Crimson Eve by Brandilyn Collins

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By Brandilyn Collins

Carla stared on the gun and David Thornby---or no matter what his identify was once. Her brain fissured, one part pleading this was once a few unwell funny story, the opposite realizing it used to be now not. Her throat ran dry, air backing up in her lungs. She swallowed. "Please. you need to have the inaccurate individual. there isn't any reason behind somebody to need me useless. i haven't got any enemies."

'Then you would most sensible reconsider your friends."

Realtor Carla Radling indicates an 'English gentleman' a lakeside estate---and reveals herself dealing with a gun. Who has employed this murderer to kill her, and why? pressured at the run, Carla needs to discover the scathing secrets and techniques of her earlier. secrets and techniques that may break a few very robust humans. even perhaps switch the face of a nation... 

Crimson Eve is publication 3 within the Kanner Lake sequence. Set in a small lakeshore city in pristine northern Idaho, this sequence combines suspense and fast moving motion with interesting, well-crafted characters and plenty of an unforeseen twist. additionally to be had: Violet Dawn (book 1), Coral Moon (book 2), and Amber Morn (book 4).

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From that dim room, peripheral movement caught her eye. Something on the couch near the front window. She swiveled, saw a figure — and gasped. Her eyes locked on a familiar face. 27 CRIMSON EVE The intruder rose from her couch. “Ms. ” The voice was low, weighted with menace that need never yell. ” 28 THREE A hit man? What was this, some Edna San film noir? Carla stared at the gun and David Thornby — or whatever his name was. Her mind split in two, one side pleading this was some sick joke, the other screaming it was all too real.

How dare some smart-mouthed realtor think she could outwit him. No way was he going to lose that half-million dollars. Tony hadn’t climbed into his job; he’d fallen into it. Down and drunk ten years ago, living on the streets — and out of the blue, a proposition from a woman he barely knew. Five thousand bucks for getting rid of her abusive husband. Five thousand dollars. All he had to do was pop off some lowlife who knocked his wife around. The job had gone down like smooth vodka — and Tony’s new habit was born.

Tanya perched on the edge of her office chair, focusing on her computer screen. On her right sat a cup of tea, still steaming. To her left, beige blinds on the large windows were closed tight. Her desk was neat, every pen in place, the phone angled just so. The feigned orderliness of her life. Tomorrow loomed unyielding and unsure. But tonight while she had the chance, Tanya would follow the clarion of her conscience. It had begun to blow the minute the hated intruder disappeared out her door. After all these years of complacence, Tanya now felt driven to find the name that had so haunted her: Carla Radling.

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