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    21 Weeks: Week 15
    21 Weeks: Week 15
    21 Weeks: Week 15
    Ebook74 pages59 minutes

    21 Weeks: Week 15

    By R.A. LaShea

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Detective Beck Nash is forced to make some difficult decisions in regards to her career and personal life when her pursuit of the serial killer puts everyone she cares about at risk, as Vegas faces a rash of UFO sightings that must be connected to their killer’s murder spree.

    21 Weeks is a fast-paced police procedural thriller series that ramps up in intensity with each victim that falls until its explosive final week.

    Warning: This series is about a serial killer. There will be violence. There will be language. There will be other adult things. It is intended for a mature audience.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRiley LaShea
    Release dateMar 2, 2016
    ISBN9781310528927
    21 Weeks: Week 15
    Author

    R.A. LaShea

    R.A. LaShea is a pen name of author Riley LaShea. Under this name, LaShea writes police procedural/thriller 21 Weeks.

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      Book preview

      21 Weeks - R.A. LaShea

      21 Weeks

      WEEK 15

      …

      R.A. LaShea

      21 Weeks: Week 15

      Copyright 2015 R.A. LaShea

      Smashwords Edition

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form, without written permission of the author. Thank you for supporting the author’s rights and buying an authorized edition of this e-book.

      Visit http://www.lasheathrillers.com/sign-up/ to sign up for the 21 Weeks mailing list and receive updates on upcoming Beck Nash thrillers.

      CONTENTS

      1

      2

      3

      4

      5

      6

      7

      8

      9

      10

      11

      12

      13

      14

      15

      16

      Week 16 Teaser

      1 - No Idea Where - No Idea When

      Beck couldn’t recall how she got there.

      Or when.

      At some point, she was just there, and the place seemed familiar somehow. Felt familiar. Like somewhere she had been to before. Though, crystal chandelier hanging overhead, marble flooring beneath each footstep as she moved from the arched hallway through the foyer, it was hardly the kind of place she would have spent any real time.

      If she had ever actually been there at all.

      She was almost certain that she had.

      Low groan echoing off the walls around her, it sounded as if the house itself was in distress, but Beck knew no one else could hear the man’s pain as her hand tightened on the grip. Emanating out of the basement, the sounds were no more than a whisper at the ground floor.

      The woman, though, if she screamed, the neighbors would hear. Which was why she was gagged, oily rag used to polish the grand piano she was strapped atop shoved into her mouth. Arms anchored outward, like some lackluster version of a crucifixion, long, delicate hands lay close to the instrument’s edges, blood dripping from stubs of fingers already missing.

      Terrified eyes turning Beck’s way, they had hardly the strength to shift, and Beck recognized Veronica Worthing through the tears and fear upon the woman’s face as she raised the weapon in her hand. Expecting her Glock, certain she must be there to save these people, Beck saw the flash of a bloodied hunting knife cross her vision instead. Twelve inches of heavy steel reflecting in the darkness, she knew ultimate satisfaction as she thrust it into Veronica Worthing’s neck.

      *****

      Flailing upright, Beck’s chest squeezed like it was in a vise as she struggled to draw breath, tried to get her bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings of the room. Door in the wrong position, everything else shadowed, she knew only that she wasn’t at home, and it was a moment of sheer panic, heightened by the hand that slid through the moisture clinging to the bare skin of her abdomen.

      God. You’re soaked.

      Sorry. Panting at the familiar voice, Beck waited for her eyes to adjust to the room. At the moment, everything looked too dark and too bright at the same time.

      Are you okay?

      Beck didn’t know how to answer that question.

      Sitting up beside her, Carmen pushed the wet hair from her face, and Beck flinched as warm fingers brushed her shoulder.

      Don’t do that, Carmen scolded, and, glancing her way, Beck could just make out that it was really Carmen in the bed with her as a hand trailed down her drenched back. God, you are really shaking.

      I’ve been sick. It was a reasonable enough excuse. Don’t worry. I’m not contagious.

      I wasn’t worried, Carmen murmured. What is going on with you?

      Nothing. I just had a nightmare. Reaching for the sheet gathered at her waist, Beck pulled it up to her chest, but it did nothing to dispel the pervasive chill on her wet skin.

      Some nightmare.

      Yes, it definitely was that. The kind that was only unreal because it was unreal. Not because it couldn’t be real, or was so far outside the scope of reality.

      It’s over now, Beck said, but it was a long way from the truth. It wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be until Benjy decided to stop, or they stopped him. Beck wasn’t sure which of those things was least likely.

      Are you sure you’re okay? Carmen asked.

      Yes. I’m better. I’m sure you’re just thrilled I slept here now, though. Practically swimming in the sheets beneath her, Beck knew there was no way they could go back to sleep without changing them.

      I am. Looking over, Beck could see the sincerity in the dark eyes regarding her even in the darkness, but she didn’t need to. She could hear it in Carmen’s voice. I’m glad you’re here.

      Me too, Beck admitted. Not only because it felt better, and far more natural, not to have a rift between them, but because, if Beck wasn’t, she would be alone in her apartment, and she really wasn’t sure how she would handle that right now.

      We should change the sheets, Carmen said. And then you should shower. And I should help you.

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