Since this will be the next book out, I thought I would toss out another excerpt. They seem fairly popular on the blog. In the first scene, Stacy and Jim are approached by a reporter because of Stacy’s popularity at the auctions… and in the second, one of their customers lets her drive a car she designed but hadn’t been able to drive.

“Miss King,” the man said, walking quickly toward her through the hotel lobby, “can I get a moment with you?  My name is Luther Simonsen.  I’m with Motor News TV.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Simonsen?” she replied, pulling Jim back to her side with her hand in his. 

“Please, call me Luther.  We would love to profile you and your shop on MNTV.  Your car was a hit, but beyond that, the clip of you telling the little girl she could be a car designer is going viral.”

“Well, Luther, the shop belongs to both my fiancé and I… it isn’t my shop.  If you’d like to profile us and our shop, we welcome that.  But I wouldn’t want to impart a false story,” she said firmly. 

“I understand, Miss King.  We certainly don’t wish to cut… your fiancé… out.  Just women owned businesses in this industry are rare.  That is a very powerful angle.”

She led him to the seating area in the lobby and motioned for all of them to sit down.  “Luther, please call me Stacy.  My fiancé is Jim Cook.  I don’t know if you were at the Orlando auction in June, but he sold his debut car there for over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.  A ’69 Lincoln Mark III.  Millie and Buck Williams bought it.  I had nothing to do with that car, and Jim was an absolute unknown.  But, because of that car, Jim pulled in commissions to build more than half a million dollars in custom cars.  And the money from that car and those commissions meant that he had the freedom to let me run wild on this car… which he’d already partially built.

“I understand the angle you are pursuing, and I would love to see more women empowered in this industry.  But to downplay Jim’s role…  I’m sorry, I can’t do that.  I think we could tell a compelling story as it is.”

“Thank you, Stacy.  Perhaps I got the wrong impression.  We still want to do that profile.  You are a hot commodity right now.”

“Luther,” Jim spoke up, “if you think she’s hot now, wait until you see what we have coming out.”

“You know our number, Mr. Simonsen.  Feel free to give us a call next week.  Right now, we have a flight to catch,” Stacy said as she and Jim rose from the sofa they’d been sitting on. 

***

Stacy slipped behind the wheel of the Mercury Marauder.  It was almost sunset, and she could see the heat rising off the road in front of her.  The temperature was hovering around a hundred degrees.  She pushed the start button and the big Merc fired to life with a roar, then steadied into a rumble of barely contained violence. 

“I think I’m actually kind of nervous,” she said, laughing to Gayle, who was sitting next to her. 

“Don’t be.  Jim did a beautiful job on the engine.  It’s as gentle as a pussycat.  I pulled it off the trailer, and it was shockingly easy to drive,” she replied. 

Stacy pushed the shifter into first gear.  She eased off the clutch and rolled forward.  This was the fourth manual transmission vehicle she’d driven, and it was very different than any of the others.  Then she punched her foot to the floor.  The front end of the car threatened to leave the ground before the rear tires broke traction, screaming in protest. 

The car slewed sideways before she lifted from the throttle, steering into the skid and pushed the clutch to the floor.  A grin broke out across her face. 

“Ok, maybe this pussycat is really a lion,” Gayle laughed. 

The cloud of tire smoke wafted past them.  A little more comfortable now, Stacy gave it a second run.  She didn’t push quite as hard, but ran the car up through third gear, hitting almost a hundred miles an hour.  She tagged the brakes, slowed and turned around and drove back past where everyone was waiting.  She slowed and then slipped back into the throttle, accelerating past the cameras at over a hundred. 

“That is pretty awesome,” she said as she stepped out of the car, the camera rolling on her.  “Jim, the powertrain you designed is breathtaking.  And the car really wants to stay planted.”  She turned to Gayle, who’d stepped up next to her, “Thank you so much for letting me drive it, Gayle.” 

“Anytime, Stacy.  And I can’t wait to see what you and Jim build next.  You two are an incomparable team,” she replied.  Gayle knew exactly how to frame the interview.  She and Stacy had talked about the TV people wanting to make it more about her and less about Jim. 

I am three steps from releasing this book. It is getting a final edit, and then I need to come up with a better title, and the cover needs to be designed. So far ,the cover struggle is the hardest one…

Triple Cross is a story with the Deep State, Deep Fakes, Deep Cover.

JD Ross was satisfied with his life. Then, after ten years in the Army, his life is turned upside down because of a relationship that ended eight years before. Kicked out of the Army, the place he felt he truly belonged, he found himself being hunted for a murder he didn’t commit. And through the hunt, he had to protect his daughter. He hadn’t known she even existed, then she was the most important person in his world.

Check it out. It’s available on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited and in print. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08R2Z5ML4/

This was actually one of my favorite stories to write. Some of the Dixon-Prince characters appear in this story, but their roles are minor, although one will be more popular in future Dixon-Prince stories…

I enjoyed creating new characters and placing them in a new setting. I hope you enjoy reading this book, and I’d LOVE for you to leave a review after reading it.

Thank you.

As mentioned Monday ,this is my NaNoWriMo project for 2021. It hasn’t really been edited yet, and there will be a lot of changes before it is developed further. Warren Chestik is a former special forces operator before becoming an undercover agent for my fictional version of the DEA. However, his work has meant abandoning his family far too often.

The four men took off through the woods.  It was half a mile to the house.  They weren’t hurrying.  At four in the morning, there was little activity inside, and they wanted to do their best to be silent and invisible as they approached. 

“Scott, Juke, you guys take the back.  Warren and I will have the front.  We will blow the doors on my mark.”

The two other men disappeared into the gloom without a sound while Jack and Warren moved toward the front of the house.  They stopped just off the porch. 

“Any changes from the drone?” Warren heard Jack say quietly in his ear.

“Negative, Mustang.  All clear,” was the reply.

“Let’s get ready,” Jack said before creeping up the steps onto the porch to the front door. 

He opened a pocket and pulled out something that looked like a rope.  He pressed it around the door and then backed away to the side. 

“Ready to breach,” Warren heard Scott say in his ear. 

“Three…  Two…  One… Go,” Jack said, the door exploding inward on the last word. 

Warren heard the other explosion half a heartbeat later.  He briefly thought the timing must have been as perfect as it could be.  Aside from the last few weeks, it had been a long time since he’d breached a building, and the stakes had never been higher, but it felt like no time had passed since he’d done it in Iraq. 

He rushed through the door and to the left.  Jack was right behind, rolling to the right.  Both men pumped shots into the closest man to each of them.  Warren heard a similar sound at the back of the house.  A moment later, Jack had tasered two of the men, keeping them down.

“Juke, wrap them up and toss me another taser,” Jack said confidently.

Jack neatly caught the taser and holstered it as Warren broke for the stairs. 

“Warren, he knows we’re here.  I have your six,” Jack said. 

As he led up the steps, Jack was right behind him, Scott on their tail. 

“Heat sigs to the left at the top,” Warren heard in his ear from their mysterious overwatch.  He turned that direction as he peeked around the edge.  The corner of the wall exploded with a round striking it. 

“Thirty-eight Special was what he was carrying before,” Scott said over comms.  “Six shots, now five.  Unless he takes the time to reload.”

Warren looked across the hallway.  There was a bathroom, but the door was closed.  He looked back at Jack and Scott, pointed at the door, then himself.  He punched his hand to show them his plan.  A moment later, he exploded across the hall, splintering the door as he slammed into it.  Two more shots rang out from Ron’s direction. 

“That should leave him with three,” Scott said quietly. 

“Jack, I’m going to shoot up the hall… high… ceiling.  One of you can come over here.  Then I’ll need cover to break for the bedroom door ten feet up the hall,” Warren whispered. 

“Roger that,” Scott replied. 

Warren stuck his head out and pumped eight shots from his sidearm into the top of the bedroom doorway at the end of the hall.  At the same time, Scott burst across the hallway into the bathroom almost bowling Warren over.  One shot rang out in response. 

“Two left,” Scott said flatly. 

“Ok, Warren… go for your door on three,” Jack said. 

A few seconds later, the hallway once again lit up with the sound of gunfire as Warren raced up the hall toward the bedroom, diving to the side when he got to the first doorway. 

“I’m in,” he said on the radio a moment later. 

“What’s the play, Warren?” Jack said. 

They could hear a thudding from the bedroom as they waited for a response from Warren. 

“I’m going to go through the wall behind him.  I need him distracted… only for a moment.  I think I can get the rest of the way through in one hit.”

“Roger that,” Jack replied.  Then he yelled out, “Ron March, this is Jack Dixon.  What’s your play?  We can still fix this.”

“Go away, man.”

“I can’t do that, Ron.  Why don’t you let Vivian go, then we can square everything away.  Nobody else has to get hurt here.”

Jack snuck a look around the corner just before another round from the pistol struck the wall just below where his head had been.  At the sound of the gunshot, Warren slammed into the spot he’d selected on the wall.  As promised, he broke all the way though and emerged in the bedroom. 

Ron swung around at the explosion of sound off to his side, seeing the man emerge from the wall, stumbling a couple of steps into the room, then charging him.  He shot his last round at the man, point blank.  The gun clicked just before Ron was lifted from the floor, losing his grip on Vivian.  The man carried him across the room and slammed him into the wall hard enough to break out the sheetrock around two studs. 

Jack rushed down the hall, pulling Vivian away and shielding her from the other men with his body. 

“Warren, I have her.  I have Vivian.”

Scott rushed into the room behind Jack and rolled to the right toward where Warren was pushing Ronald March into the wall.  He pulled Warren off the other man and dropped March to the floor, cuffing him. 

“Warren, I got this.  Jack is taking your wife downstairs,” he said. 

Warren started running back up the hallway, but stumbled at the top of the stairs, collapsing and then rolling down the hardwood steps. 

“Jack, I think Warren is hit,” Scott said into the radio. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Jack turned back, releasing Vivian.  Warren rolled into a heap at his feet. 

“I need medical, right now.  My guy is hit,” Jack yelled for the benefit of the communications person outside.  “Warren, I have you, relax, ok?”

He rolled Warren onto his back on the flat part of the floor and started stripping away the gear that prevented him from seeing the extent of the other man’s injuries. 

“GSW in the leg, another in the shoulder.” Jack said into his comm.  “Vivian, I need you to help me,” he said over his shoulder. 

Vivian was drugged through this exchange, which is why she doesn’t seem to understand what is going on around her. Warren though, is dedicated to protecting her, no matter the personal cost.

If you enjoy this excerpt, check out my full novels. I would recommend Triple Cross, which is a story of Deep Fakes, Deep Cover and Deep State intrigues.

This book was my NaNoWriMo challenge. During the month of November, I pledged to write a 50,000 word novel. I set a personal goal to write each day, and ended the month with a little over 60k words. Some days I struggled to find a thousand words, other days, writing four times that was a breeze. But I wrote every day for that month.

This book builds the backstory for Warren Chestik. He is one of the Dixon’s bodyguards in Unknown Caller, and he has a greater role in (New Life… I hate that title, but haven’t figure out a new one yet) which I hope to have ready for release by the end of the year.

Warren is a complicated guy, dedicated, loyal and sometimes cold-blooded. He is willing to do the job… even if he doesn’t think he’ll live through it. And that is repeatedly tested.

Warren followed his buddy into the bar.  It wasn’t his scene, but Roger had wanted to hit the club in Atlanta for his birthday, so that was what they did.  They had a couple of rooms rented in Atlanta, in the Buckhead area.  And Roger had a list of clubs he wanted to try out.  They had booked a limo, so they didn’t have to worry about driving, and planned on some heavy drinking. 

“Come on, Chestik, we’re only young and stupid once, brother,” Roger had said as they rode up in his truck.  “Loosen up… find a girl.”

“We may be young, but we don’t both have to be stupid,” Warren had laughed back. 

Walking into the third bar of the night, Warren’s outlook on the whole exercise changed.  In a flash, he went from dedicated wingman to flight leader.  He was at Roger’s elbow as the two men walked over to a table with two young ladies.  Roger had already claimed the blonde and wanted Warren to take the redhead out of play to clear the field.  They were watching the two soldiers walking across the bar, talking quietly back and forth, laughing.

Despite being a brash young soldier, Warren was out of his element in the singles bar.  Butterflies dominated his stomach, and he could feel his palms sweat as he approached the table.  Roger was confident and smooth, slipping up and offering both of the girls drinks. 

He zeroed in on the blonde, “Heaven must be missing a pair of angels.”  He took her hand.  “My name is Roger.  This is my buddy, Warren.”  His eyes never left hers.  But she glanced over at Warren.  His face was pale, and he looked like he might pass out. 

“Warren,” the blonde said, slipping her hand into his, “I’m Vivian.  Why don’t you slide in here next to me.”

Warren heard the redhead say something to Roger as she patted the seat next to her, but he wasn’t listening.  Vivian had caught his eye, and he couldn’t see anything past her.  Her blue eyes entranced him.  Maybe it was the lighting in the club, he thought, but her eyes seemed to glow… he couldn’t look away.  Nor, it seemed, could she.

“Tish and I just ordered a few shots,” she said, her hand still in his.  “You look like you could use one or two.” 

He sat there, still mesmerized by her.  He didn’t move or speak. 

“Not a big talker, I guess?” she laughed.  “I won’t bite.”

Vivian looked over at her friend.  Roger had adjusted quickly, chatting her up without missing a beat.  She expected nothing less.  To Vivian’s mind, Tish was ravishing.  Her red hair and green eyes, along with her alabaster skin and lithe shape… she was a man-magnet.  And Roger was just her type.  While Vivian liked guys that were a little more on the shy side, Tish always seemed drawn to the ones that were bold and dangerous. 

Vivian pushed one of the shots toward Warren after the waitress set them on the table.  Roger had already paid for them and provided a generous tip before either of the girls could reach for a purse.  She picked up another of the shots and clicked glasses with each of them.  Everyone quickly downed a shot. 

Another one of their friends walked over to the small table and whisper shouted to Warren, between the two of them, “Corporal Chestik, you gotta talk to her if you are going to try to get anywhere.”

“Corporal Chestik is doing just fine on his own,” Vivian replied before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. 

A slow song came on and Vivian pulled Warren out to the dance floor.  She wrapped her arms around him and his fell around her.  She snuggled in close to him.  “Your friend is right… this works better if you talk to me.”  She smiled up at him. 

Warren would later claim he didn’t remember, but as Vivian looked up at him, her smile shining in his eyes, he leaned down and kissed her.  He pulled her up to him and her toes barely touched the floor.  One arm encircled her waist, pulling her tightly into him.  The other slipped into her hair, just above her neck.  She melted into the kiss. 

One of her hands held the back of his neck as the other slipped inside his jacket and up his spine.  She held on as her knees weakened.  She quickly went from shocked to thrilled. 

“Or you could do that,” she said when their lips parted.  “Wow.  Do you kiss all the girls like that?”

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what came over me,” he said, his eyes downcast.  “So embarrassing,” Warren then said, quietly. 

“Hey, Warren, that kiss was nothing to be embarrassed about.  If any man had kissed me like that before, I’d probably be married to him.  Want to do it again… just to see if the first one was a fluke?”

He pulled her in tight again.  The music sped up and the dancing became frenetic around them, but they were in their own world as they looked into each other’s eyes.  He slowly lowered his lips to hers and she stretched to meet him.  A few minutes later a bouncer tapped Warren on the shoulder, rousing them from the kiss. 

“Dude, we’re all thrilled that she said yes, but this isn’t the place for the honeymoon, get my drift?” he said, laughing at his own joke. 

Vivian shot the bouncer a winning smile and led Warren off the floor and back to their table.  She pushed him into the seat in front of her, then dropped onto the seat next him with her arm draped around his shoulder.

***

Vivian and Tish we in the back of the limo with Roger.  Warren had run into the convenience store to grab a few candy bars.  Tish sat back with her feet in Roger’s lap as he absentmindedly massaged them.  Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed the pampering touch of the twenty-three-year-old soldier. 

“Vivian,” Roger said, glancing up at her, “he really likes you.”

“I like him, too.”

“No, I mean…” he paused, “Warren is different.  The guy is a real scout, you know.  I’ve known him for a few years, and he doesn’t hop from girl to girl.”  He kept rubbing Tish’s feet as she sat there with her eyes closed.  “She’s too young, but of all the guys in the unit, Angel is the only one I wouldn’t freak out about my little sister dating.  You follow?”

“Angel?”

“That’s his field name.  He’s often our guardian angel…”  He didn’t say that he’d been called “Angel of Death” by soldiers on three continents that he was charged with protecting people from.

“Why’s that?” Vivian asked. 

“John 15:13…  Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”  Roger looked down at Tish’s feet again, then looked up and smiled.  “That’s Warren.  He watches over the rest of us.  I hope you like him the same way.”

Warren climbed into the back of the limo a moment later with a bag of candy bars.  Vivian leaned over and slipped her fingers into his hair.  She’d never wanted to kiss a man so badly. 

If you enjoy my books, check them out on Amazon. If you want to read a little more about Warren Chestik, although brief, he appears in Unknown Caller. The start of that series is Planning Vengeance.

Being an Indie Author takes a lot more than writing. Honestly, writing is the easy part. That isn’t to say it is easy, but at least parts of it are fun. I get to make up a story, and then then adjust it and tweak it until it is something I am proud of (perhaps not perfect, but at least good). I get to see my own creation. Read More

I wouldn’t be heartbroken if you left a review, either.

And if you spot the typo I left there just for you, left me know.

I don’t think I have put this one on the blog. It is a little bit of a spoiler, JD Ross is captured. But now he has to fight for his life. The Deep State powers that set him up want him dead. If he is gone, there is no longer a reason to question the narrative. Check out Triple Cross on Kindle, or get a copy printed.

Thursday, October 29^th–

Prisoner 62665707 had been in isolation since arriving at the Maryland State Detention Center outside of Hagerstown.  He was being kept out of general population… genpop… for safety reasons, restricted to a single cell.

He was resting in his cell.  The lights had been out for a while, but he hadn’t been able to sleep since arriving.  As he lay there, he thought he heard a sound outside the cell.  A moment later he saw a thin sliver of light as his cell door quietly opened and someone slipped in.  As dark as it was, he could only see their shadow against the light coming through the door, but he watched to see if their moves seemed threatening. 

As the shadow approached his cot, he saw them slip something out of their sleeve… a knife.  As the mystery person reached for him, he snatched the man’s arm and twisted it around, pulling him down and off balance.  The knife was in his other hand, and it started down.  He slipped toward the foot of the bed, twisting the man’s arm as he went. 

The knife buried hilt deep in the pillow he’d been laying his head on just a moment before.  There was a sickening snap as the man’s arm finally broke.  It was followed by the prisoner snapping the heel of his hand into the jaw of the attacker.  His head bounced back as he pulled back his hand from the thrust. 

The prisoner was instantly on his feet, driving his fists into the sides of the attacker’s head.  It only took a moment for the attacker to lose consciousness.  The prisoner pulled the knife from the pillow, dropped it to the floor, and kicked it into the corridor outside of his room.  The guards should have been watching the cameras, and he didn’t want them to think he was trying to keep the knife.  He wasn’t going to give them an excuse to do anything to him. 

He sat down on the bed, expecting there would be a guard coming any minute.  Even if they were dozing, the commotion should have alerted them that something had happened in his cell.  He didn’t want to be anywhere near the knife when the guards responded.  Instead, he saw the knife come back in the hand of another inmate. 

“Don’t do it, man,” prisoner 62665707 said. 

“You’re goin’ down, bitch,” was the response. 

The newcomer leapt forward with the knife leading the way.  It was a wild, uncontrolled stab.  The prisoner easily sidestepped the attempted attack, and grabbed the arm holding the knife.  He tried to twist it around, but the newcomer broke free and spun around for a second shot. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Prisoner 62665707 saw a guard standing in the doorway.  In one hand was taser and in the other, his collapsible wand. 

As the knife lurched toward him again, Prisoner 62665707 reached out and grabbed the newcomer’s wrist.  This time he was able hang on and give it a twist.  As his wrist snapped, the newcomer dropped the knife.  Prisoner 62665707 pulled the other man toward him by his broken wrist.  The man cried out in pain as he was hoisted above the Prisoner’s head and then spun around, only to be slammed down on the concrete floor next to the bed. 

Prisoner 62665707 sat down on the bed, the unmoving form on the floor at his feet. 

“What’s going on here, Ross?” the guard finally said. 

“You tell me, Boss.  I was laying on the bed when the first guy came in.  Then waiting for you guys when the second one came in.  Not exactly like I can open the door, you know?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.  Not if you want to make it to trial.”

Another guard walked into the cell behind the first.  It was obvious by the reaction of the first guard that he hadn’t been aware of the second until he’d stepped into his peripheral vision.

“Come on, Man!  It’s not like I’m trolling for trouble.  I’ve been in this room continuously for two days.  I’ve been outside for exactly two hours, and there were no other prisoners in the yard when I was out.”

More guards removed the beaten attackers.  A moment later, his cell door was once again locked, and he was left alone. 

“Watch yourself, Ross,” the second guard said through the door.

“I guess sleeping is off the table for a while,“ JD said through the small window in his cell door.  He walked back over and sat back down on his bed. 

I hope you enjoyed this little slice of Triple Cross. The book has a lot more action, as well as a touch of romance. Pick up your copy today!