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Rescuing Percy

By TJ WIlliams All Rights Reserved ©

Action / Romance

Blurb

All Maxine wanted was a fresh start; that's not too much to ask for when you've taken a bullet for the woman you love and suffered some losses...right? Eight years later, she isn't expecting to walk right into the one person she thought she'd never see again: Persephone De La Cruz. Almost unrecognisable, Percy is living the high life...and she certainly doesn't want Max to complicate it. But as they struggle to knit their ancient friendship together over the scars of the past, something ticks away right under their noses and it's only a matter of time before it goes boom. Is it Max's turn to rescue Percy this time?

Prologue

David looked down at the abomination he’d so carefully lain across the surface of the table. How could anything so dangerous be so beautiful? It had always amazed him. It was his favourite - and oldest - weapon; the gun his cousin Emanuel had gifted him mere hours before he died. David hadn’t held it for so long, since he was 16 years old, when his every day consisted of running from the police and finding trouble on every corner. He had to dust off the top of the velvet-lined box he’d had made for it. Safe to say he hadn’t been saving it for a special occasion but when in Rome...

He picked it up and felt its weight in the palm of his right hand. It was small, just long enough to touch fingertip to heel - but heavy. The metal was a faded gold - Emanuel hadn’t been known for his subtlety. Along the trigger were the smallest dents from all the use his heavyset cousin had made of it in his short years. David could run his fingers along every single groove in the metal and attribute it to an adventure. Emanuel had indoctrinated him into the gang culture from a very young age and he had been present for a lot of damage. He was a different man now though, of course, he was not the same thug that he’d had to be in order to protect his family. And yet...there was a fire burning its way through him at the indignancy he’d suffered right here in his own city. A very familiar fire.

His hand cramped around the weapon. He was much older now, much bigger; the gun was impractical in several aspects. He couldn’t use it, it would likely blow apart in his hands and he’d end up crippled or worse. It simply represented the dragon that had been sleeping within him for years. The dragon that was now awake.

“Just give me an order,” his right hand, Rufus, said in his gruff voice. He was standing by the wall-length window and his breath fogged up the glass, revealing his piggy eyes in the reflection. He was practically begging to hurt someone. David had always envied the man his freedom to do what he wanted without the fear of consequences. It was the excitement of taking matters into his own hands that David missed the most. The rush. The blood.

David placed the gun back into the box, pushed the dull metal barrel so it sunk into place. He closed the box, slid it into the middle of the coffee table, crossed his legs so his trousers rose to expose his calfskin loafers. He folded his manicured hands over his lap and made eye contact with Rufus. “Make it messy.”

ould anything so beautiful be so poisonous? When he turned his head slightly to the right, he was looking at his favourite weapon; the gun his oldest cousin Emanuel had gifted him before he died. He hadn’t used it since he was 16 years old, when his every day consisted of running from the police and getting into trouble on every corner. He’d been saving it for a special occasion.

He picked it up and felt its weight in the palm of his right hand. It was small, but heavy, faded from all the use Emanuel had made of it. He could run his fingers along every single groove in the metal and attribute it to an adventure. He was a different man now, he was not the same thug that he’d had to be in order to protect his family. And yet...there was a fire burning its way through him at the indignancy he’d suffered right here in his own city. His hand cramped around the gun.

“Just give me an order” his right hand, Rufus, said in his gruff voice. He was standing by the wall-length window and his breath fogged up the glass, revealing his piggy eyes in the reflection. He was practically begging to hurt someone.

“Do it.”

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