RELEASED ON JANUARY 9, 2018
Victor is on the trail of soulless killers and ends up at the tip of a blade. Will he survive with his hide in one piece?
‘An Immigrant’ is a crime novel weaved with suspense, twists and turns, romance and dry humor now and then. It will intrigue and hook you. A touch of paranormal will sprinkle the story and raise the interest a notch.
Don’t miss your chance to delve into a convoluted intrigue and meet unique characters.
Oh, and don’t forget – you will get a bonus at the end of the novel – the recipe for one of the most delicious Romanian cakes. It melts in your mouth, with an explosion of flavors. Disclaimer: the taste matches the calories and it is addictive.
This is a crime novel, with some paranormal elements, humor and a shy romance blooming in spite of the gloomy events.
It is also a brief insight into the life of an immigrant and its tribulations.
‘Bad move, Victor boy,’ Victor thought, glancing around him with his blue, sharp eyes, searching the surrounding shadows.
Unease whirled inside his chest, and he rubbed his fingers unconsciously. He was itching for a cigarette, and in a bad way. He had decided to quit, but his resolve was challenged once more. His job didn’t make quitting easy.
He had a bad feeling. It had been bothering him since he accepted the rendezvous with the so-called informant in the Music Garden. His eyes swept the grove again.
‘How much should I reveal?’ he mused, unsure of what he should do.
“Everything, Victor,” Axel observed quietly.
Victor’s eyes snapped at him, the dark blue stormy now.
“You do read my mind,” he accused. “And she does too,” he pointed to Leah in a huff.
Unconcerned with Victor’s anger, Axel just shrugged, “I thought we had already established that last night.”
“Then why bother to ask me questions?” Victor replied, and his voice shook in anger.
“Now, kneel there,” the carrot man barked pointing with the gun to the floor. “And put your hands behind your head,” he thought to add.
Victor shook his head in refusal, and the man scowled.
“Why would I comply?” Victor asked. “You will kill me anyway, so there’s nothing for me in obeying your orders,” he shrugged.
“But I can shoot you just enough to keep you alive for a while,” the man growled.
“So what?” Victor retorted.
“So it will be more painful for you while you wait for the death to come,” the carrot man pointed out.
“Considering that I will die soon enough, pain doesn’t bother me. It’s inconsequential,” Victor replied with indifference, and that made the other man grit his teeth.
“I will shoot you in the belly. That would be a long and painful death. Now, kneel,” he bellowed.
“Not necessarily,” Victor contradicted him, always in a calm voice, meant to grate on the other one’s nerves.
“What?” the shooter shouted, enraged with Victor’s continuous refusal to obey his orders.
“I was just saying that shooting me in the belly doesn’t necessarily mean that I will have a long and painful death,” Victor explained patiently. “It depends where the bullet travels, you know. And that’s not something you can plan beforehand. I might just well instantly die,” he pointed out.
“Are you out of your mind?” the man shouted again, in bewilderment.
“No,” Victor shook his head. “I’m very sane. But I also know what a bullet can do. In theory, I mean. I haven’t had such an experience yet. That you want me to suffer doesn’t automatically mean that I will,” he shrugged again, yet always surveying the man attentively.
He could swear that his attacker was very close to blowing his gasket. His face had contorted and his eyes had turned wild.
Victor didn’t know whether he had a chance to get out of that situation alive, but he hoped either to drive the man so mad that he would attack him physically, forgetting about the gun, or that he would gain enough time for Axel to arrive and help. He was confident he had already let Leah know about what was going on.
“You are a wacko,” the man said and raised the hand with the pistol. “I think I’d better shoot you now and wait for the woman afterward. I might have some fun with her first, before killing her, I mean,” he smirked and Victor saw red.
The man released the safety trigger and decocked the pistol. He stretched his arm, his mien cold and indifferent now. His index started to press the trigger.
Victor resigned himself. He would probably die in the next second. He was aware that even if he had attacked the man, he wouldn’t have had time to get to him before the bullet had sawed him down. Yet, he knew he had to try, so he sprung forward, dropping the cell phone to the floor.
After she had finished patching him again, she decided to make some coffee and didn’t want to listen to any of his arguments.
‘As if she wanted me to be wide awake so I could enjoy my aches better,’ he reflected with resentment, and his lips turned into a scowl.
When her gaze fell on the glass with whiskey, she scowled and stomped to him. She snatched the glass out of his hand exactly when he tried to sip some more, and the whiskey sloshed out of the glass and splashed him in the process.
“What the heck?” he exclaimed, livid, wiping his face off.
His eyes widened and an ugly glower set on his face. He couldn’t believe she had had the audacity to snatch the tumbler from him.
“You don’t drink alcohol in such a situation, you fool. You’ve just taken an antibiotic and a painkiller. I didn’t push the matter to have you go to the hospital, but that doesn’t mean I will stand aside and let you kill yourself,” she replied angrily, and poured the whiskey in the flower pot on the windowsill.
“That’s plastic,” he observed dryly. “The plant,” he clarified when she looked at him with bewilderment.
Victor might want to have his head.
Victor glowered at Liliana some more, then turned to the detectives.
“So what now?” he asked.
Then, to their amazement, he started out of the door. With no connection to what he had just said, he threw over his shoulder, “Let’s go out onto the patio. There isn’t enough space for all of us in here.”
In a couple of seconds, he had left the room and the detectives still looked after him, stunned by his behavior.
Liliana sighed and sauntered to the desk to put the cups back on the tray and take them outside to the patio.
Born sometime in the past century, living in the 21st century.
Sometimes I have good ideas... (what do you think?)
Sometimes fascinating guests!
(that for sure!)
Sometimes I have to share some of my frustrations,..
(not too tempting, huh!)
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