Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!
This week’s tease comes from my current WIP, the crime thriller Carnivora. To place you in the context, imprisoned crime lord Tomor is recuperating from a failed suicide.
The nurse shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.”
“You mean they shoulda given me the chair?”
Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on my wound, and bandages it with quick, routinely moves.
What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted what makes her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me.
The door opens. She jumps.
A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits.
She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure.
I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?”
She swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall.
I snicker. “Are you sad ’cause I’m leaving?” Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me.
As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently so the inmates can’t identify their caretakers, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down.
I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?”
She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.”
She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous?
Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up. “C’mon, babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.”
“Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage.
“’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”
With a gasp, she turns to me, her whole face blossoming in a white-toothed smile. “You—”
Touché. I manage to lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Ya know, keep me company in the shithole.”
She hesitates, holding my look for a moment before making up her mind. “Amy.”
“Amy? You sure?”
She nods with a shy smile, green eyes sparkling.
“Amy,” I say. “That’s cute, I like it.”
Still smiling, she glances at the clock behind her again, the movement so purposely nonchalant and innocent, it makes my chest tighten.
“So, Amy,” I ask. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan? What plan?”
Copyright @ 2017 Lea Bronsen
Fight evil with evil
Crime lord Tomor serves a life sentence behind bars, but is abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending on the death list.
A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life—when everything falls apart again. He learns that Tomor has escaped, and at the same time, his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.
The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivor” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.
See photos that inspire me to write the book on Pinterest
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