Cold Moon (The Huntress/FBI Thrillers Book 3) - Plot & Excerpts
And botanicas. Every few blocks, another botanica. In the driver’s seat beside him, Epps cruised the dismal track of International Boulevard, gravel-eyed from the long night and the two-hour drive from Salinas through mind-numbing fog. Roarke had taken the wheel the first hour so Epps could grab a nap, then they’d switched. Roarke looked out the passenger window. Shiny aluminum trailers were parked in almost every street-corner parking lot, with groups of workingmen lined up to get breakfast. In one lot, a news van was parked beside a taco truck. A blond reporter in a tailored crimson suit interviewed the men huddled at the counter, a splash of bloodred in all the grayness. The vultures descending, now that the action was over. Another pimp and john dead. And no worries about whether those two will ever be prosecuted. They’re out of commission for good. Done. There was an appeal to that idea that suddenly terrified Roarke.
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