David Bellotti’s only focus is to find his abducted twelve-year old daughter. When he sees her on a news segment with her captor, a renowned archaeologist who’s made a major discovery, David sets out to bring her back home. But the search leads him to a secret message that could alter man’s history forever.
A message David and his daughter inscribed twelve-thousand years ago.
A message that will prove dangerous in the wrong hands.
Protecting this powerful information seems simple until David realizes some people will use his daughter against him to get it, at whatever the cost. Now David must make a choice. Protect mankind from a secret past that must remain hidden, or save his little girl.
I hit the pedal, gritted my teeth, and cursed the day Damian Sahin took my daughter away. Lucky for me, Nat knew someone who knew someone who could track Ada’s location through her cell phone GPS, leading me to where we were now.
The rear window in the Camaro exploded and glass blew out all over me. I skidded, another blast tore through the car, and I yanked on the steering wheel, swerving hard and trying to avoid getting shot. A third bullet ripped through the passenger seat, shredding leather and kicking up foam stuffing. A fourth shot rang through and whizzed past my head.
Nat’s sharp voice cut in. “Are those gunshots?”
I chanced a glance in the rear view mirror. “Not sure who it is or when they joined the party.” I saw a blonde woman driving a blue Nissan. She was the one with the gun.
The blonde leaned out her open window, took aim, and squeezed off another round. It blasted through my window.
I swerved the Camaro, skidded to a halt, then jammed the gas and the gear to get moving again. The Camaro convulsed over plowed blacktop, hesitating before it gained traction.
By then the Jaguar was gone.
The Nissan blew past, and the blonde gave me a wicked smile and the finger.
I cursed. Slammed the steering wheel and the brake. Then cursed again.
“I lost her,” I said to Nat, and threw the door open and got out. I paced the snow-packed road, heart pounding and vision red, pissed that I couldn’t catch one damned break. Inside the car, Nat peppered me with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“D-Man. Talk to me. You okay? Jesus, talk to me. Are you there? Are you hurt? Are you dead? What the hell is going on over there?”
I leaned against the open door. “Yeah, I’m here,” I said, my voice deflated. “I almost had her. She was right there. Right in front of me.”
Bluetooth beeped with another incoming call.
“Did you recognize who was chasing you?” Nat asked.
But something about the driver nagged. I sank back into the Camaro, half-listening to Nat go on about trying again. That at least Ada was in the States for now, and that would make things easier for us.
I wanted to believe him.
The phone beeped again and the dashboard displayed that it was Mommie Dearest. I cursed one last time.
“I got another call,” I told Nat. “It’s MD.”
“Better you than me.” And he disconnected.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Terri looks for any opportunity to make stuff up. She thinks anything that can’t so easily be explained is worth an extra look and often makes a great story. She loves red wine, scotch, sunrises, Ancient Egypt, the beach—and a host of other stuff that would take too much real estate to talk about. The youngest of five children, Terri lives with her husband and son on Long Island. And, in her next life, if she hasn’t moved on to somewhere else, she wants to be an astronomer. Terri’s fascinated with the night skies almost as much as she’s fascinated with ancient Egypt.
Terri is a member of member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America, and you can read about her at http://terriponce.com/.
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