by Churton, Alex; Churton, Toby; Locke, John; Lustbader, Eric van; van Lustbader, Eric
Rob was jittery, in a panic. No question what he wanted to do—his eyes were pleading with Trish.
Callie knew she had them.
“I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said briskly.” I’ll put my headphones on so you can talk privately, but you’ll have to remain in my sight at all times.”
“How do you know we won’t contact the police after you leave?” Trish said, wearily.
Callie laughed. “I’d love to hear that conversation.”
“What do you mean?”
“You think the police would believe you? Or let you keep a suitcase full of cash under these circumstances?”
Rob said, “Are we the first, or have you done this before?”
“This is my eighth suitcase.”
Again they looked at each other. Then Rob reached over, as though he wanted to stroke the bills.
Callie smiled and closed the top. “Nuh uh.”
“How many people actually took the money?” he asked. There was a sheen of sweat on his upper lip.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?” Trish asked.
“It could influence your decision and impact the social experiment. Look. Here’s what you need to know: when someone takes the money, my boss feels he’s gotten the blessing of a member of society to end the life of a murderer.”
“This is crazy. This is just crazy,” Trish whispered, as if daring herself to believe.
“People die every day,” Rob said. “And they’re going to die whether we get the money or someone else does.”
Trish looked at him absently, her mind a million miles away.
“They’re giving this money to someone,” Rob explained, “so why not us?”
“It’s too crazy,” Trish repeated. “Isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Callie said, putting on the headphones. “But the money—and the offer—are for real.”
1
“And you, Mr. Creed,” she said.
I looked up from my mixing bowl. “Ma’am?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Apart from making brownies? I’m with Homeland Security.”
Her name was Patty Feldson and she was conducting a home study as part of the adoption process. My significant other, Kathleen Gray, was hoping to adopt a six-year-old burn victim named Addie Dawes. Addie was the sole survivor of a home fire that claimed the lives of her parents and twin sister. Ms. Feldson had been watching Addie and Kathleen play dolls on the living room floor. Satisfied with the quality of their interaction, she turned her attention to me.
“Do you have a business card?” Patty said.
“I do.” I took my wallet from my hip pocket and removed a card that had been freshly printed for this very occasion. I handed it over.
Patty read aloud: “Donovan Creed, Special Agent, Homeland Security.” She smiled. “Well that doesn’t reveal much. But it certainly sounds mysterious and exciting. Do you travel much, Agent Creed?”
I wondered how well we’d get along if I told her I was a government assassin who occasionally performs freelance hits for the mob and for an angry, homicidal midget named Victor.
“I do travel. But I’m afraid my job falls short of being mysterious or exciting. Mostly, I interview people.”
“Suspected terrorists?”
I layered the batter into Kathleen’s brownie pan with a silicone spatula and swirled Addie’s name on top before placing the pan in the oven.
“Apartment owners, business managers, that sort of thing.” I closed the oven door and set the timer for forty minutes.
“What’s in the brownies?” she said.
I felt like saying marijuana, but Kathleen had warned me not to joke with these people. She was in the home stretch of the adoption process and I intended to do all I could to help her.
“You remember the actress, Katharine Hepburn?” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“This is her recipe. I found it in an old issue of the Saturday Evening Post.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’d love to have it!”
“Then you shall.”
A home study is a series of meetings you have to go through as part of the approval process for adopting a child. Kathleen had provided all her personal documents, passed the criminal background check, made it through all the appointments and provided personal references. But at least one meeting is required to be in your home, and all who live there (Kathleen) or spend nights there (me) had to be in attendance.
Patty Feldson wasn’t here to do a “white glove” interview. She’d already made a positive determination about Kathleen’s ability to parent. All that remained was to see what sort of person the boyfriend was. She knew, for example, that I had a daughter of my own, who lived with my ex in Darnell, West Virginia. If she’d done any digging she also knew that while I’ve always been emotionally and financially supportive, I hadn’t spent as much father-daughter time with Kimberly as I should have.
Patty moved closer and locked her eyes on mine. Lowering her voice, she said, “There’s a big difference between being a father and a dad.”
Right, I thought. She’s done her research.
“I had to learn that lesson the hard way in my own life,” I said. “And this might sound funny, but Addie’s the one who inspired me to build bridges with Kimberly. We’re closer now than ever before.”
Patty nodded. We were both silent a moment, waiting to see who would speak first. In case you’re keeping score, she did.
“Addie has become a special needs child,” Patty said. “She’s been traumatized physically and mentally and she’s going to need a lot of nurturing.”
“I understand.”
“I hope so, Mr. Creed, because it’s going to put a lot of stress on your relationship with Kathleen. Have you thought about your role in all this—I mean, reallythought about it?”
Addie was an amazing kid. Funny, affectionate, brave — over the past few months she’d become special to both of us. Special wasn’t the right word, she was more than that. Addie had become essential to our lives.
“I love Addie,” I said.
She nodded and paused a few seconds. “I felt you must, Mr. Creed. What you’ve done for her and Kathleen speaks volumes.”
Patty knew I’d recently given Kathleen a million dollars and put another ten million into a trust for Addie. What she didn’t know is that I’d stolen all that money and more, from a West Coast crime boss named Joe DeMeo.
After witnessing another hour of unparalleled domestic harmony, Patty Feldson gathered Addie, the recipe, and half a pan of brownies.
“You’re a shooin!” she gushed to Kathleen.
“I’ll see you again tomorrow, darling,” Kathleen said to Addie. Addie swallowed before speaking, to lubricate her throat. We had grown accustomed to the procedure, the result of her vocal chords being permanently damaged by the fire that nearly took her life.
“At the hospital?” Addie finally said in her raspy, whisper of a voice.
“Uh huh.”
Another round of hugs was in order and then they were gone. I looked at the lovely creature that had defied all the odds and fallen for me.
“This might be the last time she’ll have to leave you,” I said.
Kathleen dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. “Thank you, Donovan.” She put her hand in mine and kissed me gently on the mouth. “For everything,” she added.
Life was good.
An hour later Victor called me on my cell phone. A quadriplegic little person on a ventilator, Victor’s metallic voice was singularly creepy.
“Mis … ter Creed … they took … the … money,” he said.
“The couple from Nashville?”
“Yes, Rob and … Trish.”
“Big surprise, right?”
“When you get … a chance I … would like you to … kill the … Peterson…sis … ters.”
I paused a minute, trying to place them. “They’re in Pennsylvania, right?”
�
�Yes, in … Camp … town.”
I assumed my best minstrel voice and said, “You mean De Camptown Ladies?”
Victor sighed. “Really … Mis … ter Creed.”
“Hey, show some appreciation! In France I’m considered a comedic genius.”
“You and … Jerry Lewis … So, will you … go to … Camptown and … kill the … Petersons?”
“Doo Dah!” I said.
LETHAL EXPERIMENT… Available Now!
About this Book
Every night, Donovan Creed chooses to sleep in a FBI holding cell. Each morning, he makes his friends at the CIA test their torture weapons on him. Donovan Creed – practiced seducer, ruthless assassin – is a very tough guy.
But even tough guys have their weaknesses. When he meets a plucky little orphan whose parents died in an arson attack, Donovan Creed launches a kill-or-be-killed mission to bring an evil crime boss to justice.
Furiously paced, insanely readable, Lethal People is a rollercoaster ride of a thriller, packed with mean men, sexy women, smart dialogue, and angry midgets. What more could you want – except the next book in the Donovan Creed series, of course…
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DISCOVER THE BOOKS EVERYONE’S TALKING ABOUT NEXT…
***** Worthy of 6 Stars!
By TRW
I give 5 stars to all John Locke books, I would give 6 stars to this one if I could. Not only is it a page turning thriller – I read the whole thing on the beach in an afternoon – couldn’t put it down.
***** A fun read!
By Kathy
This novel is chock-full of surprising plot twists and turns from beginning to end. It grips you from page one. I read this book in one evening. It’s a fast, fun read for sure.
***** Bingo! Cool. Read this book and you’re hooked on Locke.
By Karin
Locke keeps the story moving and in such an effortless way. I’m passing it on to my husband. It’s been awhile since I’ve read something sexy: this fits the bill.
***** So Entertaining I just went and downloaded another one.
By Patti Roberts
I read this book over a period of 2 days on my kindle and loved it! So I have just downloaded another one. I hereby declare that I am a John Locke fan. Do yourself a favor....
***** I loved this book.
By D Loewe
I don’t write reviews, I just don’t. But after reading this book I enjoyed it so much I felt the author deserved a positive review. I will not go into the plot or such, but I could not put this thing down. Well done Mr. Locke and thank you.
***** 10 stars.
By Ally
A wonderful mystery thriller. I love all of them but I think this is just my favorite.
***** OMG!!
By Kimberly Morris
What a ride...wow. The first jaw falling open moment in a book that I recall ever having experienced.
***** Life equals Experimentation.
By Jean
I just couldn’t put the book down. Must Read!
***** 5 out of 5 stars.
By Mr C. Headle
I thought Lethal People was amazing so I read Lethal Experiment and officially became addicted to the series. A marvel combination of action, drama, and breath-taking excitement. I love how Donovan Creed constantly keeps us wanting more. Do yourself a favor and grab this book!
***** Don’t even bother trying to catch your breath!
By Karin Gambaro
From the moment I started reading this book, I was hooked on Donovan Creed! This was my first Donovan Creed experience, and I can’t wait to dive into the rest of the series. This guy is the hero I’ve been waiting for! Thanks, John Locke!
Reviews from Amazon.com
About this Series
Donovan Creed is an assassin for an elite branch of Homeland Security. When he isn’t busy killing terrorists, he moonlights as a hit man for the mob. He tests weapons of torture for the Army. He is a very tough guy.
But he’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s got issues. He makes mistakes. He’s terrible with women. He’s a pretty neglectful father. But his heart is in the right place – and occasionally, just occasionally, he’ll try and do the right thing…
1. LETHAL PEOPLE
Would you let a little girl be murdered if it saved your own family?
2. LETHAL EXPERIMENT
A total stranger offers you $100k, the only condition is that someone else has to die...
3. SAVING RACHEL
You can choose between your wife or your lover, but you can only save one…
4. NOW & THEN
Could you leave behind all you’ve ever known, for the life you’ve always wanted?
5. WISH LIST
Be careful what you wish for…
6. A GIRL LIKE YOU
Would you give up the woman you love if her death could save millions?
7. VEGAS MOON
What crimes would you commit to save your own life?
8. THE LOVE YOU CRAVE
Who would you turn to when you’ve betrayed everyone you love?
About the Author
John Locke is a New York Times bestselling author, the first self-published author in history to hit the number 1 spot on Kindle, and the first to sell a million copies. He is the author of the Donovan Creed and Emmett Love series. He lives in Kentucky, USA.
To learn more about John Locke, visit his website: http://www.DonovanCreed.com
About Head of Zeus
We hope you enjoyed this book.
We are Head of Zeus, a brand new publishing house dedicated to new authors, great storytelling, and fabulous ideas.
To find your next read – and some tempting special offers – why not visit our website?
First published in the UK in 2012 by Head of Zeus, Ltd.
Copyright © John Locke, 2009
The moral right of John Locke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (Paperback): 9781781852309
ISBN (eBook): 9781781852316
Printed in Great Britain.
Head of Zeus, Ltd
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About this Book
Reviews
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About this Series
Table of Contents
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This is for my cousin David.
With great love and affection.
And for my lost child …
January 20
Inauguration Day
Alli Carson sat in the back of the armor-plated limo, sandwiched between Sam and Nina, her Secret Service detail. She was just three days shy of her twentieth birthday, but with her father being inaugurated President of the United States today, she’d scarcely had time to think about what she might get in the way of presents, let alone contemplate what she was going to do to celebrate.
For the moment, it was all about her father. The inauguration of Edward Carson, former senior senator from the great state of Nebraska, was celebration enough. Even she had found it interesting that the media had made such a fuss over the exit polls showing that her father was the first president to be significantly helped by a massive African-American turnout. Those votes had been the result of a national campaign en
gineered by her father’s formidable election machine in conjunction with the powerful black religious and political organization, the Renaissance Mission Congress. Her father had successfully run as the anti-Rove, basing his campaign on reconciliation and consensus building, for which the RMC had been the standard-bearer.
But for the moment, everything else was subsumed beneath the intricate and laborious plans for today, which had been ongoing for more than six weeks, as directed by the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies. The speeches, balls, cocktail parties, media ops, and shamelessly opportunistic sound bites had begun five days ago, and they would continue for another five days after her father was sworn in, an hour from now.
After eight years of the executive branch being at loggerheads with the legislature, today would usher in a new era in American politics. For the first time, a moderate Republican would be president—a man who, though a fiscal conservative, was unabashedly pro-choice and pro-women’s rights, which put him at odds with many Republicans and the religious right. Never mind. His mandate had come from young people, Hispanics and African Americans who, finally deciding it was time for their voices to be heard, turned out in record numbers to vote for Edward Carson. Not only did they find him irresistibly charismatic, but they also liked what he said, and how he said it. She had to admit her father was clever as well as smart. Still, he was of a species—the political animal—that she despised.
Alli didn’t even try to peer through the windows. The heavily smoked, bulletproof glass afforded only a glimpse of a world blurred in shadow. Inside, she was cushioned in a plush backseat, illuminated by the soft glow of the sidelights. Her hands were pale against the dark blue leather seat. Thick auburn hair framed an oval face dominated by clear green eyes. A constellation of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose like grains of sand, an endearing touch to a beautiful face. It said something important about her, that she deliberately didn’t cover her nose with makeup.
