Overview:
Jack Briggs is a cop in trouble. The Houston Police Department’s smartest, toughest undercover narcotics cop. Briggs carries a chip on each shoulder and has always believed he was invincible. There’s a reason for that. Briggs survived an abusive childhood: it’s what gives him an edge on the streets. And it is on the streets, on the most dangerous undercover assignments that Briggs feels the most comfortable. For is here that he can make use of his own dark impulses, deal with his demons. Like the drug dealers he pursues, Briggs likes to play the game: going to the edge and looking over. But Briggs makes what may be a fatal mistake. He sleeps with the wrong woman. The consequences of that single act turn Briggs’ world upside down, send him down a path of revenge and redemption. As he tries to stop his freefall, Briggs has to stay one step ahead of a bad cop, take down a major drug dealer, and deceive the man who is the reason he became a cop. Suddenly Briggs finds himself battling to save his badge, his sanity, and ultimately, his very life.
Book Teaser:
1
for a moment before the door slammed shut behind the two men. They stood there,
letting the cold air clear their heads. There was a full March moon and winter was
trying to hang on a little longer in Houston. But it had been a relatively mild Texas
winter; spring was taking over a little more each day.
The larger man of the two stuffed his hands in his leather jacket's pockets and
shivered. “I'll be glad when this cold crap is over,” he said, thinking maybe they
should go back inside and drink some more. But there was work to do.
It’s not so bad,” the other man said, zipping up his windbreaker. ‘At least we
don’t live in fuckin’ Minnesota. They’ll have snow there until May.”
The man in the leather jacket, who had a thick linebackers neck, looked over
at his drinking buddy. “What the fuck do you know about Minnesota? You ain’t
never been past Dallas, Jack."
Believe it or not, when I worked for Myers, I had to go to Minnesota and pick up
a load, ” Jack said. “It was some pretty good blow. Lived 03 that stuff for a long time.
The big man laughed. “Then you're gonna love the stuff that came in tonight,’
he said. “Because we’re all gonna get rich and fat of}. this stuff. It is the finest blow you will ever see in your fuckin’ lifetime.”
Jack grinned his eyes brightening. “Thats whatl like about you, Becker. Nothing
but the best for you.
“Damn straight, Jack,” Becker said, looking up and down the street. It was after
one a.m. and there wasn’t a soul around. "Come on, it’s time to get busy.”
Man, you’ve had too much to drink.” Jack watched as Becker began walking
away from him. "The cars not over there. It's back this way.”
-----------
[10]
Becker turned on his heels. “We don’t need the car, ” he said. “There’s a warehouse
we use down here when we get a special delivery. That’s why I wanted to come down
to this part of town tonight. Now, come on, we got people waiting on us.”
Jack felt his heartbeat quicken. Becker was finally going to let him in on a big
score. All the months of work were going to pay off. He hurried to fall in step with
Becker.
This is gonna be such a sweet, sweet deal,” Becker said as they strode briskly
down the lamp-lit street, past closed stores and older apartment buildings. He
scanned the surroundings, looking for just the right spot. “Sweet, sweet deal,” he
repeated, draping his burly arm around Jacks shoulders as they approached the alley.
That’s why it’s such a shame.”
Jack felt Becker’s gip on him tighten, pulling him against him. He started to
reach for the gun in the small of his back, knowing as he did that it was too late.
A fuckin’ shame that you’re a fuckin’ cop,’ Becker growled, turning into Jack
and thrusting the knife into his midsection; he put all of his weight against it and
twisted the blade. "A fuckin’ shame.”
Jack gasped. The pain was fire and ice at once. He tried to push away from
Becker, but suddenly found he had no strength left in him. His legs were buckling
beneath him; Becker was holding him up.
And now you’re a dead fuckin’ cop,” Becker spat, pulling the knife out and
slicing it across ]ack’s stomach, drawing a gush of blood, and then plunged it into
him again.
White-hot searing pain swept through Jack. He heard himself cry out as the
knife twisted. He tried again to break Beckers hold, managing to thrust a knee into
the big mans groin.
Enraged, Becker swung him into the alley and slammed him into the wall of the
building. Iacks head bounced off it, twice; it was as though someone was turning a
light switch off and on, dizzines and nausea swept over him. He slumped in Beckers
arms. Yanking the knife out, Becker Hung him to the ground.
Fuckin’ cop,” Becker cursed, kicking him; the toe of his boot going into the
knife wounds again and again.
Jack curled up, trying to protect himself. He groaned every time a kick landed
and the pain reached a new level. He tried no hold on, tried to believe he was going
to live through this. But it was useless. Becker was right. He was a dead cop. The
warm darkness swallowed him up.
Becker suddenly realized Jack wasn’t moving, had become silent. With his boot,
he rolled him over on his back. Jack didn’t make a sound. Blood had soaked through
the Windbreaker where he had cut him open. Squatting down, Becker unzipped the
jacket; the entire bottom half of lacks flannel shirt was dark with blood.
Reaching down, Becker unbuckled Jacks belt He had promised to do something
special to this cop. Just as he unzipped the jeans, a noise startled him and he spun around. A barking dog, getting closer. Standing up, he saw the animal coming down the alley now. Some kind of terrier. He gripped the knife and waited for it.
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