Swerve
Michelle McGriff
SWERVE
…an unexpected turn of events.
By Michelle McGriff
Acknowledgments
Writing is an action word. As writers, we should be constantly moving, advancing, growing. As a growing writer, stretching is what we do best. We reach out past comfort zones and commercial norms to find new and exciting stories to deliver to readers. In doing that, we only hope that our readers are ready to receive, what we feel, is a gift to them.
Swerve is such a gift. It’s new and fresh and hopefully leading to a new turn in my writing. Throwing together my love of edgy romance (meaning: on the edge of not being romantic, haha) with a little suspense, I have now added a bit more “outside the norm” topics. I am by no means crossing into the paranormal genre with the story. I would say that it’s closer to fantasy or sci–fi. Yet, it’s got a realistic story line with characters who show up from my previous works. This story again attempts to answer my ongoing writing question: “What if?”
In order to see this story to completion, I again called on my friends for support, and I would like to thank them here. I would like to thank national bestselling author Shelia M. Goss for always being there for support and sisterly love. It’s your insomnia that has kept me going strong, even across the time zones. To new author Jennifer Coissiere, for sharing her excitement over the process with me. It’s new writers like this who keep me reminded of why I’m doing this. It’s for the love.
Speaking of love, I want to always thank those I love: my friends, my family, and the one man who is all that rolled up into one. He is my muse, my counterpart, and the smile I wear each day. I’d say he’s what keeps me writing but that wouldn’t be true. Maxine Thompson keeps me writing. Thank you for cracking the whip! Thank you, Carl Weber, for publishing my books; I hope you continue to grow as a company so that we can continue to grow our audience. Thank you, Natalie Weber, for your choice in editors; my books never looked and read so good.
Thank you all. Now, please, enjoy this story, and don’t forget to let me know what you think.
Contact me: [email protected].
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Prologue
One of Sicily’s finest hotels
People are only late to places they don’t want to be. Wherever you are, you should want to be there, or why bother to go?
His name was Stone and, despite the coolness resonating from his name, he was passionate about everything he wanted to do. As he glanced at his watch, he saw again that he was not late.
The pretty front-desk clerk caught his eye as he passed under metal detectors. In the main lobby, the discreet metal detectors scanned visitors as they walked underneath them. This wasn’t common knowledge, but he was ready for it. Smiling at her, he gave her a slight wink.
“Have a good day, sir,” she said in Italian, her soft, sweet voice stroking his ear like silk. He returned the well wish in Italian, giving her a seductive nod, which she accepted with an even wider grin.
Passing the hotel’s restaurant, he noticed tables in the stone-walled dining rooms set for the second meal of the day. Crystal wine glasses reflected the sparkle of the candlelight. He could smell the homemade breads, including the familiar scent of his favorite bread. It was made with carob flour. He could only imagine it perfected with a deliciously fresh ricotta mousse. His salivary glands went instantly into overdrive. He couldn’t wait to take care of Tripoli so he could get back down here for lunch.
Antonio was a crooked mobster. Everyone in Italy knew that Antonio Tripoli could not be trusted. He did not follow the mantra of “honor among thieves.” He played both sides of the law—badly. Why his government hadn’t “taken care” of him was a mystery.
The Phoenix wasn’t one to wait on the government to do anything, let alone take care of something. He’d found someone willing to pay him to do the job—right now. Moreover, Phoenix wasn’t particular about which side of the law wanted the job done, as long as the bid was high enough.
The Phoenix was their leader. Stone was simply his right-hand man. Never questioning his command, Stone led a small team of elite and talented assassins to do the Phoenix’s bidding. This job was set for three o’clock Euro time. It was now 2:59 P.M. According to the Phoenix, being late was unacceptable when doing something you wanted to do.
Of course, Stone wasn’t sure anymore if doing this was what he wanted. Not anymore.
His name, Stone, was one he lived up to, even at the young age of nineteen. He was fearless.
And why not?
What is there to be afraid of?
Dying?
The thoughts brought a crooked grin to his handsome face as he approached the hallway. There he read the directory, seeing which one of the four elevators would take him to the private floor that housed the penthouse. He could have guessed, but stopping here made him appear touristy. Blending in was important when getting ready to assassinate someone.
In reality, the killing of Antonio Tripoli was not to take place here.