Apologies to everyone for arriving late today - it's been one of those days - weeks... months, even. I'm buried in snow everywhere and it's got my brain overwrought. Anyway, I though for something different, I'd share the (unedited) opening of my first ever series, The BlackHawk Agency. As you can see, I've had a design team create a logo for the company, and I'm hoping to have this first book done in a few months. Let me know what you think, please!!
Book One: RONAN
© Denysé Bridger
“You’ll see me soon, Elicia.”
Elician Davenport shuddered in the still night air. The caller’s voice echoed in her brain, a mental recording stuck on repeat. She wanted to forget the sound of his low, roughened tones.
The small pool of imaginary safety pouring over her from the dingy security light flickered. Startled, she dragged in a heavy breath, resisting a gasp when she let the air slowly escape through clenched teeth. Security for the parking lot at Independent Nightsounds radio station was no-existent at this hour. Maybe she should have accepted her producer’s offer of a walk to her car.
Reaching into her handbag, Elicia fingers closed on her keys and she pulled them out and held them tightly. Determined, she left the illusory comfort of the lighted area and headed toward her car, parked at the other end of the lot. Somehow, new vehicle or not, it was no longer making sense to park it so far from the doors.
She finished her trek across the lot, and stood still as stone next to her car. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive, the pound a drumbeat in her brain that blocked everything else. Ice kissed the back of her neck, and tiny beads of sweat pricked her skin. The chill slid inward along her veins.
Instead of looking around, she closed her eyes, and her senses sharpened.
The darkness deepened, but it was tainted now with rage and hate. The taste was bitter on her tongue. A strangled sound crawled up her throat and tried to escape before she swallowed hard and opened her eyes. A cursory glance revealed more shadows and invisible threats than moments before. She jammed the key into the lock and got behind the wheel of her car. In the fleeting second she’d opened her senses to the fear, a flood of conflicting responses battered her brain. She knew without doubt there was someone watching her.
The engine roared to life on her new Mercedes Coupe. She backed out of the parking space and headed for the exit. Instead of turning for home, she decided to stop by the precinct to see Detective Sam Blaine. A glance at the clock told her his shift would be ending in less than an hour, maybe they could have breakfast together. She relaxed minutely and began slowing her breaths. In and out, slow and steady… It became a mantra, and she was almost smiling when a dark vehicle screeched past her at high speed. Her scalp tingled and her hands clenched, the sudden death grip on her steering wheel making her fingers ache, creating a point of pain for her to focus on.
There was no traffic. No need to speed. No sane reason for her to want to scream…
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