Christian Fiction Friday: February 19, 2016
It’s Friday Blog Hop time. A lot of authors join together and post short snippets of their current Work In Progress. Here’s mine. It’s from a romantic suspense/thriller novella set to release in May 2016 in a collection with seven other talented authors.
By popular request, I’m bringing back the Amanda Nettles/Baker Jackson Robinson duo, plus some quirky side characters. Enjoy! Happy Friday!
The chamber was still spinning in the roulette game. One bullet. A lot of bad luck. It was time Robinson made it stop. Reached out and kicked the gun from sight. Or better yet, he’d remove the bullet and disassemble the mechanism. End of story.
Paige wiped a hand across her face. Tucked it under one thigh. “Amanda’s so mad. And Grandma’s locked up. And scared. Probably doesn’t even know what’s going on right now. And it’s my fault.”
The anger came from fear. And worry. It sat in Robinson’s gut, too. Nestled in the thorns. And Eileen? The confusion was nothing new, but it stung all the same. “How is this your fault?”
“I couldn’t help her.” The words were a whisper. She gripped the brown bag. Released it. “It doesn’t make sense. Grandma was… She wouldn’t…” Another sob broke through. The gut-wrenching kind that came from knowing terrible tragedy and trying to erase it. Instead of going through it, one day at a time.
It tugged at the dying thorns. Pulled them down until his heart was raw. And surrounded by the heated edge of anger.
Eight months ago she’d been like any other teenager. And then she wasn’t. She’d survived when over a dozen others hadn’t. He couldn’t imagine the weight of it. Would never insult her by insinuating that he could.
“There was a knife. And blood.” The words were soft, but filled with agony.
What? No. He glanced around them. If they had a weapon, the overall buzz of the station would be different. Eileen would be in cuffs. Killian would have boasted about it. Would never have let Amanda one-up him in that department.
Robinson had heard wrong.
The younger version of Amanda glanced up at him, wet amber eyes begging him to do something to make the insanity stop. And then, like the first time he’d ever worked with his wife, and discovered how she looked at life and death often meant closed cases—and that there’d never be a dull moment for anyone close to her—he knew. Whatever Paige had said, was saying, was very, very real. Not imagined. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Not a byproduct of psychological issues stemming from events she refused to discuss.
Which meant… “You have it?”
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Missed the other books in The Bening Files series?