COMING THIS FALL! MARK'S STRENGTH - Book 2 in the DARE TO FOLLOW trilogy.

I am very excited to announce the upcoming release of my sequel to Sarah's Gift and second book in the DARE TO FOLLOW trilogy.Mark's Strength is set to dazzle with it's strong themes, danger and action. I'd also like to introduce you to a brand new character to the book, Kwanele - a young zulu boy who finds himself caught up in way more than he can handle. It's destiny, however, that leads him to discovering new friends and an even bigger purpose. 
Mark's Strength is due for release this fall through most leading online stores and various retailers. 



For more information regarding the publisher, please don’t hesitate to contact them or explore their website on the below link: http://www.shadetreepublishing.com/

(Excerpt from Mark’s Strength 2013.)
        The sickly sweet stench of rotting meat filled Kwanele’s nostrils. With distaste, he stared uncertain at the large male rhinoceros carcass, which lay sprawled haphazardly in the sun. Where its majestic horns had once stood, was now a cartilage bearing cavity, oozing with blood, caked black as it dried where it ran down upon the tough hide.  Bloated flies buzzed around the putrid flesh, drunk with gluttony. Dizziness and nausea swept over the boy and he began to lose his footing as he continued to stare with bleak earnest at the beast. Swaying dangerously, he tasted bile rising in his throat, but dismissed it as he began to black out.
      “What the hell?...catch him!” Strong black arms gripped Kwanele roughly and dragged him to a sitting position in the dirt against the tire of one of the 4X4’s. “You said he could do it!!!” A deep voice demanded. Kwanele strained to open his eyes. He had already been so starved of food in the last two days, and then there was the long walk into Kruger with Joseph. His strength was all but gone. He could barely stay awake as his body coped by putting him into sleep. The tight wrenching of hunger that had assailed his stomach in the past couple of days was all but gone – replaced with the ominous cloud of sleep that beckoned to him, offering respite from the pain. He turned groggily and saw Joseph, who looked extremely fatigued himself. He was standing in the sun, slightly hunched over – his palms upturned as he pleaded with a tall dark man, wearing army khaki’s that appeared mismatched as if purchased from a disposal shop. Over his khaki’s, he wore an old leather jacket, left open. Confusion crossed Kwanele’s eyes as he drifted into and out of consciousness. It was too hot to wear a jacket like that.               “What? You bring us this starved kid and expect to get paid!? When did you feed him last?” The man growled threateningly at Joseph, stepping towards him. He tried to stutter a reply when the man suddenly swiped him across the mouth. “I’ve heard enough!” Kwanele saw Joseph shrink back, his hand to his face. He glanced towards the boy, indecision in his face. “Use what we’ve got…bring him!” The Khaki-man barked. Kwanele felt himself hefted into someone’s arms and carried towards the back of a truck where he was laid with little care, in the back on a bundle of rancid old blankets. A man propped him up, gripped his chin tightly and holding a warm bottle of water to his lips, began to pour it down his throat. Kwanele’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, spluttering and coughing in desperation as the water hit his windpipe. He looked into the irritated eyes of his assailant, narrow and dark as the man wiped the spray of liquid from his chin and neck.  The man jutted the bottle of water towards Kwanele and he gingerly took it. Tipping it up to his dry lips, the liquid ran down his throat, soaking into the burning inner-surface. Slowing as the water ran out, Kwanele’s senses began to prick up as he gazed around his surroundings with reluctance. The smell of rotting flesh was just as strong in here. He felt a surge as his head started clearing from the blackness and his vision started to focus better. The man still stood at the back of the truck, scrutinizing him. 
          “Here.” He threw a plastic bag containing a few slices of white bread haphazardly into Kwanele’s lap. The bag was hot, from sitting in the sun – droplets of condensation clung to the inside, soaking into the limp slices. The boy greedily snatched it up, reefing his hand into the bag and consuming the few slices in a matter of moments. He looked into the bottom of the bag with regret, wiping a finger around the inside, collecting up every last crumb. His stomach awoke with a low strangulated growl as Kwanele looked up at the man with hope. Behind the burly man who had given him the water and bread, stood Joseph and the Khaki-man.                 “See?” Khaki-man turned to Joseph, triumphant. “You starved the kid! How’s that going to do any of us any good?!” he strode to the back doorway of the truck, examining Kwanele. Jutting his chin at the burly man with meaning, he dismissed him. The man glanced once at Kwanele before shuffling off. “Now listen here boy.” Khaki-man leaned on the back of the truck, his eyes boring into Kwanele’s. “You eat now! Get your bearings. Then...” He was interrupted as the burly man returned with a half-eaten apple. He offered the browning fruit to the irritated khaki-man, who snatched it from his hand, tossing it to the boy. Kwanele grappled for the fruit as it hit the side and rolled along the filthy blankets. Finally gripping it, he brought it swiftly to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it.  He tried hard to concentrate on the man’s next words as his mind filled with only the sweet sensation of the natural sugar hitting his blood-stream. “When you are done, we’ll leave you here and you need to find your way to the bush camp, ok?” Kwanele stopped chewing, glancing at the man with the piercing black eyes, his minded whirling.      
         “You hear?!” The man barked with sudden intensity. Kwanele startled, his wide eyes locking onto the man’s. What had he just said? The man’s face twisted with impatience, hand rising as if to strike Kwanele, but the boy broke out of his stupor and spoke up quickly. “Yebo!!” he confirmed in his Zulu tongue, fear in his eyes.  Satisfied, they left him to suck at the rest of the apple core that was in his hand. Kwanele jumped as another full bottle of water and another apple were tossed into his lap. Eager, he snatched it up, cracked the seal and tipping his head back, he emptied the bottle in seconds. For the first time, he was left alone in the truck. He could hear the adults somewhere outside, their voices muffled and subdued. Turning the new apple in his hands curiously, he slowly bit into it, this time savoring the sweet taste as he rolled it around on his tongue. He could feel his strength slowly returning as he sat up taller, examining his surroundings with a little more care. It was dusty, covered in dirt – even the windows. Piles of dirty old blankets and bedding occupied most of the space in the trunk. 
         They smelt musty, covered in dirt and blood. Sticky bloated flies buzzed in and out, infiltrating the small space with interest, landing on Kwanele’s skin. Flicking them away with disgust, he narrowed his eyes. What were they chasing in here?  Twisting to look behind him, he watched as the black intruders would land intermittently with excitement on the bulk of blankets, darting to and fro as they sought something. Taking another bite of the apple, Kwanele flicked his empty hand towards the flies on the blankets, willing them to vacate his refuge. Curious, his grimy fingers began to explore the lump of blankets behind him with mild curiosity. What is that? His hand froze on the shape in revulsion. Tasting bile rising in his throat again, Kwanele peered out the clouded side-window towards the still form of the rhino, realizing with a start what was wrapped in those blankets. He drew his hand back, wiping it on his trousers with loathing. 
       Trembling and trying to control his heaving stomach, he took the half-eaten apple and bottled water, sliding himself out from the back of the truck. Crouching low, he manoeuvred himself onto the dirt, shuffling over and sitting against the tire as he had been earlier. His heart beat loud in his chest like a tribal drum, daring him to muster some semblance of bravery – but reminding him deftly that he had none. He needed to be strong – to be brave – to do what was required...but was it possible? Never before had Joseph gotten them caught up with this kind of job. It filled Kwanele with despair and fear. His musings were interrupted as he heard Joseph continue to argue with the man in Khaki.
      “I don’t understand how you want us to play this out. Why not just kill her outright?” Joseph reasoned.
      “She can’t be just killed man! She is high profile in the media, plus she has some sort of creepy voodoo protection over her. She’s un-killable outright! She must be lured - her defenses worn down. It has to be planned to look like an accident.”      “Nobody is un-killable!” Joseph glowered. After a pause, he glanced over his shoulder at Kwanele sitting next to the tire.  Relief filled his face as Kwanele sat up, regarding him with sharp eyes. The man in the khaki followed Joseph’s gaze  gesturing towards the boy with one hand as he touched his other to his leather jacket.            “That’s why we need the boy! Get her defenses down, make her trust him…then he can lead her to the place.”      Joseph scratched his stubbled face. “Why is this woman so dangerous to you again?”      Two of the other men who had been cleaning their knives looked over, one clearing his throat.          “Boss?...You telling too much?” he turned the statement into a question so as not to infuriate his superior. Khaki-man whipped his head around and looked at the man, speaking through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t matter…ok?”  Kwanele shrunk against the truck tire, his blood suddenly chilling in the heat of the day. The knife cleaners looked at each other, realization dawning as their faces twisted into cruel smirks. They looked from each other to Joseph and Kwanele. The burly man who had fed Kwanele, stood up, snapping at them harshly in Sotho.  They all obediently returned to their tasks, casting dark looks at each other. Khaki-man turned back to Joseph, continuing his lengthy explanation to the ignorant city man. He seemed to relish the task, pacing with importance, his hands folded behind his back. “If this woman keeps saving elephants, rhinos and other animals, then others will start to copy her. Then we have a problem. Lots of problems. We lose our white gold, man!         “Rhino horn is £50,000 per kilogram. Do you understand? That’s worth more than Gold! That’s more money than you and I would ever see in a life-time! I know she’s been in hiding in town with that husband of hers for the last few years, but now she’s back on the reserve, who knows what she has in mind. She could put traders and poachers like us out of business.”
      Joseph nodded his head slowly, understanding. As if reacting to a silent command, the men all got up from their work as one and began to pile into the vehicles. “Boss!” The burly man announced “...something on the radar, a car…someone headed this way.” Khaki-man turned sadistically back to Joseph, his eyes narrowing. Kwanele missed the exchange, getting up and dusting himself off as best he could. Khaki-man heard the movement and swung his piercing gaze towards the truck.
      “Ok boy! Listen up!”
      Kwanele stepped towards Khaki-man with obedience, fearful of making him angry. “See that ridge over there?” He pointed, and Kwanele nodded. Leaning down, his hands braced on his knees, he spoke slowly to the boy, as if he wouldn’t understand. “…over that ridge is a bush-camp…a camp…okay? You need to find the woman in the newspaper photo and be her friend. Someone will contact you when the time is right…then…you bring her to them…do you understand?”
      Kwanele stood dazed, his mind reeling over the information. Did he hear earlier that they intended to murder this woman? It would be his fault that she died…his fault for leading her into a trap. He felt sick to his core at the thought of it. This wasn’t what he was used to. He was a thief, not a murderer. The dust cloud on the horizon was growing larger, as a vehicle approached.
      “I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” The man bellowed, close to Kwanele’s face. The boy blinked in shock, taking several steps backwards and nodding with vigor.      “Aye, Boss?” Burley man called out with mild curiosity. Khaki-man spun to face him, glowering under his brows. “What about lions, Boss?...That skinny kid wouldn’t last two minutes ...”
      “Shut-up!” Khaki-man snapped with force. The burly man ducked back into his truck apologetically. Kwanele’s head flicked between the adults in turn, his body stiffening in panic. He locked his pleading eyes on his guardian.  Joseph stepped forward and Kwanele was sure he was about to negotiate to back out from the plan.
      “Won’t they be suspicious that there is a boy in the middle of the veldt by himself? Wouldn’t they wonder why he doesn’t have an adult with him?” Joseph cast the boy a penetrating look before turning back to Khaki-man imploringly. The men in the vehicles pulled their heads out the windows, mordant grins on their dark faces. Khaki-man barked at them with impatience and they grudgingly complied, disappearing back into the trucks. Thrusting his hand into his open jacket with a look of steel in his eyes, he answered in a cool voice. “There will be an adult with him.” He pulled a hand gun from his jacket. With calculation, he took aim and shot Joseph square in the chest. Joseph had been too shocked to even respond. With a grunt, he fell to the ground - dead.
      Kwanele cried out raggedly, stumbling backwards away from Joseph and Khaki-man. He tripped upon the rhinoceros carcass, falling onto his backside. Whimpering, he froze in terror as the dark man wheeled his hard focus toward him, gun still in hand. “You get it done boy, or your fate will be the same as his!”
      Kwanele’s eyes were wide – he could still see the smoke curling from the muzzle of the weapon. Keeping his cold stare on the boy, Khaki-man jerked his head towards Joseph’s body on the ground. Swallowing hard, his eyes were round as Kwanele stared for the last time at the body of the man who had looked after him as long as he could remember.
      “Boss! Quick!” Burly man called. Khaki-man’s attention was drawn to the approaching vehicle on the horizon. The engines of the 4X4’s and truck roared to life as Khaki-man launched himself into one. Kwanele caught a glimpse of him slipping the gun casually back into his shirt as they sped down the dirt track, a cloud of dust following them. In a short time, they were out of sight – headed in the opposite direction to the oncoming cloud. Shaking, but running on adrenaline, Kwanele turned his gaze towards the second cloud of dust, speedily approaching from the direction of the ridge. Panic-stricken, he spun, unsure where to run. He wanted desperately to hide, gather his thoughts, figure out what to do next. 
          He turned his head towards the river. Would the steep inclines and foliage offer protection for him? What wild animals were out here and could he outsmart them long enough to live? He needed to get to safety. The sound of the approaching vehicle grew louder and without looking back at the rhino carcass and his guardian of several years, Kwanele ran. He ran as fast as he could towards whatever shelter the river could offer. Without Joseph to look after him, the job no longer mattered. He needed to just escape, go anywhere, somewhere safe. Terrified, Kwanele kept running, blind to what he was going to do, where he was going to go.