Girl Bait (eBook)

BK Pruitt (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
328 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-0142-7 (ISBN)

Infos

A Presbyterian priest is murdered in a small town by a mob of pro-slavery activists two decades before the Civil War. Before his final breath, a bloody frock ties him to the future and assures the ascension of another man to the presidency of the United States. Nearly two centuries later, Alton West finds himself returning from Afghanistan as a war hero. His return is short, as he is quickly led to Odessa after tragedy strikes. Together, they must fight against an international tyrant and determine if the past is worth revisiting.

BK Pruitt is the author. During the day, he's a mild-mannered college professor teaching registered nursing and critical care at a private university. At night, an extensive collection of antique books surrounds him while he writes gritty, suspense-filled hero dramas involving strong women and their male counterparts. In his previous life, he was an award-winning journalist whose work appeared in the Oakland Tribune, the Sacramento Bee, the Contra Costa Times, and other news, political, and health publications. His voice reverberated on one of the nation's top-five stations, Newstalk 91.3 KFBK, in Sacramento. He has obtained multiple college degrees in journalism, government, screenwriting, and registered nursing, with a master's degree in education. Just to keep things interesting, he is also a commercially rated aircraft pilot. Thank you for reading Girl Bait! Your comments are always welcome at www.BKPruitt-writer.com

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Illinois, 1837: a Presbyterian priest is murdered in a small town by a mob of pro-slavery activists two-decades before the Civil War. As he lies on the warehouse floor dying, a bloody frock ties him to the future and assures the ascension of another man to the presidency of the United States. Returning from Afghanistan nearly two centuries later, war hero Alton West seeks normalcy. His solitude ends when tragedy leads him to Odessa, a powerful woman on a quest for redemption. A fight against an international tyrant profiting from abducted children ensues as Alton and Odessa chase clues to the criminal while others try to stop them by death. Allegiances are challenged as the past reclaims its significance after a desperate stand. Alton and Odessa must determine if the past is worth revisiting. **2025 AMERICAN FICTION AWARDS WINNER: Mystery/Suspense: Multicultural & DiversityReviewed by Keith Mbuya for Readers' Favorite: Once this heart-pounding page-turner draws you in, it is relentless, only loosening its grip after the final word. Weaving an intriguing plot, BK Pruitt effortlessly unfolds the storyline on a multi-perspective timeline, introducing readers to an exciting, dynamic cast. As the plot slowly picked up pace, the edge-of-the-seat suspense and jaw-dropping plot twists hooked me. The evocative cinematic depictions brought the scenes to life on the pages. It felt like watching a Hollywood crime thriller. I got carried away in a whirlwind of grime, crime, money, sex trafficking, power, survival, love, reunions, murder, hand-to-hand combat, crime bosses, hitmen, and more. The conversations were sharp and lively and kept shifting from upbeat to urgent and tense. These gave depth to the cast's conflicts, intricate emotions, and complex traits. BK Pruitt's "e;Girl Bait"e; is the perfect pick for lovers of gripping, action-packed crime thrillers with a blend of adventure and mystery.

Textauszug

Chapter 2

Oakland, California

A seedy residential neighborhood in the wee morning darkness is not a good place for an African American man up in his years to hang, Charles thought.

He pondered potential threats from overactive police officers and teenage gangs of all stripes. He fingered the personal Taser deep in the pocket of his hooded jacket as yellow police tape surrounding a home across the street fluttered in the early morning breeze.

The wisdom of volunteering for this duty eluded the pudgy man in his late forties. Holding a longneck bottle in one hand, Charles pulled his collar up against the cold of the early San Francisco Bay Area morning and took another swig. As he stared at the ground with glassy eyes for a time, a distant set of rotating lights drew away his attention.

The surrounding neighborhood displayed all the signs of rural abandonment. Some windows bore plywood coverings adorned with graffiti. Front lawns had surrendered to weeds, collapsing cyclone fences, and abandoned cars. The charred walls of one home remained plastered with “condemned” signs after a meth lab explosion had gutted its interior more than a year previous. Reported “squatters” occupied another home after the former owner had abandoned the unsaleable property and its unrealistic Bay Area property tax rate.

The rotating lights grew closer. From his vantage point, he saw the East Bay hills rise slowly from the bay, sloping upward along the coastal mountains. This gave his location a slight elevation advantage, allowing him to see the approaching lights below his vantage point as they moved closer. The circulating red pulses reflected on the roofs of homes as they passed through the older housing district.

Charles turned and glanced at the curtained windows behind him. The sheer drapery bore the black silhouettes of people dancing amidst loud music and laughing. He smiled and pulled his coat closer, hoping she was still waiting—and not talking to another man. He recalled sensing a younger guy sniffing around his longtime girlfriend of eight days.

The flashing lights grew nearer, turning onto the street where he waited. Piercing red beacons transformed into an ambulance that ran without its siren. Navigating amongst the cars parked along both sides of the narrow street, the vehicle bearing a large red cross, and the name of a local healthcare organization, came to an abrupt stop nearby. The hazard lights activated, and the passenger-side door closest to him swung open.

A single long leg extended outside as the occupant leaned across the vehicle’s opposite side while reaching for a clipboard. A tall man with a tanned complexion, muscular build, and wavy black hair leaped out, moving like a trained athlete toward the vehicle’s rear while clipping a radio to his uniform belt in practiced motion. His piercing blue eyes scanned the area with purpose. Then they focused.

“Hi, I’m Alton West, paramedic. Are you the man that called?” he asked. “Where’s the patient?”

“Charles. It’s inside. I can show you,” he responded, turning toward the house while pulling his coat closer against the Bay Area’s night breeze.

“It?” said a second voice emanating from the driver’s side of the ambulance.

Shorter than the first but African American with broad muscular shoulders, a slight paunch, and a matching uniform, he hurried toward the rear of the unit, grabbing two large red bags, or jump bags, of equipment before passing one to Alton.

“This is my partner, Jazz,” Alton said as he moved toward the house. Jazz waved and smiled while heaving his bag. “Show us.”

The man led the two paramedics into the front door of the small home. The living room, built to hold maybe five people on its worn and blackened tan carpet, now hosted a dozen or more partiers. Each had an alcoholic beverage and seemed altered in multiple ways. Jazz could feel himself getting a contact high from the thick haze that filled the room while a rap tune boomed from a Hi-Fi stereo.

You got a problem.

I’m a problem solver.

Solve more problems with a.357 revolver.

Come near; you pay dearly.

And I can barely hear when you talk, so speak up, nigga!

They continued to follow the man past a kitchen where several people sat on the counter. Some laughed, while some clung to others in semi-passionate throes. Dozens of empty beer and liquor bottles filled the double sinks. Butts littered the room, a few from tobacco cigarettes.

“It’s down there. You go ahead and check,” the man hollered over the sound, gesturing down the short hallway toward a closed door. “Someone said it wasn’t moving, so we figured we oughta call you.”

“You did right. We’ll take it from here,” Alton smiled while looking into the man’s eyes and quietly judging his level of inebriation.

Glancing away, the man took another swig from his longneck bottle and hurried to the kitchen where a portly older woman wearing a glittering mini dress and bright pink lipstick smiled at him. She held out another beer for him as he approached. He pushed her back against the counter as they embraced in a passionate kiss.

“Old drunken romance, ya gotta love it,” said Jazz, watching with distasteful eyes. “Hell, let’s go,” he said, leading down the hall.

Jazz and Alton entered a silent, dark back bedroom. Loud music from the living room vibrated through the walls, making the overfilled ashtray on the side table tremble. Jazz found a light switch and flipped the dirty toggle several times. No response.

“Lights out,” he said while reaching into his uniform’s pant leg pocket for a flashlight.

Alton acknowledged, noticing a lone small desk lamp positioned on the floor in a distant corner. Pulling the rusty chain twice under its shade made a shink-shink sound. The lamp flickered to life. Peering around the room, both men noted old clothing and dirty plates covering the floor contributed to the odor permeating the space.

A pink playpen sat in the middle of the room. A motionless form lay within.

Alton pulled disposable gloves and a mask from his pocket, slipping them on as he reached over the edge in a single motion, and picked up a child. Peeling back a urine-and-feces-stained blanket, he assessed the tiny female, placing his finger on her chest, pinching her tiny feet, then placing his ear right next to the child’s open mouth.

His stethoscope on its chest for a few seconds confirmed what he already knew.

Jazz stepped around the bassinet from the other side. He respectfully ran his hands over the child’s dark ashen-colored skin and head.

“It’s gone. It’s been a while. The head is ice,” Jazz said, looking away.

“Yeah, the arms are becoming stiff,” Alton said. “Cold as ice with no obvious circulation—she couldn’t have been over five months old.”

“How do you want to play it?” Jazz asked.

“It meets protocols. We have no choice but to call the death and let the coroner’s office do the final signage,” Alton said as he swaddled the tiny form in several absorbent blankets from his bag, allowing the head to remain exposed. “Let’s see if we can find someone responsible. We’ll transport and inform OPD en route.” As if on second thought, he glanced around the room and added, “Disturb nothing.” Looking at his watch, he said, “The time is 0312 hrs.”

“Gotcha,” said Jazz.

Heading out the door, they saw the man they had met outside was still with the pudgy woman, this time with his hand squeezing her abundant posterior as they cuddled next to the kitchen counter while kissing.

“Buddy, do you know who that little girl’s caretakers are?” Jazz interrupted.

“Is it a girl? Dunno who’s caring for it. Heard mamma went to jail a couple of weeks back,” he said. “We all been tak’n care for it best possible.”

Stepping over a man passed out on the floor, Jazz reached for the blasting stereo and punched the power button hard. Multiple eyes responded to the sudden cessation of sound, turning in his direction.

“Does anyone know who the hell the child in the back bedroom belongs to? She’s going to need some care, and we need to talk to someone,” he roared.

After a few seconds of inattention, “Anyone?” Jazz repeated.

A nearby youth wearing baggy pants below his buttocks, revealing a bright red pair of boxers, moved close to Jazz and exhaled a cloud of smoke in his face. The odor of cheap marijuana mixed with the pungent smell of vomit made Jazz consider hurling himself.

“Why don’t you get the fuck outta here? Assholes aren’t welcome,” he said. Looking at the badge on Jazz’s uniform, he added, “And especially plantation...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 12.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-0142-7 / 9798317801427