It begins with Red. Run, Red. Run!
In search of redemption from his sordid past, FBI Special Agent Alex Bailey takes on a new partner, Katherine Mitchel… and a new secret mission.
Before being assigned their first joint case, Katherine uncovers damning evidence against a major crime ring known as The Syndicate. The group controls key members of the D.C. Metropolitan Area Police, the U.S. Congress, even the FBI, and they will stop at nothing to protect their interests. With her life on the line, Katherine is forced to put her faith in Alex as she flees from Washington D.C. and enters the Witness Protection Program.
Yet there’s no hiding from The Syndicate.
In the most dangerous investigation of his career, Alex must decide how far he is willing to go to keep Katherine safe, and to stop The Syndicate.
Genre: FICTION / ThrillersThis is a relatively new book, not yet promoted widely, but that is coming in September in advance of the October release of the 2nd book in this 3-book series. We are also currently producing an audiobook version. The author has a broad online following already, and our marketing efforts have been geared at building her newsletter subscription base, along with her following at Amazon and BookBub, among others. She also co-writes romance novels with Melissa Storm, author and professional marketer.
I want to scream, to fill the room with my anguish, but for her sake I don’t. She wouldn’t want me to make a scene. Instead, I sit in the back of the room, away from the other mourners, in an ill-fitting black dress that I borrowed at the last minute. I’ve never been a details person, so when my best friend told me she was dying I didn’t think to plan out what to wear for her funeral.
I still can’t believe this is really happening. She doesn’t belong here in this dark cave. I want to pick up her lifeless body and animate her into the woman she’d been, but would never be again.
For as long as I had known her, she had worn the millstone of grief around her neck like a family heirloom. Loss was all she knew. We were alike that way, except that she accepted it and kept going, rather than rage against her fate or lament it as I do.
“Life is too short, Ellie,” she would say. “Choose joy all day, every day.”
Fate brought her into my life when I needed a friend the most, and her love and support saved me from myself. She, and the glimmer of hope she had brought out in me, became the very foundation I stood upon.
Now, without her, I feel as though I might crumble and fall back into the abyss. Why am I still here? Why is she gone? I’m left behind, again, alone with my grief and painful memories.
Maybe I should start smoking. I think about it often these days, but no one takes up cigarettes in their late 40’s. Out of habit, I check the time on my phone—the service was supposed to have started twenty minutes ago. People are sitting in groups quietly chatting, remembering, some of them familiar but the majority of them strangers.
She’d been a vivid storyteller, prodigious with her correspondences after I moved away and our regular sessions stopped. She had lived a life filled with one tragedy after another.
