Jodi nodded. “You’re going to think this is really crazy, but here goes.” She leaned forward, exposing the inner part of her right arm across the table. Just below the curve of her elbow was a penny-sized black circle with a three-pronged symbol inside.
“Do you know what that stands for?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Laura shook her head. “Should I?”
Jodi smiled, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “You’ve heard of BDSM?”
“You mean like that book everyone’s reading? Fifty something or other?”
Jodi rolled her eyes. “Sort of, but not really. That book wasn’t...accurate.”
Laura frowned, fear balling up in her stomach. “What exactly are you telling me here, Jodi? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is Ty holding you against your will?”
Her friend laughed, shaking her head as she sat back in her seat. The waitress set their plates down and thankfully left quickly.
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t have been able to come if he was holding me against my will now, would I?” She threw her hands up and leaned forward again. “I’m into bondage and submission, okay? Whips, cuffs, yes sir, please sir...all completely consensual. Ty dominates me, and I submit. Willingly.”
Laura stared for a moment, trying to find words. Any words.
“People really do that? Outside of books, I mean?”
Judging from Jodi’s expression, it was the wrong thing to say.
“Oh come on, Laura. You’ve never played with David’s handcuffs before? Or heck - your own, for that matter? It’s not uncommon for people to be either submissive or dominant in the bedroom.”
“I...uh...honestly, Jodi, I don’t know what to say. Are you sure this is really what you want? I mean, he hasn’t brainwashed you or something?”
Jodi put down the piece of bacon she’d been nibbling and shot Laura an icy stare.
“No, I’m not being brainwashed. And yes, this is what I want. This is what makes me happy. You said yourself that I looked better today. Do I look like an abused woman to you?”
Laura had to shake her head. If anything, Jodi looked more alive and healthy than she ever had.
“You’re right,” she said, holding up both hands. “You look good - really good, and obviously you’ve found something, and someone special who can give you exactly what you need. I’m glad, Jodi. And thank you for telling me - I didn’t exactly make it easy.”
Jodi shrugged, picking up her bacon again. “Well, it could’ve been worse. I could have been a seri--” she stopped abruptly, but they both knew what she’d almost said.
“Yeah.” Laura looked down at her own plate, pushing scrambled eggs around with her fork. “You haven’t heard from her, then?” She looked up, and Jodi shook her head. “I haven’t either. Did you hear what they found at her place?”
Jodi put her bacon down again and wrinkled her nose. “Paintings on human skin, is what they told me. I guess they’re testing for DNA to identify the victims now. Can you imagine? That’s probably what she was doing every time we saw her. I just can’t wrap my head around it.” She looked down at her plate, and then pointedly at Laura’s still mostly full one. “Not great breakfast conversation, is it?”
“Not exactly.” Laura sighed, and then grinned. “So you and Ty - it’s serious then? Mission accomplished for the year? Do I need to pick out a bridesmaid dress?”
Jodi laughed, the tension between them dissipating. “Yes, it’s serious - I’ve been staying with him for the past six weeks. I wasn’t sure I could...commit that far, but today’s the day I have to tell him whether it’s working for me or not, and I think it is.”
“That is really great news. I’m so happy for you!”
Jodi had been searching so long, with so little luck...Laura was truly happy for her. She made a mental note to buy Ty a drink the next time they were all out together. Maybe two.
“So what about David?” Jodi raised her eyebrows. “How are things going, after...”
Laura shrugged. “Some days are better than others. He has nightmares sometimes, and twitches...and he hates laying in one spot for too long, so he doesn’t sleep well. I’m worried about him, honestly. He spends most days at the gym or physical therapy, trying to get his body back in shape. And then he spends his nights going over all the files on Aaron and Melanie, all the photos and evidence, convinced that there has to be something to tell us where they are.” She shook her head.
“I understand, to a point. I want to find her too. And I know she needs to pay for what she’s done. But if he doesn’t find something soon, or find a way to relax, I think she’s going to kill him after all.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I...or we, can do? Are there any new leads at all?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do, aside from finding Melanie. As for new leads...well, David doesn’t know this yet, but I got an anonymous tip early this morning that may or may not pan out. I didn’t want to get his hopes up if it’s nothing. And actually,” she looked up at the clock, and then reached for her purse. “I hate to do this, but I’m supposed to go pick up the supposed evidence now. I’m really sorry...”
“No, don’t be sorry!” Jodi waved her off. “I was late, and this is way more important. Call me if it turns out to be anything?”
“Absolutely.” Laura got out of the booth and smiled. “I’m glad you came, Jodi. We need to keep in touch, okay?”
Jodi smiled, lifting her coffee mug in a toast. “Definitely. Now go. I’ll be waiting to hear good news.”
***
Laura got in her car, checked the address one more time, and drove to the meeting place, torn between moderate excitement and the knowledge that this was probably like every other tip they’d gotten so far.
Worthless.
The unkempt park, abandoned by the city some years ago and now more of a home for transients was empty when she pulled up to the curb. The solid weight of the gun under her arm gave her only a marginal sense of security. Out here, it was her against whoever she was meeting. And if it went badly, no one would find her for days, maybe weeks. No one who cared, anyway.
Getting out of the car, she drew her weapon. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and though the message had said to meet near a bench a hundred yards through the trees, Laura was loathe to move away from her car.
A tall, slender figure stepped out from behind one of the trees, walking towards her with an awkward motion, as if she were in pain. Laura blinked once, then twice as the woman’s face came into focus, and she knew she must be hallucinating.
“Melanie?”
Her old friend nodded, putting her arms out in front of her, wrists pressed together.
“You’re not going to need that gun, Laura. I’m turning myself in. How’s David, by the way?”
Laura kept the gun trained on Melanie’s chest. “Where’s your partner? We know you were working with someone else. Another...killer.” The word felt wrong on her tongue, but she could see the truth in Melanie’s eyes.
“He was gone before I even left. Honestly. And that’s all I’m saying until you take me in. So let’s do this.”
###
Join us for the final installment of Laura's story right here on Christmas Day - December 25, 2013.
Curious about what led to Melanie's surrender, and what Jodi's been up to with Ty? Check in on Melanie at AlexWesthaven.com (horror), and Jodi at TrinityMarlow.com (erotic romance) - both installments will be posted late this afternoon/evening. Thanks for reading! Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Mysterious is one branch of a three-pronged holiday short series by
myself and two of my alter-egos. We follow three women through the year,
each with a different goal that may be achieved in ways they can't even
fathom just yet. This is Laura's story. You can read the first part here. All stories are posted in draft form. The combined, edited version will be released in December 2013.
Valentine's Day | St. Patrick's Day | Easter | Memorial Day | Independence Day | Labor Day | Halloween |
Reconnecting
Thanksgiving morning, Laura sat sipping coffee at a table in the End-of-the-Road Diner, looking out the window and wondering if Jodi would come. Aside from a brief conversation after David had resurfaced and Melanie had disappeared, they hadn’t spoken in weeks.
Laura had tried to call a few times, but it always went straight to voicemail. It had yesterday too, when she’d called to propose breakfast rather than drinks for their holiday get-together. Neither of them were looking for a date anymore, and it seemed silly to have the guys pick them up at a bar, especially since David was waiting at home for her. Was Jodi with Ty? Was she happy? Laura had hoped to find out. So much had happened over the course of the year...
She’d left a message. That’s all she could do.
The Kit-Kat clock read eight-thirty, and she’d asked Jodi to meet her at eight. She’d wait another half-hour, and then go home.
“More coffee?” the waitress asked, and Laura nodded, returning the friendly smile.
“Thank you.”
Just as the woman turned to go, Jodi slid into the booth across from Laura, a shy grin playing at her lips.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, nodding when the waitress held up the coffee pot in a silent question. “I overslept.”
Laura shook her head, waving off the apology.
“I’m just glad you made it.” She took in Jodi’s happy, relaxed expression. “Sleeping in agrees with you, I think. Or is it a certain guy who agrees with you, perhaps?” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, earning a wry chuckle from her friend.
Jodi shook her head, looking down at her hands on the table. “I have a lot to tell you, Laura. And to be honest, I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it, but you need to know. I’ve made some really big decisions in the past few weeks. I’m still not sure myself if they’re good or bad.”
She looked up, and Laura saw the discomfort and fear reflected in her eyes. She reached over and covered her friend’s hand with her own, squeezing gently.
“You know you can tell me anything. Is it Ty? Did you two break up? Or does it have something to do with Melanie? Did she call you?”
“No, no...nothing like that. Melanie didn’t call, and as for Ty--”
The waitress stopped back to get thier orders, and it was all Laura could do to be polite and order quickly, wishing the woman away. When she finally left, Laura leaned forward again.
“So? It’s about Ty? Are you still together?”
Jodi nodded. “You’re going to think this is really crazy, but here goes.” She leaned forward, exposing the inner part of her right arm across the table. Just below the curve of her elbow was a penny-sized black circle with a three-pronged symbol inside.
“Do you know what that stands for?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Laura shook her head. “Should I?”
Jodi smiled, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “You’ve heard of BDSM?”
“You mean like that book everyone’s reading? Fifty something or other?”
Jodi rolled her eyes. “Sort of, but not really. That book wasn’t...accurate.”
Laura frowned, fear balling up in her stomach. “What exactly are you telling me here, Jodi? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is Ty holding you against your will?”
Her friend laughed, shaking her head as she sat back in her seat. The waitress set their plates down and thankfully left quickly.
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t have been able to come if he was holding me against my will now, would I?” She threw her hands up and leaned forward again. “I’m into bondage and submission, okay? Whips, cuffs, yes sir, please sir...all completely consensual. Ty dominates me, and I submit. Willingly.”
Laura stared for a moment, trying to find words. Any words.
“People really do that? Outside of books, I mean?”
Judging from Jodi’s expression, it was the wrong thing to say.
“Oh come on, Laura. You’ve never played with David’s handcuffs before? Or heck - your own, for that matter? It’s not uncommon for people to be either submissive or dominant in the bedroom.”
“I...uh...honestly, Jodi, I don’t know what to say. Are you sure this is really what you want? I mean, he hasn’t brainwashed you or something?”
Jodi put down the piece of bacon she’d been nibbling and shot Laura an icy stare.
“No, I’m not being brainwashed. And yes, this is what I want. This is what makes me happy. You said yourself that I looked better today. Do I look like an abused woman to you?”
Laura had to shake her head. If anything, Jodi looked more alive and healthy than she ever had.
“You’re right,” she said, holding up both hands. “You look good - really good, and obviously you’ve found something, and someone special who can give you exactly what you need. I’m glad, Jodi. And thank you for telling me - I didn’t exactly make it easy.”
Jodi shrugged, picking up her bacon again. “Well, it could’ve been worse. I could have been a seri--” she stopped abruptly, but they both knew what she’d almost said.
“Yeah.” Laura looked down at her own plate, pushing scrambled eggs around with her fork. “You haven’t heard from her, then?” She looked up, and Jodi shook her head. “I haven’t either. Did you hear what they found at her place?”
Jodi put her bacon down again and wrinkled her nose. “Paintings on human skin, is what they told me. I guess they’re testing for DNA to identify the victims now. Can you imagine? That’s probably what she was doing every time we saw her. I just can’t wrap my head around it.” She looked down at her plate, and then pointedly at Laura’s still mostly full one. “Not great breakfast conversation, is it?”
“Not exactly.” Laura sighed, and then grinned. “So you and Ty - it’s serious then? Mission accomplished for the year? Do I need to pick out a bridesmaid dress?”
Jodi laughed, the tension between them dissipating. “Yes, it’s serious - I’ve been staying with him for the past six weeks. I wasn’t sure I could...commit that far, but today’s the day I have to tell him whether it’s working for me or not, and I think it is.”
“That is really great news. I’m so happy for you!”
Jodi had been searching so long, with so little luck...Laura was truly happy for her. She made a mental note to buy Ty a drink the next time they were all out together. Maybe two.
“So what about David?” Jodi raised her eyebrows. “How are things going, after...”
Laura shrugged. “Some days are better than others. He has nightmares sometimes, and twitches...and he hates laying in one spot for too long, so he doesn’t sleep well. I’m worried about him, honestly. He spends most days at the gym or physical therapy, trying to get his body back in shape. And then he spends his nights going over all the files on Aaron and Melanie, all the photos and evidence, convinced that there has to be something to tell us where they are.” She shook her head.
“I understand, to a point. I want to find her too. And I know she needs to pay for what she’s done. But if he doesn’t find something soon, or find a way to relax, I think she’s going to kill him after all.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I...or we, can do? Are there any new leads at all?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do, aside from finding Melanie. As for new leads...well, David doesn’t know this yet, but I got an anonymous tip early this morning that may or may not pan out. I didn’t want to get his hopes up if it’s nothing. And actually,” she looked up at the clock, and then reached for her purse. “I hate to do this, but I’m supposed to go pick up the supposed evidence now. I’m really sorry...”
“No, don’t be sorry!” Jodi waved her off. “I was late, and this is way more important. Call me if it turns out to be anything?”
“Absolutely.” Laura got out of the booth and smiled. “I’m glad you came, Jodi. We need to keep in touch, okay?”
Jodi smiled, lifting her coffee mug in a toast. “Definitely. Now go. I’ll be waiting to hear good news.”
***
Laura got in her car, checked the address one more time, and drove to the meeting place, torn between moderate excitement and the knowledge that this was probably like every other tip they’d gotten so far.
Worthless.
The unkempt park, abandoned by the city some years ago and now more of a home for transients was empty when she pulled up to the curb. The solid weight of the gun under her arm gave her only a marginal sense of security. Out here, it was her against whoever she was meeting. And if it went badly, no one would find her for days, maybe weeks. No one who cared, anyway.
Getting out of the car, she drew her weapon. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and though the message had said to meet near a bench a hundred yards through the trees, Laura was loathe to move away from her car.
A tall, slender figure stepped out from behind one of the trees, walking towards her with an awkward motion, as if she were in pain. Laura blinked once, then twice as the woman’s face came into focus, and she knew she must be hallucinating.
“Melanie?”
Her old friend nodded, putting her arms out in front of her, wrists pressed together.
“You’re not going to need that gun, Laura. I’m turning myself in. How’s David, by the way?”
Laura kept the gun trained on Melanie’s chest. “Where’s your partner? We know you were working with someone else. Another...killer.” The word felt wrong on her tongue, but she could see the truth in Melanie’s eyes.
“He was gone before I even left. Honestly. And that’s all I’m saying until you take me in. So let’s do this.”
###
Join us for the final installment of Laura's story right here on Christmas Day - December 25, 2013.
Curious about what led to Melanie's surrender, and what Jodi's been up to with Ty? Check in on Melanie at AlexWesthaven.com (horror), and Jodi at TrinityMarlow.com (erotic romance) - both installments will be posted late this afternoon/evening. Thanks for reading! Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Suspense/Thriller
| Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
November 25, 2013
On Routines, Motivation, and Operation Thanksgiving...
I'll just say this right up front - there won't be any winning NaNo for me this year. I was pretty sure of that from the start, mentally, but there's always this optimistic little voice in the back of my head that tells me I really can do everything I put on my list, like magic, if I just keep working on it. So even though I "knew" I couldn't really win this year, there was still a tiny spark of "I think I can" until last Friday, when I updated my word count, and noted that I'd have to write over 3,000 words a day for 10 days to win.
Folks, 3k words in a day is my absolute topped out brain-is-dead sort of unicorn. Other authors have no problem whatsoever hitting that, and for some, it's a mere yawn in what proves to be a 5 or 10k day instead. But I am not other authors, I'm me, with all the personal wants, needs and baggage that entails. Including my near OCD love of routines...including when I write, and when I don't.
Needless to say, I don't have any motivation to really challenge myself with the NaNo draft this year, especially since I have three other drafts that need to be done and ready to hit publish on in the next few weeks. I really need to get those done sooner rather than later, along with a bunch of cover art and a boxed set, not to mention more audio books due to be completed and ready for approval as of December 1st.
I also need to start thinking about next year's writing schedule and direction (well, I have, but I need to solidify my plans). A big part of motivation for me is sales...readers. And while I don't write to the market, I do need to focus on things I want to write that might potentially pay off (literally). Luckily, I have about a zillion books I want to write, in many different genres, so it's more a matter of prioritization than anything else, but I do need to focus better next year.
Of course even if I did have the motivation to make a frantic, last-minute run to finish NaNo, it would be folly this week. Not due to the holiday - I have no problems writing on holidays. But my husband is having parathyroid surgery on Wednesday this week, which means I'll be at the hospital all day, and Thursday I'll be taking care of the hubby while he starts recuperating from the surgery. This week is also a surprisingly busy week at the day job, with lots to get done Mon. and Tues, and Friday has the potential to be downright hellish (though I desperately hope it doesn't exercise that option).
So what *am* I going to do this week (aside from work and taking care of the husband)? Well, let's see...
- Three serial scenes for Friday- Post the holiday serial installments on Thursday- Write the last three holiday scenes for Christmas- As much cover art as I can get to- The BSB newsletter for next week- Work on the MacKenzie draft with whatever writing time I have left- Knitting in the evenings, and while at the hospital- Crochet at least two more afghan squares (three would be better!)
I should have a good chunk of time to write on Thursday, and probably Weds night too, depending. So really, it should be a fairly productive week, all in all, even with the two-day "break" in the middle.
To all my US readers, I wish you and yours a very Happy Thanksgiving this Thursday...and to everyone else, here's to another great week...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Folks, 3k words in a day is my absolute topped out brain-is-dead sort of unicorn. Other authors have no problem whatsoever hitting that, and for some, it's a mere yawn in what proves to be a 5 or 10k day instead. But I am not other authors, I'm me, with all the personal wants, needs and baggage that entails. Including my near OCD love of routines...including when I write, and when I don't.
Needless to say, I don't have any motivation to really challenge myself with the NaNo draft this year, especially since I have three other drafts that need to be done and ready to hit publish on in the next few weeks. I really need to get those done sooner rather than later, along with a bunch of cover art and a boxed set, not to mention more audio books due to be completed and ready for approval as of December 1st.
I also need to start thinking about next year's writing schedule and direction (well, I have, but I need to solidify my plans). A big part of motivation for me is sales...readers. And while I don't write to the market, I do need to focus on things I want to write that might potentially pay off (literally). Luckily, I have about a zillion books I want to write, in many different genres, so it's more a matter of prioritization than anything else, but I do need to focus better next year.
Of course even if I did have the motivation to make a frantic, last-minute run to finish NaNo, it would be folly this week. Not due to the holiday - I have no problems writing on holidays. But my husband is having parathyroid surgery on Wednesday this week, which means I'll be at the hospital all day, and Thursday I'll be taking care of the hubby while he starts recuperating from the surgery. This week is also a surprisingly busy week at the day job, with lots to get done Mon. and Tues, and Friday has the potential to be downright hellish (though I desperately hope it doesn't exercise that option).
So what *am* I going to do this week (aside from work and taking care of the husband)? Well, let's see...
- Three serial scenes for Friday- Post the holiday serial installments on Thursday- Write the last three holiday scenes for Christmas- As much cover art as I can get to- The BSB newsletter for next week- Work on the MacKenzie draft with whatever writing time I have left- Knitting in the evenings, and while at the hospital- Crochet at least two more afghan squares (three would be better!)
I should have a good chunk of time to write on Thursday, and probably Weds night too, depending. So really, it should be a fairly productive week, all in all, even with the two-day "break" in the middle.
To all my US readers, I wish you and yours a very Happy Thanksgiving this Thursday...and to everyone else, here's to another great week...
Enjoy
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Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
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November 22, 2013
Serial Story: Jasmine Betrayal, Part 16
This story is presented weekly in draft (that means unedited)
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 16
The air shaft was dirty and small, and Genevieve gritted her teeth as she crawled toward the far end of the building, tiny unknown particles grinding into the palms of her hands. She tried to keep her feet from bouncing off the metal, which only put more pressure on her knees. If anyone was below her as she went by, surely they’d see the sheeting flexing under her weight, but the only thing she could do was keep going. The only light came up through the grates into each office as she passed by, and she found herself anxious after each one for the next.
There were options to turn, but as long as the shaft kept going straight, she followed, presuming it would end somewhere near the wall where the file boxes were stacked up. When she finally hit a place where the only option was to follow a curve, she back-tracked to the last office grate she’d passed and peered down into the room.
It looked empty, but she still hesitated before prying up the grate and looking around more thoroughly. Much like the office they had locked her in with Max, there was a desk and a few chairs, but the desk had been pushed against the far wall, leaving the floor below the grate empty.
She wasn’t sure how to get down, short of falling, and that seemed like a really bad idea given how high she was. It was probably ten feet to the floor, and with her lack of coordination, she’d be lucky to only break an ankle when she landed.
A shout rang out from the other end of the warehouse, and she knew she had about ten seconds before they realized how she’d gotten out of the room, regardless of Max’s skills. She didn’t have a choice. She’d have to drop.
Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the dust, she stayed on her belly and turned to let her feet down through the opening first. Lowering her body through, she held on until her hands were supporting her weight. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that at five feet tall, the remaining drop was only five more feet, and if she let herself go slack when she hit the floor, she had a chance. Her fingers were slipping anyway, and she let go with one hand, and then a moment later, the other slid off the edge.
She rolled on the ground, taking quick stock of her joints and limbs once she caught her breath. To her relief, everything seemed to be in working order, if a little jarred, and she got to her feet and ran to the door, opening it a crack to peek out.
The noise from the other end of the building was dying down but she didn’t see anyone coming just yet. Slipping out and closing the door behind her, she ran for the boxes and hid behind them, reciting the number from the deed over and over in her head as she checked the label on each box. The chance the number itself would be listed was slim, but she knew she’d seen a box marked Ownership, and that seemed like the best choice to check.
Finding it was bittersweet - rather than being on top, it was on the bottom of a stack of five other boxes, and voices were echoing through the large chamber as they began searching for her. Office doors slammed open, getting closer by the second as she frantically ripped at the hand-hole of the box, tearing the cardboard away as carefully as possible to expose the file folders inside.
There. In her mind, she could see the emerald green color of the file with the number on the label, and there was only one green file in the box. Sliding it out, she wheeled around and ran for the door, thankful when the knob offered no resistance.
“She went out the door!”
The shout rang out behind her, and she didn’t dare look back. Running as fast as she could, Genevieve sprinted across the open lot, looking for somewhere, anywhere to either hide or escape. An army-green jeep sat in front of a neighboring building, and she ducked behind the driver’s side for cover while she contemplated her next move.
That’s when she saw the keys in the ignition.
Tossing the file onto the seat, she jumped in and brought the engine to life as shots rang out, and metal pinged against the vehicle in several places. Throwing the stick into gear, she silently thanked her father for forcing her to learn to drive a manual, and peeled out of the parking lot, wincing at each shot until she was out of range.
They’d come after her, of course. She needed to ditch the jeep as soon as possible, and find alternate transportation to the address Max had given her.
As much as she wanted to get away from those men, she couldn’t help wanting to go back and help Max. If she could just create some kind of diversion, she might be able to break him out, and they could finish solving the puzzle together.
He’d be safe.
She couldn’t, though. He’d put his life on the line to free her, literally, and if she couldn’t help him, she’d be caught again and they’d both undoubtedly be killed. She wouldn’t do that to him. If there was even a chance that he was right, that they’d keep him alive to get to her, she had to trust him, and let him work.
Driving away was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 16
The air shaft was dirty and small, and Genevieve gritted her teeth as she crawled toward the far end of the building, tiny unknown particles grinding into the palms of her hands. She tried to keep her feet from bouncing off the metal, which only put more pressure on her knees. If anyone was below her as she went by, surely they’d see the sheeting flexing under her weight, but the only thing she could do was keep going. The only light came up through the grates into each office as she passed by, and she found herself anxious after each one for the next.
There were options to turn, but as long as the shaft kept going straight, she followed, presuming it would end somewhere near the wall where the file boxes were stacked up. When she finally hit a place where the only option was to follow a curve, she back-tracked to the last office grate she’d passed and peered down into the room.
It looked empty, but she still hesitated before prying up the grate and looking around more thoroughly. Much like the office they had locked her in with Max, there was a desk and a few chairs, but the desk had been pushed against the far wall, leaving the floor below the grate empty.
She wasn’t sure how to get down, short of falling, and that seemed like a really bad idea given how high she was. It was probably ten feet to the floor, and with her lack of coordination, she’d be lucky to only break an ankle when she landed.
A shout rang out from the other end of the warehouse, and she knew she had about ten seconds before they realized how she’d gotten out of the room, regardless of Max’s skills. She didn’t have a choice. She’d have to drop.
Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the dust, she stayed on her belly and turned to let her feet down through the opening first. Lowering her body through, she held on until her hands were supporting her weight. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that at five feet tall, the remaining drop was only five more feet, and if she let herself go slack when she hit the floor, she had a chance. Her fingers were slipping anyway, and she let go with one hand, and then a moment later, the other slid off the edge.
She rolled on the ground, taking quick stock of her joints and limbs once she caught her breath. To her relief, everything seemed to be in working order, if a little jarred, and she got to her feet and ran to the door, opening it a crack to peek out.
The noise from the other end of the building was dying down but she didn’t see anyone coming just yet. Slipping out and closing the door behind her, she ran for the boxes and hid behind them, reciting the number from the deed over and over in her head as she checked the label on each box. The chance the number itself would be listed was slim, but she knew she’d seen a box marked Ownership, and that seemed like the best choice to check.
Finding it was bittersweet - rather than being on top, it was on the bottom of a stack of five other boxes, and voices were echoing through the large chamber as they began searching for her. Office doors slammed open, getting closer by the second as she frantically ripped at the hand-hole of the box, tearing the cardboard away as carefully as possible to expose the file folders inside.
There. In her mind, she could see the emerald green color of the file with the number on the label, and there was only one green file in the box. Sliding it out, she wheeled around and ran for the door, thankful when the knob offered no resistance.
“She went out the door!”
The shout rang out behind her, and she didn’t dare look back. Running as fast as she could, Genevieve sprinted across the open lot, looking for somewhere, anywhere to either hide or escape. An army-green jeep sat in front of a neighboring building, and she ducked behind the driver’s side for cover while she contemplated her next move.
That’s when she saw the keys in the ignition.
Tossing the file onto the seat, she jumped in and brought the engine to life as shots rang out, and metal pinged against the vehicle in several places. Throwing the stick into gear, she silently thanked her father for forcing her to learn to drive a manual, and peeled out of the parking lot, wincing at each shot until she was out of range.
They’d come after her, of course. She needed to ditch the jeep as soon as possible, and find alternate transportation to the address Max had given her.
As much as she wanted to get away from those men, she couldn’t help wanting to go back and help Max. If she could just create some kind of diversion, she might be able to break him out, and they could finish solving the puzzle together.
He’d be safe.
She couldn’t, though. He’d put his life on the line to free her, literally, and if she couldn’t help him, she’d be caught again and they’d both undoubtedly be killed. She wouldn’t do that to him. If there was even a chance that he was right, that they’d keep him alive to get to her, she had to trust him, and let him work.
Driving away was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Enjoy
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November 20, 2013
Talkin' Books: Heavenly Satire, Talking Giraffes & Self-Discovery...
Books Finished: Beers in Heaven by Ford Forkum
Books In Progress: Two Graves by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Tatterdemon by Steve Vernon
The Proteus Cure by F. Paul Wilson and Tracy L. Carbone
Short Fiction: None
Comics Read:None
I really did intend to catch up on some comic books this week. I mean, I got the latest Superior Spider-man in the mail, and it's still in plastic! That's just wrong, really. Alas, I've been reading and watching and doing other things (obviously). Perhaps this will be the week I get to catch up?
In any case, last week I mentioned that Ford Forkum saved me from my "restless reading problem" with his latest novel, Beers in Heaven . I wasn't being (overly) dramatic either...it really did pull me right out of my reading slump, and into an alternate dimension in which heaven is...well, a place with problems, just like earth. Or problem adults, rather. And a giraffe named Woobles who I spent most of the book worrying about, poor thing. And a dog who I worried about from his first mention until finally there was resolution in the end (because I worry about dogs, you know).
Obviously since I'd been in a slump, I started reading on a pretty shallow level. I wanted something light and fun, and this book certainly is that. But there are many philosophical and theological layers that one could explore if he or she wanted to as well. I have a fairly extensive (though somewhat neglected) background in the study of both philosophy and theology, I found the deeper layers sort of seeping into my mind without any effort on my part as I read, taking me past the surface where Forkum really explores the age-old questions of what the meaning of life actually is, and how we define ourselves once we travel that path of self-discovery.
Honestly, even now, several days after I've finished and several chapters into other books, I'm still looking back and pondering certain parts of Ford's story for philosophical relevance. It's rare that a book has such charm and wit on the surface, and yet sticks with you for days after while you mull over the deeper issues so cleverly infused in the writing.
Grab a copy. Read it. Whether you stick to the shallows, or wade out to discover the deeper fare, you'll be glad you spent the time.
As a point of disclaimer for those who might care...Ford and I are acquainted through social media, and have been known to chat here and there on occasion. I'm a big fan of his work, but the man himself also intrigues me as a person, so yeah, I'm biased. I'm okay with that. And I still say you should read both of his books (hint: they actually do fit together in a shirt-tail sort of way....).
I didn't do much other reading this week, obviously. I did start The Proteus Cure , which is off to a very intense and interesting start so far. And I "rescued" Two Graves from the nightstand so as soon as I finish this, I'll be diving back into that for an hour or so before I head off to bed. It feels good to be invested in books again. Just needed a little "flip", as we all do sometimes...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Books In Progress: Two Graves by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Tatterdemon by Steve Vernon
The Proteus Cure by F. Paul Wilson and Tracy L. Carbone
Short Fiction: None
Comics Read:None
I really did intend to catch up on some comic books this week. I mean, I got the latest Superior Spider-man in the mail, and it's still in plastic! That's just wrong, really. Alas, I've been reading and watching and doing other things (obviously). Perhaps this will be the week I get to catch up?
In any case, last week I mentioned that Ford Forkum saved me from my "restless reading problem" with his latest novel, Beers in Heaven . I wasn't being (overly) dramatic either...it really did pull me right out of my reading slump, and into an alternate dimension in which heaven is...well, a place with problems, just like earth. Or problem adults, rather. And a giraffe named Woobles who I spent most of the book worrying about, poor thing. And a dog who I worried about from his first mention until finally there was resolution in the end (because I worry about dogs, you know).
Obviously since I'd been in a slump, I started reading on a pretty shallow level. I wanted something light and fun, and this book certainly is that. But there are many philosophical and theological layers that one could explore if he or she wanted to as well. I have a fairly extensive (though somewhat neglected) background in the study of both philosophy and theology, I found the deeper layers sort of seeping into my mind without any effort on my part as I read, taking me past the surface where Forkum really explores the age-old questions of what the meaning of life actually is, and how we define ourselves once we travel that path of self-discovery.
Honestly, even now, several days after I've finished and several chapters into other books, I'm still looking back and pondering certain parts of Ford's story for philosophical relevance. It's rare that a book has such charm and wit on the surface, and yet sticks with you for days after while you mull over the deeper issues so cleverly infused in the writing.
Grab a copy. Read it. Whether you stick to the shallows, or wade out to discover the deeper fare, you'll be glad you spent the time.
As a point of disclaimer for those who might care...Ford and I are acquainted through social media, and have been known to chat here and there on occasion. I'm a big fan of his work, but the man himself also intrigues me as a person, so yeah, I'm biased. I'm okay with that. And I still say you should read both of his books (hint: they actually do fit together in a shirt-tail sort of way....).
I didn't do much other reading this week, obviously. I did start The Proteus Cure , which is off to a very intense and interesting start so far. And I "rescued" Two Graves from the nightstand so as soon as I finish this, I'll be diving back into that for an hour or so before I head off to bed. It feels good to be invested in books again. Just needed a little "flip", as we all do sometimes...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
November 18, 2013
On Business, Breaks, & New Names...
It's
just after midnight, all is quiet and the weekend is over. In a few
too-short hours, I'll be back at my day job desk, writing code and doing
all the things that a web developer does. I'm lucky to be one of those
writers who likes my day job most of the time, so while I abhor having
to get up so early in the morning to actually get there, for the most
part I'm happy enough to do it.
It
was a good weekend, for the most part, though rather than catching up
on my NaNo draft, I got about 800 words done in one begrudging session
on Saturday. The thing is, I *could* have made writing a priority this
weekend. I probably could have written a good 3000 words a day. I didn't
have anything else planned, and nothing else came up.
I
just simply didn't feel like sitting in front of a computer screen for
that long. Or for much time at all, really. I had other book business-y
things to take care of too - covers, promo stuff, post scheduling...and
all of it just sort of fell by the wayside, because I needed a break.
While I don't always take that weekend break, I usually need it.
If
you've known me for any length of time at all, you already know that my
mind needs variety to run optimally. It makes me slower at things
sometimes, but while I do still occasionally fight it here and there, it
always works best to just go with the flow and give it what it wants -
different experiences to keep things new and fresh.
So
what did I do instead of spending time with my characters? I finished
my first knitting project, went shopping for larger needles (that,
incidentally, won't work after all with the weight of yarn I'm using),
and started a new one. I crocheted another square for the afghan project
I'm working on. I also got my hubby started on a new crochet project to
help me out with Christmas gifts (I taught him to crochet a long time
ago...he saw me doing it, and wanted to learn).
I
did my nails (as usual), did the housework, caught up on last week's
episode of Arrow and spent time with the dogs. All rather mundane in the
grand scheme of things, but all good ways to let the mind take a break
for a little while, and do something different for a couple of days.
Will
I win NaNo this year? Probably not, but then again, I didn't really
expect to. I'm not giving up just yet, of course - maybe next weekend
I'll start writing, catch a groove and do a 5k word day. Or maybe I'll
get a bug to write late one night this week, and make up a whole bunch
of words at once. You never know, really...but of course I'll be writing
anyways throughout the month, so we'll see.
One thing I do know is that I will finish MacKenzie Saves the World .
And it's definitely *not* romantic suspense - sweet, sexy or otherwise.
I started writing it under my own name with the suspicion that
somewhere along the way, a suspense plot would sneak in. But it hasn't,
and from what I can see, there's no need for one (first time I've ever
said *that*)...so I'll be choosing a pen name to release the story under
in 2014. Why? To help readers not get confused about what kind of book
it is, and how racy it might be. Yes, I know readers are smart, but
personally, as a reader myself, I really prefer it when authors publish
different genres under different names. It helps me to distinguish very
quickly what type of book it is, and that saves me a bunch of time when
determining what I want to read and what's an "auto-buy". Authors who
publish many different genres under one name are never an auto-buy for
me, simply because I have to vet each book instead of knowing to expect
the same kind of experience throughout. Yes, I'm lazy. And yes, I prefer
not to have to worry about whether one book is romance and the next is
YA or whatever. It's human nature to want to be able to sort and vet
quickly and easily, in my opinion.
My
new pen name will be an open one, of course, so just as soon as I
decide what it will be, I'll post it here and add it to my main web
site.
All that said, what's on tap for this week? Glad you asked.
- A ton of writing (3 serial scenes and as much NaNo drafting as I can take)- More work on the yarn projects- Write out another suspense/horror idea I came up with over the weekend so it will stop bugging me- Cover art for Jasmine Betrayal- Cover art mock-ups for Creme Brulee & MSTW (if I'm so inclined/have the time)
- Decide on a new blogging schedule for Alex's blog.
And that's it. This month is all about staying focused on the words/projects, and I'm happy to do just that.
If you're doing NaNoWriMo this month, many words to you! And for everyone, a happy and productive week...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
just after midnight, all is quiet and the weekend is over. In a few
too-short hours, I'll be back at my day job desk, writing code and doing
all the things that a web developer does. I'm lucky to be one of those
writers who likes my day job most of the time, so while I abhor having
to get up so early in the morning to actually get there, for the most
part I'm happy enough to do it.
It
was a good weekend, for the most part, though rather than catching up
on my NaNo draft, I got about 800 words done in one begrudging session
on Saturday. The thing is, I *could* have made writing a priority this
weekend. I probably could have written a good 3000 words a day. I didn't
have anything else planned, and nothing else came up.
I
just simply didn't feel like sitting in front of a computer screen for
that long. Or for much time at all, really. I had other book business-y
things to take care of too - covers, promo stuff, post scheduling...and
all of it just sort of fell by the wayside, because I needed a break.
While I don't always take that weekend break, I usually need it.
If
you've known me for any length of time at all, you already know that my
mind needs variety to run optimally. It makes me slower at things
sometimes, but while I do still occasionally fight it here and there, it
always works best to just go with the flow and give it what it wants -
different experiences to keep things new and fresh.
So
what did I do instead of spending time with my characters? I finished
my first knitting project, went shopping for larger needles (that,
incidentally, won't work after all with the weight of yarn I'm using),
and started a new one. I crocheted another square for the afghan project
I'm working on. I also got my hubby started on a new crochet project to
help me out with Christmas gifts (I taught him to crochet a long time
ago...he saw me doing it, and wanted to learn).
I
did my nails (as usual), did the housework, caught up on last week's
episode of Arrow and spent time with the dogs. All rather mundane in the
grand scheme of things, but all good ways to let the mind take a break
for a little while, and do something different for a couple of days.
Will
I win NaNo this year? Probably not, but then again, I didn't really
expect to. I'm not giving up just yet, of course - maybe next weekend
I'll start writing, catch a groove and do a 5k word day. Or maybe I'll
get a bug to write late one night this week, and make up a whole bunch
of words at once. You never know, really...but of course I'll be writing
anyways throughout the month, so we'll see.
One thing I do know is that I will finish MacKenzie Saves the World .
And it's definitely *not* romantic suspense - sweet, sexy or otherwise.
I started writing it under my own name with the suspicion that
somewhere along the way, a suspense plot would sneak in. But it hasn't,
and from what I can see, there's no need for one (first time I've ever
said *that*)...so I'll be choosing a pen name to release the story under
in 2014. Why? To help readers not get confused about what kind of book
it is, and how racy it might be. Yes, I know readers are smart, but
personally, as a reader myself, I really prefer it when authors publish
different genres under different names. It helps me to distinguish very
quickly what type of book it is, and that saves me a bunch of time when
determining what I want to read and what's an "auto-buy". Authors who
publish many different genres under one name are never an auto-buy for
me, simply because I have to vet each book instead of knowing to expect
the same kind of experience throughout. Yes, I'm lazy. And yes, I prefer
not to have to worry about whether one book is romance and the next is
YA or whatever. It's human nature to want to be able to sort and vet
quickly and easily, in my opinion.
My
new pen name will be an open one, of course, so just as soon as I
decide what it will be, I'll post it here and add it to my main web
site.
All that said, what's on tap for this week? Glad you asked.
- A ton of writing (3 serial scenes and as much NaNo drafting as I can take)- More work on the yarn projects- Write out another suspense/horror idea I came up with over the weekend so it will stop bugging me- Cover art for Jasmine Betrayal- Cover art mock-ups for Creme Brulee & MSTW (if I'm so inclined/have the time)
- Decide on a new blogging schedule for Alex's blog.
And that's it. This month is all about staying focused on the words/projects, and I'm happy to do just that.
If you're doing NaNoWriMo this month, many words to you! And for everyone, a happy and productive week...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
November 15, 2013
Serial Story: Jasmine Betrayal, Part 15
This story is presented weekly in draft (that means unedited)
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 15
A weath of emotions went through his mind as Max kissed Genevieve senseless. She was the most amazing, infuriating woman he’d ever known, and he wished with his whole being that he could take her right there in the dingy little room on the old metal desk taking up most of the space.
It took almost super-human strength to pull away from her, and the soft, dazed look on her face and the desire in her eyes when he did was almost his undoing.
Damn.
“Um, okay,” she said, her voice low and husky. “So if I do something stupid like that again, will you kiss me like that again? Because--”
He held up a hand to stop her, unable to keep a grin from spreading across his lips.
“Don’t, Gen. Just...don’t. We need to concentrate on getting out of here, or your...uh...negotiation will be for nothing.”
She winked, flashing him a smile. “I wouldn’t say nothing, actually.”
He groaned and looked away to keep from pulling her back into his arms. The woman was dangerous, and when he got her somewhere safe...
Scanning the room quickly, he noted a square metal grate in the ceiling just above the desk. Grabbing one of two metal chairs, he wedged one underneath the doorknob, and put the other to the side of the desk, using it as a stepping stool to climb up. He could just barely reach the grate in the ceiling, but a firm push upwards proved that it was loose. A stroke of luck he hadn’t expected, but was grateful for all the same.
“Come up here,” he said, reaching down to help her climb up beside him. She looked up at the grate, and then back at him with a doubtful expression.
“We’re going out that way?”
He nodded. “You are. I’m going to lift you up, and you need to crawl through the ventilation shafts until you can find a way to get to those files. I’ll create a distraction to give you more time.” He reached for her waist, but she backed away, shaking her head.
“No. I’m not leaving you. The whole point of this was so we could both get out together - they would have killed you otherwise. If I go, you go. That’s the deal.”
He reached out to gently wipe a tear that had escaped down her face. “It’s not possible, Gen. Even if I stand on that chair, I can’t reach to pull myself up, and you’re not strong enough to pull me up. You need to get out of here, get that file, and figure out what it means. I can hold these guys off for awhile, and if they think I know where you are, they’ll keep me alive. It’s our only chance.”
She looked up at the ceiling, assessing the grate. “You really think they won’t kill you?”
He shook his head. “Not if they think I can lead them to you.”
Meeting his eyes again, she finally nodded. “Okay then. Where should I wait for you?”
“Two-twenty-two Oak Street in Memphis. The neighbor has a key - tell her I sent you. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“What if you’re wrong, Max?” Her voice trembled and she looked away.
He tugged her into his arms with a sigh. “I’m not. But if something happens, you’ll figure out what to do. You’re smart, and you’re a survivor. You’ll get through this, I promise.”
She pulled away, nodding and swiping at her eyes. His heart broke, wishing there was some other way. But time was up, and doing nothing wasn’t an option.
“You have to go,” he said, grasping her waist. She nodded, her hands settling on his shoulders as he lifted her up, high enough so she could push the grate aside and climb up into the space beyond. When she’d replaced the grate, he could barely see her beyond the metal in the darkness. A good thing.
“You’ll have to hurry. The guards will be back soon, and after that I can only distract them for so long before they expand the search outward, so get to the files as quick as you can. I saw more doors that way,” he pointed towards the end of the building where they’d seen the boxes staged. “So just go until you find a way out, get the file, and get out. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
“See you soon.” Her whisper floated down like a prayer, and he heard her scooting through the shaft, hoping the sound didn’t carry too far into the main part of the warehouse. Getting down from the desk, he sat on the edge of it in front of the door.
Waiting.
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 15
A weath of emotions went through his mind as Max kissed Genevieve senseless. She was the most amazing, infuriating woman he’d ever known, and he wished with his whole being that he could take her right there in the dingy little room on the old metal desk taking up most of the space.
It took almost super-human strength to pull away from her, and the soft, dazed look on her face and the desire in her eyes when he did was almost his undoing.
Damn.
“Um, okay,” she said, her voice low and husky. “So if I do something stupid like that again, will you kiss me like that again? Because--”
He held up a hand to stop her, unable to keep a grin from spreading across his lips.
“Don’t, Gen. Just...don’t. We need to concentrate on getting out of here, or your...uh...negotiation will be for nothing.”
She winked, flashing him a smile. “I wouldn’t say nothing, actually.”
He groaned and looked away to keep from pulling her back into his arms. The woman was dangerous, and when he got her somewhere safe...
Scanning the room quickly, he noted a square metal grate in the ceiling just above the desk. Grabbing one of two metal chairs, he wedged one underneath the doorknob, and put the other to the side of the desk, using it as a stepping stool to climb up. He could just barely reach the grate in the ceiling, but a firm push upwards proved that it was loose. A stroke of luck he hadn’t expected, but was grateful for all the same.
“Come up here,” he said, reaching down to help her climb up beside him. She looked up at the grate, and then back at him with a doubtful expression.
“We’re going out that way?”
He nodded. “You are. I’m going to lift you up, and you need to crawl through the ventilation shafts until you can find a way to get to those files. I’ll create a distraction to give you more time.” He reached for her waist, but she backed away, shaking her head.
“No. I’m not leaving you. The whole point of this was so we could both get out together - they would have killed you otherwise. If I go, you go. That’s the deal.”
He reached out to gently wipe a tear that had escaped down her face. “It’s not possible, Gen. Even if I stand on that chair, I can’t reach to pull myself up, and you’re not strong enough to pull me up. You need to get out of here, get that file, and figure out what it means. I can hold these guys off for awhile, and if they think I know where you are, they’ll keep me alive. It’s our only chance.”
She looked up at the ceiling, assessing the grate. “You really think they won’t kill you?”
He shook his head. “Not if they think I can lead them to you.”
Meeting his eyes again, she finally nodded. “Okay then. Where should I wait for you?”
“Two-twenty-two Oak Street in Memphis. The neighbor has a key - tell her I sent you. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“What if you’re wrong, Max?” Her voice trembled and she looked away.
He tugged her into his arms with a sigh. “I’m not. But if something happens, you’ll figure out what to do. You’re smart, and you’re a survivor. You’ll get through this, I promise.”
She pulled away, nodding and swiping at her eyes. His heart broke, wishing there was some other way. But time was up, and doing nothing wasn’t an option.
“You have to go,” he said, grasping her waist. She nodded, her hands settling on his shoulders as he lifted her up, high enough so she could push the grate aside and climb up into the space beyond. When she’d replaced the grate, he could barely see her beyond the metal in the darkness. A good thing.
“You’ll have to hurry. The guards will be back soon, and after that I can only distract them for so long before they expand the search outward, so get to the files as quick as you can. I saw more doors that way,” he pointed towards the end of the building where they’d seen the boxes staged. “So just go until you find a way out, get the file, and get out. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
“See you soon.” Her whisper floated down like a prayer, and he heard her scooting through the shaft, hoping the sound didn’t carry too far into the main part of the warehouse. Getting down from the desk, he sat on the edge of it in front of the door.
Waiting.
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Horror | Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
**Please
note - If this is your first time posting, your comment
will be moderated. Once you have been approved, future comments will post automatically.
