Kurtherian Gambit Boxed Set One: Books 1-7, Death Becomes Her, Queen Bitch, Love Lost, Bite This, Never Forsaken, Under My Heel, Kneel or Die (Kurtherian Gambit Boxed Sets)
Page 42
“I didn’t say we were only going to have a helicopter or two, did I?”
“What else?”
“What else are you willing to work on?”
Ah, here was the question that Bobcat wanted William to answer. They had shot the shit so many times that Bobcat had a good idea of everything that William could work on. Which was just about everything the Army had thrown at him in the last fifteen years. The question wasn’t what could he do, but what would he be willing to do for the team.
“For the right reasons, I’m willing to put in all the sweat and ingenuity I got. My birds don’t drop and my autos don’t stop. I just am not doing anything against my brothers, you know what I mean?”
Bobcat smiled. “I know what you mean. You interested in sticking around?”
William smiled. “Hell yeah. The honeys are good on the beaches in Miami. That’s a good enough sandpit for me. So long as I’m not going to be bored, whored or floored I’m good.”
“Trust me, the Army whores you out more often than Bethany Anne will and you get floored every time you get too much to drink. You start a fight. You can’t hold your liquor to save your life. As for bored? Well, that’s for me to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Boy, I hold my liquor like the Hoover Dam holds water.”
Bobcat busted out laughing, soon William joined him. It was well known that while William could possibly drink a few beers, he couldn’t hold whiskey down worth a damn. He would get belligerent and start a fight over whatever was popular on the news at the time.
One time he was in Texas, had a couple of shots and stood up on the bar and called all the women in the bar his ‘hoes’ and the fight was on. They found him asleep under a table. As best they could work out later, he swung at the first guy who came at him and got decked hard enough to go down and woke up in jail.
He would say it was good times, but he honestly couldn’t remember any of it at all.
Bethany Anne had told Bobcat that he needed to vet his chief engineer and was ultimately responsible for that engineer’s actions. If he made a wrong decision, the exit interview could be a bitch.
Bobcat got the meaning. He would make sure that William was the right guy before telling him too much. Bobcat didn’t want to find out he was the cause of an untimely death.
Miami, FL USA
A week and a half later, Bethany Anne was finally enjoying the house a little after three truckloads of furniture were delivered.
Her neighbors weren’t too happy with her at the moment. They had heard the story about her playing Rambo in the attack helicopter and thought she was a little too weird for them. On top of that, she had so many people living in her house at the moment the stories were starting to fly.
The next door neighbor was bitching out John one morning because a work truck had blocked her driveway the day before. Bethany Anne was in bed and heard this lady shouting at John. Bethany Anne didn’t appreciate that her neighbor was disrespectful to her team lead, or the yelling either.
She threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt without a bra. One thing that the genetic changes provided was outstanding lift with no support necessary. Not having to wear a bra made Ecaterina jealous.
Before becoming a vampire, Bethany Anne wasn’t very big in the breast department. She had been able to choose between bra and no bra depending on the event. If she had been human now, the no-bra option wouldn’t have been on the table as a choice.
She walked down the driveway and out through the gate to come up behind John who was stoically taking this woman's abuse.
“And I tell you another thing. I don’t know why you all have to be up all times of the night. It bothers my cat Mugsy dear to have to sleep with the lights coming over the wall. This was a pleasant little area before you moved in…”
John straightened up, eyes looking like they were caught in a car’s headlights. Bethany Anne had come up behind him and grabbed him around the waist in a very affectionate manner.
“Why, Ms. Joshwood. What an unpleasant surprise to find you being so rude to my friend John here. What are you bitching about this morning?”
Oh god, John thought, he just wanted to leave in any direction possible. He never liked to be in the middle of a catfight. Then he remembered. Shit, this woman is a vampire, what am I worried about? The fact she has her arms around me? That could be it.
Ms. Joshwood saw a chance to start in on Bethany Anne. “Oh, you tart! How dare you complain about my complaining! Before you moved in this was a decent street. We never had any trouble at all. Why can’t you just keep it down and why do you have so many people in your house?”
Bethany Anne just smiled at her. “Ms. Joshwood, you realize that my house has nine bedrooms in it, right? Certainly you understand I might need to try out every one of those bedrooms with John here before I decide which one I’ll use for guests? Doesn’t he just look like a poster boy for virility to you?”
John’s face turned red, then white, then he started looking like he might faint.
Ms. Joshwood, on the other hand, just kept sputtering away. Bethany Anne looked up at John. “Sweetie, would you be so good as to get Pete started on his morning calisthenics?” She popped John on the butt as he left. She suppressed a smile as his back went ramrod straight and he hurried away as fast as pride allowed. When she saw him go around the corner of the gate, she turned back to Ms. Joshwood who was still trying to form a coherent sentence.
Bethany Anne’s voice went silk over steel. “Ms. Joshwood, you are a pain in my ass. You will go talk with your husband and tell him you wish to move closer to your kids. Then you will put your house on the market to be sold for $500k more than what your real estate agent is telling you to list it at. I want this done within two weeks. Now get out of my sight, you fucking crone.”
With that, Bethany Anne turned around and walked back into her tiny estate, the black gates closing behind her. At least her fucking walls went around her house.
Two weeks later, she bought the house next to hers for $8.7 million.
FINIS
Author Notes: Michael Anderle
Thank you, I cannot express my appreciation enough that not only did you pick up the second book, but you read it all the way to the end and NOW, you’re reading this as well!
I mentioned in Author’s Notes at the back of Death Becomes Her that it took a while to write the first book. This book took a week. (I hope the quality is up to snuff**) I won’t get the third out in nine days, I guarantee it!
However, I do hope to have the third one finished and ready by 12/15/2015. That will accomplish having three books available and I feel like I can afford to advertise at that stage.
Part of the reason (I think) I wrote this story so fast was I joined NaNoWriMo. Just that one step encouraged me to dig deep and I jumped ahead. The second is that Bethany Anne is just a fun character to write about. Her experiences are almost as surprising to me as to my readers.
That whole Stephen episode was NOT what I expected at all. In the end of the first book, I expected Bethany Anne to find an annoying son of Michael that deserved a horrible beating for being an ass. I think I was literally writing the point where she hears his footsteps coming to the door when it jelled in my brain that Stephen was old… really, really old. Now, he’s my second favorite character.
I mentioned on my blog post (http://kurtherianbooks.com) that an author’s success usually entails LOTS of pre-work before you release your book. However, I just put Death Becomes Her out in the wild with no notice and no advertising. I really hope that if you enjoy reading these stories, you will share with your Kindle friends the link and encourage them to read it as well.
As far as I can tell, the income from those reading the book through Kindle Unlimited is five times more than those that purchase the book. Not that either is very large right now, but I do find it fascinating. Further, it encourages authors to write to get plenty of pages out there for our readers to enjoy. It seems like a very g
ood ‘win-win’ scenario to me.
Feel free to jump on the Facebook page to ask me any questions about being an Author on Amazon. I’m happy to share what experiences I can.
I’ve mentioned before, my writing is more escapist. I love a good action story, but more than that I want to engage with the characters. I want to feel what they are going through if possible. I want situations that make me get excited, worried, laugh and say ‘take that, sucka!’ out loud. The challenges faced by the protagonists don’t have to be life threatening, it could be a challenge to ask that special someone for a date that keeps the story flowing. I’m not really into books that keep you constantly afraid for the characters. If I care about a character, I’ll turn the page, and buy the next book, just to see them reach a personal milestone that is challenging to that character. However, having said all of that, action is what drives the story forward.
In this story, Bethany Anne shows her fun side a little more. The cussing can be a bit extreme, but she uses it (as do John, Eric, Darrell and Scott) in a fun way.
There really is a Joe’s Famous Hot Dogs & Burgers (in Florida City – https://www.facebook.com/JoesFamousHotDogsBurgersMore). There really is (or was) a house for sale in Key Biscayne for $8.9 million with nine bedrooms. I imagine someone will buy it, but in my books Bethany Anne already has! Joe’s Pizza in New York City is already famous, they don’t need a shout out from me. :-)
I honestly had NO plans for Bethany Anne to set up a base in Miami. It will be fun to see what she does with it. Now she has two houses, I can only imagine that John wants to move next door after the close call he had with Ms. Joshwood and Bethany Anne.
There are presently thirteen titles sketched out and I expect more after that. Queen Bitch is the second in the series. The next title is tentatively Love Lost where the enemy decides to attack Bethany Anne indirectly. They find out it is a really good way to piss off a very powerful enemy. Further, Bethany Anne needs to start building her military, scientific and business infrastructure as she aims for the stars.
To accomplish these goals, she needs good people.
Please, if you enjoyed this book give it a good rating on Amazon? Your kind words and encouragement help any author. I will continue to the next story whether you provide an OUTSTANDING review or not. However, it might get done a wee bit faster with the encouragement (smile).
As of today (11/11/2015), nine days since I released the first book I have two 5-star ratings on Death Becomes Her. I’ve turned around the second book in nine days. Imagine what I could do with fifty 5-star ratings!
OK, that’s not true. I can’t write and edit that fast :-(
Thank you,
Michael Anderle, 2015
*All credit for me having ANY shoe knowledge goes to my wife, who still works to provide me with even a finger’s amount of fashion sense. Why she asks me to comment on her outfits in the morning still confuses me to this day.
**I hate to admit, but the quality of the first release was NOT up to snuff. Thanks to a reviewer for calling it out. I was way too tired the night I released this the first time and I’m not sure if I uploaded a previously unchecked copy, or I just was so horrible with my pre-release check. That won’t be something I do again. Either way, I hope this latest version is better. Thank you everyone for working your way through the story before. (Mike – 11/28/2015).
Love Lost
The Kurtherian Gambit Book 3
1
Washington DC – USA
Martin Brennan finally closed down his laptop for the day. Working for an agency that stayed off the political and reporting radar could be nerve racking. His group wasn’t totally black, but they often came close to the boundaries. He stretched his arms up above his head and heard his back pop. It was past 10:00 PM on a Friday night and he had been working since 6:00 AM. The last four of his agents working late stuck their heads in his office to say goodnight before they went out for drinks together. That was well over two hours ago.
He glanced up and looked at the single Christian Louboutin shoe that he had placed on his awards shelf. It had arrived out of the blue. All of the guys gave him shit about it. Two ladies had guessed what it meant but he never confirmed their guesses one way or the other.
He had received the shoe a little over two weeks ago from a shop in New York City. He had made a bullshit excuse to pull the video recordings from all of the shops on that street. He had received the edited clips just yesterday.
He found the woman he thought had purchased the shoe and sent it to him. He was expecting to find the face of a ghost, a lady who should be dead. He wasn’t quite sure he didn’t see the dead, living.
The lady who was the closest match for the date and time of the purchase was taller than Bethany Anne Reynolds. He wasn’t sure if the lady on the video was Bethany Anne, but she looked remarkably like her. Well, if she had surgery that increased her height, had breast augmentation, and been working out for the whole time she was absent.
It wasn’t that Bethany Anne wasn’t in shape when she worked for him, but rather the lady in the video was beyond athletic looking.
He had one of his hackers go into the company’s database and check the time of the purchases for credit card info, but the shoes were paid for in cash.
He rubbed his face. Whether the lady in the video was a changed Bethany Anne or not, he was sure that the box with the single shoe was Bethany Anne letting him know she was alive. He had no other agents he had spent even ten minutes discussing fashion with. However, he had spent one whole evening discussing Bethany Anne’s fashion choices including Coach purses and Christian Louboutin shoes and therefore was very acquainted with the red-soled shoes.
After that dinner, he had recognized the shoe brand every time she wore them. The shoe he had on his shelf was very similar to a style she often wore. It was a very unique way to pass a message to him that she was alive. No one else would know to send him that specific shoe.
Bethany Anne was like a daughter to him. If he could have had her working for him for a few more years, there would be no telling what amazing results she would have accomplished. She had come to him for advice when given a doctor’s opinion that she had an incurable disease and had less than a year to live. He quietly helped her find two more doctors who were literally on the cutting edge of blood diseases. Unfortunately, the only help they offered was to confirm the original prognosis and refine how fast she was dying.
His wife, Mary, found him late that night with tears just streaming down his face. She wasn’t allowed to ask too much about his work. She knew it was better to not know in case he was called in front of Congress. She couldn’t be used as a pawn if she didn’t know anything. But she hurt for her husband, she felt his pain. Whatever he was releasing through the tears had to be ripping him up inside.
Martin got his briefcase and slipped his laptop into it. Grabbing his coat and keys, he locked his office door behind him and went to the elevator.
The agency offices were in a pretty plain multistory building in Washington D.C., or at least the outskirts. The elevator took him directly down into the parking garage. He never made it to his car.
His wife Mary called Martin’s second in command, Brandin Couter, at 2:00 AM when she couldn’t reach her husband on his cell phone. She had used the phone’s Find a Friend and it confirmed Martin to be at work.
Brandin called her thirty minutes later with the news that Martin was dead.
What Brandin didn’t tell Mary was that Martin had been tortured and his throat had been ripped out.
Washington DC – USA
Frank Kurns wasn’t planning on staying long in the office this morning. It had been at least eight months since he had a weekend where things were kind of quiet and he was looking forward to a book and hot soup. Each time he went into the basement of his building, he felt as if he was going into a crypt.
He wanted to pull some notes together and get with Bethany Anne later that day. He was getting up in age
again and he needed to find a viable replacement. Almost a hundred years old, Frank had been rejuvenated somehow by Michael in the past, making him at least twenty to thirty years younger biologically. But he was almost a centenarian now and rejuvenation or not he could feel his age every day.
Bethany Anne had been his personal choice to succeed him, until events intervened. He hadn’t had the time to really continue his research when everything just blew up after Bill was killed.
He made it to his office door and punched in his security code and provided a handprint. His room here would practically melt if the security were breached. He took no chances with the information inside. It wasn’t so much that the paranormals would be upset, although they would, it was more that he didn’t believe the world was ready to know this much.
It was truly Pandora’s box.
He entered his office and hit the lock button. He preferred to know that there was no way someone could sneak up behind him while he focused on his tasks.
He tapped his mouse and the computer screens immediately came on. He could have requested a semi-sentient AI from the military think tanks, but he just wasn’t that comfortable with them yet. He had kept up with the research and it looked very promising. But when you dealt with problems that required favors owed and favors due as often as he did, he didn’t think a computer could keep up.
He had two computer screens side by side. The left monitor he used for activity, the right was his spook dashboard. Since he created it, he got to name it whatever he wanted.
Right now, he was surprised that one of the tabs was red. He sat down in his squeaky chair and clicked on the tab.
The tab in question was a notification script that combed all of the major databases for police, fire, and emergency services looking for names of interest. He had accumulated a large set of names over the years. Sometimes, he got a hit when someone passed away that he hadn’t been actively tracking for more than a decade.