Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I
Page 30
Her eyebrows arched in concern. “And…”
“And…remember when I said they would go after your friends if they couldn’t get to you?”
She cocked an eyebrow as her face paled. “Yes.”
“Well, it happened. The guy that grabbed us, it seems he’s a little upset that I shot his partner. He has my sister. He said he’ll kill her if we don’t give him your project.”
Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. “Oh, my God! Aaron, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do this.”
“But your sister, why her?”
“Because he thinks that by threatening her, he can control me.”
She swallowed hard, the pink in her cheeks now a gray pallor. “He can’t…can he?”
She followed him with eyes wide as he rose to stand next to her, all six-feet, four-inches and 235 pounds of him. “Do I strike you as the type that can be controlled by fear?”
She swallowed hard before answering. “No.”
He locked his eyes to hers. “Do I strike you as the type that would let this go unpunished?”
She shook her head, grimly recalling his detachment at killing the other woman. “Not hardly.”
“There you have it.”
He threw two logs on the fire, stoking it to a blaze while she fretted silently.
He sat next to her. “This guy’s really starting to piss me off.”
Reclaiming the scotch, he offered her a refill, one she gratefully accepted. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
****
About the author
Andrew Draper is a freelance journalist and photographer for several local publications in the Prescott, Arizona area.
In his five years as a staff reporter and managing editor for Prescott Newspapers Inc. (2000-2005) he wrote for The Prescott Valley Tribune, The Prescott Dailey Courier, The Big Bug and Canyon Country News and The Chino Valley Review.
These efforts earned him multiple Arizona Newspapers Association and in-company excellence awards including an unprecedented three consecutive ANA ‘Best Series or Continuing Coverage’ awards in his circulation class.
He became a freelance writer and photographer in 2005 and is currently the president of Lighthouse Communications, a sole proprietorship media relations and marketing firm. He lives with his wife Gwen in northern Arizona.
Photo by Amee Houser © 2010
Turn the page for an excerpt
from the thrilling conclusion of
Power Failure
Book II
Critical Mass
A
aron shook her shoulder this time, rousing her almost instantly. “I’m leaving now,” he said. “It’s time for me to go to work.”
“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” she asked, the fear coming out in the forced words.
“I’m going to get Beth…and put an end to this, once and for all.”
She began to rise. “Then I’m going with you.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes filled with determination. “No, you’re not.”
“You can’t go alone.” She implored. “Please, I could watch your back…or....”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “You don’t understand. He took Beth to get to you, not me. He thinks I’ll hand you over to save her. I have to make him think I’ll give him what he wants so he won’t hurt her. If I take you with me and he gets his hands on you again, then her life…and yours…mean nothing.”
Jenny nodded her head in understanding, sensing she wasn’t going to change his mind…or wanting to.
He took the Smith and Wesson .25 cal. automatic from his coat pocket. He held it up before her wide eyes. “But I won’t leave you unprotected.”
“I’ve never even held a gun before.” she said. “I’m a lab rat, remember?”
“Okay. I’ll show you. It’s easy.”
He pointed to a small red button on the weapon’s left side. “This is the safety. Push the red button to fire.”
She nodded in understanding.
He slid the magazine from the handle, showing her the bullet at the top of the stack, ready to do its deadly job. “It’s got a full clip,” he continued, driving the magazine home and racking the slide. He put the sleek black pistol in her upturned palm.
“
You aim like this,” he took her trembling hands in his. “One hand on the grip, one hand underneath for support. Just point and gently squeeze the trigger. You aim for the center of the chest, none of that head-shot crap you see in the movies.” Holding her frightened gaze, he intoned his final instruction. “If anyone besides me or Ed comes through that door, don’t hesitate, don’t think, just shoot.”
She again nodded in understanding.
He stood and checked the clip of his own weapon. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He shut the door and seconds later she heard the Warthog’s engine start with a roar, before the distinctive growl quickly faded into silence.
Staring at the orange and red of the fire’s dancing flames, she trembled in fear at danger he willingly sped toward.
A
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