by M. Malone
He took the microphone and tapped it. The noise in the room subsided and everyone turned toward them.
“Welcome, everyone. Thank you for coming to celebrate my engagement to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
A soft murmur went through the crowd and he saw his mother and Mara’s exchange approving glances. At his side Mara beamed, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. He turned back to the crowd.
“I want to tell you a story about the day we met.”
THE END
You just finished reading the fifth book in the USA TODAY bestselling ALEXANDERS series. Stay tuned for an excerpt of TANK’s book after this.
Tank Marshall has an anger problem. He exercises iron control to keep it in check. But his mother was just diagnosed with cancer and the deadbeat dad he hasn’t seen in years is back demanding air time with a billion dollar trust fund as an incentive. The only person that brings him peace is Emma Shaw. But the only woman he trusts is the last woman he should.
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TANK
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Years ago, Tank Marshall swore off fighting. He exercises iron control to keep his anger in check. But his mother was just diagnosed with cancer and the deadbeat dad he hasn’t seen in years is back demanding air time. Worst of all, a billion dollar inheritance hangs in the balance if he doesn’t do what his father wants.
There’s only one person that keeps him anchored in the midst of the chaos. One person untouched by violence and money and lies. Emma Shaw. But the one thing that Tank hasn’t learned yet is that when billions are at stake, there’s no such thing as innocent.
Money. Changes. Everything.
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EXCERPT of TANK
© MAY 2014 M. Malone
TANK
Darkness hasn’t always been my friend. There was a time when I would have been at home asleep in my bed in the middle of the night. Instead I’m prowling the streets, restless and edgy, looking for an outlet for the anger roiling inside.
I glance to my left and right. I’m standing in an alcove that’s slightly hidden off the street. It’s easier this way. People tend to get nervous if I just hang out. No one stares outright. But there's always a tell. A glance. A step to the side when we pass so our bodies don't touch. Everyone has a “look” about them and mine apparently says trained killer.
A group of people spill out of the bar across the street, music and the sound of their voices carrying to where I stand in the shadows. This part of Virginia Beach is a mecca for local college kids looking to blow off steam on the weekends so I rarely have to go looking for trouble.
Trouble usually finds me.
I see the girl first. She has taken her shoes off and is walking barefoot on the concrete. She’s beautiful and dressed to score in a short black minidress that shows off long, tanned legs. It doesn’t take long for one of the guys in front of the bar to break off from his friends and follow her. I push away from the wall and follow them at a discreet distance. He hooks an arm around her neck. She looks up at him in confusion but grins blearily. He smiles back, with an expression like he just hit the lottery. My blood pressure spikes a notch.
Oh yes. Trouble you miserable bastard, you always find me.
I step out into the road to cross to their side of the street, pulling the hood of my jacket up and over my face.
A horn blares and a taxi screeches to a halt a few inches from me. The driver’s side door opens and the cabbie steps out. “What the hell! Look where you’re going!”
I glance at him and then back to the couple. Oblivious, they turn down a side street and out of sight. If I wait any longer, I’ll lose them. I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours and if I don’t make sure the girl is all right, then I won’t be able to sleep again tonight. Knowing, seeing, is the only thing that gives me some peace. I run across the street, leaving the cab driver gesturing and cursing behind me. By the time I turn the corner, the street is dark. Empty. Then I hear it.
Crying.
He has the girl pressed up against the wall behind a dumpster. She’s struggling, pushing at his shoulders while he’s working the dress up her legs. He has his other hand over her mouth. Her stiletto shoes are a few feet away from me, abandoned.
That’s all it takes for my veins to turn to ice. This is what happens to me right before. It’s like a red haze that settles over me, blanketing me with the righteous fury necessary to do what needs to be done.
I don’t speak; I just yank the guy off her. The first blow stuns him and all the color drains from his face as he doubles over clutching his gut. My mom’s words from earlier today ricochet through my mind, shredding my sanity as surely as bullets.
The cancer’s back, Tank.
He raises his arm to protect his face or maybe to strike back; I don’t know. I hit him with a rib shot, plowing my fists into him over and over. With every connection, I feel stronger.
I need surgery and I don’t have the money.
After a while, I don’t hear anything. I don’t see anything. There’s just me, some random dirtbag in an alley and the sensation of fists hitting flesh. All I can do is feel. Hatred. Power.
Purpose.
A whimper pulls me from my adrenaline frenzy. The girl is slumped against the wall, one hand on the grimy stone behind her as she watches me with horror in her eyes. Slowly, I remember where I am. My breath puffs in front of my face, a cloud of white in the frigid night air. The guy is slumped on the ground, his face a bruised, pulpy mass.
I hold out a hand to help her up and she cringes back. My knuckles are scraped and bruised and my hands are covered in blood. I look like something from a horror movie. I put my hands down and move back so she’s not crowded.
“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She nods but continues to regard me with wide, watchful eyes. I’m not sure who she’s more afraid of, me or the would-be-rapist bleeding next to the dumpster.
Even more, I’m not sure I want to know.
“Go. Get out of here.”
She stumbles to her feet and leans down to grab her shoes. Then she turns back. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me.” She doesn’t move, just stands staring at me, her gaze dropping to my bloody hands, so I yell, “Get the hell out of here!”
She runs off this time and doesn’t look back. I’m glad because there’s nothing she can do for me. I’m beyond saving.
Then I turn back to the man slumped on the ground. “But the rest of you aren’t.”
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THE ALEXANDERS
- The USA TODAY Bestselling series -
Book 0.5 - Teasing Trent - FREE
Book 1 - One More Day ~ Jackson + Ridley
Book 2 - The Things I Do for You ~ Nick + Raina
Book 3 - He's the Man ~ Matt + Penny
Book 3.5 - Christmas with The Alexanders - FREE
Book 4 - All I Need is You ~ Eli + Kay
Book 5 - Say You Will ~ Trent + Mara
Book 6 - Just One Thing ~ Bennett + Katie *
* coming soon
Join the pre-order notification list: HERE
BLUE-COLLAR BILLIONAIRES
(- an Alexanders Spin-off Series -)
Book 1 - TANK
Book 2 - FINN
Book 3 - GABE*
Book 4 - ZACK*
Book 5 - LUKE*
* Pre-orders available
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times & USA TODAY Bestselling author M. Malone lives in the Washington, D.C. metro area with her three favorite guys: her husband and their two sons. She likes dramatic opera music, staid old men wearing suspenders, claw-foot
bathtubs, and unexpected surprises.
The thing she likes best is getting to make up stuff for a living.
www.MMaloneBooks.com
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SAY YOU WILL
Copyright © August 2014 M. Malone
Content Editor: Daisycakes Creative Services
Copy-Editor: Leah Guinan
CrushStar Romance
An Imprint of CrushStar Multimedia LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address CrushStar Romance, 2885 Sanford Ave SW #16301, Grandville, MI 49418
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ISBN-10: 1-938789-16-4
ISBN-13: 978-1-938789-16-8