The clock is ticking for the human race.
Max Dumerick has spent his young life doing the dirty work of the highest bidder. When his last job awakens his reluctant conscience, he finds himself teaming up with an unlikely duo to try to stop a would-be god.
When Melanie Edwards realizes she’s being hunted, her desire to protect her family forces her to make some hard choices. Choices that will lead her into the belly of the beast.
Abandoned by the woman he loves and the mother of his child, and left with nothing but infrequent, cryptic messages, Ryan Edwards stumbles across evidence of the coming apocalypse. When he starts digging for the truth, he must choose between warning the world, and his daughter’s life.
Two pivotal nights, sixteen years apart, will intertwine the fates of predator and prey.
Steady sales
Max Dumerick felt naked. A .9 mil sat snug in the back of his waistband on a barrel clip. It was hard to see under his sweat-soaked t-shirt, easy to reach. Still, it wasn't Betty. The long gun would have been impossible to hide and the new black duffle bag he'd bought to carry her in would have stood out like a swan at a swine festival in this gritty Mexican town.
Nor could he risk anyone catching him with the package. Not until he had some insurance that Grey wouldn't end his miserable life as soon as it was in the old man's hands. For the hundredth time, he second guessed his decision. Killing his partner had been easy, the man was a prick. Even by Max's standards, which were pretty low.
The families, the lab – wiping them out bothered his conscience not a bit. What kept him awake at night was turning on Grey… that was like walking into a Republican convention and admitting you shot the president. Suicide.
He didn't expect trouble. La Rosa's Cantina, with its air of lost dreams and two-dollar whores, would be the last place he would expect to see Grey or his men. Obscurity wasn't the only reason he'd chosen the Chihuahua Desert, or even the most important.
Technology, or rather the lack of it, had been first on his list. Despite the new Global Network installed by C.O.R.E., there were still holdouts, like this one, that rebelled against constant monitoring.
Not once over the past two weeks had he seen so much as a cellphone. As far as that went, he had only seen two trucks since he had been in town. Both were gas-fueled, carburetor antiques that should have been in a museum. Where there was no technology, there could be no GN surveillance. Satellites could still pinpoint a man on the ground well enough to see a pimple on his ass, but it took time. More time than he intended to give them.
Still.
He felt naked.
Vulnerable.
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