There are many sayings about revenge and vengeance, ranging from the Bible to Shakespeare to Francis Bacon and Vito Corleone. The concept is found in all cultures, all time periods, and in all things.
On Friday, September 20, my latest novel (Evernight Publishing) will release. It is currently available for pre-order in Ebook format only.
Here's the blurb:
In the wake of his brother’s violent death in Naked City, part of Las Vegas, Alejandro Navarro, an undercover ATF agent, wants venganza. Just out of the hospital and still recovering from serious injury, Alec seeks the men who killed his brother. One night, he rescues a tourist, Maude Miller, from the same cartel members. To protect her, Alec takes her home and neither can deny the immediate attraction. Things get ugly, however, after a shot shatters the sliding glass door of his apartment. They hit the road to escape death in a journey that takes them from Vegas into Arizona, then finally to a remote farm in Missouri. Other attempts are made on their lives as along the way their lust turns to love. The pair will make their stand on the farm, well aware the stakes are life and death.
And here's the first chapter. Read it and see if one taste tempts you to read on:
Just two weeks out of the hospital, one week past using a cane to navigate each step, Alejandro cruised the streets of Naked City with relentless anger. His desire for revenge burned hotter within than the fever that had wracked his body after suffering multiple gunshot wounds. His survival might be a miracle, but the loss of his brother was a tragedy. Grief gnawed at his guts, but guilt seared his soul like acid. In time, Alejandro expected it would destroy him, fair punishment for his stupidity that cost Teo his life. Mateo had showed up unannounced in Vegas for a vacation, a reunion with his older brother, but ended up in a six by two feet plot in Calvary Cemetery in East LA.
He could never forget the echo of the gunfire that hit hard and fast or the terrible echo of Teo’s final cry. Alejandro relived the sounds in flashbacks, which struck without warning and haunted him in nightmares. If any mercy existed, he couldn’t attend his brother’s final rites, not while fighting for his own existence in the ICU. He should have been there and knew it but it had been impossible. If the family waited for him to be able to be present, Teo’s funeral would have been three months overdue.
Alec had left it to his aged abuela to bury his brother, supported by his uncles, aunts, and cousins. Tio Ignacio, Tio Juan, and Tia Alma brought his grandmother to Las Vegas, to the hospital. They kept vigil around the clock until doctors decided Alejandro would live, not die.
La Familia would have remained, but he sent them home. They had living to do, and he had retribution to plan. It wouldn’t bring Teo back or change anything, but to him, it was honor. He had to do it. Afterward, if he had nothing, it wouldn’t matter.
His career as an ATF special agent might be over. For now, he remained on medical leave, but there were questions about whether he could physically return to duty. If not, he’d rather not become a casino security guard or traffic cop. If he followed through with vengeance, he wouldn’t have a job and might end up in prison. Alejandro didn’t really care.
For the second night in a row, he prowled the streets of The Naked City, the almost unknown neighborhood within spitting distance of the glitz and glow of the Strip. He piloted his late model black Pontiac GTO with deft skill, traveling from Sahara Avenue to Las Vegas Boulevard, then down avenues and alleyways. As far as he knew, his cover hadn’t been blown when he’d been shot. The players here, the drug dealers, gun runners, and other criminals attached to one of the Mexican drug cartels, wouldn’t be aware that Aldo Garcia, his alias, lived or know his real identity was an ATF agent. He didn’t have to be here. He could have taken a coward’s way out and returned to East Los Angeles.
“Sandro, come home,” Abuela asked him. “Leave this place and come stay with me.”
The old nickname almost persuaded him. He answered to Sandro, Alec, and Alejandro, but he couldn’t go back. He must finish his self-imposed mission. His service-issue Remington shotgun lay in the passenger seat as his fingers twitched to use it.
Pain shot through his damaged body, but Alejandro had left his meds at home. A clear head would be necessary if he should find the men he sought. His right leg hurt from the thigh, where a bullet wound had caused damage, down to the ankle, grazed by another bullet. His left shoulder throbbed, but the extensive wound there had required the removal of bone chips, arterial damage, diminished usage, and several surgeries. At times, the fourth lesion on his right side hurt, too.
It was after two in the morning, but activity teemed in some areas. Last night had been fruitless, but Alec hoped for better results. On his third pass through the area, he spotted something. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and his intuition sang a high-pitched sound.
A late model Toyota crept around the nearest block again. Years of law enforcement experience prior to becoming a federal agent gave him a keen eye. He made it as a rental, noting the bar codes on two of the windows, the license plates pegging it as the same, and the lack of any dealer logo on the rear bumper. Some fucking idiot, a lost tourist, wandered over here from the Strip.
If he’d had even a scrap of his heart left, he might have been concerned for their safety. The man he’d become, though, couldn’t be bothered. The traveler from Ohio, Maine, or Kansas would either find their way back to their hotel or they wouldn’t.
On his next pass, Alejandro noticed the car parked at a defunct convenience store, closed after being robbed too many times. He still would have kept driving until he saw the three gangbangers circling the compact vehicle. The apparent leader, with colorful tattoos evident from his face, down his neck, and on his arms, grasped the door handle and opened the driver’s side. Alejandro recognized him.
His body tensed. If he wasn’t mistaken, the dude had been present at the shooting. Alec reached for the shotgun, then his blood chilled. The perp pulled a woman from the vehicle.
Although she struggled, it would be a brief losing battle. For a split second, he debated driving onward without becoming involved. He couldn’t, though, not when the gangbanger ran his hands over the woman’s body. If she hadn’t flinched or parted her lips to scream, he wouldn’t have stopped.
With a sigh and rush of furious curses in both Spanish and English, Alejandro pulled in behind the rental. He picked up the shotgun and stepped out into the parking lot. Every male head swiveled toward him.
“Move on, ain’t nothing here worth seeing,” one of the men shouted, eyes glittering with a high beneath his do-rag bandana. “Keep moving, asshole.”
“Please,” the woman cried. Damned if she wasn’t pretty. Her honey-hued hair cascaded free over her shoulders, and her vivid blue eyes stared at Alec like he might be Superman or some kind of savior.
He lifted the Remington to his right shoulder because he couldn’t use the left. As he aimed, she broke free and tried to run. She teetered on high heels and lost her balance. Before the gang could surround her like wolves around a wounded deer, Alejandro fired the weapon into the air.
“Beat it,” he said and pulled his badge from his jacket pocket. Technically, he shouldn’t be carrying it and flashing it might cost his life. “United States Alcohol, Firearms, Tobacco, and Explosives agent. Backup is en route. Andale!”
Alec chambered another shell and blasted the rear glass of the Toyota. The creeps scattered like cockroaches in the light. “Get in the fucking car.”
The woman stared at him. “I need my bags.”
Rolling his eyes, cursing profusely, Alejandro marched forward, grasped her luggage from the back seat of the car, and covered her with the Remington.
“Now will you get in the car?”
As he thrust the bags into his vehicle, she climbed into the passenger seat. As soon as she did, he took off with speed. “Fasten your seat belt.”
She fumbled with it. “Why? Aren’t you waiting for backup?”
“Chingate! There isn’t any. That’s called a bluff, and the perps have wheels. If we don’t get the hell out of here, they’ll follow.”
A sound halfway between a scream and sob burst from her throat, and she didn’t say anything else as Alejandro drove with fast maneuvers to put distance between his car and anything the gangbangers might drive. He careened through Naked City and onto the Strip, then weaved in and out of traffic until he cleared the immediate area.
Once he slowed, Alec turned toward her. “Want to tell me just what the absolute fuck you were doing driving around that neighborhood at night?”
“I got lost.” She stared down at her lap, her voice low. “And then I ran out of gas.”
“Oh, hell.” This one shouldn’t have been let out without a babysitter or at least a trail of breadcrumbs to follow. “Where are you from?”
“Missouri. I just arrived tonight, but I lost my way. I’m not good at directions or finding places.”
That much was obvious. “No shit. What’s your name?”
“Maude,” she told him. “Maude Miller.”
An old lady name didn’t match that lovely face. If she had to have an old-fashioned name, it should have been Alice. Her wide-eyed, innocent manner brought to mind the heroine from Lewis Carroll’s classic novel, the girl who tumbled into a strange alternative world filled with surprises.
“Well, Alice, this ain’t Wonderland,” Alejandro told her, surprised when the words flew from his mouth. “Maude, I’m Alejandro Navarro.”
Damned if she didn’t stick out one tiny paw to shake. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Thank you for your assistance.”
From deep down in his belly, a laugh formed, then erupted. He hadn’t laughed since the night he got shot and Teo had been killed. Maybe it wasn’t funny but perfect manners when she’d barely escaped being raped or killed amused him. “De nada. I’d rather have met you somewhere else under better circumstances.”
“Are you really a federal agent?”
Fuck, he wished he’d never mentioned that. “Yeah, I am. I’m not on active duty, though.”
Those blue eyes widened, and she stared hard at him. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Since he’d shared his real name, carried her off in his personal vehicle, and fired one of his service weapons in her defense, he might as well go big. “I’m on medical leave till further notice. I was shot about three months ago.”
His burst of adrenaline faded, replaced by fatigue. His body ached, and he’d like to lie down soon. Most of the time, Alejandro resisted his pain meds, concerned he could get addicted to the potent pills, but the moment he got home, he planned to pop a couple. Although hunger wasn’t an issue, he needed sustenance. All the docs and nurses swore protein, like meat, would speed up his recovery.
Realization hit hard. Going home seemed impossible. He had a woman with him, one he’d rescued from a volatile situation. He identified himself as an ATF agent. Worst yet, he shot up her rental car. In the morning, some do-gooder would call it in, or an LVPD cruiser would find it. It would be traced back to Maude Miller, and the fun would begin because if the law could find her, so could the criminals. It might be a long shot, but Maude’s identity might lead straight to him.
Maude interrupted his thoughts with a question.
“Will you take me to my hotel? I’m staying at the, oh, wait a minute.” She consulted a paper from her tiny purse. “At the Excalibur. In the morning, maybe I can get another rental car. I’ll have to call them.”
“That’s complicated.”
“How so?” she asked with a slight frown that didn’t mar her beauty in the least.
“Rental car companies won’t approve of the rear window being shattered by a shotgun blast.” Alec said the words with slow precision. Either Maude failed to understand, was slow-witted, or was as innocent as a novice nun. “They’ll want explanations that aren’t easy to give.”
If he didn’t know better, he might think she was under the influence of drugs or alcohol, but he doubted that. She might be punch drunk, which would be no surprise since she’d traveled across time zones. This probably wasn’t the getaway trip to Vegas she had planned.
“Oh.” Her voice fell flatter than a failed souffle. “Well, at least I can check into my room. I’m tired.”
A headache throbbed in addition to his other ills. Unwilling to take a chance, especially when the tattooed leader had been present during the shooting, Alejandro sighed. He decided this might be his only option to keep them both safe, although he didn’t like it.
“Not tonight, querida. I’ll take you to my place. It’s safer while I sort out a few things.”
“I’d rather go to the hotel, please.” Her voice trembled as she clutched her black leather purse with a chain handle in her lap as if he might snatch it away. “If you don’t mind.”
“I do. I’ll explain it all later, but right now, you might be in danger if you go to the hotel. Do you want to be shot or kidnapped or killed?”
“None of the above. But, hey, let’s not sugarcoat.” The flicker of sarcasm from Miss Manners amused him, but her next words didn’t. “I wish I’d never come to Las Vegas.”
So did he, Alejandro thought, so did he. In hindsight, he’d been better off to return to LA and stay there.
Venganza links: (more will be available on release)
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1616866
https://www.amazon.com/Venganza-Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy-ebook/dp/B0DGR9YBC8/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/venganza-lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/1146289516?
