One-Eyed Jack

Book 2: Queen of Spades Thrillers

by Kristi Belcamino

Genres: Vigilante Thrillers; International Crime & Mystery; Crime Fiction; Terrorism & Assassination Thrillers

Synopsis

The men, mostly virgins, gather in the darkest corners online, drawn together by a common bond: self-hatred. They hate the way they look. They hate their disastrous sex lives. They hate alpha males

There is only one thing they hate more: women.

Women are the root of all their problems. Women are inferior and deserve to be punished for rejecting them.

Eva Santella, independent, beautiful, confident, represents everything they despise.

So they get together online and feed on each other's rage and disappointment and frustration. And there, in their shadowy forums, they plot revenge.

On a massive scale.

It's been done before and they can do it again.

When Eva tries to stop them, they turn their deadly sights on her.

Release date: September 24, 2019

Publisher: Independently published

Print pages: 186

Content advisory: Prolific use of swear words, particularly the author's favorite - the F bomb. Some sex. Some drugs. Some ass kicking.

Sample

Prologue

 

 

Dear Queen of Spades,

 

(Is that what I should call you? Ma’am. Miss?) Forgive me for not knowing. Please read on anyway. Not to sound like Princess Leia, but you’re my only hope. (Cheesy, I know).

 

But seriously, I don’t know where else to turn. I thought it was harmless talk, but they, well, really, he’s taken it too far. And they all look up to him. Just like ER. When he killed all those people, he became a hero. 

 

Dozens of people are going to die. Maybe hundreds. Our forum was fine when it was just a place to vent and find support and like-minded love-shy guys like me, but then when he joined, it all changed.

 

He’s sick. Like really messed up. And now everybody looks up to him, and he’s going to kill people and then everyone else will think it’s cool and do it too. He’s going to be made a hero, and others are going to want to go and massacre just like him. It’s not only the lives he will take, it’s the movement he will start. He’s really persuasive. And it scares the hell out of me. He’s going to kill people. And it’s going to be bad.

 

I sat back and let it happen. It’s only because I was scared. I’m a coward. The worst kind. I let this hatred grow, and now it’s too late.

 

And the truth is, it’s really all my fault. I saw him on another site, a fan site for Dr. Frank. You probably don’t know who he is, but Dr. Frank is this Chicago doctor who specializes in turning guys like us into Chads. He’s a hero in our world. I saw him on the Dr. Frank site and told him about our site, Incel Nation.

 

He was really charismatic, so I knew he would be good for our site to help it grow. And he did. It now has 150,000 members.

 

But I didn’t know what was in his heart. It’s black. And rotting.

 

He recently started a secret subgroup of top fans. I’m one of them, of course. And he told us about his plans.

 

He’s going ER, but he wants to top it, to kill even more people and in an even more dramatic way.

 

When I started asking too many questions about it, he got weird. He’s suspicious of me. I think he hides some posts on the private group chat from me.

 

I would go to the cops, but I found out we have some Florida cops in our group. That’s where I live. He does too. That’s the only personal information I know about him. He mentioned it on the Dr. Frank forum. How he’d flown from Miami to Chicago to see the doctor.

 

But those cops in our group, they are onboard with his plan. They are egging him on. But I only know their user names.

 

That’s why I can’t go to the cops. I don’t know if I should even say this, but I already tried. I contacted a detective at my local police department. The guy acted kind of weird. He wanted me to come in to talk to him, but I told him I needed to make the report anonymously. I told him I’d gotten wind about a possible mass shooting that had to do with a group of incels. He didn’t ask what incels were which should have been the first tip-off that something was weird. He said he wouldn’t talk to me unless I gave him my name. I told him I’d think about it and hung up.

 

About an hour later, there was a police car in front of my house, cruising by really slowly. The next day when I went to my car, all four tires were slit. It was a warning. I listened.

 

That’s why I’m writing you. I don’t know where else to turn.

 

And I don’t know much. All I know is that it’s going to go down next month—in May—and that it’s going to be in Florida. And that if everything goes the way he plans, hundreds of people are going to die.

 

—The One-Eyed Jack