Chief Howard ignored her question. “The Sixers program is top secret. Beyond this room, Detective Harris is just like every other officer on the force. It leaks out and we have a media circus on our hands. I think you’d agree, Detective Dare, it’s damn difficult to effectively do your job in that kind of environment.”
Micki considered the ramifications. Difficult wouldn’t begin to cover it. Fricking impossible was more like it. “What about Carmine?”
“Promotion. Cold case squad.”
“Let me get this straight. Carmine’s promoted. But instead of replacing him with someone from within, you’ve imported this Harris dude. Who, by the way, may or may not be able to use a firearm, and I’m supposed to protect.”
“Correct.”
She shook her head. “There’re going to be some mighty pissed-off folks. Off the top of my head, I can name a half dozen deserving candidates in the Eighth alone.”
“That’s not your concern.”
“With all due respect, Chief Howard, this blows.”
A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Welcome to the Sixers program, Detective Dare. We’ll give you an hour to familiarize yourself with your role. The real party starts then.”
“The real party?”
“When your Sixer arrives.” He stood. “Congratulations. The future begins now.”
About Erica Spindler
Erica Spindler is the New York Times and International Chart bestselling author of thirty-two novels and three eNovellas. Published in twenty-five countries, she has been called the “The Master of Addictive Suspense” and “Queen of the romantic thriller.”
A Romance Writers of America Honor Roll member, she received a Kiss of Death Award for her novels FORBIDDEN FRUIT and SEE JANE DIE, she won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for excellence for her novel BONE COLD, and is a four-time RITA? Award finalist. In 1999, Publishers Weekly awarded the audio version of her novel SHOCKING PINK a Listen-Up Award, naming it one of the best audio mystery books of 1998. Her newest romantic thriller, THE FIRST WIFE, is out now.
RANDOM ACTS is the prequel to Erica’s exciting new series The Lightkeepers. The first book in the series, THE FINAL SEVEN, debuts February, 2016.
Erica lives just outside of New Orleans with her husband, son, and Roxie, the wonder retriever.
For more information about, or to buy Erica’s books visit: http://www.ericaspindler.com/bookshelf/?page=bookshelf
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Without Malice
A Thriller-Suspense Novel
by Jo Robertson
Without Malice
Copyright 2015 Jo Robertson
McKay Lewis Publishers
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all people who suffer from diabetes, including my wonderful son-in-law, Michael D. Love you, Mikey!
Chapter 1
Rosedale, California, Present Day
Parole Officer Santiago Cruz pulled a tee shirt over his head and adjusted his shoulder holster. A bagel clamped between his teeth, he slipped his feet into dependable size-twelve work shoes and laced them tightly.
In the small kitchen area he gulped down the last of his coffee and looked around the studio apartment, thinking for the hundredth time that he needed to get friendlier living quarters. For a six-foot four-inch former college quarterback, he felt like he was living in a box most of the time.
Cruz was tall, large, and dark – mixed race – white on his mother’s side, Native American and Mexican on his father’s side. His familiarity with street Spanish was probably why the Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation had hired him in the first place.
He patted himself down. Cuffs, keys, clipboard, jacket – check.
Another shift of chasing down his parolees, most of whom hung out at the weathered shelter Jesus Saves on Sheldon Avenue in Rosedale. This morning his first appointment – he grinned at the loose term for a meet with a parolee, his teeth flashing white in his bronzed face – was with parolee Dickey Hinchey.
Not only had Dickey missed his last check-in time, but he’d failed his pee test the week before. Dickey was about to be returned to jail.
Some people never learned, and Cruz was betting this guy was one of them.
He parked his jeep by the left side of the convenience store which fronted the shelter. Catching the parolee unaware was always a good tactic. They had a tendency to run, and although the injury that’d ended Cruz’s football career was a torn rotator cuff, he hated the running.
It was the principle of the thing. Running down ex-cons was embarrassing for a man his size. Like a huge tabby toying with a mouse.
He strolled into the convenience store, glanced around, and lingered over the coffee dispenser. Syed, the East Indian owner of the store, nodded courteously to Cruz, grateful for the presence of an officer of the law in the dicey neighborhood.
Ten seconds later all hell broke loose.