Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) by Mapes Creston

Author:Mapes, Creston [Mapes, Creston]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Christian fiction, action, thriller
Publisher: Green E-Books
Published: 2012-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

With a tall mocha in hand, Karen made her way to the center of the airport hub. She chose a chair that faced the huge flight schedule board that would keep her abreast of any further changes in her parents’ flight, now due to arrive at 2:36 p.m.

The rich coffee warmed Karen. She shed her denim coat and watched the people go by. Many, it appeared, carried burdens as heavy as their winter jackets and suitcases—solemn-faced, not saying hello or even making eye contact. They were fixed on their destinations, on their own little worlds. Others seemed completely tuned out to humanity, thanks to their laptops, cell phones, and iPods. What a wonderful thing technology had done for mankind.

Seeing a pretty brunette with a bandage on her forehead in the bookstore across the way sent Karen back to the night Eddie had shown up at Twin Streams with his wounds.

Oh, Lord, help my love for people not to grow cold. I can feel it happening. I’m frustrated with Eddie and Sheila, their immaturity. I’m tempted to hate Tony Badino, Wesley—whoever killed Millie. So many are owned by Satan, blinded by him. Let me have Your compassion. Live in me. Let me love them like You do.

Her eyes caught the gaze of a young man in a long black trench coat. He, too, was in the bookstore about twenty-five feet from her, holding open an issue of Hot Rod but staring directly at her. His brazen gaze scorched her face. She buried her attention in her purse and began digging around in it, as if she were searching for something.

You’re just paranoid.

She made up her mind to take another glimpse. His eyes still locked on hers like a warhead on its target. He had small, taut features and a tough yet boyish face. She took inventory of his attire—faded jeans torn at the knee, brown work boots, gray ski cap, and several layers of shirts beneath the long coat.

Digging once again in her bag, she pulled out her cell phone, opened it, and pretended to push buttons. Putting the phone to her ear, she glanced up again.

He was gone. Nowhere in sight.

With slightly trembling hands, she sipped the cooling mocha and searched the flight board again. Still 2:36.

“Dat?” A tiny girl with shiny brown hair appeared, holding up an index finger and pointing to Karen’s cup. “Dat?”

“That’s coffee.” Karen turned the cup toward the girl, who wore a light pink winter coat with white fur around the hood.

“Coffee?”

Karen met the proud green eyes of the girl’s smiling young mother perched on the edge of her seat, her arms half-outstretched. “She’s just starting to walk,” said the redheaded father, standing behind the mother’s chair, wearing an equally proud grin.

“How are you today?” Karen spoke to the girl in a singsong tone while simultaneously inspecting the area for black trench coats.

“Ta-ti.” The little girl nodded repeatedly. “Ta-ti.”

How adorable.

“Ta-ti is grandma,” the woman interpreted. “Grandma and Grandpa are coming for Christmas, and her birthday.”

“Ah,” Karen said in a tone that got the girl’s attention.

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