PREFACE
11:00 PM The Courtyard Marriott
The room was pitch-black until the heavy click of a gun barrel broke the silence, shattering the quiet night.
A couple, jolted awake from their sleep, panicked as the harsh beam of a tactical flashlight blinded them. Standing over the bed was a figure completely cloaked in dark tactical gear, her face hidden behind a tight black ski mask. Though her features were completely concealed, the voice that cut through the dark was unmistakably female—sharp, cold, and dripping with authority.
She was a corrupted undercover cop, someone who knew exactly how to bypass security and move like a ghost through the city.
“Don’t make a sound,” she demanded, her voice a low, lethal whisper. “You want to make it out of Waterbury alive? You do exactly what I say.”
The couple trembled, the husband throwing his hands up in a desperate bid to protect his wife. They couldn’t see her face, couldn’t identify the eyes staring back at them through the fabric, but the cold steel pointed at them was all the ID they needed.
The undercover cop tossed a heavy, empty canvas duffel bag onto the mattress right in front of the husband.
“Fill it,” she ordered, gesturing sharply with the pistol. “Every single dollar. Put the money in the bag, right now, or this room becomes your graveyard.”
This is a fantastic, high-stakes way to kick off the novel! It sets up a huge mystery right away—a corrupt cop on the wrong side of the law, a masked female suspect, and a terrified couple.
The husband’s hands shook violently as he grabbed the duffel bag, shoving the stacks of cash inside as fast as he could. Every second felt like an eternity under the barrel of the gun.
Beside him, his wife broke down, sobbing in pure terror.
“Shut up!” the masked cop snapped. In one swift, brutal motion, she brought the flat side of her hand down, smacking the woman across the face to silence her.
“Please! Here,” the husband gasped, desperately pushing the heavy, filled duffle bag back toward her. “Take it. Please, just go away!”
The masked figure snatched the handles of the bag, her eyes narrowing behind the fabric. Without another word, she turned on her heel and slipped out into the dimly lit hallway of the Marriott, vanishing into the Waterbury night like a ghost.
DUN-DUN!
