The Skinny by Erik Carter (Dale Conley Action Thrillers Series Book 8)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.7 MB
Erik Carter is the author of two bestselling series of thrilling books. He can be found in Florida, either scratching on a notepad at the beach or pounding furiously on a keyboard, all in the effort of crafting exciting, can’t-put-down tales to take you on out-of-this-world adventures.
Dale Conley crosses the desert with a puzzling and dangerous prisoner, a man leading him to a dark secret hidden somewhere in the dust.
Victor Simmons felt like a demon.
He allowed another poisonous sentence to escape his thoughts, to float through the hot, shimmering air to his companion a few feet away.
“You want to kill me, don’t you?”
Seven words. Simple yet perfect words.
They wheezed out of Victor’s parched lips as he trudged across the expanse, his shoes crunching on the scorched, rocky earth. He didn’t bother looking at the man walking beside him, Dale Conley, even though the septet of words had been chosen carefully, crafted precisely to elicit a response from the man.
It was the first thing either one of them had said for at least twenty minutes. A breaking of the silence.
During the first stretch of the journey, the two of them had spoken nonstop. A back-and-forth banter that Victor had devoured with ravenous delight. Taunting Conley. Toying with his sense of ideals. Challenging his intellect. He’d given Conley clues about the woman they’d find once they reached their destination. He’d described what she’d looked like when she was abandoned in the desert. Her sad little whimpers. The dire situation she’d been left in. The torment on her face. The pain Victor had put her through.
And when Victor had pushed Conley to his limits, when Conley had screamed out at him, told him to shut up, Victor had complied, remaining quiet to this moment.
Conley was the perfect protagonist for this tale Victor had crafted. Noble. Brave. And just. All the right attributes. And he looked the part too. He was on the tall side—just a bit shorter than Victor—and very handsome. After everything Conley had been through that day and after the distance he’d covered during this hike with Victor, the man was beginning to show a bit of fatigue. But still he strode on, purposefully, standing tall, chin high, big strides from his legs.
Yes, quite heroic.
The green of Conley’s T-shirt and the blue of his jeans had been dulled from accumulated dust. Murky and tannish, faded like a master’s brushstrokes from whom cruel time had stolen their vibrancy. He wore a short-brimmed cowboy hat that he’d bought at the leather shop right before they took off on their journey—a last-minute purchase for defense against the blazing sun—and like the rest of his clothing, the hat was effortlessly cool, nonchalantly chic. He bore his clothes not so much with disregard, like so many men did, but more a sense of expectancy. Conley knew exactly who he was; his clothing needed to keep up.