Marco looks back to the man holding all the power. “Who the fuck are you, lawman?”
“Agent Lemming of the Lacking gang task force,” he answers. “At your service.”
“As you can see we’re kind of in the middle of something, here. It’s my wedding day.”
“Not anymore,” Agent Lemming replies. “And I’m not one to say anything bad about another man’s culture, but where I come from weddings don’t usually include a bare knuckle brawl.”
“Sounds boring as Fuck,” Marco comments.
I still can’t spot Grim, but his jacket isn’t where he’d dropped it.
A dark shadow moves around the fence. It’s him It’s Grim. He waves me over, wanting me to come to him, but I can’t leave Gabby. I point to her and Grim understands. Slowly and silently he creeps along the fence, making his way toward us without being seen.
“So, what? You here to arrest me or something?” Marco crosses his arms over his bare chest. “You got a warrant?”
“Oh, I’ve certainly got a warrant,” Agent Lemming replies, producing a folded document from under his bullet proof vest. He waives it around in the air. “But it’s not for you.”
Lemming clears his throat as another uniformed pulls my arms behind my back. “Emma Jean Parish, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice, accessory to murder in the first degree and conspiracy to commit murder.”
Bullets rain down from above.
“Lemming!” Shouts one of his men from the top of roof. “Bedlam fugitive at six o’clock. I think I got a shot in. What’s the call?”
“Permission to pursue,” Agent Lemming says casually. “Retrieve the fugitive. Dead or alive.”
* * *
THE END-ISH
Grim and Emma Jean’s story continues in Permission. Click here to preorder and read it on December 11th.
An Excerpt from Permission
Three bodies wrapped in black plastic body bags lay side-by-side on stainless steel beds. The bags lay unzipped just enough to reveal the frozen faces inside. The morgue smells not of death, but of whatever chemicals they use to disguise death. A combination of vinegar and a forgotten bag of fast food left in the car on a hot summer day.
“Do you know these men?” Agent Lemming asks, positioning himself behind their heads and in front of a massive body-sized filing cabinet.
I stare at the three men and take a step back, shaking my head. Not because I don't know them. I do. But it's as if I've been tossed into a fire. Just because I knew the flames were coming, it doesn't make the burns any less painful, or any less real.
“It’s okay. They can’t hurt you. Not anymore,” he says, not realizing that he's got it all wrong. But correcting him is the last thing on my mind. He motions with his hand for me to come closer.
I steel my breath and take one step and then another, propelled only by my need to get this hellish nightmare over with. As I approach the first table, my knees buckle. Agent Lemming rounds the bodies and holds me upright with his hand under my elbow.
“It’s...it's them,” I say, choking on my words.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you to say their names out loud for the record,” Agent Lemming says apologetically. He’s a prick, but at this moment, I really do believe he feels sorry for me.
I look from frozen face to frozen face. I’m gonna be sick.
I raise one shaky finger and point to the first body. “That’s Sandy,” I whisper. My eyes would well up with tears if I had any left to cry. I move my hand over to the body on the other end. “I know him as Haze.” My heart pounds as I shake loose of Agent Lemming’s hold and find myself standing over the body in the middle. He looks peaceful, as if he’s sleeping. All the hard lines of anger and hurt typically marring his forehead and around his eyes are gone. His usually tanned skin is now a vampiric shade of harsh white. My stomach rolls.
“And this one?” The agent asks, coming to stand beside me.
My heart falls into my stomach, and again, he has to hold me upright. I can’t stop myself from reaching out to the body, smoothing back his light brown hair that looks almost orange under the harsh fluorescents. The zap of our connection is no longer there. I hold one hand over my mouth, afraid that if I release one sob the floodgates will open and I'll never be able to stop.
“That’s okay. Take all the time you need,” Agent Lemming assures me.
My bare thighs press up against the cool metal of the table. It vibrates against me, but it’s not the table that's trembling. It's me. “That’s...I mean he’s...” I start. “This is Grim. Tristan Paine," I croak. I bend over and lower my lips to Grim’s cold ear. I press my palm to his unmoving throat. My voice is a mere whisper he can no longer hear. “My love. My life. For you. For us.” A tear falls from my chin and lands on his eyelid, spilling down his face as if he’s the one who’s crying. I wipe the tear with my thumb and press my lips to his. “For always.”
Down the hall someone is singing softly. The tune is all too familiar.
I stand and listen closely to make sure I’m hearing right. I am.
* * *
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
* * *
The song grows louder. Closer.
An odd awareness crawls up the back of my legs like a hundred tiny spiders. My entire body is chilled, and not because I’m standing in a freezer meant for the dead.
Both Agent Lemming and I turn toward the sound. The top of a man’s head appears through the high square window in the door.
* * *
Order Permission now, the final book of The Perversion Trilogy, by clicking here.
A message from the author
In this book I mention a casino on an Indian reservation, but I do not mention the name of the tribe. This is intentional. I did not want to create an imaginary tribe in fear of offending existing ones, and I did not want to use the name of an existing one in fear of the same, as well as a fear of not being able to describe it well enough to do it justice. The tribe, reservation, and casino in this book are entirely of my own imagining. The rituals performed in this book are a product of combining research on the ceremonies and rituals from several different tribes, and for that reason, entirely fictional.
I also take a lot of artistic liberties when it comes to the town, my characters, medical interventions, and most other things. I do this because my goal is not to keep things realistic, it’s to create an entire world existing within, yet entirely separate, from the real world.
And because it’s fiction.
And because I do what I want.
ALSO BY T.M. FRAZIER
THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
PERVERSION (Book 1)
POSSESSION (Book 2)
PERMISSION (Book 3)
* * *
THE OUTSKIRTS DUET
THE OUTSKIRTS (Book 1)
THE OUTLIERS (Book 2)
THE KING SERIES
LISTED IN RECOMMENDED READING ORDER
* * *
Jake & Abby’s Story (Standalone)
The Dark Light of Day (Prequel)
* * *
King & Doe’s Story (Duet)
KING (Book 1)
TYRANT (Book 2)
* * *
Bear & Thia’s Story (Duet)
LAWLESS (Book 3)
SOULLESS (Book 4)
* * *
Rage & Nolan’s Story (Standalone)
ALL THE RAGE (Spinoff)
* * *
Preppy & Dre’s Story (Triplet)
PREPPY PART ONE (Book 5)
PREPPY PART TWO (Book 6)
PREPPY PART THREE (Book 7)
* * *
Smoke & Frankie’s Story (Standalone)
UP IN SMOKE (Spinoff)
* * *
COMING IN 201
9
NINE, THE TALE OF KEVIN CLEARWATER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.M. Frazier
T.M. Frazier never imagined that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she’s a USA Today bestselling author. Her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world.
She’s still in a state of shock.
T.M. enjoys writing what she calls ‘wrong side of the tracks’ romance with sexy, morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines.
Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay.
She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream.
For more information please visit her website www.tmfrazierbooks.com
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