Jack didn’t have to answer her vent. He knew most people believed that law enforcement was always the good guys. Normally, they were, but drugs and money changed things. Politics changed them even more. Corruption and lies invaded every organization eventually. “I’m not trying to get myself killed.” “So why do you keep doing this?” Selina asked. “If it isn’t to get yourself killed, then why?”
Selina DuVay finished her drink and glanced at the bartender. He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Damn it, I paid the bastard a hundred dollars to send Slade my way.” She raised her glass for another drink, and Tim smiled, filled a glass, and headed her way. “Sorry, ma’am, he wasn’t interested. I told him how pretty and sexy you were.” Tim placed the frothy glass of beer in front of her. “I’ll give the money back if you want.” “Keep it.” Selina picked up the glass and sipped. “Did he say where he was going?” “No, ma’am. I believe he’s leaving town soon, though.” Selina reached for her purse. “Keep your money.” He nodded to the beer. “That one is on the house, ma’am.” “Thanks.” Selina took another sip as Tim headed to the bar. She’d hoped Slade would find her attractive and want to talk. Most men did, and it would have made the task before her a hell of a lot easier.
Putting aside the promise she’d made to Annabelle, she needed Slade. I’m coming for you, Crawley, and before I’m finished, I’ll own everything you possess. “Hey, little lady, buy you a drink?” The deep voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked into the man’s eyes and shuddered. He reminded her of her stepfather. If evil had a picture in the dictionary, the man in front of her would be there. “No, thank you. I’m meeting my husband here.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily. “He just called to say he was running a little late.” “I had a woman like you, I’d never be late. Why don’t I keep you company until he shows up?” “Not a good idea.” She slid her hand into her purse then wrapped her fingers around the small derringer she kept there. “Maybe you should check out another bar. Who knows, the woman of your dreams might be waiting just down the street.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and moved in close to whisper in her ear. “Listen, bitch, nobody turns Lionel Nelson down. You walk in here and flaunt your stuff, you better be willing to put out. A man has a right to take what’s shoved at him.” Her finger twitched on the trigger. “And a woman has a right to defend herself.” She poked the barrel into his privates. “I suggest you take it elsewhere or lose it.” “Whore.” He shoved her, turned, and stomped out of the bar. “You called that one right, buddy.” The insult rolled off her like the water from this morning’s shower. It was hard to be insulted by the truth. Selina dropped the derringer inside her purse.
The encounter had left her shaken. She was used to men hitting on her. For the most part, she welcomed it from the ones who were easy to manipulate. “I should have shot the bastard in the balls.” Her thoughts turned to Slade as she finished the cold brew. She knew where he was staying. Maybe if he saw her close up, he would change his mind. Selina waved to Tim as she left the bar and walked in the direction she’d watched Slade go. She studied the crowd around her. Men like Nelson didn’t give up easy.
“Your feminine charms won’t work on Jack.” Selina sighed and turned toward the voice she knew only she could hear. “He’s a man, isn’t he?” Annabelle laughed. “Yes, but he’s married. Didn’t you see the wedding ring?” “His wife is dead.” “His wife isn’t dead to him, Selina. She will never be dead to him until the men responsible for her death have been dealt with.” Selina shrugged and leaned against a brick wall. “The woman has been dead for two years. He has to get horny eventually.” “You have a quest to finish, Selina. It’s important for me, you, and our people.” “I know what I promised, but I don’t think Slade is the man you were looking for.” “You’ll have to trust me. He is the White Warrior.” Selina rolled her eyes. “White Warriors, Standing Bears, and Medicine Women. I loved watching Longmire as much as you did, but do you know how cheesy those names sound?” Annabelle didn’t answer, but the air of sadness surrounding her enveloped Selina, and guilt washed over her. “I’ll keep my promise, Annabelle. I just haven’t figured out how to do that yet.” “You’ll have help soon.” Selina watched the image of her sister fade away. “She isn’t real. I’m crazy, and what she asked me to do is even crazier.”
She made her way to the main strip and Blue’s Hall. The band was just starting to play, and she hoped she had a few more days before Slade decided to move on. A lifelong blues fan, she wanted to visit the museum before she left. Or before Crawley finds me and kills me. Maybe Slade was the man Annabelle thought he was. Selina had never met a man who was faithful to one woman. Especially a dead woman. “That still doesn’t mean he’s this White Warrior I’m supposed to find for Annabelle.” She slid onto the barstool. “Pour me a whiskey, Tim.” He placed a shot glass in front of her and filled it. “Want a chaser with that?” “No, just keep the glass full.” She raised it to her lips and downed it. “Too many of these, and I’ll have to call someone to pick you up.” Tim refilled the glass. Selina downed the second glass and grimaced as a slow burn started in her throat and made its way to her stomach. “I don’t have anyone for you to call.” She banged the glass on the counter. “Refill. And leave the bottle.” Tim placed the cork in the bottle. “Sorry, hon, you’ve had enough. That guy you tangled with earlier came back looking for you after you left. Trust me, he’s dangerous.” Selina slid off the stool and waited for the room to stop spinning. “I don’t trust anyone,” she muttered. “You’ll have to trust me.” Annabelle’s words echoed above the noise of the bar. Selina stumbled toward the open doorway. “Annabelle is the only person in my life I trusted.” She scanned the street, looking for Nelson. “And I killed her.”
~~~
I want justice for my wife and partner, but I also want to believe the good guys still outnumber the bad.”
Selina followed Slade from a safe distance as he headed toward Beale Street. It seemed out of character for Slade, but they were in Memphis, and Beale paid tribute to the legendary musicians whose music streamed from open doorways. The horror from the night before weighed heavily on her mind. Until he walked out of the police station, she’d been afraid they’d caught him. He didn’t actually kill the guy. The thought didn’t bring the comfort she desired. Slade had brought the guy there to be killed then just walked away. “You’re thinking too much,” Annabelle whispered beside her. “There’s no way this guy is any kind of warrior. He’s more like the devil’s grim reaper.” “He’s finished in Memphis. If you don’t convince him soon, he’ll walk away.” Selina drew in a deep breath. “I’ll convince him, but I still think you’re wrong.” She stopped for a moment to exchange pleasantries with one of the promoters outside a bar. Tonight, like most nights, the street was packed with tourists from all parts of the world. A glance in the window confirmed another suspicion—she wasn’t the only one following Slade. She studied the man before moving on slowly. He was tall, with an air of authority about him. “I’ll bet his suit is afraid to wrinkle,” she whispered to herself as she moved on, watching his movements in the windows she passed. He would have actually been attractive if she’d liked that sort. Maybe if he would let those dark black curls grow out a little and put a couple of dimples in his cheeks from smiling, she would take a second look if he walked past her on a busy street. “The dude is far too serious for my taste.”
~~~
“Finally.” She opened a search engine and typed in Nita Chickaway. “Not even a one-liner in major newspapers.” Going back to the search engine, she typed in “Indian woman raped on reservation.” “Fu…” She stopped herself from completing the word. She might not have decorum, but it was one word she hated the sound of. Her stepfather had used it every time he came to her room. Rage filled her as she read the articles. It wasn’t just rape Native American women had to worry about. According to the statistics, murders of Native American women were ten times higher than the national rate. One out of three Native American women would be raped in her lifetime, and three out of five were physically assaulted. In the majority of times, the perpetrator was not Native American, so the tribal government couldn’t even prosecute the bastards. Downing the now-lukewarm cup of coffee, she eyed the bottle of whiskey she’d purchased for Slade so he could stop taking the pain pills. “Nope, you’re staying sober, whether you like it or not. You made a promise, and this time, you’re going to keep it.” Because of the darkness of her skin, she’d experienced some prejudice over the years, but nothing like this. The fact that men considered her pretty had made most of it tolerable. She refilled her cup and did another search. Hatcher had called her an old soul, something about an unknown woman. She skimmed the Choctaw legends and myths until she found the one that recounted the story of two hunters. Their families were hungry, but the only thing they managed to kill was a black hawk. Despondent, they stayed in the woods and cooked the hawk. About to eat their meager meal, they were interrupted by strange sounds that caused fear to make their hearts flutter. A woman clothed in white appeared from the forest. “Doesn’t sound like me at all. First, I would never be in the forest, and second, I look terrible in white.” Selina continued to read. The woman beckoned them and told them she was hungry. The poor slobs gave her the hawk. She ate a small portion, gave it back, and thanked them for their kindness. The woman then told the men her father was the Great Spirit of the Choctaws. She asked them to meet her again during the next midsummer moon on the mound she was standing on, then she disappeared. The hunters told no one of their strange experience, but they did return as she had asked. They found a strange plant upon the mound that yielded food, which they cultivated for their tribe. “So she gave them corn, which fed their families for years to come.” Selina shook her head. “As if I believed that bullshit.”
Note: I had to include song because of Good Witch Glinda! LOL
The memory ended as abruptly as it had started. Jack opened his eyes, comparing what he’d just experienced to what the Native Americans called visions. “Memories, Slade. That’s all, and you don’t even know if they’re real.” He shifted on the hard bench as anger over the kids’ taunts about his mother rankled inside him. He knew that black eye was the first of many. Even after her death, a few of them were cruel enough to sing “Ding-Dong! The Witch is Dead.” Most of those wound up with two black eyes. The irony of it was he never knew what he was fighting about. Until now, his memories of his mother had come from pictures and stories his grandfather had told him. He’d never mentioned what Jack suspected now were her psychic abilities, and his grandfather had detested anything paranormal. His mother had tried to prepare him to survive in the future she’d seen for him. His grandfather was only interested in what he’d called saving his soul. “No wonder I’m screwed up.” Jack glanced at the brittle wood again and lit a cigarette. If memories were supposed to make things clearer, this one had failed. The barn doors opened, and Hatcher stood watching him. “Selina was worried about you.” “Just doing a little soul-searching, Hatcher. You ever do that?” “Sweat lodge every six months.” Jack filled his lungs with smoke, held it, then blew out smoke rings. “Did it work for you?” Hatcher chuckled. “Nah, usually confused me.” He glanced at the cigarette. “You should give those things up.” He joined Jack on the bench. Jack glanced at the belly overlapping Hatcher’s pants. “You should lose some weight.” They sat in silence until Jack finished his cigarette and ground the butt out beneath his shoe. “Find anything interesting in your soul?” Hatcher asked. “It’s as screwed up as I am.” Hatcher laughed again. “I didn’t think I was gonna like you, Jack Slade. I believe you’re growing on me.” “Funny you should say that. I thought I could trust you, but I believe you’ve been lying to me all along.” “I lied about some things. It was necessary. No one could convince you that you were the Hunter or White Warrior. You will have to find out for yourself which one you truly are.” Hatcher stood and looked down at him. “Are you staying?” “Haven’t made up my mind yet. Selina said Nita tried to kill herself last week.” He frowned. “I guess that would be two weeks now.” Hatcher nodded. “We took out all the mirrors, but she saw her reflection in the water.” “We need to get her out of that room. Back with her family and friends.” Hatcher slapped him on the back. “Selina has already taken care of that.” They walked toward the huge double doors. “One more thing, Hatcher. If I stay, you cut this hunter and warrior crap. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not who you’re looking for.”
~~~
Two things can be true at the same time. I love this and other books by Linda Prather (search in the right column for more of her books I've read). I also hate what happens to women at the hands of evil men! I couldn't help but compare the plot to what is now happening to eliminate DEI throughout our nation and the world!
Linda has often written about the paranormal. In this book, she has many different individuals who are sending messages across the nation to ensure what is to happen will happen... Ghosts who have attached to a human to ensure that something happens before they go into the light. Some are native american(s) (or part) who are being called back to their home to rid the Tribe of all that was and is happening. Some have bad memories from their early life which returns in dreams as messages or preparation for what is to come...
What we do know is that the evil men are white and rich and powerful (sound familiar) and they use money to cover the multitude of evil acts that are performed. And, since they live near a local Tribe, and the white man's laws prevents them from charging white men with crimes, a major movement is taking place against the women and girls of the Tribe.
The main story begins when a young beautiful girl is attacked by three white students. She had identified the three, but since the Tribal police had no authority, the local police and FBI were involved and found the three who attacked her innocent. It should be noted that one of the boys was the son of a local Senator. The other two were sons of a rich business owner who knew that his money would take care of any accusations against his sons...
That is, until the three individuals who had been pulled into the area by those in the psychic world, had begun what they ultimately knew they were called to do. Linda! I hope you plan on continuing a series or at least a trilogy, or even one more book... Get the idea, I loved these three totally unanticipated heros!
Jack Slade was the first man who had a bad early life. He had become a law officer until his wife and child were murdered and nothing was done. At that point, he took on a type of vengeance that he could live with... Since he was constantly on the hunt for who had killed his family, he also became known by word of mouth that he was willing to also hunt for those families who'd had family murdered and not convicted.
In the case of clients, he did the hunting--always finding the guilty person(s) and he then turned the guilty over to the family. They decided what to do. Let's just say, few decided to forgive those guilty...
Selina DuVay was a twin, also with a very bad early life. When her twin was murdered, she went looking for Slade... But, her sister, Annabelle could not rest and had learned what was happening to the local Tribe members. Selina and Annabelle were both involved with Tribal mysticism and were working at that level of communication that only they can achieve! Selina heard what had happened to the young girl who had been not only raped but also cut all over her body so that she would now not talk nor leave her room. Selina knew she could help her... It started with buying a beautiful gown that covered her entire body other than her face... Selina and Slade became a twosome as they began the major job of busting through into the white man's mostly ignored corruption...
Finally, we meet Trent Morelli who is part native and a member of the local Tribe, from which he had deserted and went into the mostly white FBI... But once Jack started, with Clark, his ghost partner, giving him jabs about Morelli's competence and success, things started moving faster... Hate to say it, but corruption had also entered the FBI, it was decided that Morelli, with his connection, should be sent to do what needed to be done... Only thing was that Morelli didn't know then whether even his boss was behind their plan... Trent had been given a list of three Tribe members to identify as the ones who had raped the woman... Of course, they pointed out that the three white guys had already been cleared and these were ones that had been in trouble before??? What the FBI men who talked to him didn't know was that his brother was the head of the Tribal Police Force! Yes, it was hard for Trent to go back after a decade, but he had no choice not to go... What they could not do was force him to convict somebody without proof!
This is a fast-paced thriller which keeps you totally involved from the first page until the last, with a major pause of regrt when this reader lost a favorite character who played a great part...was murdered...
“Why do we have to kill him?” recoiling from the gun the same way he would have a snake ready to strike. His brother backhanded his twin. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life as some prison bubba’s bitch? Take the damn gun!” “What the hell is he going on about?” “Did one of you bastards ask him to come here?” “Why the hell would we ask him to come here?” “He says he’s unarmed.” “Never trust an Indian. I heard he’s a pretty good shot. We stand a better chance outside than we do all cramped together in here.” “We’ll go out on the count of three.” We’ll let the whiner cut him up when we’re finished with him.” “High-five.” “Let’s not hit anything vital. Takes all the fun out of it.” The two burst through the doorway, guns blazing until they emptied the clips. Hatcher lay on the ground a few feet in front of his cruiser. “Do you think he’s dead?” “If he isn’t, he will be.” He approached Hatcher and kicked him in the side. “You dead, Indian?” A moan escaped his lips before Hatcher opened his eyes and smiled. “Not yet. You man enough to finish it, boy?” He was kicked in the side again. “What’s the hurry?” An owl screeched in the forest, and Hatcher laughed. “What is he laughing at, creeping closer, and Hatcher laughed again. This place is giving me the creeps.” “Yeah, go get the whiner, kicking Hatcher in the leg and chuckled when it elicited another moan. “What’s the matter, big man? Did that hurt?” “Nah, just had a touch of gas.” Hatcher laughed again. “We saved him for you. Finish him off.” “Let’s just go. He’s dying anyway. Let him bleed out.”
“Come on, boys. You started this together. Finish it together. Three shots straight to the heart.” Hatcher winked and chuckled as another screech echoed closer by. “The owls are coming.” “He’s right. We have to do it together.” Hatcher’s chest made a slurping sound as the bullet struck. “Not so funny now, is it, big man?” Another fired twice, both shots to the chest. “Your turn." He emptied his clip into Hatcher’s chest. “Anybody want to make sure he’s dead?” Then, another raised his gun and placed a bullet between Hatcher’s eyes. “He’s dead. Let’s get the hell out of here.” A helicopter passed slowly overhead. “Forget the bitch,” “We’ve got to move.” “I’d still like to know what he was laughing about, he said as he rushed for the Corvette.
(edited to leave out names.)
The psychic activities with background was especially well done in my opinion. Highly recommended!
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