Showing posts with label Sunday Sample. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunday Sample. Show all posts

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Sneak Peek! #SundaySample

As promised, here's a sneak peek at the Prologue and Chapter 1 of Innocent Blood.  Enjoy your Sunday, and happy reading!


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PROLOGUE

Loki Redmond woke to the sound of a door softly closing. She tossed off the covers and made her way to the window, welcoming the reprieve from her dark, disturbing dreams. At least it wasn’t a vision.
Her brother Jules stood outlined in the moonlight, his fists clenched at his sides. A well of sadness opened up inside her at the sight of him standing there with his head bowed. If her dreams were dark and disturbing, his would be a thousand times worse.
Loki rummaged through her chest and donned shorts and a T-shirt. It was already warm, and the day ahead promised to be blistering. Since they were both awake, they might as well talk about what was bothering them. She tiptoed down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the back door. If he woke, Jake would demand to know what was bothering her, and she didn’t honestly know. Her dreams were most likely the product of her grandfather’s call for help with an issue on the reservation. He’d reminded her of her duty to her people.
Her people. Strange that Grandfather should put it that way. He’d constantly criticized her and her brothers and shouted more than once that they weren’t true Choctaw. He’d belittled their mother right up until the day of her death. Loki shook off the emotions churning in her gut. Grandfather was an old man now, and hating him would only hurt her.
“Hey.” She approached Jules slowly, aware that at times he walked in his sleep. “Bad dreams?”
Jules picked up a rock and threw it into the trees that surrounded the back of the property. “Horrible.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
Placing an arm around his waist, she stood with him, just watching the beauty of the early morning breeze gently swaying the trees. “You didn’t wake me, but even if you did, I’m glad. My dreams weren’t very pleasant, either.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to the reservation today. After the way they treated us, you don’t owe them anything.”
Loki sighed and dropped her arm. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
“No.”
Frustration overwhelmed her. For years Jules hadn’t said a word, trapped in his own mind with a horror he didn’t know how to express. All that had changed last year when she’d brought Jake to Grandpa Zachery’s farm to heal after his wife’s murder. What was supposed to be a vacation turned into a fight for their life against a madman and his mother, but for Jules it had been a miracle of sorts. They’d managed to save Grace, a thirteen-year-old who had been kidnapped and abused by the serial killers, and her month-old baby, Hope. And Grace had helped Jules heal. The two of them shared a bond that few people would ever understand. “I can’t help you, Jules, if you won’t talk to me.”
“Talking won’t change it, Loki. You and I both know that.”
“No, but sometimes it helps to share things.”
“Why do we call this the Redmond Farm?”
Loki chuckled. “Because Grandpa loved our mother so much that when she married our father, he changed the name of the farm. Sometimes I think he did it just to piss off Grandfather Redmond.”
“There’s something evil about Grandfather Redmond, Loki. Don’t trust him.”
“I didn’t before, and I’m not going to now.” She studied Jules’s face, looking for clues about what was truly behind his pain. “If there’s something you know about what’s going on at the reservation, you should tell me.”
“Have you ever known something was wrong but you didn’t know what it was or how to stop it?”
Loki dropped to the ground, hugged her knees to her chest, and patted the spot beside her. “You know how my visions work. I get images or feelings, and it’s always after something horrible has happened. I can never stop it.”
Jules finally sat beside her. “Some of the spirits are angry. Some are very sad. They say innocent blood has been shed, and the blood of more innocents will be shed in the coming days.”
“Have you talked to Grace about this?”
“She feels the same thing. I think she knows more, but she’s not ready to share it yet.”
“Do you know when this is supposed to happen?”
“Today.”
Loki shuddered. She and Dadron were leaving for the reservation first thing this morning. The sun began to rise, but it did nothing to dispel the chill sinking into her bones and encompassing her. “Does this have anything to do with Grandfather?”
 Jules stood, brushed off his jeans, and walked toward the forest. His voice was sad and filled with pain. “No, but you should tell Jake you love him before you leave.”




CHAPTER ONE


The early morning sun blazed down on the small ravine as Jake Savior knelt beside Jules Redmond and studied the ground. In a few more hours the heat would be unbearable. “Anything at all?” Jake asked.
“Nothing.” Jules stood and wiped the sweat from his brow. “A child couldn’t have gone into that brush pile without leaving some trace.”
Jake removed his neckerchief and wiped his face. “So I guess it was a spirit or ghost or whatever it is you guys see that the rest of us don’t.”
“Loki doesn’t see spirits.”
“Well, she certainly saw something, and it’s happened three times now.” Jake started the slow climb to the road. It had been a long shot, bringing Jules here, but Jake felt helpless when it came to the things Loki experienced. This one had upset her more than usual.
“Maybe it was a vision.” Jules followed close on Jake’s heels.
 “Water or beer?” Jake lifted the hatch on the Highlander and pulled out the cooler. “Is it always this hot here in April? It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”
“Water. It’s too early for beer.” Jules took the bottle, splashed half of it on his face, and drank the rest. “The winter was strangely cold, and no, it isn’t normally this hot in April. Doesn’t bode well for the summer months.”
Jake popped the top on a can of beer and took a long drink, his eyes scanning the terrain. “There aren’t any houses anywhere near here in either direction. If this is a vision of something destined to happen in the future, where would a child come from?”
Jules shrugged and grabbed another bottle of water. “Loki’s visions usually come after something has already happened.” He pointed at the ravine. “But there are no spirits here. We could have Grace search the computer databases and see if there were any car wrecks where a family was injured or died and a young girl survived and ran away. ”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jake slammed the hatch. “It’s too hot to stay out here any longer, and I’m hungry. You want to drive?”
The young boy’s face lit up. “Really?”
Jake tossed him the keys. “You’ve got your permit, and you have to learn sometime.” He held up the beer and grinned. “And I’ve been drinking before breakfast.”
Jules adjusted the seat and mirrors, waited for Jake to buckle up, and started the car. “So what exactly did Loki see?”
“A young girl, maybe five or six years old, running across the road. Loki thinks she was Choctaw, but she can’t be sure.”
“And you didn’t see her?”
“Nope. The first time she screamed stop, I almost flipped the car in the ditch. Loki ran after her, but she disappeared into that cluster of brush we just searched.”
“And is it always the same time of day?” Jules’s eyes locked on the road in front of him.
“I never really thought about it, but yeah, it was close to the same time all three evenings. Dark enough to have the lights on but not totally dark,” Jake said.
Jake leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. In the past year, he’d accepted Loki’s visions, as well as the fact that Jules and Grace saw things no one else could. For Loki, the visions were simply part of her Choctaw heritage. Grace’s ability was brought on by trauma and loneliness during the years she was held captive by a madman and his crazy mother. Jules’s abilities were probably a combination of his Choctaw heritage and trauma. Jake had learned firsthand what trauma and grief could do to the human psyche. His friends’ abilities might be preferable to the insanity that had seized him after his wife’s murder. His heart still ached for Cara at times, but with Loki’s love, he was healing a little more each day and building a new life in Mississippi.
“Have you heard from Loki and Dadron?”
“She called to say they had arrived. I don’t expect to hear anything else until later. Cell service out there isn’t the best in the world. She said she’d call if they were staying overnight.” Jake shot a glance at Loki’s younger brother. Worry lines wrinkled Jules’s forehead, replacing the earlier gleeful face, and he gripped the wheel tightly. “Something bothering you, Jules?”
“Grace says the spirits are restless, and something terrible is about to happen. She doesn’t know what, but it has something to do with innocent blood.”
“And you think that has something to do with what’s going on on the reservation, or the kid Loki keeps seeing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but there are those in the tribe who love and respect Loki, and those who hate and fear her.” Jules’s voice faltered for a moment. “The hate is because of me.”
“She only promised to listen to what her grandfather had to say. Besides, Dadron is with her. He’s not going to let anything happen to her.”
“I still don’t think she should have gone there.” Jules turned in to the driveway leading to the farm. “This is not her fight, and she doesn’t owe Grandfather anything.” He parked in front of the house, turned off the motor, and handed the keys to Jake. “Thank you. Tell Grace not to set a place for me.”
“Where are you going?” Jake exited the vehicle quickly, but Jules was already disappearing into the forest behind the house.
The door to the farmhouse opened, and Grace came out on the landing. “Let him go, Jake.”
“Any idea where he’s headed?”
“He built a sweat lodge yesterday. He’s gone there to fast and pray for those who are about to die.”
~ ~ ~

Loki Redmond grabbed the door handle and held on tight as the vehicle hit a pothole. “With all the money pouring in from the casinos, can’t they do something about this section?”
Tim “Bearclaw” Whitefeather jerked the wheel to avoid another hole. “Politics.”
Loki glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting Dadron’s angry gaze. She understood his anger as they passed another section of clapboard houses, the yards littered with empty liquor bottles and piles of trash. They’d left the more prominent sections of the reservation over an hour ago and were now traveling through the parts hidden from tourists. She also understood Tim’s comment about politics. Even here, miles from what was referred to as civilization, the rich got richer and the poor continued to suffer. 
Tim pulled into a section of trees and parked. “The basin is about a half mile through the forest. We’ll walk from here.”
Loki motioned for Dadron to hang back as she rushed to catch up with Tim. “Why did Grandfather want to meet out here?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Grabbing Tim’s arm, she turned him to face her. “I’m asking you. You haven’t said ten words to us since we got here. We were friends once. And you know how Grandfather feels about us. Please, tell me what this is about.”
“Nalusa Falaya.”
“You can’t be serious.” Loki laughed and shook her head. “Nalusa Falaya is a myth. Like the boogeyman, something made up by parents to keep the children inside after dark.”
“We have two missing hunters, Loki.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. If they’re unfamiliar with the area, they probably just got lost out here.”
“We found the third hunter.”
Dadron joined them. “Dead or alive?”
Tim’s jaw set in a hard line, and his eyes darkened. “Mostly dead. We’re wasting time, and your Grandfather doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Loki hung back to walk with Dadron. She really didn’t care what her grandfather liked or didn’t like. Tim had been her cousin Harry’s best friend all through childhood. They’d gone through the police academy together, and Tim had joined the tribal police when Harry had moved to Corpus Christi and joined the police department there. Living on the reservation kept some of the old myths and culture alive, but no one believed in Nalusa Falaya. “What do you think he means by ‘mostly dead’?”
“Grandfather asked you to bring Jules with you, didn’t he?” Dadron asked.

“Maybe.” Loki watched Tim’s back as he stalked away from them. Grandfather hadn’t asked her to bring Jules, he’d demanded she bring Jules. He’d wanted all three of them here. “Don’t worry, Dadron. It will be a cold day in hell before they get their hands on Jules again.”

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Sunday Sample - WIP - Beyond A Reasonable Doubt

Coming soon! Hopefully in October - Beyond A Reasonable Doubt


CHAPTER ONE

Jenna scanned the courtroom, anxious to get started and get it over with. Closing arguments were the part of her job she loved the most, and the part she was good at. The evidence had all been presented to the jury. Next, the defense would weave their story, shining a different light on the proof and twisting testimony in the hopes of creating doubt. All they needed was one juror. Her job was to make sure they didn't get that—to close all loopholes and leave the jury with only one choice: Travello was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. She'd practiced her closing argument, and she was ready.

Her gaze fell on Aran Travello. He grinned at her, causing a deep, nagging feeling to gnaw at her gut. She shook it off. The evidence was all in her favor. No jury in its right mind would find him innocent.
Grant Benson slid into the seat beside her and handed her a file. “Here's the PSIR."

Jenna scanned the presentencing investigation report, her eyebrows knitting together. Travello's previous crimes included everything but murder, and most of the crimes were nonviolent. "Damn it, there has to be more, something everyone missed."
Grant smiled, showing even, white teeth. "Patience, you’re showing your true colors.”

Jenna laughed and closed the file. Her father had wanted to name her “Impatience,” but her mother had balked. Two months early and weighing only two pounds, Jenna Patience James had burst into the world with gusto, screaming and kicking and fighting for life—just as she’d been doing ever since.

A quiet hush fell over the courtroom. Jenna turned, watching as Conrad Merced sashayed through the doors. She heard the quick intake of Grant’s breath as a blinding pain started just behind her right eye.

“What the hell is he doing here?” she whispered. “There’s no damn way Travello could afford to hire him.”

Jenna rubbed her right temple, soothing the pain as she continued to watch Conrad stroll down the aisle. He always reminded her of a clown, dressed in a dark-blue Armani suit, bright-red bowtie that matched his flaming-red hair and, of course, his trademark white shoes. Travello couldn’t even afford the shoe shine.

Grant shrugged and stood up. "Don't worry about it. I'd say you've got this one in the bag, even with Merced on his side."
Jenna raised an eyebrow. Grant was the new law clerk at the DA's office and had yet to try his first case. He had no clue just how many things could go wrong in a trial, especially a trial with Merced. His confidence in her ability wasn't exactly comforting.

Jenna continued to rub her temple as she slipped her feet into her three-inch heels, which gave her a respectable five-foot-five-inch height. Going up against Merced, even that felt short. Why hadn't Michael told her Merced was entering the case? She glanced to the back of the courtroom, and he shrugged, his lips lifting in a sympathetic smile.

Merced stopped at the prosecutor's table and dropped a motion in front of her. "There's been a slight change in Mr. Travello's representation. I'll be doing closing arguments. I hope you won't object as I'd hate to see a mistrial called on a technicality."

Jenna glanced at the motion. Merced knew damn well she wanted to object. Under other circumstances, she would have objected. Conrad Merced had never lost a case. Well, today wasn't going to be his lucky day. Pasting on her sweetest smile, she met the stony black gaze. "No objection, counselor."

She took some pleasure in the knitting of his bushy brows as the bailiff entered the room.

"All rise. Judge Raymond Carter presiding."

Jenna continued to smile as she stood. Merced was known for his courtroom drama, but Carter would squash him like a bug if he started that.

"Counsel, approach the bench, please."

Jenna held her smile as she stood before the bench, meeting the judge's sympathetic look. Damn him, he'd buried her already.

"Miss James, I have a copy of Mr. Merced's motion, do you have any objections?"

"No objections, Your Honor."

Carter eyed them both over his glasses. "All right, counsel, you may proceed with closing arguments. Mr. Merced, there will be none of your usual shenanigans."

"Strictly by the book, Judge. If Miss James has no objections, defense will go first, alleviating the need for rebuttal by counsel."

Jenna eyed him warily. Clearly, he had something up his sleeve. "No objections, Your Honor."
Jenna returned to her seat as Merced addressed the court. The gnawing feeling inside her gut grew to almost a physical pain as she listened to him go over the evidence, creating loopholes that could, if believed, create a reasonable doubt in the jury's mind. Fortunately, the loopholes were minor, but Merced's lack of courtroom drama and droning voice created a new fear inside her. Was he setting up an appeal defense for incompetent counsel?

"Miss James?"

Jenna stood and walked around the table.

"Your Honor, counsel, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you've heard the testimony. The evidence is clear and precise. Mr. Travello not only butchered but reveled in the death of a homeless immigrant. All for a bottle of cheap wine." She knew her blue eyes were flashing as she delivered condemning words with precision. She didn’t flutter or wave her hands at the exhibits. Instead, she gripped them as weapons, walking slowly in front of each juror as she met their eyes, dropping her voice and making it soft and sensuous. “Perhaps Mr. Travello thought no one would care. Ladies and gentlemen, I care. This was someone’s son. Someone’s father. Someone’s best friend.”

~ ~ ~

Michael Elkins took his gaze from the jury for just a moment to admire the young woman delivering the scathing closing argument. She wasn't as pretty as the women he normally dated, but she was cute, and eventually he would change the things he didn't like. He studied the black curls that surrounded her face, already beginning to frizz on the edges. His gaze traveled down the slender frame. The breasts were a little too small, but implants would take care of that. He sighed. Her legs had almost become a deal breaker. He liked them long and shapely. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about her height.

He shook his head as the jurors averted their eyes from the gory picture she held in her hands. She was one of the best prosecutors in the state of Texas, and in another year to two, she'd be the new district attorney. That made her valuable to his career, which was all that really mattered in a relationship.

Shrugging his shoulders, he met the gaze of his partner, Scott Harman, who had taken his place on the case when Jenna was assigned as prosecutor. Their relationship wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but there was no way he would risk his career for a lowlife like Travello. He'd known Travello was guilty the first time he talked to him. He didn’t need to stay to hear the jury’s verdict. Travello had lost the second she dropped her voice and whispered those soft words, “someone’s son... someone’s father... someone’s best friend.”

He turned his attention back to Jenna. She was going to be pissed that he hadn't told her about Merced. Of course, he could feign ignorance. Scott had called him last night to tell him Merced was doing closing arguments. He hadn't asked why. Truth be told, he didn't care one way or the other. If Jenna won, he would take her for a celebration dinner. If she lost, he would console her.
Rising, he caught her eye as she returned to the prosecutor’s table to wait for Judge Carter to deliver the jury instructions, then to wait longer for the verdict and, if he was found guilty, sentencing. He caught her subtle wink, the slight lifting of the corners of her mouth.

Michael raised his hand, running his fingers through his thick, blond hair in a silent salute as he headed for the courtroom door to answer the cell phone that had been vibrating incessantly for more than five minutes.
He cleared security, heading for fresh air and a much-needed cigarette before he returned the call. The Honorable William Jefferson Elkins had summoned—six times. He wasn’t going to be happy about Michael’s refusal to answer the phone, even if he had been in court. Lighting a cigarette, he took a deep drag and scowled. His father hadn’t called him in over six months, and now he’d called six times in the space of a half hour. Hitting the Redial button, he threw the unfinished cigarette into the street.

“Hello.”

“Maria, it’s Michael. My father has been trying to reach me.”

The silence on the phone was deafening, and Michael felt the first tremors of foreboding.

“Hold, please.” The words were whispered with an underlying note of compassion and pain.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours.” Judge Elkins bellowed into the receiver.

“I’ve been in court, dad.” Michael didn’t bother to correct him that it had only been a half hour. No one ever corrected Judge Elkins—at least, no one that still had a bar license.

“There’s been an accident.” Anger still riddled the old man’s voice. “Your mother’s dead.”