When Brad and Sandra's worlds crash into each other no one could have predicted the end result. Brad a hired assassin. Sandra the target.
He could not pull the trigger. He needed to discover for himself why. It surprised him to to find he liked the reason why. Maybe a little to much.
Sandra tried to understand why anyone would want her dead. Confusion ran wild as she suffers at the hand's of the man who now claims to be her only means of salvation. The scariest part is she believes him.
Sandra's journey will take her through the terror of being kidnapped: the pain of her tormentor's lessons: acceptance of how her life will never again be the same.
They will come to understand you can't question where you find love. It's just there.
His Fifteenth Victim
The outdoor Cafe hummed with conversation. Most of the patrons were enjoying a leisurely lunch. The two men at table number fifteen, however, were not.
Anyone might assume the man wearing the gray striped suit to be a lawyer or maybe a stockbroker. The other man was casually dressed. It could have been his day off. They looked like two ordinary friends meeting for lunch. Their conversation though, was a bit more than casual.
Brad's facial features turned from friendly to rock hard and stern. Leaning into the man's face, he warned, “I'd be careful how you say things. That almost sounded like a threat, and I don't like threats.”
Arthur sitting across from Brad straightened up and raised both of his well manicured hands with open palms facing the other man as if a piece offering and said, “No, no, I didn't mean it that way.”
Both men knew he did. It was a power play and lowering his hands Arthur knew he lost this round to Brad. He hands fell back into his lap.
Brad watched as Arthur's hand pushed a brown envelope toward Brad. All the while thinking a real man's hands were worn and rough not pale and soft as the man's sitting across from him.
“Here's your money, keep me informed of your progress.”
Brad responded, one eyebrow raised and a not so reassuring, but definitely cocky voice said, “Sure.”
The man sitting across from him didn't believe Brad, but it was too late now. There was nothing left to be said, so he stood up, turned, and walked away from the table never looking back.
Brad caught sight of the woman at the next table over as she watched the man in the five hundred-dollar suit walk away. He smiled and watched her lust filled eyes following Arthur and his five hundred dollar suit until he disappeared around the corner; walking out of her vision.
Brad thought. So, clothes do make the man.
One quick glance at the remaining man at the table, was enough for the woman to frown, stand up, and toss a twenty-dollar bill down on the table. She walked away from the outside Cafe, in the opposite direction of the man who just left. She never knew this was her lucky day. She wasn’t Brad's type.
He snicked and found himself wondering just what was his type in woman. At this point in his life only pain and suffering would be the result for any woman who caught his eye.
After a good chuckle, Brad turned his attention to finishing his lunch. Just before he took another bite, he peered into the brown envelope handed to him only minutes ago. His thumb glided across the top edge of the bills. There were a hundred and fifty of them, each crisp and new. Fifteen thousand dollars! He smiled. Fifteen was always his lucky number. He filled his lungs with the scent, and he decided new one-hundred dollars bills have their own wonderful aroma.
He tucked the envelope inside the deep pocket of his jacket, and turned his attention back to his meal. Picking up the last bit of the roast beef on rye smeared with the Cafe's famous mustard sauce he popped it in his mouth. His mind began to form plans. Plans for how he would best carry out his new client's request.
Arthur Reese stepped out of the subway entrance, and he headed two blocks east to the parking garage. He decided to walk up the ramps instead of using the elevator or stairway. Level 3 slot 3E held his car. The car unlocked a few feet away as he hit the remote. One quick glance around the level, seeing no one, he opened the driver side door and slipped inside. Not until after he pushed the ignition key into the switch, and placed his hands on the steering wheel that he realized he was shaking.
Tears filled his eyes, but they didn't spill. Men don't cry. Not even with what he just did. She was his friend, no, not just his, but his wife's too. Three years they worked together. Both are being considered for the new vice-president position. It did not matter. He needed this more than she ever did or ever would for that matter. Now, not anyone or anything would thwart his climb up the corporate ladder.
“Pull yourself together,” he told himself as he rode the elevator at Thurston, Thurston, and Peel, to his office on the tenth floor. The elevator sound system was playing 'More, More, More,' and that was the problem, he always wanted more. Now he needed more.
Of course, as luck would have it, she would be the first person he met as he stepped on to the floor.
“Hey, Arthur, missed you at lunch. Join us tomorrow, Ok? I got to run, Mike has requested my presence.”
“Yea, tomorrow definitely. See ya later.” After a large swallow to dislodge the lump in his throat he walked down the hall to his office, entered and closed the door. The automatic mechanism prevented it from slamming as he intended.***
I hope you enjoyed the opening pages. Now please run down to your local superstore and buy a copy. OOOPs ! That's right you can't buy His Fifteenth Victim there. It's an ebook, BUT you can buy it here:
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