Free Sample

Free Sample of Dead Darlings

Well folks, I will be returning to Survival Tips tomorrow. Promise. However, during my killing of darlings I cut one of my favorite scenes from the novel. I would be quite sad if I was the only person to read this scene. Even though it might not make total sense by itself, and doesn’t pertain to the new time line of Foamers, I am hoping some people will take joy in reading it. So, without further adieu, I present to you my dead darling:



            It was 11 p.m. and X figured he knew Kade well enough to follow his plan without having to touch base with him. Besides, X had his own plan to worry about. He wandered around a small retirement community until he found an area with a cul-de-sac and a garden in the middle. He picked a mailbox that had the last name stenciled on it, and pulled a burner cell phone out of his pocket.

“911, state your emergency,” the operator said.

“This is Jim—” he paused to read the mailbox, “Stenson. My grandmother just had a heart attack. I don’t know what to do. The address is—” he paused again, “112 Mayberry Lane.”

He gave them the rest of the information they requested and then went and waited in the center of the shrubbery.

The chill in the air reminded him of childhood nights with Kade. The two of them went back practically to their births. X had been raised by a single mom, and was often looked after by Kade’s parents when his own was at work.

X had never bonded with Damian or Ashton, but Kade was the closest thing he had to a brother. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do for the Zerris family, and Kade had proved on more than one occasion that their relationship was a two-way street. Kade had even crossed Mick to keep X from going to jail.

Though X wasn’t a keen believer in Kade’s Shenanigans plan, he owed Kade too much to not help him. He didn’t care if Kade was right or wrong, this was a matter of loyalty.

It took close to ten minutes for the ambulance to arrive, and X was glad he didn’t actually have a grandmother dying of a heart attack. He patiently sat and watched the two EMTs run along the walkway and pound on the door. A light turned on in the house, and a moment later, the EMTs disappeared inside. X stood, dusted off his black shirt and blue jeans, casually strolled across the street to the ambulance, climbed into the driver’s seat, checked for the keys, adjusted his black cowboy hat, made sure the mirrors were in the right position, put the gearshift into drive, and drove away.






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