Flames of Wrath
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Synopsis
A mother’s quest for justice turns into a race against time to stop insidious murders that mysteriously begin populating throughout the city. Fans of Lisa Jewell and Ruth Ware will be enthralled by this emotionally chilling thriller!
The need to right a wrong against an innocent victim triggers a hailstorm of revenge!
In less than twenty-four hours—before Alexia Leighton is scheduled to return to Miami from spring break in Jamaica—a group of friends betray her in a grisly assault that stops a heartbeat away from murder. The seventeen-year-old prays for the mercy of death. She survives. While on the road to recovery, Alexia's attackers become victims of mysterious
acts of violence, leaving authorities confounded and racing against time to prevent another deadly attack. Concern looms, as the perpetrator has proven to be two steps ahead of them at every turn.
When the attention swings to Alexia's mother, a cyber-security expert, the family closes ranks. Geneva Leighton must quickly eliminate herself as a suspect, but not without handing down more punishment. The offenders fear for their own safety and the secrets that plague them. Can they trust the police to find the killer before someone else dies, or has
their fate been sealed—leaving them with no place to run, and no place to hide?
Release date: November 28, 2023
Publisher: Black Odyssey Media
Print pages: 288
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Flames of Wrath
J.L. Campbell
Alexia
Hours earlier …
Alexia eased away from Derek, whose muscular arm tightened around her waist as they grooved to Yung Bleu’s lyrics under the moonlight.
“Come on babe, relax,” the linebacker whispered against her neck as his moves went from casual to sensuous.
“We don’t know each other like that.” She put a few inches between them and pointed at the villa over her shoulder. “And isn’t your girl inside?”
“Chloe isn’t my girl. She’s …”
As a sheepish expression crossed his face, Alexia smirked. “Just a friend, right?”
He shrugged, his stringy brown hair falling into his eyes. “It’s not that serious.”
Howls erupted from the people dancing on the other side of the pool as Mateo fell in, still fully dressed in his Sunday finest. He floundered while they ignored him, dipping and rising with the studio-engineered rhythms. One girl held up a phone as Sancia flirted with the camera and swung her hips in a circle, oblivious to the drama being played out. Her brother, Jonathan—the more sensible of the two Jackman siblings—was nowhere in sight.
“Can someone get him out of there, please?” Alexia cried, breaking away from Derek and taking rapid steps toward where Mateo was now treading water. He’d been drinking, like most of the others, and now threw his head back and howled at the moon.
A muscular blond in a T-shirt stretched a hand along one side of the rectangular pool and Mateo grasped it. Instead of lifting himself out of the water, he let out a burst of laughter and pulled the other guy in with him.
Phil didn’t find being drenched amusing and punched Mateo in the face.
He fell backward and sank like a boulder.
The metal chair legs scraped across the deck, and Deja, a quiet sophomore who Alexia was friends with, rushed to her side. “What on earth?”
“Are you an idiot? Don’t leave him in there like that,” Alexia yelled, trying to be heard over the music.
“Who are you?” Phil asked, scowling. “Holy Mary?”
“No,” she shot back. “But you have me confused with someone who wants to be stuck in a room with a cop because you couldn’t be bothered.”
He stared at her, his pale face expressionless, then turned back to the pool.
Alexia exchanged a glance with Deja, who shook her head as she glared at Phil.
Mateo now floated with his arms spread wide, jabbering to himself. Phil poked him with his sneaker and hauled him up by his garish shirt, dotted with planets in a range of colors. He sputtered and dragged himself to the steps, then crawled out to lie on the lip of the pool where he swore at the sky and laughed at something only he saw.
At the other end of the deck, which stretched around the corner at a right angle, her other friends sat at a table with a glass top. A cluster of fan palms, arranged for privacy, hid them from sight. For a while now, they’d been hunched over their phones, the screens reflecting on their faces. Now and then, they sipped from the fruit punch that someone had laced with what Alexia described as thousand-proof rum. One sip and it would blow a hole through her brain, not to mention her stomach. Earlier, she ditched her cup inside the kitchen.
Backing away, Deja tugged the loose curls at the back of her afro, the way she did when off-center or irritated. “Talk about a total a-hole. I’m out. See you at the airport tomorrow, Lexi.”
“Sure. I won’t be here much longer anyway.” The party had thinned out, and only a handful of people who weren’t staying at the villa were still on property.
Deja marched toward the gate that opened onto the beach, slipped off her sandals, and disappeared onto the sand.
Two girls Alexia had never seen before joined them on the patio. They shouted hellos, then looked around for a place to sit.
Jason, a second-year student at the University of Miami, slid over to them. He’d been on the prowl since they arrived in Jamaica, and though they were scheduled to fly back to Miami in the morning, he hadn’t given up on scoring with any available female. He was good-looking with a bad-boy vibe—tall with jet-black, tousled hair and intense eyes—but desperation made him unattractive.
The slim brunette tipped her head back and glared at him, as though offended by what he’d said.
Over his shoulder, Jason scowled as he said, “Just so you know, I’ve got some good stuff.”
“What you got?” Phil asked, pulling off his wet shirt and throwing it on a lounge chair.
Lowering his voice, Jason shared details Alexia didn’t hear while removing an item from his pocket. The two leaned closer as they chuckled.
Derek had settled next to two young women who were giggling in the spacious living room. One was Chloe, a cheerleader with jet-black hair that extended to her waist. The other, Mia, had an olive complexion and sipped from a plastic cup between laughing and staring at her phone. When Chloe climbed into Derek’s lap and his hand slid under her tank top, Alexia figured it was time to leave.
She’d been there for several hours and didn’t see a reason to stay. Her boyfriend, Chad, hadn’t been able to make the trip because of work, so she was on her own. She wasn’t staying at the villa, but had borrowed her grandmother’s car to attend the party.
If Jason and Phil knocked heads, the party could go in a direction she didn’t like. Heading toward her friends, she moved past them.
Jason grabbed her arm. “Where you going?”
“To the other deck where my friends are sitting, then home,” she said, prying her arm from his grip.
“You’re too pretty to be such a nerd.” Jason held on tighter. “Why not stay and have some of this good stuff?”
“Thanks, but I’ll get along without it,” she said, twisting her arm. She’d never put anything harmful inside her body, except liquor. Truthfully, she’d had more than enough in the time they’d been on vacation. Plus, she was driving. On top of that, her mother would kill her if she wrecked her grandmother’s car.
He didn’t release her. Instead, his thick fingers cut off her circulation. “Hey, what’s your hurry?”
“My man’s waiting,” she lied.
“Awww, come on now.” Phil wriggled his eyebrows. “Be nice.”
“I won’t be for much longer, if your friend doesn’t let go of me.”
Jason sniffed, then leered at her. “I bet you’d loosen up a little if you stayed a while longer.”
An image of them forcing whatever poison they wanted to share down her throat made Alexia’s desire to leave more urgent. Stranger things had happened on these spring break jaunts, and she didn’t want to be a story or a statistic.
The new visitors wandered over to investigate, shaky on their feet and wearing brilliant smiles.
“We heard you talking.” The petite female with an hourglass shape and curly hair looked at Jason as if daring him to deny it. “What d’you have going on?”
“A little peyote over here.” Jason held up two transparent bags and grinned. “And some ecstasy on this side.”
“That does not sound like a good idea,” Alexia said, rubbing her chafed wrist when Jason finally released her.
“You were just leaving, remember, narc? This has nothing to do with you,” he spat.
“You’re right about that.” She stood straight and was about to tell him what she thought of him for manhandling her when Nisha walked into her line of sight.
“What are you guys arguing about?” Her words carried a slight slur, and her brown eyes were out of focus.
Alexia grabbed her arm. “How much of that rum punch have you had?”
“Nunya.” Nisha laughed at her joke and jerked her arm, which knocked Alexia off balance.
She grabbed Jason’s shirt to steady herself and the packet of white power landed in the pool. The bag containing the pink, blue, and green pills fell at her feet and she stepped on them, the heel of her shoe crunching the bag into the concrete.
“You little bitch.” Jason advanced on her and shoved her in the chest. “You did that on purpose.”
Struggling to stay upright, Alexia slapped him on the arm and shouted, “It was an accident.”
His face twisted and spittle flew from his mouth. “Accident, my ass.”
Jason prodded her a second time, and she stumbled. “If you touch me again—”
“Hey! Watch what you’re doing.” A shrill voice hit her ear, and someone pushed her toward Jason, who punched her in the belly. She bent over, retching. The contents of her stomach spewed over the feet of the female who stood closest to her, and she screamed obscenities at Alexia, who was still heaving.
“That’s it,” Jason hollered. “Time to take out the trash.”
A sharp jab to the spine sent Alexia crashing to the cement. As the skin of her knees scraped across the hard surface, a blow to the ribs put her flat on her back. The air rushed out of her lungs, and she couldn’t seem to catch another. A shower of blows rained on her, and she instinctively curled into a fetal position.
When a rough hand sank into her thick hair, Alexia screamed and clawed at the person’s skin. Clumps of strands separated from the follicles as she was pulled toward the yard. She bumped down the two steps that led to the mowed grass, kicking and screaming. Her hip and thighs struck the edges of the treads, numbing them instantly. Someone stomped on her knee and she was sure it was either dislocated or shattered. The battering continued from every direction as she jerked and twitched. Then bitter liquid spewed from her lips. Seconds later, she lost consciousness.
“What the heck?”
A warm hand touched her cheek, and a man hovered next to her.
“Why don’t you do what you really want to do?” A mocking female voice came from behind him. “What you’ve been dying to do?”
“What are you talking about?”
The voices faded, and the couple argued while Alexia tried to make sense of what was happening. She knew these people. Christian. Sancia. Need your help.
A light breeze wafted over her thighs, and she moaned as someone moved her from side to side, shifting her clothing and amplifying her pain. A weight settled on top of her. She shifted but couldn’t make it go away. Alexia pulled in a breath to protest, but no sound came from her throat. The crushing sensation brought her pain sensors back to life. Agony, like nothing she’d experienced before, shafted through her lower body and between her thighs. The darkness claimed her once more.
After a while, a cool draft of air replaced the unwelcome pressure.
A sharp object poked Alexia’s side, then the female said, “You’re not all that anymore, huh? Let’s see how you like this.”
A white-hot line marked Alexia’s forehead, leaving fire in its path, and she fainted.
Chapter Two
Geneva
The snakelike tubes ran everywhere. Unlike real serpents, these plastic hoses sustained life. They kept Alexia in the land of the living. The IV lines delivered medication and sedatives her baby couldn’t do without.
Geneva Leighton struggled to inhale without sobbing. The tightness in her chest put her close to hyperventilating. The drainage tube protruding from a dime-sized hole at the front of Alexia’s head triggered her gag reflex. Then, there were the casts on her arms. She counted slowly to five, then forced her feet forward to the angled hospital bed.
Her flight from Miami to the island was smooth but passed in a blur. Her mind had been consumed with nightmarish images. What would she find when she stepped inside the hospital where Alexia had been admitted? Could she handle everything else that needed to be done while they made arrangements to bring her home?
Geneva brought a hand to her mouth and blinked tears away to focus on her daughter. Everything else was secondary.
The doctor and nurse on the far side of the bed watched silently, their gazes filled with sympathy.
Alexia’s eyes were half open, but she wasn’t conscious. The doctor had explained a moment ago that Alexia was in an induced coma to stabilize her system. Aside from head trauma, she suffered broken bones, a dislocated knee, and a long list of internal injuries. Only God knew what brain function she’d have when they woke her up, and whether she’d be able to breathe without the ventilator. The neck brace was another source of worry. The doctor didn’t think she’d have permanent spinal damage, but they couldn’t be sure.
A slash, closed by neat stitches, marred her forehead. Vivid red trails leaked across the white of one sunken eye, and the area around Alexia’s cheek was bruised and swollen. Her smooth, reddish-brown skin was otherwise unmarked. Alexia’s nails were broken, which brought Geneva a tinge of satisfaction. My baby fought back.
“What happened to her face?” Geneva’s voice was loud in the small room.
“Her cheekbone and the lower part of her eye socket were fractured. We did a closed reduction to reset …”
His voice faded against the nightmarish reality Geneva faced. What kind of animals would do this to a friend? What could Alexia have done to deserve this beatdown? The little Geneva’s mother knew about what was supposed to be a farewell party in no way equated to the ravages visited on Alexia.
With a gentle touch, she stroked Alexia’s cheek. “Will she be able to see?”
The light glinted across Dr. Harewood’s glasses as he nodded. “Her vision may be blurred for a while but should return to normal.”
She sank in the chair next to the bed, her mind a hive of jumbled thoughts. The questions tumbled over each other, demanding to be asked. For now, only one was critical.
“How soon can we fly her back to Miami?”
The hunched doctor with pale skin glanced at the nurse, then said, “As things stand, that’s not a good idea. To be on the safe side, I’d give it a week or more before moving her, especially since she’s had several seizures. That will allow us to stabilize her.”
“So, the breathing tube …?”
“Part of that process.”
Geneva’s gaze drifted back to the bed. “This is a lot to absorb.”
“I understand.” He bobbed his balding head.
Frowning, Geneva asked. “Was anyone else brought in with similar injuries or from the same location?”
Eyes narrowed, the doctor shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Thank you. My mother is waiting to see her, so I’ll allow her to come in.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
Geneva held up one hand. “I know, only one person at a time. Can I come back in after she sees her?”
“Of course.”
She discarded the gown, gloves, and mask, then left the room behind the doctor, who faced her outside the door. “We’re doing everything we can for her, Mrs. Leighton.”
Looking him dead in the eyes, she asked, “What would you say are her chances of survival, in terms of percentages?”
He lowered his head, then cleared his throat. “At this point, somewhere between five and ten. Her injuries …”
Geneva stopped listening.
Dr. Harewood was duty-bound to convey what he saw as the facts laid out on the bed inside that room. She didn’t have to accept them.
This was her child he was talking about. Alexia had always been a fighter. She’d arrived at twenty-four weeks, after everything the doctors did to keep her in the womb. Barely a pound, she’d hung on and improved steadily, having been given only a 40 percent chance to live.
Despite this heartbreaking situation, they’d work through it. Somehow.
At the sight of the familiar slender figure of her mother, Geneva said, “Thanks again” to the doctor.
He used a finger to slide his glasses back into place, gave her a sympathetic smile, and then walked away.
“Can I go inside?” Lorna Wright’s shaking voice and trembling lips reminded Geneva that their lives had raced off the tracks in a way that made no sense. Nothing about this situation did.
“Yes, sanitize, suit up, and you’re good to go. The nurse is still with her.” Pointing down the hall, she added, “I have to call Spence.”
Geneva sat and pulled out her phone, which she’d silenced earlier. When she swiped the screen, she found that her husband, Spencer, had called several times. She dialed his number, and he picked up immediately. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”
“Why d’you think?” she ground out through her teeth. “I’ve been with our daughter.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighed, then continued, “I’ve just been worried and trying to check in.”
“She’s the same as when you left.” She stared at her manicured toes as she said, “I take it your meeting is over.”
“I’m on the way back to MoBay now.”
Geneva rubbed her grainy eyes as an awkward silence filled the airwaves. “Um, I had planned to visit the police station this afternoon to—”
“Let’s do it together. I haven’t gone because of…well, everything.”
Her shoulders sagged and she leaned against the seat. She’d been worried about another argument. She didn’t have the energy to spare. These days, everything in their marriage was a battle. He’d told her the police had been called to the hospital after Alexia’s arrival because of her condition. Spence hadn’t caught them before they left, and his efforts to contact them had been fruitless. The one good thing he’d done was to have Alexia moved to this private facility. He’d already been on the island because of business, which was what consumed the majority of his life. His role as the CEO of a Caribbean-focused shipping company meant frequent trips across the region.
Your daughter is near death, yet you went to a business meeting fifty miles away.
“Okay. See you when you get here.”
She was about to hang up when he said, “Jen, are you okay?”
After biting her lip to steady her voice, she changed the lie she’d been about to tell and gave him the truth instead. “No, I’m not.”
“Stupid question. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
On her way back to the intensive care unit, the charge nurse met her at the door. “I’ll let your mother know you’re back.”
“I appreciate that. Thanks.”
By the time Geneva sanitized her hands, her mother emerged from the room. She hugged the slight woman, who stood a head shorter, and stepped back. “Go home and get some rest. When Spence gets here, we have to leave for a bit. I’ll call you before he comes.”
“If you’re sure.” Her slumped shoulders and lined face reflected exhaustion, but Lorna wouldn’t admit it, no matter what. She was that stubborn.
“What did Marlena say Alexia told her about the group at the villa?” Geneva asked, in reference to her mother-in-law. Alexia had spent the last few days with her paternal grandmother, who lived in Ironshore, where the party had been held.
“She told her the group was flying out today.”
Her stomach clenched and Geneva wanted to be anywhere but in the hospital watching her child die. She corrected that thought—despite Alexia’s condition, she would not give in. Without another word, Geneva pulled on the necessary gear and stepped into the room. This time, her reaction was different. She was devastated, but she’d be darned if she accepted Alexia’s lot based on the current situation.
For several minutes, she stroked the back of Alexia’s hand, preoccupied with various scenes from her childhood. The latest triumph had been her joy at making it into the university early. This trip to Jamaica was supposed to be a celebration. Now, it had turned to ashes.
Leaning close, Geneva spoke next to Alexia’s ear. “Lexi, I don’t know if you can hear me, but Mommy and Daddy love you. And whatever it takes, we’re going to make these people pay for hurting you.”
Chapter Three
Deja
She came face to face with Christian Skyers outside the tiny bathroom at the back of the airplane’s cabin.
“Hey.” His juicy lips curled in a fake smile, but he didn’t know who she was. Not really. He probably didn’t have a clue about her name. A superstar like him, who was at the top of the food chain, had no time for someone who didn’t deserve his attention. That would definitely include her, but it didn’t stop her from responding, “Hey, yourself.”
She’d known him for years, since they lived in the same city. They had also attended the same schools, but she’d never been considered good enough to be in the popular crowd. She hovered on the fringes. A part of the scenery, but never calling attention to herself, or doing anything to stand out. Being in the limelight had caused her more grief than anything else.
Christian was the opposite—so entitled, he was a cliché. Talented, good-looking, self-centered; the typical football jock. The qualities that set him apart were his intelligence and the lack of a working conscience. His major at the University of Miami was accounting and finance. While he’d been playing football since high school, Christian had no real ambition to compete professionally. His heart was set on taking . . .
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