Spotlight & Excerpt: Ninja Girl Adventures + Giveaway

Ninja Girl Adventures
by MG Wilson, Phil Elmore
(Ninja Girl Adventures Series, #1)
Publication date: November 1st 2020
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult

Sister Power at It’s Best

Moira Mackenzie is just 14 years old. Her sister Mindy is 15, and their younger sister Marci is 9. The girls have lived their lives until now believing their father, Scottish billionaire Stephen Mackenzie, is simply a businessman whose KogaTech Consolidated (KTC) is the world’s most successful technology company. Their father was married to a Japanese woman, Kameko, whom the girls are told died in a car accident.

The girls’ idyllic existence in New York, where KTC headquarters is located, is shattered when their father disappears. He is legally declared dead by their Uncle Jiro Akiyama, Kameko’s brother. Uncle Jiro wants to possess the company for himself. What he doesn’t know is that Stephen Mackenzie changed his will so that Moira inherits the entire corporation.

An overwhelmed Moira must contend with the unraveling of her family. She has the help of Morton Gerardi, Stephen Mackenzie’s best friend, but he’s not the girls’ father and there’s only so much he can do. While Mindy rebels and Marci, a child genius, disappears deeper into her computer, Moira is further frightened by an intruder who invades the girl’s Manhattan apartment. Not long after this, Moira is visited by Uncle Jiro himself, who offers to provide for the girls financially as long as Moira signs the company over to him.

Moira considers giving in but doesn’t. Suddenly, out of nowhere, black-clad figures, who can only be the mythical ancient ninja of feudal Japan, attack the Mackenzie sisters. The girls are saved by an elderly Asian woman who heads a ninja clan of her own. That woman removes her face mask to reveal that she is Aiko Akiyama, the girls’ grandmother. Moira immediately has many questions. Why has Aiko only now revealed herself?

Aiko explains that Kameko, as Aiko before her, was a member of a Koga ninja clan of Kunoichi — a female ninja. Aiko was forced to fake her own death because of Jiro’s ambitions. She vows to teach Moira to become a ninja warrior and fulfill her family destiny. As Moira beings to learn the ways of the ninja, Aiko’s Yoda-like lessons give her greater self-confidence as well as physical martial arts skills. She passes these lessons to her sisters… but there’s more. Legends claim the ninja were shape-changing tengu, forest spirits with magical powers. Aiko reveals that these stories are true. If Moira wishes, she can learn these mystical abilities. Jiro himself can become a wolf and other ferocious beasts. Moira can learn these same skills, just as Aiko has.

As Moira trains and learns more about herself, she helps her sisters to grow more confident and more disciplined as well. Soon, Mindy is using her gymnastics skills to have ninja-style adventures of her own, as genius Marci helps both of her sisters using her knowledge of computers.

As they grow in their abilities, the girls uncover a plot by Uncle Jiro to misuse “sleep learning” technology developed by KTC. This is why Jiro wants the company. He believes the technology can be used to control minds, ultimately giving him control over the city — and perhaps, one day, even more than that. As the girls use their new abilities to chase down clues that point them to Jiro’s sinister ambitions, Jiro grows tired of holding back. He instructs his ninja to kidnap Mindy and Marci. He then tells Moira she has no choice but to sign KTC over to him if she ever wants to see her sisters again.

To get her sisters back, Moira will have to face her greatest fears. With only partial training, she must conquer her own doubts and apply the lessons of empowerment and confidence that Aiko has given her. The story climaxes in a battle between the two rival ninja clans wherein Moira must first save her sisters and then defeat Jiro himself. The fate of New York City hangs in the balance, as does the fate of Moira’s family and of her father’s company.

Goodreads / Amazon

Excerpt:

Uncle Jiro was waiting in the lobby. Of course, Moira thought. Who else would it be?

Sally had made herself scarce. Moira was grateful for that. It meant she wouldn’t have to invite Uncle Jiro anywhere else. She didn’t like the thought of Uncle Jiro making himself comfortable in an office here, or setting foot in her father’s private space.

“Moira,” Uncle Jiro said, his smile too wide and his tone of voice too familiar and easy. He still wore his overcoat on his shoulders like a cape. His suit probably cost more than the car that had brought him here.

“Uncle Jiro,” Moira said formally.

He bristled at that. He didn’t like being called “Uncle.” She could see it in the way he tensed up. He covered it well, though, pretending to smooth the lapels of his suit jacket. “I will not take up much of your time,” he said.

“We both know you are ill equipped to run this company. You expected KogaTech Consolidated to become mine just as I did. Whatever sentimental impulse possessed your father to change his will at the last minute, we will never know. The fact remains that he did—but you and I both know this is a burden. I am prepared to relieve you of that burden.”

“What do you mean?”

“You fear for your well-being, which is understandable,” Uncle Jiro said, almost as if he had not heard her.

“You may be thinking that you don’t know how you will provide for your sisters, and yourself. There are many expenses. College. Healthcare. Day-to-day living expenses. New York is an expensive place, and only growing more so. But there is no reason for you to live in poverty.

“I am prepared to establish a fund for you and your sisters. A very generous fund. You and your sisters will want for nothing.”

Moira swallowed. “What do you want to do for us?”

“Why, the company, of course,” said Uncle Jiro. “My attorneys will draw up the paperwork. I will see to everything. You need only sign them. The company will revert to me, as it should have originally. You and your sisters will be properly provided for, and you will have none of the stress of running a company the size of KTC. Let us be honest, Moira. You are not prepared to take the mantle of leadership. Why subject yourself to that sort of stress? There is no need. Your—family—is here to help you.”

“I’ll—I’ll think about it, Uncle Jiro,” she said.

Again, he stiffened, then forced a not-at-all convincing smile. “Do not think too long,” he said. “Business does not wait for young girls who cannot make up their minds. I need a decision so I can begin getting the company into order. Every day wasted is money lost.”

“I’m not sure I want to sell the company,” Moira said. “This was everything my father built. It meant a lot to him. He told me that everything he did here, he did for my mother. And for her memory.”

Uncle Jiro took a step forward, looming over her. “Do not speak of Kameko to me!” He hissed, almost like a large snake. “My sister was a very foolish woman. She made poor decisions. She never should have married Stephen Mackenzie. Had she not, she would be alive today!”

Moira stepped back as if he had slapped her. “How can you say that?” she said. Her voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“You are a child,” Uncle Jiro said. He was very angry now. “You have no idea the matters in which you are interfering. Do not let your father’s misguided affection make your life more difficult, child. There is a time for sentiment and there is a time for good sense. See that you understand the difference.”

“But —”

“I will have my attorneys call you to make arrangements,” said Uncle Jiro. “I trust you will make the correct decision.” With that, he swept his coat about him and stormed out of the room. Moira watched him go.

“I never liked him,” Sally said sadly as the elevator doors closed on Uncle Jiro. She had been in the adjoining conference room. She closed the door behind her.

“Don’t you let him bully you, Moira,” she said. “This is your father’s company. It’s your company. It’s your family’s legacy. He can’t take it away from you. I know that, no matter what, you’ll do the right thing.”

Moira could only nod. She wished she felt as confident as Sally sounded.

 

Author Bio:

Hello! I’m Melissa G Wilson and my top passions are writing, helping new authors who want to make a difference through their writing, and mentoring women and at-risk youth to become authors.

My company Networlding Publishing, focuses on assisting thought leaders to write, publish, and launch “books that make the world better.”I’ve been growing my company for the last ten years and have helped 120 thought leaders write, publish, and launch their “make-a-difference” books.

I’ve consistently used proceeds from my authors’ book sales to help mentor new adults to help them learn this “new world of publishing.” So far, I’ve mentored more than 30 new adults through an organization called Dream Careers and I can’t wait to help more young people get better starts in their lives. My mentees have gone on to create stellar careers in publishing, marketing, and social media.

I’ve had the honor and pleasure of writing five best-sellers, one that held a #10 on Amazon for year and also had a book on Oprah that turned into an opportunity to travel the country and hold community leadership events with kids, adults, and city leaders. One other major honor was getting to be one of 70 people who helped Seth Godin, one of the best marketing leaders in the world, reinvent publishing through his initiative called “The Domino Street Team.” My goal now is to keep helping new author thought leaders get their important books out to the world and into the hearts of others, especially youth, who can use the insights from these books to make the world better for all.

Phil Elmore is a bestselling author, freelance journalist, and technical writer who lives and works in Upstate New York. He has contributed extensively to “Tactical Knives” and “Survivor’s Edge” magazines as well as several other self-defense and “tactical gear” trade publications. He is the Senior Editor of League Entertainment (an IP development company based in Florida) and the owner of Samurai Press, an independent small-press publisher. Through Samurai Press, Elmore has published a variety of non-fiction and self-help works, including the self-help bestseller “Ten Things Doctors Won’t Tell You About Your CPAP Machine.”

As a ghostwriter, Phil Elmore has been the author behind countless non-fiction and fiction works, including multiple action and science fiction novels, martial arts and fitness publications, survival and “prepper” ebook and print products, and even a survival-themed series of novellas. He has edited numerous novels, magazine articles, and other copy for inclusion in commercially published vehicles, as well as generating hundreds of thousands of words of content for Internet marketers across the Web.

With League Entertainment, Elmore co-created the Duke Manfist parody action series. The publisher of “The Martialist,” the online magazine “for those who fight unfairly,” Phil Elmore is also the author of twenty-one Executioner, Mack Bolan, and Stony Man novels for Gold Eagle/Harlequin Enterprises. His other work includes the “Augment,” “Monsters,” and “Detective Moxley” series, as well as the short story collection “The Thing in the Office and Other Tales of Terror” and the crowdfunded comedy-action novel “Spaceking Superpolice.”

 

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Chasing Frost + Giveaway

 

Chasing Frost
Isabel Jolie
(West Side, #5)
Publication date: January 19th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

He’s not exactly who he appears to be. But then again, neither is she…

Chase

I’ve never felt as out of my league as I did when I met Sydney Frost.

Not in the years I’ve spent starting successful companies or since. Working for a prestigious firm gives me status and power, and I’m already a master at charming my way through a crowd—or into the bedroom. One new office colleague should be a piece of cake to win over.

Ms. Frost, however, is giving my efforts a chilly reception. Time to remind her that I’m not afraid to live up to my name, either…

“Sydney”

On the surface, it looks like I have it all: a new, influential job, a nice salary, and the hottest young executive in the company falling over himself to introduce me to the best New York City has to offer.

It’s all a lie.

My name is Sadie Keating, not Sydney Frost, and I’m an undercover agent for the FBI on a case that could make or break my career. Chase Maitlin, my sexy and persistent would-be suitor, is the prime suspect in a major cross-agency investigation.

I’m the rookie desperately trying not to fall for him.

Chasing Frost, the fifth book in the West Side series, is a steamy, enemies-to-lovers, sometimes funny, sometimes suspenseful, contemporary romance featuring a smart, dedicated heroine and the sexy bad boy who steals her heart.

All of the contemporary romance novels in the West Side Series are standalone and can be read in any order.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

Excerpt:

“I’m tired. You?” Sydney matches my pace step for step as we make our way to the elevator. In reality, tired is not an accurate descriptor. With each step, I become more and more awake. Energy radiates through every muscle, an awareness I’m about to have this gorgeous woman alone, in our hotel room. And this time, we’re not just friends. She kissed me, and we’ve been touching all night.
And now I want to kiss her. All over. The elevator door closes, blocking out the rest of the world. I press our floor number and step forward, crowding her up against the wall, my body pressed to hers, like I wanted to do all night. This woman is intoxicating. I have the smallest of tastes, dipping my tongue, testing the waters, before the elevator jolts and the doors open.
We stumble out together, laughing, but by the time I’m turning the key in our door, there’s no humor between us. No, we both know what’s coming. There’s been a current of energy between us the whole night, with every soft touch, every glance.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to reassure her that we can go at her speed. To tell her I don’t have any expectations, just because we’re sharing a bedroom. To tell her I don’t want to do anything that makes her uncomfortable when she closes the distance between us.
Our lips smash together, and she pushes my jacket off my shoulders. Our kiss is manic, hot, an explosion of all the energy that’s been simmering between us. She backs me toward a bed, ripping at my shirt, pulling it out of my pants. It’s a fucking dream.
Her hands are on my belt buckle as I grip her ass, rubbing her against my wicked hard erection, when she pauses to ask, “Do you have a condom?”
Hell, yes. I always do. It’s the way of the Boy Scout.
I grip her dress and lift it. She understands and raises her arms. I toss the dress across the room and sit back on the bed, my pants unbuckled and unzipped, my cock standing at attention through my boxers.
Sydney stands before me in a black lace silk bra and the sexiest matching black thong I’ve ever seen. Her stomach is flat, taut, and her breasts curve, round and erect. I fist them, dipping my head to suck and nip, making her moan. Her palms press hard against my chest, and she shoves me back on the bed. I lift onto my elbows to watch as she grips my trousers and boxers and pulls them off. They get stuck on my damn dress shoes, but it’s not a problem because within seconds she’s slipped them off and I’m naked except for black dress socks. She climbs up on the bed, straddling me, and she’s looking at me like I’m the slice of cake she refused to eat but really wanted at the reception tonight. And I like it. I like every single thing about this.
She falls on top of me, mouth on mine, frantic, hungry. Her slender fingers grip my cock with a strength that has me grunting and flipping her over. I love that she wants this, but if I don’t take control, this is gonna be over before I’ve had a chance to slip inside that tight pussy.
She bounces slightly on the mattress and lights up.
“You like it rough?’
She smiles then reaches between us for my cock.
“I want this.”
“Oh, you’ll get it. I promise. But we’re gonna take this slow.”
I swear…she huffs.
I lower my body onto her, cradling my arousal between her legs, against her center. Her thin lace panties are the only separation between us, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good when she thrusts her hips up over and over. She’s seeking friction, and I’ll give it to her. But first, I need to explore.
“Patience,” I command.

 

Author Bio:

Isabel Jolie, or Izzy to her friends, is an Amazon bestselling indie author with an unquenchable thirst for a good, sexy love story. Izzy’s heart pumps faster for stories with strong heroines, down-to-earth realism, and an unexpected twist.

When she’s not writing or reading, she can often be found with a glass of wine in hand relaxing with her husband, daughters, and good friends lakeside.

Izzy fills her Instagram feed with funnies, inspirational “brain candy”, and anything that meshes with her mood of the day. #mood.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Kept From Cages, by Phil Williams

kept-from-cages_williams

Kept From Cages
Series: Ikiri (#1)
by Phil Williams
Published: September 21, 2020
Genre: Supernatural Action-Thriller
Age Group: Adult
Pages: 261 (Print Length)

No one returns from Ikiri.

Reece’s gang of criminal jazz musicians have taken shelter in the wrong house. There’s a girl with red eyes bound to a chair. The locals call her a devil – but Reece sees a kid that needs protecting. He’s more right than he knows.

Chased by a shadowy swordsman and an unnatural beast, the gang flee across the Deep South with the kid in tow. She won’t say where she’s from or who exactly her scary father is, but she’s got powers they can’t understand. How much will Reece risk to save her?

On the other side of the world, Agent Sean Tasker’s asking similar questions. With an entire village massacred and no trace of the killers, he’s convinced Duvcorp’s esoteric experiments are responsible. His only ally is an unstable female assassin, and their only lead is Ikiri – a black-site in the Congo, which no one leaves alive. How far is Tasker prepared to go for answers?

Kept From Cages is the first part in an action-packed supernatural thriller duology, filled with eccentric characters and intricately woven mysteries. Start your journey to Ikiri today.

Goodreads / Amazon
Kept From Cages will be  99c/99p on US/UK Kindle from January 13th–19th.

kept-from-cages_williams_mockup

Excerpt:

“Don’t blame yourself,” Reece said, hefting Stomatt’s unconscious bulk up the dirt track. “None of us guessed he lost that much blood.”
“Even still,” Caleb replied, stooping to help. “Shoulda been me behind the wheel. Always shoulda been me behind the wheel.”
“He insisted, didn’t he? What were you gonna do, two maniacs shooting at us?”
“Insist back!” Caleb’s eyes shone in the dark. “Coulda said, ‘No, listen, Sto, I’m driving.’ Coulda got us clear with no hassle.”
“We got clear, and you did good.” Reece grinned. A grin that could charm the devil’s horns off his head, Leigh-Ann liked to say. Even in a thick boiler suit, torn and dirtied from a day’s fighting and fleeing, his hair dyed a murky green. They might be filthy and stinking and hurt in places they were yet to check, stranded on some unlit path to the middle of nowhere, but they were damn alive after taking on a billion-dollar company of thugs. Yeah, their car had flipped and they were still a long way from the safety of Stilt Town, let alone home, and Stomatt might be seriously injured – but they’d done what Reece said they would do and won. That’s what the smile said, and Caleb smiled back.
“Sure,” he said. “But we maybe shoulda switched driver. Made for the main roads after all?”
Reece checked the wood-panel house ahead again. A little further and they’d hit its two-step porch, knock and see who, exactly, lived in the empty fields halfway between Waco and Shreveport. Only an occasional tree on the black horizon told them they were anything short of stumbling through limbo itself. But lights shone yellow in the cross-barred windows, behind curtains – beacons to salvation.
“Reckon they cannibals?” Caleb said.
Reece traded his it’s-all-good smile for his that’d-be-a-laugh one. Even if this wasn’t the home of good honest farmhands, there wasn’t much the Cutjaw Kids couldn’t handle. They dragged Stomatt across a shingle drive, the scrape of boots on stone announcing their approach. Caleb grumbled, “Don’t like leaving Leigh-Ann alone back there neither.”
“She’s better than fine,” Reece said. “You wanna worry? Worry about how we’re gonna spend all that money once we get back to Cutjaw.”
The floorboards creaked as they climbed the steps. The only sound besides them breathing. All those lights on and nothing happening inside: no talking, no TV, no movement.
“Think they’re not in?” Caleb said.
“Find out, won’t we? Lower him here, easy.”
With Stomatt propped against the wall, Reece straightened out the boiler suit and patted down his legs, then twisted his gun belt round so the pistol was hidden to his rear. Caleb caught his eye like he wanted to suggest something worrisome, and Reece smiled it off before it was said. Because everyone liked Reece once he got talking. He rapped a knuckle on the door. “Excuse me, good people! I know it’s late but we’re in bad need of assistance.” No reply. “Had ourselves an accident back up the road. Damnedest thing, you wouldn’t believe – car on its roof, and we got a man down.”
Nothing. Caleb worried, “Think they heard us coming, hid away?”
“Why’d anyone hide from a couple harmless musicians?” Reece said. Caleb’s eye tracked down to the gun belt. Reece curled his nose: even if they did see La Belle Riposte holstered there, it was an instrument as exquisite as his trumpet. And they were in Texas – who didn’t have a gun? He knocked again. “Hate to be a burden, but my friend here lost a lot of blood – can’t even stand right now.” Still nothing. “We’re decent people, like yourselves – just trying to get back home.”
Caleb shifted. “We could try another one?”
“Another house?” Reece raised an eyebrow to indicate the hundred miles of nothing surrounding them. He called out, “We don’t need to stay long, just got to patch up my friend – get him some water, fresh bandages. I gotta insist on that much at least.” One last pause. “We’ll make our own entrance if we have to.”
“Better y’all go on your way!” a gruff voice finally answered – a big man.
“Gladly, with the barest assistance!” Reece answered amiably.
“Get on! What you’re looking for’s not here.”
“All the same, if you could open up, it’d save –”
The door swung in on a man with a double-barrelled shotgun. “I said –”
Reece spoke over him fast: “No need for that, sir, we didn’t come looking for trouble. Name’s Reece Coburn, horn-maestro, as reviewed in Two Shoots Magazine, and this here’s my associate Caleb ‘Low Bone’ Gray – heard of him?”
The man’s mouth hung open in surprise, his threat trapped there. He was large with over-indulgence, someone that could knock you down with a swat if it didn’t give him a heart attack. His ruddy face was partly hidden by a tangled beard, and he had on a faded check shirt, leather suspenders clipped to mud-caked jeans. Over his shoulder, in a doorway down the hall, was another man, as lean as the first was wide, snub-nosed, warty-faced, with shirt and jeans as tatty as a scarecrow’s. Unarmed and nervous.
“What?” The shotgun farmer recovered slowly from Reece’s friendliness, eyes darting to the green hair and back. “No, listen here – get on back down that road or I’ll –”
“We would kindly get on,” Reece said, “but see, Caleb and me with our tender frames, we’re not up to carrying this burden far.” Reece scuffed a foot to draw attention to Stomatt. The farmer looked at the bleached-blond oaf splattered black with dry blood.
“The hell –”
Reece stepped into the kitchen, pushed the shotgun down with one hand and drew his pistol with the other. Stunned the farmer with his speed, as his companion exclaimed, “Jesus!”
“Stay put, friend, and relax,” Reece said, grip tight on the shotgun. “I got no intention of hurting you, I mean it. Water, medicine, shelter, that’s all we want. Our priority’s keeping him alive. Anything else is a bonus we won’t assume.” Moving around the farmer, Reece sped on, “You can’t have heard of us – two parts of the Cutjaw Kids – otherwise you’d know we’re decent people, only ever hurt them that deserve it.” The slim man threw an instinctive glance back, into the next room. Blocking that doorway for a reason. Reece slowed down. “We interrupt something?”
The farmer went rigid on his shotgun, for a second seeming like he might pull the trigger just to shake Reece off. Reece warned him against it with a casual wave of the pistol.
“Caleb, you haul Sto in here?”
“I’ll try,” Caleb answered honestly, and gave the farmer an apologetic look as he started to manoeuvre Stomatt’s bulk through the doorway.
“Listen,” Reece said. “We got problems enough of our own not to interfere with yours. But I think you oughta let go of this gun now.”
The farmer didn’t shift. Caleb huffed upright from struggling with Stomatt. “Want I should cover him, Reece?”
“Wish you didn’t have to.”
“Go to hell,” the farmer said.
“That’ll be a yes.”
Caleb drew a pistol from inside his boiler suit. “Got him.”
The farmer gave him a sceptical glance. People tended to go one of two ways with Caleb; kind-faced, softly-spoken, hunched with self-consciousness, he struck people as either slow enough to take advantage of or too quietly calm to trust. After a moment, the farmer settled on the latter, and finally loosened his grip on the shotgun. Reece took it. “Now what’s the fuss?”
The slim one straightened up. “You ain’t coming through here, no way –”
The man flattened himself against a wall as Reece pushed past into the next room. The farmer called out, an explanation or a dismissal. Reece didn’t hear it. A woman on the far side of the room gasped, but she wasn’t his concern. Dead centre, with the other furniture cleared to the sides, was a girl no older than seven, sat on a wooden chair. Her arms, legs and chest were bound by thick leather belts. Her black hair hung in locks over hazel skin, the white of her eyes haloing big dark irises that fixed on Reece.
Reece glanced at the woman for an explanation; young but built big, in the same farming slacks as the men. Likely the farmer’s daughter. She cringed at the pistol, too scared to speak. Reece turned back to Slim, who raised his hands.
“Ain’t what it looks like! She’s the devil, I swear!”
“What is it, Reece?” Caleb asked.
“Like y’all ain’t involved?” the farmer snarled.
“What in hell kind of –” Reece spun back to the girl. “They hurt you? Jesus – what’d they do –”
He crouched, about to grab her bindings, when Slim pleaded, “No, don’t!” He flinched at Reece’s pistol but continued, “Look at her eyes!”
Holding his gun steady, Reece checked the girl again. Her gently dark skin was marred around the extremities: grubby at her neck, dark under the eyes and nose, scratched. She had on a white t-shirt and denim dungarees, all stained – fallen in mud a few times. Her gaze hadn’t left him since he entered. Eyes massive in her face. The irises, now he looked, were red as blood.
“You see it, don’t you?” Slim said.
“Don’t bother, Donny,” the farmer growled from the hallway. “Think they come rolling in here by chance? With all that thing’s been saying?”
“Dammit,” Caleb said, “let’s see.”
Reece frowned as Caleb pushed the farmer into the room. “That thing?”
“Ho-ly hell,” Caleb gasped, over the farmer’s shoulder.
“She ain’t right.” The farmer’s daughter found her voice, a squeak. Terrified as slim Donny, getting busted like this.
“We wanted to help her, man!” Donny insisted. “But she says things –”
“Get yourself up against that wall,” Reece said. “The pair of you. And you” – to the woman – “untie this goddamn child.”
“I ain’t staying.” Donny made a move. “Not if she’s loose.”
“Please,” the girl said, weakly. Donny winced. “Help me …”
Reece said, “None of y’all are leaving. Didn’t I ask you to untie her?”
“Don’t you dare,” the farmer rumbled, before his daughter could budge.
“You miss the part where we got guns on you?” Caleb asked. “Shit, I’ll do it –” He stepped forward and the farmer lunged for the gun. The pair of them twisted over it, the farmer’s weight bearing them to the ground. Donny sprang for the door and tripped, the stumble making Reece’s shot hit the wall where his head should’ve been. The farmer shouted murderously, grappling with Caleb, and the daughter screamed, as Donny dived out the room and Reece’s second shot hit the doorframe.
A third shot sounded, muffled by Caleb’s scuffle. The farmer’s angry shout spiked and Caleb yelled, “Get this fat bastard off me!” But Reece was running through the hallway, as Donny sprawled spider-like out across the drive. Reece aimed as he reached the door, but hit a patch of Stomatt’s blood and slid, landing on his rear. He scrambled upright and saw a last slither of Donny’s angular joints slipping into shadow. Man moved like a damn greyhound.
Caleb grunted around the farmer’s bulk and the daughter’s screams turned to fierce curses. Caleb insisted, “Ma’am, you saw him attack me! Woulda killed me!”
Reece trotted back to the living room to find the farmer inert on the carpet, blood pooling under his chest. His daughter was shuddering in a crouch as Caleb stood over her, gun at his side. “Stop screaming, please – I didn’t want to have to do it!”
And in the middle of the chaos sat the red-eyed girl, eyes locked on Reece again. Afraid. Reece holstered his gun and took a knee. “It’s gonna be alright, cher. We’ve got you.” The farmer’s daughter kept whimpering, no no no.
Rapid footsteps came over the entrance boards and both Reece and Caleb spun with pistols raised. It was Leigh-Ann, running in with a MAC-10 submachine gun and a deadly look on her face. Reece yelled, “Dammit Leigh there’s a kid in here!”
She shouted, “What in hell are y’all doing?”
The shrieked question stilled the room, even the farmer’s daughter going quiet. The trio of gun-toting criminals looked at each other, the dead farmer and tied-up girl. Reece stood, in silent admission that this had got well out of hand.
Leigh-Ann laughed. “Shit, boys, this your idea of getting help?”

 

phil-williamsAbout the Author

Phil Williams is an author of contemporary fantasy and dystopian fiction, including the Ordshaw urban fantasy thrillers and the post-apocalyptic Estalia series. He also writes reference books to help foreign learners master the nuances of English, two of which are regular best-sellers on Kindle. He lives with his wife by the coast in Sussex, UK, and spends a great deal of time walking his impossibly fluffy dog, Herbert.

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