Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2) by Candle Sutton (best motivational novels txt) 📕

 

Faceless

 

 

Candle Sutton

Text copyright © 2021 Candle Sutton

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogue, incidents, and locations are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to events, places, or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or other – without written permission from the author.

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Table of Contents

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Table of Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

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Dedication & Acknowledgments

A note from the author

Excerpt from Relentless

Prologue

One

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Prologue

Oh man, it was his lucky day!

The sun warmed the late June afternoon, drying Jason Boggess’ short hair. Usually he didn’t bother showering at the gym post-workout, but tonight was different. Tonight he was meeting that smokin’ hot nurse for dinner.

Weeks of flirting had finally paid off.

Jason hurried across the parking garage to where he’d parked his black Camaro and hit the button on his key fob.

Slight fatigue settled in his muscles, as it always did when he pushed himself with the weights, but the definition in his arms, core, and legs made it worth the effort.

No wonder that nurse was diggin’ him.

Something under his wiper blade caught his eye.

Probably an advertisement of some sort. Someone targeting him because he drove a nice ride.

He snagged the edge of the flyer and tugged.

The whole wiper blade moved.

What the heck?

He leaned in.

Some idiot had taken the time to wrap the end of the paper around the blade! He worked the paper loose.

Too bad he hadn’t caught the jerk who did this.

A sharp poke hit his shoulder.

What…?

Rushing, like the sound of the monorail running outside his office, flooded his head. The world tilted.

He whirled toward the source. Or tried to. His knees shook and his movements were about as steady as his baby nephew, who’d taken his first steps last week.

Through the blackening fog clouding his vision, he saw a shape. Two shapes. Three? More?

He swung toward one of the shapes, his fist sailing through empty air.

The punch threw him off balance and he pitched forward. The ground rushed toward him.

Pain shot through his shoulder as he hit the asphalt, then the world faded away.

One

Kevyn put the last of the leftovers in the fridge, her eyes drifting to the clock as she did. Almost eight p.m.

While the birthday party she’d hosted for Dak had been fun, she was sure glad none of her coworkers were late night partiers. She was beat.

It had been worth the effort, though. And a much needed break from the stress of their current case.

Jason Boggess, the mayor’s son, had been missing for six days. With no leads and the amount of pressure coming down from upstairs, the last few workdays had been exceptionally long and frustrating.

Tomorrow they’d attack the case again, but tonight they’d all needed to take a step back.

Chimes from the doorbell echoed through the house.

Who would be ringing her doorbell at eight at night? Had someone forgotten something?

A quick survey of the kitchen didn’t turn up anything obvious.

Stepping into the living room she saw it. A wallet. On the floor beside the sofa.

The doorbell rang again.

Sheesh. What did they think she’d do? Steal it?

Leaving the wallet where it was, she crossed the living room and looked through the peephole.

The distorted image of a man, probably in his fifties or sixties with more salt than pepper in his hair, shifted. He glanced behind him, as though expecting someone to appear there.

She didn’t know this guy.

Her fingers turned to ice.

Who was he? Why was he here?

Most importantly, was he friendly or hostile?

He rang the bell again.

Hurrying through the living room, she retrieved her Glock from the kitchen cabinet in which she’d stashed it and tucked it into her waistband at the small of her back.

He was probably nothing more than a neighbor wanting to complain about the yard she still hadn’t taken time to address.

If so, he was awfully persistent.

She reached the door, slid the deadbolt, and unlocked the knob, simultaneously flipping the switch for the lights framing either side of the door. It wasn’t particularly dark yet, but the lights were bright enough to somewhat impair his vision for a second.

Swinging the door open a few feet, she braced one foot behind the door in case he tried to force his way in.

Although, realistically, her foot wouldn’t stop someone determined to get inside.

That’s what her gun was for.

He blinked in the harsh light, but seemed