At Scythe Point
an excerpt

Viviane Morrow sighed as she tried to shift the midnight blue convertible into reverse for a fourth time. Confident that the stick shift was finally cooperating, she gunned the engine only to produce a horrible grating that sent a nearby squirrel running for cover. For a brief moment, she was taken back to her youth as she poured out a string of obscenities that she’d thought were long forgotten. The last time she’d used many of them had been the day that Big Jake tried to kill her. Even as he’d wrapped his large hands around her neck, she continued to call him every name she could muster and created a few new ones specifically aimed at insulting his manhood. She smiled a wicked grin knowing that he’d long since mouldered away in a shallow grave, unmarked and unknown to everyone. Well, almost everyone, she laughed to herself before turning her attention back to the intractable rental car.

“You lousy son of a tin can, you will do as I say,” she hissed in a low whisper as she smacked her palm against the dash. The car remained unresponsive until she pressed the gas, at which point it leaped forward a few inches, smacking into the concrete curb violently. Viviane swore even more loudly, cursing everyone and anyone who’d had a part in the manufacture of the automobile, Henry Ford, and finally anyone who’d ever driven, seen, or heard of a car. After ten minutes of releasing pent-up fury on the unsuspecting vehicle, she took a deep breath and neatly slid the gearshift into place. A tentative easing on the clutch as she pressed the gas resulted in the car rolling back a few inches. She laughed in delight and pressed harder on the gas pedal. The car accelerated rapidly backwards before coming to a sudden violent stop as it hit something solid.

Whipping her head around, Viviane groaned when she realized the roadblock she’d hit was actually a man, immaculately dressed in a jet-black suit and apparently unfazed by being struck. He made a small tsking noise as he walked around to the driver’s door and stared down at Viviane through dark sunglasses. Viviane shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat, knowing that the piercing eyes behind the glasses were several shades darker than even the blackest spectacles. His smile appeared benevolent, but Viviane did not assume that he was happy. She’d been on the receiving end of his fury on more than one occasion and she knew that the more he smiled, the deadlier his words and actions became. Fortunately for her, the corners of his mouth were barely upturned as he gazed at her. That meant he only intended to stir things up a bit instead of wreaking major havoc on her life.