I haven't posted a snippet in a long time. I know you're all terribly disappointed! hahaha So, today I'm subjecting you to one. It's kind of like "take your medicine...it's good for you!"
Alright, maybe the observation had been in poor taste, but this woman was still an enigma. Hell, her name had been a mystery up until a few hours ago. The bottom line was that Megan could be a very viable suspect if she ever came forward, or at least Gordon could portray a credible case with his skill. Jake didn’t consider Megan guilty of anything more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was concerned with putting the cards on the table—seeing what was stacked up against her.
These thoughts roiling through his head, Jake broke from them to take note of Megan’s reaction. The blood had drained from her face, leaving a wan complexion that made her look like a Goth member of a casting call for a vampire movie. Pale lips opened and closed as she searched for words, but only a strangled moan escaped. Round eyes watched him with unabashed horror, and Jake groaned too. He realized the damage he had done, and before he could clarify his statement, Megan whispered in a clipped tone.
“You think I did it?”
He ripped a hand over his face. “No, I don’t think you did it.” When his hand dropped, those solemn eyes still followed him.
Jake’s voice gentled. “But these are the suspicions you are up against. If everything you say about this Fortran guy is true, he will manipulate the system and you will lose.”
A small flame ignited in Megan’s gaze. “He’s not concerned with manipulating the system. He just wants me dead.”
The two front legs of Jake’s chair thumped back to the ground. The finality of her statement chilled him as he swallowed down the effect and tried to be subjective. “How do you know that? What has he said to you on the phone?”
Under the fruity tiffany lamp, shiny sable hair dusted across tense shoulders as she angled her head towards the phone. Jake’s eyes were riveted by the sleek curve of her neck. So fragile. So beautiful. If anyone tried to touch it. If any man tried to harm her—
“He tells me he’s coming.” Her voice was eerily detached. “He doesn’t have to say any more. We both know why.”
For one minute, no not even a minute, more like a labored heartbeat, the brief flash of time it took for a lucid thought to congeal—Jake considered leaving. This was not his life. It was not his battle to fight.
Alright, maybe the observation had been in poor taste, but this woman was still an enigma. Hell, her name had been a mystery up until a few hours ago. The bottom line was that Megan could be a very viable suspect if she ever came forward, or at least Gordon could portray a credible case with his skill. Jake didn’t consider Megan guilty of anything more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was concerned with putting the cards on the table—seeing what was stacked up against her.
These thoughts roiling through his head, Jake broke from them to take note of Megan’s reaction. The blood had drained from her face, leaving a wan complexion that made her look like a Goth member of a casting call for a vampire movie. Pale lips opened and closed as she searched for words, but only a strangled moan escaped. Round eyes watched him with unabashed horror, and Jake groaned too. He realized the damage he had done, and before he could clarify his statement, Megan whispered in a clipped tone.
“You think I did it?”
He ripped a hand over his face. “No, I don’t think you did it.” When his hand dropped, those solemn eyes still followed him.
Jake’s voice gentled. “But these are the suspicions you are up against. If everything you say about this Fortran guy is true, he will manipulate the system and you will lose.”
A small flame ignited in Megan’s gaze. “He’s not concerned with manipulating the system. He just wants me dead.”
The two front legs of Jake’s chair thumped back to the ground. The finality of her statement chilled him as he swallowed down the effect and tried to be subjective. “How do you know that? What has he said to you on the phone?”
Under the fruity tiffany lamp, shiny sable hair dusted across tense shoulders as she angled her head towards the phone. Jake’s eyes were riveted by the sleek curve of her neck. So fragile. So beautiful. If anyone tried to touch it. If any man tried to harm her—
“He tells me he’s coming.” Her voice was eerily detached. “He doesn’t have to say any more. We both know why.”
For one minute, no not even a minute, more like a labored heartbeat, the brief flash of time it took for a lucid thought to congeal—Jake considered leaving. This was not his life. It was not his battle to fight.
VICTORY COVE -
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/7274