Raven (Coffey & Hill Book #2)

Mike Nappa

Description

"A thrill ride into the stark territory between grace and the letter of the law."--Tosca Lee, New York Times bestselling authorAs part of his regular street performance, a deception specialist who goes by the name The Raven picks his audience's pockets while they watch. It's harmless fun--until he decides to keep the spare wallet a city councilman doesn't seem to miss, hoping for a few extra bucks. When he finds not money but compromising photos of the councilman and his "personal assistants," The Raven hatches a plan to blackmail the man. However, he quickly finds himself in over his head with the Ukrainian Mafia and mired in a life-threatening plot code-named, "Nevermore."Private investigators Trudi Coffey and Samuel Hill must scramble to sort out the clues--and their complicated feelings for each other--to rescue The Raven and save hundreds of lives from a wildcard bent on revenge.Mike Nappa snags readers from the first page of this fast-paced thriller--and he never lets go until the end.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 06 septembre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781493405190
• Langue: English

Extrait

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2016 Nappaland Communications Inc.
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-0519-0
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The Raven is published in association with Nappaland Literary Agency, an independent agency dedicated to publishing works that are: Authentic. Relevant. Eternal. Visit us online at: NappalandLiterary.com .
Endorsements
“ The Raven is a delightful romp. Mike Nappa holds to a breathless pace in his new story, one that is sure to thrill his growing and well-deserved readership.”
— Thomas Locke , bestselling and award-winning novelist, author of Emissary and Trial Run
“I love Mike Nappa’s style! With intrigue, action, and a main character snarky enough to cheer for, The Raven is a thrill ride into the stark territory between grace and the letter of the law.”
— Tosca Lee , New York Times bestselling author
Praise for Annabel Lee
“The start to Nappa’s Coffey & Hill series begins with an exciting event, and the adventure doesn’t let up. With hidden secrets, questionable motives, and interesting characters, this book has a bit of everything that suspense lovers will enjoy. The characters make this book shine; they are distinct, memorable, and fascinating.”
— RT Book Reviews , 4½ stars, Top Pick
“Mike Nappa’s Annabel Lee is a fast-paced thriller, filled with unexpected twists and peopled by unique and memorable characters. From the first chapter on, I found it impossible to put down.”
— Lois Duncan , New York Times bestselling author, I Know What You Did Last Summer and Killing Mr. Griffin
“ Annabel Lee is compelling, fast-paced, and filled with fascinating characters. One hopes that Mike Nappa’s eleven-year-old wunderkind from the title will reappear in future novels of this promising new suspense series!”
— M. K. Preston , Mary Higgins Clark Award–winning novelist, Song of the Bones and Perhaps She’ll Die
“A relentless surge of suspense and mounting tension coupled with an engaging mix of characters. With Annabel Lee , Mike Nappa skillfully sets the stage for a compelling series of Coffey & Hill Investigation thrillers.”
— Jack Cavanaugh , award-winning author of 26 novels
Dedication
For Amy! It’s my favorite time of day, driving you . . .
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Endorsements
Dedication
Epigraph
Now
1. Raven
Then
2. Raven
3. Bliss
4. Trudi
5. Raven
6. Bliss
7. Trudi
8. Bliss
9. Raven
Three Weeks Ago . . .
10. Trudi
11. Raven
12. Bliss
13. Trudi
14. Bliss
15. Trudi
16. Raven
17. Trudi
18. Raven
19. Trudi
20. Raven
21. Trudi
Two Weeks Ago . . .
22. Bliss
23. Raven
24. Trudi
25. Bliss
26. Raven
27. Trudi
28. Bliss
29. Raven
30. Trudi
31. Raven
32. Bliss
One Week Ago . . .
33. Trudi
34. Raven
35. Trudi
36. Raven
37. Bliss
Today . . .
38. Trudi
39. Raven
40. Trudi
41. Raven
42. Bliss
43. Trudi
44. Raven
45. Trudi
Two Weeks Later . . .
46. Trudi
47. Darrent
Exclusive Peek at Book #3
About the Author
Books in the Coffey & Hill Series
Back Ads
Back Cover
Epigraph
Here I opened wide the door;— Darkness there and nothing more.
—E DGAR A LLAN P OE , IN “T HE R AVEN ”
Now
Sixteen minutes to Nevermore . . .
1 Raven
Atlanta, GA Downtown Friday, April 14, 8:11 p.m.
My daddy used to tell me the best way to stay out of trouble was to think about tomorrow before you act today. Every Friday night in high school, just before I stepped out to go crazy with my friends, he’d look up from whatever he was reading—the Bible, a new Sharon Carter Rogers thriller, a boring book about Roman history, whatever—and he’d give me that same lecture: “Son, ask yourself if Tomorrow-You is going to thank you for the circumstances you get him into tonight.”
Of course he was right. Pops generally gave good advice—it was kind of his job, after all. And of course I mostly ignored him. I figured that was my job.
Right now, though, I’m kind of wishing Last-Night-Me had been paying attention to Dad’s most famous lecture. Even if LNM had just made some kind of contingency plan or some thing, that would’ve been helpful. But, as usual, that guy was winging it, hoping things would work out anyway, regardless of what he did.
Eternal optimist, I guess that’s me. Hope it doesn’t get me killed today.
The timer app on my cell phone beeps to tell me there’s only sixteen minutes left.
I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm my nerves. No time to panic, not yet at least . Gotta keep my wits.
The Big Dude in the wheelchair twitches and groans. I can see that his subconscious mind is fighting the drug that knocked him out, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. All I can do is punch the elevator button again, swear a little bit, and hope that sixteen minutes is going to be enough time to get done what needs to get done.
And then I see her.
Wow.
Trudi Coffey pops through the door to the stairwell without hesitating, like she knew I’d be here, like she knew I’d be waiting for this stupid elevator on the sixth floor of the Ritz-Carlton Atlanta hotel.
She’s cleaned up for the occasion, a rare treat if you ask me. Sleeveless red dress, sexy but not trashy—I think they call it a body-con style. It’s sleek, with ribbed material that hugs her hips until the fabric ends just above her knees. Below that is a pair of black ankle books, flirty, with a gold buckle, metal sequins, and chunky heels. Stylish, but also convenient for running. Or kicking.
Her thick brown hair is casually twisted and tacked up on her head in a way that just drives a man crazy. Dangly diamond earrings are her only jewelry, except for that long, black-marble chopstick-thingy holding her hair in place. And stuck to her left hand is a little black purse—Mom would’ve called it a “clutch.” The way she’s holding the purse—I mean clutch —with the snap undone, tells me what I would’ve expected from her anyway: She wants to be able to get to her Beretta Tomcat quickly. Just in case.
I know she’s just jogged up six flights of stairs, but she’s barely breathing hard, like she could run up the next eighteen floors of this hotel without any problem. She keeps in shape, this one . Of course, one peek at that red dress told me that. She pauses long enough to glance up and down the hall, checking to see if we have company. Then she turns her full attention to me.
“So, Raven,” she says, “this is interesting.”
“Don’t call me that, Trudi,” I say too quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to call me that. You can call me—”
“Raven,” she interrupts. “I can’t help noticing you’ve got my ex-husband, unconscious for some reason, strapped into Mama’s wheelchair.”
I cringe at that. This could be hard to explain. I decide to postpone that conversation. “You look great, Trudi,” I say.
I’m stalling, obviously, but I mean it too. My mom always taught me it’s important to acknowledge a woman’s efforts toward looking pretty. Plus, if this ends badly, I’ll never forgive myself for missing an opportunity to tell Trudi Coffey that I think she’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Seems like she doesn’t believe that about herself anymore. And she definitely deserves to believe it.
“I mean, wow, Trudi. Spectacular. You should dress like this all the time. Are those Vince Camuto boots? Very nice.”
“We’re talking fashion now? That’s the best you can do?”
I shrug and try out what I think is my adorably sheepish grin. “I’m just saying, you’re dressed nice today. It’s a compliment.”
Her stupid ex-husband groans again, interrupting the flow of our conversation. She presses a hand to her hip and frowns. “This doesn’t look good, Raven.”
The timer app on my cell phone beeps again.
“What’s that?” she says.
Only fifteen minutes left. I jab at the elevator button a few times. What is taking so long?
“Raven.” She says my name again, intensity building in her voice. She steps toward me, and I suddenly get a maddening whiff of Bvlgari perfume.
How’s a guy supposed to concentrate when a woman like this is standing just two feet away? I cannot catch a break today.
“They shut down the lifts in the whole hotel,” she’s saying. “SWAT’s going to be here any minute. So . . . you want to explain what’s going on, or do I step out of the way and let them take you down? I’m giving you a chance here. Maybe you should take it.”
I close my eyes and take in a sweet breath of violet, orange blossom, and jasmine. I try to make a mental list of my options at this point, and it’s not very long. In the end, though, all I can think is . . .
This is going to get really messy really soon.
Then
Four weeks ago . . .
2 Raven
Atlanta, GA The Old Fourth Ward Neighborhood Friday, March 17, 11:04 a.m. 28 days to Nevermore
Part of me thinks that maybe I deserve this beating.
I did, after all, try to blackmail a captain of Atlanta industry. A man with political clout and many ardent supporters here in Georgia’s fine state capital. Then I feel my tooth wiggle, taste the blood from that last leather-fisted blow, and feel the stinging in my split lips.
Nope , I decide. This one’s on them. The punishment does not fit the crime .
Regardless, it’s back to the business at hand.
“Jack of spades,” I say to the guy at the table with me. “Is that your card?”
It sounds garbled, like I’m deliberately mumbl