A hero of The Eastern Front

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A war memoir Thursday teaser

By Scott Bury

The birthday of the main character of The Eastern Front Trilogy will be in two days. In his honour, we present a sample of the book that reveals something about his character and his family.

Chapter 16: Fighting in their own way

Nastaciv, December 1941

Out of uniform, out of the army, out of prison, Maurice was now under the command of his mother. Tekla Kuritsa did not allow her son to do anything but rest for a whole month. The harvest over, she paid young local boys to do what remained: manuring fields and fixing fences.

Day by day, Maurice regained weight and strength. At first, he sat in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading newspapers.

Nothing but German-approved propaganda. This paper actually says we Ukrainians are happy to be occupied by Germany.

Idleness quickly lost its allure. Maurice decided to make sure the farm was ready for winter. He started with chopping firewood. Just a half-hour a day, relishing in his ability to split logs with a single blow, chopping and sawing harder, and lasting longer each day.

One evening, Tekla took Maurice to the shed beside the barn for a chore he would find much more enjoyable.

“Is that a still?” he asked. “Mama, are you making vodka?”

“It’s not very good, but the German officers like it,” she said. She set him to work.

Maurice liked the opportunity to concentrate on a task, drawing a spoonful of clear liquor, carefully closing the valve then setting fire to the spoon. If the liquor burned with a blue flame, it was “proof,” good enough for sale.

One evening, Maurice filled six four-litre jugs and put them on a small wagon.

“Good boy,” Tekla said and buttoned her coat. “I’ll take this to the village.”

“Why?”

“To sell to anyone who wants it, of course. But mostly it goes to German officers.”

“It’s getting too late to go out, Mama,” Maurice said. “It’s almost curfew.”

“That’s the time men want to buy vodka,” she said, buttoning her coat.

“It’s too dangerous for a woman out in the evening. Let me go.”

She shook her head. “Maurice, you strong men don’t know how things work in wartime,” she said, patting his cheek. “An old lady out in the evening is much safer than a man. What would the patrols do if they caught you out after curfew?”

“Throw me in jail.”

“They would probably shoot you on the spot, sweetie. But they see an old lady struggling with a heavy wagon, they think of their own mothers.”

“Some of these bastards would just as soon shoot their own mothers.”

“That’s when I sell them some vodka.” She smiled and kissed him.

Maurice watched her pull the wagon to the road until she vanished into the evening gloom. He did not realize he was smiling as he shook his head.

My mother. After all I’ve been through, she’s going to sell cheap liquor to the Germans. She’s the bravest person I’ve ever seen.

The Eastern Front Trilogy

The true story of a Canadian drafted into the Soviet Red Army during World War 2, just in time to be thrown against Nazi Germany’s invasion in Operation Barbarossa.

Caught in the vise between Nazi and Communist forces, Maurice Bury concentrates on keeping his men alive as they retreat across Ukraine from the German juggernaut. Now the question is: will they escape from the hell of the POW camp before they starve to death?

Find it exclusively in paperback on:

For a limited time, the Eastern Front Trilogy is available in three volumes for reduced prices, or free, in e-book form from Amazon.

Scott Bury

can’t stay in one genre. After a 20-year career in journalism, he turned to writing fiction. “Sam, the Strawb Part,” a children’s story, came out in 2011, with all the proceeds going to an autism charity. Next was a paranormal short story for grown-ups, “Dark Clouds.”

The Bones of the Earth, a historical fantasy, came out in 2012. It was followed in 2013 with One Shade of Red, an erotic romance.

He has several mysteries and thrillers, including Torn RootsPalm Trees & Snowflakes and Wildfire.

Scott’s articles have been published in newspapers and magazines in Canada, the US, UK and Australia.

He has two mighty sons, two pesky cats and a loving wife who puts up with a lot. He lives in Ottawa, Ontario.

Learn more about Scott on his:

Website   |   Blog    |  Facebook    |   Twitter

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Avengers of Blood

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A Thursday mystery teaser

By Gae-Lynn Woods

GOOBER WAS A MYSTERY. He’d appeared one morning about forty years ago, nestled in the gnarled roots of the ancient hanging tree on the courthouse lawn, abandoned in the middle of the night. In spite of announcements on the local radio station and in the newspaper, the toddler’s parents never came forward to claim him. An elderly widow took him in and over time, Goober became a fixture in Arcadia. The odd man was probably closer to forty-five than to forty given the silver that peppered his nearly black hair. People said that Goober wasn’t truly retarded, but Martinez wasn’t so sure. Goober hadn’t finished high school and his ability to read and write was limited. Granted, he was always polite and seemed eager to help, but there was a slowness about the man, almost an innocence, that Martinez thought reflected some sort of mental challenge.

He stiffened as Forney County’s Forensic Examiner, Tom Kado, came through the gas station’s front door. As Martinez had done, he nodded briefly at the officer near the door and stopped to remove the booties covering his shoes. He shoved them in a plastic garbage bag and rubbed his eyes. Kado was new to the force, having joined only a couple of months ago. Martinez found the younger man arrogant and disrespectful of the last forensic examiner, Hank Comfrey, who had held the job for nearly five decades before dropping dead of a heart attack earlier this year. Kado was full of new procedures and science but didn’t seem to trust his gut as old Comfrey had. Martinez wasn’t sure the science was all that reliable. The wariness he felt for Kado was justified when a crucial DNA sample in a recent case was found by the state lab to be contaminated. If Martinez was the detective assigned to this murder, and he surely would be because there were no other detectives in Forney County at the moment, Kado would have to walk the straight and narrow to Martinez’ satisfaction. He met Kado at the tailgate where Goober sat, still torturing the baseball cap.

“You okay, Goob?” Kado asked.

Goober nodded but his gaze was glassy and his face devoid of color. Kado climbed up in the pickup’s bed, opened a cooler and passed a root beer to Martinez, then took one for himself and Goober. He took the cap from Goober’s hands and replaced it with an open can. “Drink.”

Slowly, Goober did. “Thanks,” he said, burping quietly.

“You up for talking?” Martinez asked.

Goober nodded.

“Why did you come to Whitehead’s tonight?”

“I ran out of potato chips.”

Photo by Matthew Smith on Unsplash

Martinez looked at the mower parked by the station’s pumps. “Did you pump gas?”

“I was gonna check her after I got the chips.”

“What time did you get here?”

“Right about five-thirty.”

“You sure?”

He pulled a beat-up Timex from a pocket and held it out. “It was almost five-thirty when I came around Church Bend.”

Martinez compared the little watch to his own. It was two minutes fast. “Did you pass anybody on the road?”

“Naw, my mower don’t go that fast.”

Kado bit back a smile, and the detective’s jaw tightened. He tried again. “Did you see any other vehicles on the road?”

“Just some tail lights.”

“Where?”

“When I was coming around Church Bend.” He turned and pointed into the night. “A car was farther down the road.”

“What kind of car?”

Goober shrugged. “All I saw was red lights.”

“What happened when you got to the store?”

“I went inside to make sure Mr. Whitehead was still open.” He blinked. “There was gas on the floor. And then smoke came out of the door in the back. So I went to see what was burning.”

“Why didn’t you call the fire department right then?”

“I was scared,” he answered in a small voice.

“You were scared but you headed toward the smoke, to the fire?”

Goober nodded, his eyes fixed on some distant, internal point.

Martinez and Kado exchanged a glance. “What happened next?”

“The smoke was bad, but the back door was open. I heard a noise and went outside and saw… the zombie. He was hanging.” He shuddered and root beer sloshed onto his overalls. “And black all over.”

“Did you see flames?”

“He was breathing fire. Like a dragon. I tried to put it out.” Goober’s eyes filled with tears and he drew a deep, stuttering breath. “But the zombie fell off the rope and started to get up. I figured he was coming after me. He fell and I ran away.”

Avengers of Blood

A deadly game of cat and mouse is playing out in Forney County…

Detective Cass Elliot is still on suspension after killing a fellow officer and Sheriff Hoffner refuses to sign her release papers. But when four people are murdered in one night, one with the exceptional brutality of a lynching, the Medical Examiner side-steps Hoffner to hire Cass and loan her to Forney County’s overstretched police department.

As Cass and her partner investigate, they realize that three of the murders were committed by the same person but find no connection between the victims. Their frustration intensifies when another victim survives and disappears instead of coming to the police.

Sheriff Hoffner is frantic about anonymous letters claiming one of his star officers is dirty, and Cass suspects a link to the current crimes. The pieces fall together when she uncovers the true identity of the man who was lynched, revealing connections between the victims, the killer, and an unpunished crime committed nearly fifty years ago.

Gae-Lynn Woods

is a Texan mystery writer who has traveled the world, lived overseas, and come back home. She and her husband, British jazz guitarist Martyn Popey, share a ranch in East Texas with a herd of Black Angus cattle, one very cranky donkey, and The Dude, a rescue kitty with attitude.

Visit Gae-Lynn’s

BestSelling Reads page   |   Amazon author page   |   Facebook   |   Twitter   |   Google+   |   Goodreads   |   LinkedIn   |    Website   |    Blog

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From Alaska With Love

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A romantic Thursday teaser from the brand new military romance

By Ally James

Talk about a family reunion from hell, Sara Ryan thought as she smiled politely through yet another introduction. Her aunt Lydia had relentlessly marched her around the room like a drill sergeant for the last hour. Her brother, Chris, had been smart enough to make up an excuse that got him out of coming, but true to form, Sara let her mother guilt her into it. The bathroom door was only inches away, and she was so close to making a break for it, when her aunt’s voice rang out loud enough for the people in the next town to hear. “And this is my niece Sara, Joan’s daughter. You know, the spinster. She lives with her brother.” Horrified. That’s the only way to put it. Or perhaps “mortified” was a better word. The entire family appeared to be staring at her with equal parts pity and disapproval. While Sara was fran­tically trying to compose herself, her aunt patted her on the back before adding, “She spends a lot of time with her mom, since, you know, she’s never had a boyfriend. I’ve told her time and again that she needs to get her nose out of those trashy books she’s always reading. Men like that don’t exist.” Sara wanted to object. There had been some boy­friends. It had been a while, but there had definitely been a couple. Back before the time of electricity and vehicles. Heck, she’d had sex before. But how exactly could she go about denying something so personal without making her­self sound worse? Could this could get any worse?

She opened her mouth, intent on clarifying some of the misinformation, but her aunt Ivy suddenly appeared at her other side. Shit, what now? Her mother’s oldest sister had always been the more outspoken of the three of them, which was normally amusing—but Sara was already at her limit and couldn’t take much more. Ivy gave her an exaggerated wink, which resembled someone having a seizure, before saying, “I sure love that Christian fella. Now there’s someone who seems like he’s got it all figured out. Anna is one lucky gal. He’s rich, hot, and knows how to take care of his business.” All eyes turned to stare across the room when Ivy pointed to her husband, who appeared to be sound asleep sitting up. “Even Fred likes listening to those audio books.” Oh, dear God, she can’t possibly be talking about Fifty Shades of Grey. Sweet Aunt Ivy? Uncle Fred? From the snickers around the room, Sara could only deduce that Ivy wasn’t the only one who’d been doing a little read­ing on the wild side. Or was it doing a little wild reading on the side? And while the things being whispered among her relatives might result in years of therapy in the future, it had shifted the attention away from her. “That’s disturbing,” an amused voice murmured behind her. Sara whirled around to find her cousin Chloe standing there with a grimace on her face. “Sorry about Mom. She means well for the most part.”

From Alaska with Love

A soldier has six weeks to convince the only woman he has ever longed for to take a chance on life with him in Alaska….

Sara’s letters were the only bright spot during Gabe’s devastating tour in Iraq. With each new correspondence he fell harder, needed her more, wanted to be with her. Now, after initially rejecting his offer to meet, she’s shown up at the door of his isolated cabin in Alaska looking for…what? Gabe’s not sure what made Sara change her mind, but he knows he never wants to let her go.

Major Gabe Randall is everything Sara Ryan wants but nothing she feels she deserves. A modern-day spinster, Sara hides behind family obligations and the safe, quiet life she’s resigned herself to living. But secretly, even though she may have stretched the truth about who she is in her letters to him, she wants Gabe. Will he still want her when he discovers the real woman behind the pen?

Once they meet, Gabe asks her for six weeks in Alaska. Six weeks to spend getting to know each other, and then she’ll have to decide whether they are better together or apart.

Ally James

is a pen name for bestselling romance author Sydney Landon.

Sydney Landon is the New York Times & USA Today best selling author of:  Weekends Required, Not Planning on You, Fall For Me, Fighting For You, Betting on You, No Denying You, Always Loving You, Pierced and Fractured.  Sydney is currently working on the next book in the Danvers’ Series as well as the Pierced Series.

When she isn’t writing, Sydney enjoys reading, swimming and the beach.

She lives with her family in Greenville, South Carolina.

Get to know more about Sydney:

BestSelling Reads author page     |     Website    |    Amazon Author page    |    Barnes & Noble    |    Kobo    |    Google Play    |    iBooks

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New book launch: Somewhere in Wine Country

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A new series by BestSelling Reads author Toby Jane

Nothing could go wrong with this scenario.

I watched my family’s vineyard fall under the auction hammer, holding back tears of grief and rage. What should be mine went to a stranger.

I want to hate Kane McCallum and his dark blue eyes. He has everything: looks, money, even a big, lovable dog. Now he’s offered me a job managing the vineyard—my vineyard.

I can stay in my family’s home, but only if I work for him.

I’m a billionaire looking for something more.

I don’t want to care what happens to prickly Meg Villier, but I see hard work and courage in her calloused hands.
Passion in the curve of her generous mouth.
Tenderness in the way she treats my dog.

Available TODAY from Amazon:

Toby Jane

is the romance pen name for bestselling mystery writer Toby Neal. Romance allows her to indulge in the delight of love stories with happy endings, big families, and loving pets.

Toby also writes memoir/nonfiction under TW Neal.

If you like Marie Force’s Gansett Island series, Bella Andre’s Sullivans, or Melissa Foster’s Remingtons, you will love Toby Jane’s Michaels sisters, and their children, in the Somewhere Series.

 Visit her on her:

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Velvet Rain

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A Thursday teaser from the Readers Favorite-selected read

By David C. Cassidy

The black car eased left, onto the dark country road that would lead to its destruction.

“I’m telling you,” Christensen said again, tapping his wristwatch. He’d been going on about it for nearly five minutes. “No way it’s nine-thirty.”

Strong glanced up at the rear-view mirror, then brought his focus to bear on the road. He seemed quite put off with the private’s obsession with the current time, even more put off by the ill color of his own bloodshot eyes. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Christensen looked like he might say something about the lieutenant’s skin, which was quite unsightly now, what with its odd blister here and there. He studied it a moment longer, then simply turned and faced the road.

The headlamps cut through the darkness. After a short distance, Strong shut the air vents. “I can’t take this no more. Smells like cow shit, for Chrissake. Fucking hick towns.”

Christensen disagreed as he rolled up his window. “I think it’s more like a dump. Sir.”

Brikker was not surprised at the darkness. What surprised was that foul odor; the hideous transformation of Strong. The man rarely suffered but minor aches and the occasional bout of nausea after a Turn, but how it had affected him in this manner, yet showed not the least in the private, was a puzzle. Perhaps it had something to do with the homosexual gene (of which he was certain existed and could be eradicated in time), but that was only speculation. More likely, the queer was simply one of the fortunate few who suffered no ill effects of the Turn, unlike the vast majority predisposed to certain side effects of the magic. And thus it did not surprise him when he reached up and touched his cheek and found it blistered and worn. He could smell his own blood from the open sores. Could taste it on his lips.

What most surprised—and intrigued—was this strange turn of events. Richards had struggled to summon the magic, had nearly destroyed himself in the process; had nearly destroyed all of them. He could still see the burning bodies in his mind, the fall from human to human waste, terrifying. He could not recall such horror, nor such agony. And from this moment onward, he would remember the agony.

The world was different now; of that he was certain. Perhaps a rebirth of ten minutes had come … perhaps fifteen. Nonetheless, the effects would be far-reaching in every sense: There would be mild chaos and confusion for a radius of several miles. Miles of wasteland, yes, and perhaps that would serve as a saving grace. But what he did not know, could not possibly know, were the full implications of this strangest of Turns. Richards had not only struggled, he had suffered the loss of his greatest strength: control.

Indeed, to grasp Time’s Wheel and draw it back without thought, with no guiding hand … who knew its danger. The Turn itself had been disastrous, and already this new world had taken a darker path. The air reeked of filth; Strong was a fright, as was he. He would heal, surely, his nausea would pass, and his eyesight, of which he had never suffered the least ill, would clear. Yet the question tasked him: What darker surprises awaited?

“Sir.” It was Strong.

“Shit,” Christensen muttered. He was struggling to read the directions on his crumpled notes.

Brikker lowered his window. At least all had not changed.

In the distance, the farmhouse burned.

“That’s the place,” Christensen said. “Jesus.”

In the other direction, far to their right along the road perpendicular to them, Brikker saw a pair of headlamps in the blackness. The vehicle was moving at quite the rate of speed. The bumpkin who would be hero, he thought. Or was it the farm boy?

It mattered little. What mattered was avoiding another collision.

“Slow down,” he snapped.

“Slow down?” Strong asked. “What for?”

“Do it.”

Strong eased up on the gas and brought them under the speed limit.

Brikker nodded to himself as a second pair of lights appeared, perhaps a quarter mile behind the first vehicle. It was closing quickly.

All three vehicles converged toward the intersection. The first, a flatbed, Brikker now discerned, had slowed as it approached. It was still a hundred yards shy.

“Stop,” Brikker said. “Let them pass.”

Strong hesitated, clearly wondering why, but followed the order to the letter. The black car slowed, creeping up on the intersection. It finally stopped, a safe thirty feet from the stop.

And waited.

Velvet Rain

Award-winning author David C. Cassidy takes you on an extraordinary journey into the heart of the human soul, where one man’s incredible story of courage and tragedy will lift you, shock you, stir you—and leave you begging for more. 

Velvet Rain is a rollicking thrill ride, pitting unstoppable power against unstoppable evil. With a nerve-wracking beat that weaves paranormal and horror with a deeply human touch, this is a gripping tale of heartbreak and redemption, terror and torment, with a stunning climax that is simply unforgettable.

HE WAS BORN A MIRACLE.

IT WILL TAKE ONE TO SAVE THE WORLD.

A mysterious drifter, Kain Richards is the last of his kind—and a man on the run. Once a tortured prisoner and pawn in a secret government experiment, his freedom hangs in the balance against the relentless pursuit from Brikker, an obsessed and brutal madman who will stop at nothing to possess him.

Born with the Turn—the godlike power to reverse time—Kain’s ability is constrained inside a “bubble” that alters time within it. The further back he turns, the larger the bubble, the larger the effect—and the greater, stranger, and more dire and unpredictable the consequences, for those within, and beyond, the Turn’s reach.

Kain also possesses the Sense, giving him knowledge of the previous timeline and fuzzy, incomplete glimpses of the future. While the vast majority of the population don’t have the Sense, some do—and Brikker is one of them. And yet, while those who have it aren’t even aware of it, experiencing little more than déjà vu when time has turned, Brikker’s Sense far exceeds Kain’s, and is utterly dangerous. Not only can he remember every detail of a previous timeline, his glimpses into the future are far deeper, far more telling, giving him a deadly advantage. As these glimpses can only occur when time has turned, Kain is the key to Brikker’s twisted plans that tread an unalterable path to a terrifying future of death and destruction.

Knowing full well he must keep to the road, yet worn from the chase and his curse of the Turn, Kain settles into a job as a farmhand, only to fall for a beautiful and sensible Iowa farmwoman. Unable to stay but unwilling to leave, his dark secret sets their lives in peril. His health and his powers failing, only an iron will in an epic final battle will give him the chance to stand against the evil menace that threatens to consume him and the woman he loves—and to save the world from a hellish apocalypse.

Read more about it on the author’s web page.

Get it from

David C. Cassidy

David C. Cassidy, horror and science-fiction

Award-winning author David C. Cassidy is the twisted mind behind several chilling books of horror and suspense. An author, photographer, and graphic designer—and a half-decent juggler—he spends his writing life creating tales of terror where Bad Things Happen To Good People. Raised by wolves, he grew up with a love of nature, music, science, and history, with thrillers and horror novels feeding the dark side of his seriously disturbed imagination. He talks to his characters, talks often, and most times they listen. But the real fun starts when they tell him to take a hike, and they Open That Door anyway. Idiots.

David lives and plays in Ontario, Canada. From Mozart to Vivaldi, classic jazz to classic rock, he feels naked without his iPod. Suffering from MAD—Multiple Activity Disorder—he divides his time between writing and workouts, photography and Photoshop, reading and rollerblading. An avid amateur astronomer, he loves the night sky, chasing the stars with his telescope. Sometimes he eats.

Website   |     Facebook     |     Google+     |     LinkedIn     |     Twitter     |     Instagram

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Fight to Survive

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A Thursday teaser from the bestselling third Eva Driscoll thriller

By Alan McDermott

When Eva recovered consciousness, she tried to raise a hand to her head, but it wouldn’t move. She opened her eyes and saw why. She was strapped in tight and they’d stripped her naked.

She recognized it as part of the process to break her, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Standing before her was the first civilian she’d seen in the building. He was dressed entirely in black, and a cigarette hung from his mouth. He took off his hat and placed it on the worktable, then took a drag and dropped the butt on the floor. As he ground it out with his foot, he looked at Eva with interest.

Despite her nakedness, he didn’t seem to be enjoying the scenery. He looked more like a chess master weighing up his next move.

“Let’s start with names,” he said, a lifetime of smoking making his voice harsh. His English was excellent, more British than American, and with only a slight accent. “I’m Dong. What’s yours?”

Apt name, she thought. “Melanie Carr.”

Dong lit another smoke. “I mean your real name. We sent word to the Americans that we caught their spy, but they claim they don’t know you.”

He betrayed no anger in his voice, which told Eva he was trouble. The calm ones saw torture simply as a means to an end. It wasn’t personal, only a process intended to obtain information. He would inflict as much pain as necessary to get what he wanted and think nothing of it.

“I don’t work for the Americans,” she said.

Dong raised an eyebrow. “You don’t? Then who?”

Eva had spent time working on her story. Now she’d see how it played out.

“A private enterprise.”

He chewed the phrase over. “An interesting idea, but I can’t imagine Bloomingdale’s having much use for missile launch-site information.”

“I don’t know who they are, just that they would pay me well to get Hong out of the country.”

“And to install a virus on our servers, let’s not forget that.”

Eva dipped her head in an admission of guilt.

“So, tell me what you know,” Dong said.

“I met a guy called Johnson and he gave me instructions. That’s it.”

She didn’t hesitate to give up her contact. He’d undoubtedly used a false name and his description would match that of a million people.

Dong looked at her with curiosity, as if deciding whether she was telling the truth. He shucked off his coat and threw it on the bench.

“Sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

He looked at a few of the tools on the table, picking them up and inspecting them before moving on to the next one.

Eva recognized the ploy, designed to instill fear. He was doing a pretty good job of it.

Dong picked up something so small she could barely see it. “It’s amazing how much pain you can produce with such a tiny implement,” he said.

As he drew closer, Eva saw that it was a pin. A simple, metal pushpin like those used to stick papers to corkboards.

She knew exactly where he would use it and tried to curl her fingers into fists, but the straps made it impossible.

Dong hadn’t exaggerated; the pain was excruciating. He put the pin under the nail of her right forefinger and pushed it in a couple of millimeters.

Eva screamed in an attempt to force her body to ignore the pain, but it didn’t work. She screamed again, this time involuntarily, when Dong pushed the pin in a little more and started wiggling it around.

“I have lots more of these,” he said. “Is there anything else you would like to tell me about Johnson, or should I get the rest?”

“That’s all I know,” she sobbed, some of the tears real. Her only hope was to appear human in his eyes and pray she could trigger something in his conscience, even though she’d already recognized the psychopath in him.

“How unfortunate.”

Dong returned to the table and appeared to discard the pin approach. He ran his hand over the assembled tools and settled on a plastic bag.

Panic flooded her, but she concentrated on her breathing. She could hold her breath for more than a minute and twenty seconds, but this and waterboarding had been her worst fears realized during training.

Eva wriggled as best she could when Dong put the bag over her head, and took a deep breath just before he held the open end tight against her neck. She counted to forty, then began thrashing about as if she was starved of oxygen, hoping he would release his grip and allow her respite while he questioned her further.

He didn’t.

One minute ten.

One-twenty.

One-thirty.

Eva sucked in but inhaled nothing but carbon dioxide. The thrashing became real as every molecule in her body screamed for oxygen. Darkness began to cloud the edges of her sight, and it felt as if her head were in a vise, slowly being tightened . . .

Dong let go of her neck and air flooded into the bag. Eva gulped it in, but as she exhaled, he closed the supply once more.

Eva experienced full-blown terror for the first time in her life. She opened her lungs as far as she could, but the bag was now tight over her mouth and nose.

Nothing flashed before her eyes; her brain was too busy receiving signals from every part of her body demanding air. The vise was back, constricting her head and neck like an invisible python.

She didn’t hear the banging on the door, but it got Dong’s attention. He removed the bag from Eva’s head and threw it at the table.

“What?” he shouted.

The door opened. A soldier entered and bowed, then proffered a sheet of paper.

Dong snatched it from his hands and dismissed the soldier, who was eager to leave the room.

Eva was still gulping air. She’d been close to blackout, and didn’t expect the resulting headache to pass any time soon. She knew if Dong tried the same trick again, she would cave and tell him everything. The ESO, the exfil plan, even her bank account numbers.

“It seems fate has other ideas for you,” Dong said to her as he read the letter. “You’re being transferred, and they need you in good health.” He folded the paper in half. “Pity. I would have liked to learn more about this ‘private enterprise.’ Perhaps when they’ve finished with you at the next facility, we’ll be given more time to coax it out of you.”

Without another word he strode to the door and banged on it loudly. It opened, and he instructed the men outside to prepare her for departure.

Eva had no idea what had prompted the halt in proceedings, but she thanked all the gods she could think of for the respite.

One thing was sure: she would rather die than face another session like that.

Fight to Survive

She’s working for her enemies. Or so they think…

Ex-CIA assassin Eva Driscoll has found a new life in Australia and believes she’s outrun the Executive Security Office, the most powerful and secretive organization on the planet. But the ESO has been watching her every move and when they approach her with a high-risk mission in North Korea, Eva is forced to co-operate with the organization she once vowed to destroy.

But releasing a high-ranking defector proves costly, and Driscoll is captured and imprisoned in a secret camp on the Chinese border. What she witnesses there will haunt her forever . . . so she decides to take matters into her own hands. But how long can she keep the ESO thinking she’s working in their interests rather than her own?

When her handlers become suspicious, Eva knows time is not on her side. Can she defeat the evil at the heart of the camp and get out alive—or will this final installment really be her last?

Find it on Amazon.

Alan McDermott, action-thrillers

Alan McDermott

is a husband, father to beautiful twin girls, and a full-time author. Alan lives in the south of England, and in 2014 he swapped writing critical application for the NHS to penning thrillers that have gone on to sell close to a million copies. His debut novel, Gray Justice, was well received and earned him membership of Independent Authors International. That book launched in July 2011, and by the time he’d written the follow-ups, Gray Resurrection and Gray Redemption, it had attracted the attention of a major publisher.

Alan signed with Thomas & Mercer in 2013 and has now written six novels in the Tom Gray series and a spinoff called Trojan. Alan’s eighth novel, Run and Hide, introduced a new female lead, Eva Driscoll, and a new thriller series that includes Seek and Destroy and Fight to Survive.

Alan can be found:

BestSelling Reads author page   |   Amazon Author page   |   Website   |   blog   |    Facebook    |   Twitter

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