A sneak peek of Joe's book, All In: Raising the Stakes!
Are you ready for Joe? 
All In: Raising the Stakes is still available for pre-order! Check out this sneak peek and then grab your copy to start reading as soon as it's released on November 7, 2015!
ProloguePolice Officer Tyler EvansI hated working third shift, and not just because I'd rather be asleep. The night shift is when more crimes occur, and it's also the time during which the most heinous acts of violence go down. At three a.m. on November first, we were on our way to a call where someone reportedly heard a woman's "screams of agony" coming from their neighbor's house. As a fresh out of the academy rookie, I was riding along with a veteran, Dean Simmons, who was showing me the ropes. "My money's on this being a domestic violence dispute where the man is drunk and the woman pissed him off in some stupid ass way," he said to me as he sped with lights and sirens blaring through the otherwise dark, empty streets of a quiet neighborhood. The police radio crackled, breaking into our conversation, alerting that a male at nineteen sixty-six Church Street, the address we were in transit to, just placed an emergency call into nine-one-one. He frantically told the operator that a female in her twenties is in labor and something’s wrong. An ambulance has been dispatched. "Well, hell," Simmons muttered, shifting the car into park just after we pulled up to the curb in front of the house. It’s fairly clear that since it’s a medical emergency and not a crime in progress, we’re no longer needed. "Let's go notify them that help is on the way."From the outside the house looked just like every other one-story home in this cookie cutter, middle class neighborhood. The front door was already standing open when we walked up to it. A lean, wide-eyed man held open the glass storm door to let us in before we even knocked. "I-I don't know what to do! She can't push the baby out, and she...oh God, she's in so much pain!" he stammered. "The ambulance is on the way and should be here any minute," Simmons assured the man, before he led us to the basement stairs. Wait a second, the basement? The three deadbolt locks on the outer door were the first red flag my mind registered, telling me that something unusual was definitely going on. Then we climbed down the creaking wooden stairs, and I realized that "basement" was a generous term for the place we'd just entered. In fact, dungeon would've been much more appropriate for the cold, mostly empty, cement bunker. "You-you can arrest me after you help her," the man tells us as he nervously yanks fistfuls of his unruly beard. I'm sure my expression probably mirrors the same slack-jawed confusion as Simmons. We both glance curiously around the windowless, mildew scented room, bare except for a pile of blankets on the floor, bookcase full of books, small television sitting on a crate, and a boombox plugged into the wall. "Arrest you?" Simmons asks the man. The piercing wails of agony interrupt, preventing further conversation. Every last blonde hair on both of my arms instantly stands at attention. Then I see exactly what he was referring to.Holy fuck. Underneath the pile of blankets is a woman. My feet carried me a few steps closer until I could see the thick metal chain bolted to the floor where he'd recently had her tethered like a goddamn dog! The woman's hair, a shade of red, is fanned out on a pillow, soaking wet with sweat. Her small body is curled up on her side in a fetal position as she continues to scream. When she shifts to her other side, writhing in pain, my eyes are drawn to the dark blood stains saturating the white Sheets. Suddenly, I feel the world tilt. This would be the absolute worst time to pass out.Honestly, though, other than hitting the floor, I have no fucking idea what to do. Simmons seems just as out of his depth as he stands stock still. I figure I can at least try to talk to the woman, assure her that the paramedics are in route. "Ma'am, help is on the way and will be here any minute. Just hang on, okay?" I tell her, kneeling down beside where she lays on a mattress on the fucking concrete floor.Her pale face is drawn tight in pain, but she manages to give me a slight head nod. "What's your name?" "Kelly," the man responds for her from where he kneels on the other side of her mattress. "Kelly Albright." The name immediately sounds familiar. As pain stricken as it is, so does her face. I look up at Simmons with an eyebrow raised in question. The tensing of his jaw tells me that I’m right. This is her. The woman who was reported missing by her family months ago, Since there's been no sign of her, everyone had assumed the worst. Now, here she is, alive but pregnant, trying to deliver what I'm betting is this fucked up bastard's baby. She's obviously been through hell, and now this..."Your family's been searching for you," I tell her, then glare at the man. His eyes flicker to the stairs and I think he might be considering making a run for it. But when I see a pair of shoes come into view, I realize he’s just looking toward the sound of footsteps. Thank God! "If it's a…girl…Audrina. If-if it's a…boy…Drew," the woman tells me between gasps. Closing her eyes tight while tears stream down her cheeks, she says, "Tell-tell my sister Katie I forgive him."The paramedics swoop in with medical bags and a gurney, so Simmons and I jump out of the way. Both of us stand guard in front of the stairway, although escaping seems to be the last thing the man is concerned about. He watches from his place on the floor, kneeling down as close to the woman as he can get without being in the way. The chain restraint had at least been recently removed from the woman. Her thin ankle still bears the angry, red circular imprint. I watch the demented man's behavior, trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him for doing something so cruel to another human being. He's acting almost like you'd believe any other expecting father, genuinely concerned for the woman's wellbeing. That much is obvious, even if it’s ironic. The longer the paramedics work the more distraught he becomes. Both of his fists yank on handfuls of his own hair as his sniffles grow louder. It's clear that Kelly's condition is dire, especially when she no longer makes a sound. I have no idea what that means for the baby.After they lift her onto the gurney and start up the stairs toward the ambulance, the man approaches us. He offers up both wrists out in front of him as tears pour down his unshaven face. His head is bowed and his narrow shoulders are slumped. "I killed her," he sobs. "I killed them both." His confession snaps Simmons and I both back to reality. I remember that despite the horror and sadness, we have a job to do and proper protocol to follow to make sure this sick fuck spends the rest of his life in prison. "You're under arrest upon the suspicion and belief that you are responsible for the abduction, kidnapping, and rape of Kelly Albright. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you.” After Simmons finishes reading him his Miranda rights, he locks the cuffs around his wrists and pats him down. I pray the man is wrong about Kelly's condition for her friends and family's sake. Fate wouldn't be cruel enough to take her away from them after she'd just been found, could it?
PRE-ORDER NOW!
All In: Raising the Stakes is still available for pre-order! Check out this sneak peek and then grab your copy to start reading as soon as it's released on November 7, 2015!
ProloguePolice Officer Tyler EvansI hated working third shift, and not just because I'd rather be asleep. The night shift is when more crimes occur, and it's also the time during which the most heinous acts of violence go down. At three a.m. on November first, we were on our way to a call where someone reportedly heard a woman's "screams of agony" coming from their neighbor's house. As a fresh out of the academy rookie, I was riding along with a veteran, Dean Simmons, who was showing me the ropes. "My money's on this being a domestic violence dispute where the man is drunk and the woman pissed him off in some stupid ass way," he said to me as he sped with lights and sirens blaring through the otherwise dark, empty streets of a quiet neighborhood. The police radio crackled, breaking into our conversation, alerting that a male at nineteen sixty-six Church Street, the address we were in transit to, just placed an emergency call into nine-one-one. He frantically told the operator that a female in her twenties is in labor and something’s wrong. An ambulance has been dispatched. "Well, hell," Simmons muttered, shifting the car into park just after we pulled up to the curb in front of the house. It’s fairly clear that since it’s a medical emergency and not a crime in progress, we’re no longer needed. "Let's go notify them that help is on the way."From the outside the house looked just like every other one-story home in this cookie cutter, middle class neighborhood. The front door was already standing open when we walked up to it. A lean, wide-eyed man held open the glass storm door to let us in before we even knocked. "I-I don't know what to do! She can't push the baby out, and she...oh God, she's in so much pain!" he stammered. "The ambulance is on the way and should be here any minute," Simmons assured the man, before he led us to the basement stairs. Wait a second, the basement? The three deadbolt locks on the outer door were the first red flag my mind registered, telling me that something unusual was definitely going on. Then we climbed down the creaking wooden stairs, and I realized that "basement" was a generous term for the place we'd just entered. In fact, dungeon would've been much more appropriate for the cold, mostly empty, cement bunker. "You-you can arrest me after you help her," the man tells us as he nervously yanks fistfuls of his unruly beard. I'm sure my expression probably mirrors the same slack-jawed confusion as Simmons. We both glance curiously around the windowless, mildew scented room, bare except for a pile of blankets on the floor, bookcase full of books, small television sitting on a crate, and a boombox plugged into the wall. "Arrest you?" Simmons asks the man. The piercing wails of agony interrupt, preventing further conversation. Every last blonde hair on both of my arms instantly stands at attention. Then I see exactly what he was referring to.Holy fuck. Underneath the pile of blankets is a woman. My feet carried me a few steps closer until I could see the thick metal chain bolted to the floor where he'd recently had her tethered like a goddamn dog! The woman's hair, a shade of red, is fanned out on a pillow, soaking wet with sweat. Her small body is curled up on her side in a fetal position as she continues to scream. When she shifts to her other side, writhing in pain, my eyes are drawn to the dark blood stains saturating the white Sheets. Suddenly, I feel the world tilt. This would be the absolute worst time to pass out.Honestly, though, other than hitting the floor, I have no fucking idea what to do. Simmons seems just as out of his depth as he stands stock still. I figure I can at least try to talk to the woman, assure her that the paramedics are in route. "Ma'am, help is on the way and will be here any minute. Just hang on, okay?" I tell her, kneeling down beside where she lays on a mattress on the fucking concrete floor.Her pale face is drawn tight in pain, but she manages to give me a slight head nod. "What's your name?" "Kelly," the man responds for her from where he kneels on the other side of her mattress. "Kelly Albright." The name immediately sounds familiar. As pain stricken as it is, so does her face. I look up at Simmons with an eyebrow raised in question. The tensing of his jaw tells me that I’m right. This is her. The woman who was reported missing by her family months ago, Since there's been no sign of her, everyone had assumed the worst. Now, here she is, alive but pregnant, trying to deliver what I'm betting is this fucked up bastard's baby. She's obviously been through hell, and now this..."Your family's been searching for you," I tell her, then glare at the man. His eyes flicker to the stairs and I think he might be considering making a run for it. But when I see a pair of shoes come into view, I realize he’s just looking toward the sound of footsteps. Thank God! "If it's a…girl…Audrina. If-if it's a…boy…Drew," the woman tells me between gasps. Closing her eyes tight while tears stream down her cheeks, she says, "Tell-tell my sister Katie I forgive him."The paramedics swoop in with medical bags and a gurney, so Simmons and I jump out of the way. Both of us stand guard in front of the stairway, although escaping seems to be the last thing the man is concerned about. He watches from his place on the floor, kneeling down as close to the woman as he can get without being in the way. The chain restraint had at least been recently removed from the woman. Her thin ankle still bears the angry, red circular imprint. I watch the demented man's behavior, trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him for doing something so cruel to another human being. He's acting almost like you'd believe any other expecting father, genuinely concerned for the woman's wellbeing. That much is obvious, even if it’s ironic. The longer the paramedics work the more distraught he becomes. Both of his fists yank on handfuls of his own hair as his sniffles grow louder. It's clear that Kelly's condition is dire, especially when she no longer makes a sound. I have no idea what that means for the baby.After they lift her onto the gurney and start up the stairs toward the ambulance, the man approaches us. He offers up both wrists out in front of him as tears pour down his unshaven face. His head is bowed and his narrow shoulders are slumped. "I killed her," he sobs. "I killed them both." His confession snaps Simmons and I both back to reality. I remember that despite the horror and sadness, we have a job to do and proper protocol to follow to make sure this sick fuck spends the rest of his life in prison. "You're under arrest upon the suspicion and belief that you are responsible for the abduction, kidnapping, and rape of Kelly Albright. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you.” After Simmons finishes reading him his Miranda rights, he locks the cuffs around his wrists and pats him down. I pray the man is wrong about Kelly's condition for her friends and family's sake. Fate wouldn't be cruel enough to take her away from them after she'd just been found, could it?
PRE-ORDER NOW!
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