by Kimbra Swain
“I loved it,” he said. “But I saw this ring, and I thought it was perfect. You are like the platinum setting, strong and brilliant. However, you have a softer side that you save just for me. Plus, you can’t go wrong with a big diamond.”
“It is perfect,” I said, as I kissed him.
“Now. Upstairs. Your turn,” he laughed.
I took off up the stairs running as he chased me. When he slammed the bedroom door behind him, I smiled at him. His eyes were wild with anticipation.
I sank to my knees. “Merry Christmas, Synclair James Elliot.”
“Merry Christmas, Alexandra Shelby Malone.”
Coming Soon…
Cop Out
Out Of The ATL, Book Two
Turn the page for a sneak peek.
Cop Out
CHAPTER ONE
GARRETT
My blood pounded in my ears as adrenaline compelled me through the darkened house. Footsteps on wooden floors hastily tapped around me. Sweeping each room methodically, I had found nothing of significance.
Dust. Quiet. Abandon.
“All clear,” my radio squawked.
Tension released in my shoulders, and I holstered my gun. This house was the third we had raided in a week trying to catch up with Juan Abrego’s drug operation. The tips weren’t panning out. He remained a step ahead of us. I was determined to bring this bastard down, but my efforts were failing. I stared out the window into the predominately Latino neighborhood. The soft glow of lights inside houses made the area seem homey. But not this house.
My gaze broke as I heard footsteps approaching.
“Shep, you need to see this.” Lieutenant Myles Prescott had been my partner at the Atlanta Police Department for eight years. We recently worked through a plethora of information obtained by my long-time friend, Alexandra Malone pertaining to the Abrego Cartel. The information she had compiled was massive. It took days just to sort it into workable evidence. Only a handful of people in the department knew about the thumb drive. There were too many moles within the force. I’d like to say my brothers in blue were all loyal servants of the citizens, but even a good cop can be coerced or lose themselves in this horrific occupation. We had to focus on the good, cope with the bad, and learn to live day to day with the images that would haunt us all for our lifetimes.
Juan Abrego’s operations focused mainly on drugs and prostitution but occasionally had some deeper hints of frightening endeavors. I was still working on the thumb drive of information that Alexa passed to me. Trying to connect the dots from each business venture to the underground network of traffickers and sellers all over the Atlanta Metro.
However, tonight’s raid was different. I’d received a tip that this house was a major distribution point for Abrego’s drug trafficking focusing on cocaine. Unfortunately, the house was completely empty when we arrived. Not even the hint of powder.
I followed Myles into a back room. The coppery hint of blood hung in the air. As I approached the closet, I saw the source. Another haunting image etched itself into my brain. One that would fill my nightmares and regrets.
Slumped against the back wall of the empty closet, a young Latino man in his twenties sat with a gaping gash across his neck. The smell of urine assaulted my nostrils. I winced, but in my line of work, blood and piss were the norm. This wasn’t a case where he had lost control of his bodily functions. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he had been pissed on either before or after he was killed.
His eyes widened with that last moment of fear, and his mouth stretched to unnatural proportions in a desperate last-second cry. His clothes were soaked in blood and urine.
Gruesome. Sad. Waste.
The statement was clear. This man’s worth leveled next to a toilet.
“Recognize him?” Myles asked.
I squatted down in front of the closet taking in the entire body. Paying close attention to how the cut was made. What he wore. The expression on his blank face. The trail of blood. The spatter. As a detective, I wanted to memorize it all. I envied Alexa with her photographic memory. It would make things so much easier for me. Then again, the images that haunted me were faded from their originals. With a memory like that, it would be a crisp, clear nightmare.
“Yeah. He’s my informant,” I muttered.
“Did you safe house him?” he asked.
“I did, but he’s here. I’ll have to find out what happened and how he got out. I had him locked down. Fuck!” I cursed. Many times, informants ended up dead if we didn’t protect him. I secured this young man in one of our best facilities. No one got to him. He had to have walked out on his own.
“Not your fault man,” Myles said with his hand on my shoulder. He patted it quickly then moved it away.
“Call the coroner. Abrego’s group has another notch on their belt. What a botched mess.” I muttered, running my hands through my hair.
“Alright, guys! Wrap it up so the techs can get in here,” Myles called out to the house. The men that stormed the house with us earlier quickly exited. Myles walked out with the last one leaving me in the room with the dead man.
I took one last look at Rodrigo Salida as I left the room. Notifying next of kin would be easy. His uncle, Javier Salida was in the Atlanta City Detention Center. Before I made that visit, I needed to make a stop at the gym and sweat out my frustration. I couldn’t inform Salida until they made a positive I.D. Until then.
Sweat. Pain. Penance.
Acknowledgments
This one is for my girls: Tabitha, Kristie, Moragan and Julie! The ones who love a little romance and the magic between two people. I love you gals!
To my canvas crew, your encouragement gets me through each publication.
To my professional team, Hampton, Carol, and Erica, you guys know how to make me look good in digital.
Finally, to the love of my life, Jeff. Every strong male I write has a bit of you in them. There is no main character out there that could contain your greatness and humility. Love you.
About the Author
From early in life Kimbra Swain was indoctrinated in the ways of geekdom. Raised on Star Wars, Tolkien, Superheroes and Voltron, she found herself immersed in a world of imagination. She started writing in high school and completed her English degree from the University of Alabama in 2003.
Her writing is influenced by a gamut of favorite authors including Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien, L.M. Montgomery, Timothy Zahn, Kathy Reichs, Patricia Cornwell, Kevin Hearne and Jim Butcher.
Born and raised in Alabama, Kimbra still lives there with her husband and 5-year-old daughter. When she isn't reading or writing, she plays PC games, makes jewelry and builds cars.
Kimbra is currently writing Reincarnation, Book 3 of the Path to Redemption Series to be released in April, as well as two historical novellas for that series, Deception, and Devotion.
Fairy Tales of a Trailer Park Queen will return in late March with book 4, Comin’ Up a Cloud. The box set for Grace and Company was released on March 17th.
Book 2 of the Psyche of Disaster, Flood is in progress and set to release in April.
Follow Kimbra on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.
Follow Kimbra on Facebook, Twitter,
Instagram, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
www.kimbraswain.com