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Book 2: Nick of Time

by John Gilstrap

Genres: Action & Adventure; Crime Fiction; Suspense

Synopsis

Part Four of the Suspenseful Five-Part E-Serial Novel! WIN, LOSE, OR DIE In the fourth electrifying installment of John Gilstrap’s five-part novel, a desperate manhunt for two reckless lovers takes a dangerous turn—heading straight for a dead end . . . Nicki Janssen is no longer the innocent little girl her father thinks she is. She’s a wanted criminal on the run—with a convicted killer she thought she could trust . . . Brad Ward knows he can’t outrun the cops forever. But it’s too late to stop now. With Nicki’s life and health at risk, he’s got no time to waste—and nothing left to lose . . . Speeding away from the scene of a brutal robbery-murder, the lovers manage to stay one step ahead of the law. Nicki’s father, Carter Janssen, teams up with Deputy Sheriff Darla Sweet to follow their trail across North Carolina. But when Alex and Nicki hijack a car—and take two hostages with them—all bets are off. All stakes are raised. And all roads lead straight to danger . . . “Grabs hold of you on page one and doesn’t let go.”—Harlan Coben “Gilstrap as a master of jaw-dropping action and heart-squeezing suspense.”—Austin Camacho “If you like Vince Flynn and Brad Thor, you’ll love John Gilstrap.”—Gayle Lynds “Gilstrap is one of the finest thriller writers on the planet.”—Tess Gerritsen Includes a preview chapter from John Gilstrap’s next thriller, Friendly Fire

Release date: April 12, 2016

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 91

Sample

Surf’s Up Amusements was a terrible place to be under any circumstances, but in these off-season days it was particularly creepy—a playground for rats that doubled as a den of iniquity for druggies and horny teenagers. To be arrested in a place like this had to be particularly humiliating.

Jeremy Hines grew old before Darla’s eyes, and as the minutes ticked by, she felt guilty that she hadn’t looked the other way and saved these kids the humiliation that was barreling toward them. She’d turned her back on the opportunity to do a good deed.

Even Peter-the-mouth had settled down.

To make her point as vividly as possible, she’d cuffed them both, hands behind their backs. They sat in the sand with their legs folded, and the effects of the pot had dwindled to nearly nothing.

Peter cleared his throat to get Darla’s attention. “I guess it’s too late to apologize?”

She pruned up her face and gave a sarcastic nod. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I notice you didn’t tell the sheriff why you wanted him here.”

“And I notice that you really don’t know how to keep your lip zipped.”

“How about if I tell you that this is Numb Nuts’s first time doing weed?” Peter asked.

“Don’t,” Jeremy commanded.

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Darla tried to see Jeremy’s eyes, but he was busy studying his ankles. His pharmaceutical virginity seemed to be a source of embarrassment.

“Why today, then?” Darla asked.

Peter answered, “I talked him into it.” He clearly knew that Darla didn’t believe a word, so he added, “Him and his old man are at war, okay?”

“Shut up, Peter!” The vehemence of Jeremy’s outburst convinced Darla that Peter was dancing perilously close to the truth.

“No, you shut up,” Peter fired back. Then, to Darla, “Look, I’m the bad influence, okay? I’m the druggie. The homeless guy. The perpetual screwup. I figured that he needed a little weed, and I needed a little cover. This arrest’d be my third and a felony, and I figured there was no way they could lock me up and let him go, you know? Hell, the chances of getting caught in the first place are like, what? Nothing in a million? And I thought it was zero that you’d cut paper on the sheriff’s kid.”

“So you were using him,” Darla concluded.

“We use each other. I take him places where he’d be afraid to go on his own.”

“You better keep me cuffed, Deputy,” Jeremy growled. “When you let me go, I’m gonna kill this asshole.”

Peter laughed, but somehow he did it in a way that was free of derision. “He says that a lot. Fact is, he can’t afford to kill me.”

“How’s that?” Darla asked.

“His scholarship. He’s off to UNC next year on a baseball scholarship. Room, board, everything. That kind of shit goes on his record—or a drug conviction goes on his record—and he’ll be cleaning condos next year instead.”

One look at Jeremy told Darla that she was hearing fact. “So, why do you do this?” she asked. “Why would you take the chance?”

“Ask Peter,” Jeremy mumbled. “He knows all the answers.”

“I want to hear from you.” When Jeremy still wouldn’t answer, she turned back to Peter.

“He hates baseball,” Peter said.

Darla didn’t get it. “So, why—”

“He doesn’t hate his teeth. Or his bones. All of which Sheriff Daddy is going to break when he gets here.”

Darla tried to figure out the dynamic that was unfolding here. She couldn’t tell if Peter was trying to be Jeremy’s friend, or if he was just goading him on. Certainly, he seemed dialed in to the other boy’s secrets. For his part, all Jeremy did was turn red.

Her portable radio broke squelch. “Unit six-oh-one’s out at the Surf’s Up.” It was Sheriff Hines, and within seconds, Darla heard the sound of his tires crunching gravel. She turned to see the sheriff’s specially outfitted Suburban pulling to a stop. A glance toward Jeremy made her wonder if the young man might pee in his pants.

Frank Hines had been sheriff of Essex County, North Carolina, for twenty-three years, and he carried himself with the arrogant grace of someone who not only enforced the law, but owned it as well. Not especially tall, he was nonetheless a big man, stocky and powerful. He wore his khaki uniform a bit too tight, highlighting a prominent gut that looked solid as stone. She could tell at a glance that he was angry.

“Deputy Sweet,” he said, “in the future, when I ask you what a visit is in regard to, you by Jesus better answer up and tell me.” His voice sounded half an octave too high for the size of his body.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I thought that discretion might be the order of the day on this one.”

Hines’s scowl transformed from a mask of curiosity to one of furor. He saw his son on the ground in the classic pose of a perp under arrest, and then shifted his white-hot eyes to his deputy. “Speak,” he said.

“They were doing drugs.” Darla said the words as quickly as possible, with the intent of knocking the sheriff off balance. “Smoking weed. That one over there started running his mouth, and here we are.”

Sheriff Frank Hines worked his jaw muscles hard. His gaze shifted to Peter Banks, whose face showed only contempt. There was history here that Darla didn’t comprehend, but clearly the animosity ran deep between these two.

Without a word, Sheriff Hines moved toward Peter. As he closed to within two feet, he unleashed a brutal kick to the boy’s thigh. Peter howled and rolled to his side, struggling, with his hands tethered behind him, to rise to his feet. A second kick had to break some ribs.

“Jesus, Sheriff!” Darla shouted. Jeremy winced at the sight and looked away.

“Stay outta this, Deputy,” Hines growled. Then, to Peter: “I thought I told you to stay the hell away from my boy.” A third kick was more like a shove with the sole of his shoe. Peter landed on his face, then curled up in a protective ball, sputtering and choking in search of a breath.

The sheriff turned to his son. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jeremy looked away.

“Talk to me, boy, before I break every tooth in your head.”

Darla stepped forward, tried to get between them. “Come on, Sheriff, let’s not—”

Hines froze her in her tracks with a forefinger aimed at her nose. His thumb was up, forming what looked like a pretend gun. “You’ve done your job,” he said. “I can take it from here. This is a family affair.”

Hines lifted his son by the hair, pulling him to his feet. Jeremy had to move quickly to keep his scalp from being torn from his skull.

“I asked you a question, boy. What the hell were you thinking, doing drugs in my county?”

“I wasn’t thinking at all, sir.”. . .