Posted by: Chrinda Jones
August 5, 2015 |
It’s been a long time coming, but Angels Sing to Rest is finally on pre-sale at Amazon and Smashwords. It’s about time, I know, but somethings can’t be rushed.
Book Two of the Olivia Gates and Will Green crime series.
Over the next few weeks I’ll be posting scenes from the new book, starting with Scene One, Chapter One. Take a peek below. Please share the link to this site or to the purchasing sites if you find you’re enjoying the story. Thanks for tuning in!
Vincent Rocha knew he hit her hard, but at the time he figured she deserved it. He paid her good money to do what he wanted and by God she was going to do what he wanted. He checked for a pulse at the side of her neck when she lay flaccid on the bed for too long. There was nothing. He didn’t think he hit her hard enough to kill her.
That he killed this woman with his own hands didn’t panic him. She wasn’t his first dead prostitute and she wasn’t likely to be his last. If he thought of prostitutes as human the whole scene might have played out differently. Her kind provide a service. They make themselves available to him and others like him to use up and throw away. His father told him it was the order of things. He believed him.
Vincent rolled the woman over so he didn’t have to look at her face and untied the scarf from her neck. He threw the silk bed sheets over her naked body, not out of any sense of propriety — he purely despised the look of her, with her dyed red hair and stubble covered legs. Experience taught him that her kind was always ready — for cost, a few extra twenties and a bottle — to do what the higher priced call girls wouldn’t.
He went to his closet to cover his own nakedness with a robe and picked up the phone beside the bed. He dialed. When someone finally answered, it was his second in command.
“Martin, come to the loft and drive the van. I have some garbage for you to pick up.” Vincent purposefully hung up before Martin could ask questions and went to the utility room for the thick plastic drip sheet and masking tape the remodeling company left behind. He returned to splay the drip sheet on the floor at the foot of the bed. When he pushed the body off the mattress, it made a sickening thud as it hit the floor, reminding him of a large tuna hitting the deck of a fishing boat. He rolled her up in the plastic, securing the bundle with masking tape. Vincent walked away leaving her in the middle of the room for his lackey. He tilted his head toward his chest and opened the dressing gown, sniffing for the odor that nauseated him. She left her sex scent on him. The strong odor made him involuntarily gag. He covered himself again and entered the bathroom to shower off what remained of her humanity.