Please welcome M/M Patricia Logan to the blog today, as we highlight her new novel, Verified Kill, Book 1 of the Assassins Series
Walker Easton has chosen a life of solitude and it’s always
suited him well. When a young lover is viciously taken from him, he begins to
reevaluate his connection with Emilio. Could he have saved the young man, had
he resisted the deep seated desire to belong to someone? Lost and uncertain for
the first time in his life, his bravado is slipping away. When he’s given his
next filthy assignment, he remembers Emilio’s final words to him… “Who will
grieve for you when you are gone, Walker?” His next choices set him on a
dangerous path where there is no turning back and when an old friend gets in
the way, he has an impossible decision to make.
Callum Tryst is a dangerous man in his own right. Young and
cocky and undeniably one of the finest assassins alive, he goes after a target
not knowing that there is one painted on his own back. When he crosses paths
with a career sniper, he finally meets his match… or does he? Callum learns the
hard way that perhaps the best weapon against his enemy is another enemy. He
finds himself asking the question, “If I’ve never ever cared about anyone, did
I ever really matter?”
Join the pair as they meet out justice as only they know how,
in a desperate fight to the finish… and the discovery that the fight is not as
they always assumed it to be. Assumptions get you killed… and dead men cannot
love.
“Verified Kill” Book
One of the “Assassins” Series.
Available via Amazon
Excerpt:
Wilkins shot out of hiding from his spot against the wall and
pulled out a handgun, aiming it up at the guard and firing, missing the target
as Walker came to the conclusion that backing him up was mandatory. Walker
swore a slew of curses on Wilkin’s mother as he jumped up from his cozy snow
trench and leaped to his friend’s defense, leaving his cover, and tearing
across the clearing toward the commotion. The guard on the wall didn’t see
Walker coming to Wilkin’s aid. He was already in pursuit of Wilkins, who’d
rounded the far corner out of sight. Walker heard two more volleys and he knew
that Wilkins was taking care of the other perimeter guards as he rushed in,
lifting his P228 (M11) pistol and firing a hail of rounds, taking out the guard
in pursuit of Wilkins along the wall on his side. The shrill sound of the whistle
stopped immediately as blood sprayed out of the guy’s mouth along with the
silver whistle as the guard fell forward and toppled off the top of the wall,
landing hard in the snow, his sightless eyes staring upward as Walker hit the
wall beside the corpse and flattened himself to it.
The next several moments happened so quickly, Walker had a
hard time recalling it until months afterward. Walker heard a click, realized
what it was, and then before he could drop, the explosion went off about
fifteen feet from him. The vehicle disintegrated, his ears stopped hearing, and
he slammed his lids shut as his face and torso were hit with a blast of heat
straight out of hell as metal shards peppered his body. The memory of him
strapping on protective body armor briefly washed over him with relief, as he
fell forward, and he tried to catch himself with arms that wouldn’t work. He
collapsed into the cold of the snow. He lay there, doing a physical assessment
to assure himself that all his pieces were intact, and just as he reached the
conclusion that they were, he felt himself being lifted under both armpits from
behind.
“I gotcha, buddy,” Wilkins drawled. The fuckin’ redneck.
Walker tried to stand on his own power as Wilkins’s strong
arms pulled him into an upright position, but his legs felt like Jell-O and
went right out from under him.
“Can you stand, Easton? What the hell are you doing out
here?” Wilkins cursed and Walker knew he’d be feeling much the same way had
their roles been reversed. “I took care of most of them but we gotta get the
fuck outa here before the rest of them come.” Walker heard the desperation in
Wilkins’s voice and did his best to move under his own power, while Wilkins
screamed into a radio.
“This is Alpha Tango One. Get us the fuck out of here!
Taking heavy enemy fire! I repeat, Alpha Tango One. Man down! Man down! Over!”
Walker couldn’t really see, though his eyes were open.
Something wet poured down his face, more than likely his own blood, the head
injury making a mess out of not only his mental acuity, but his field of vision
as well. Somehow, some way, they made it back into the trees and by then the whoop whoop of a Cobra attack helicopter
broke into the sound of shouts and the zinging of bullets fired from the guards
who were closing in. A second later the huge airborne armored weapon came into
sight, kicking up a cloud of snowflakes in the clearing between the compound
walls and the tree line where they were standing. Pieces of the compound walls
began disintegrating around them as the Cobra fired on the enemy, clearing a
path for them. It sounded as if Armageddon had begun. Walker’s arm was draped
over Wilkins’s shoulder and as soon as the helicopter hit the ground, the men
inside started the extraction, returning fire on the enemy following. Wilkins
and Walker made their way to the great gray beast and more hands were there to
lift them inside of the warm interior. The last thing Walker remembered was
Wilkins flopping onto the deck beside him as he lost consciousness.
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Patricia Logan
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