The Shelby Alexander Thriller Series by Craig A. Hart

Author:Craig A. Hart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Craig A. Hart

Serenity Avenged

A Shelby Alexander Thriller

1

Jimmy Holstine snapped awake. He sat bolt upright, his heart pounding so hard he expected it to burst from his chest. Blood roared in his ears, sounding like the ocean surf, but less relaxing. His eyes widened as he struggled to see in the darkness. Light sifted through the blinds from the street lamp on the corner, but not enough to give definition to objects in the room. Then again, he knew everything there. He scanned the perimeter, searching for anything he didn’t recognize.

First stood his dresser, piled high with clothes—some clean, some not. There were more clothes on top of the dresser than inside the drawers, but Jimmy didn’t see the point of folding and storing clothing when he knew he would yank it out of the drawer within a day or two.

To the right of the dresser was his guitar and new amp. He'd used the amp only twice. It was mostly hidden by its own pile of shirts and dingy jeans. He’d purchased it, far beyond his usual means, after a good month with Darkmore. Many times since, he’d wished he could sell it. He’d tried to twice, but these weren’t good times for selling things like pricey amplifiers, and pawnshops would only offer a fraction of its worth. So it sat, gathering dust and laundry, while he ran himself ragged for a boss he was growing to both fear and despise.

Next to the amp was the closet door, slightly open. Jimmy thought he remembered leaving it that way. Or had he? He stared, trying to penetrate the solid blackness of the closet’s interior, but saw nothing. If someone waited there, watching, they were safe from his probing eyes.

After the closet should have been a space of empty wall, followed by the bedroom door. But the space was not empty. Something was there: a large, dark shape.

As Jimmy noticed this, the shape detached from the wall and moved forward. Jimmy scooted backward on the bed, but the form—a man—was already across the room. A powerful hand closed on Jimmy’s throat, choking the life out of him, forcing his head back against the wall. Jimmy grabbed the man’s forearm but felt only steel-like muscle and sinew. He tried to speak but couldn't utter more than a rasping gurgle.

“Shut up,” the man said.

And then something coarse and scratchy went over Jimmy’s head—a hood. The hand released its death grip on his throat but switched to the back of his neck.

“Get up. Darkmore wants to see you.”

“Come on, man. You about crushed my throat. You don’t know your own strength.” Jimmy coughed.

“Stand up.”

Jimmy stood up.

“Start walking. We’re going downstairs.”

Jimmy walked to the door, expertly avoiding all of the items scattered around the floor. It looked like chaos, but he knew where everything was and could navigate blindfolded—as he was now doing. The man behind him stumbled once, cursing, but never relinquished his grip on Jimmy’s neck.

They left the bedroom and turned toward the stairs. Knowing they were coming, Jimmy felt ahead with his feet.

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