Must be Thursday

Someone destroyed her world. Now, she wants to know why.r1eaz8nzdz-d6ac312e426268aff12be57a3dbd2b3b

Any future worth having is worth fighting for… Detective Hayden Thursday has tracked the Doctor to Blue Island Resort off the coast, and she has no idea what he’s up to. She’s dragged back to meet with the mysterious voice on the comm, Jackson Eadmon, as soon as she’s arrived, and it just gets more confusing from there. They have to work together to find the person who gave their bad guys the keys to the kingdom on mind control and reprogramming, and they have to survive… again.

Thursday’s back, and she’s not exactly on vacation.  She’s tracked Gray to the Blue Island Resort, and isn’t surprised to find him in over his head with a billionaire tech mogul who’s more than a little shady.  Instead of telling her his plan, he’s chosen to go it alone.

With little choice, she followed the goon out to a black, vintage limousine and got into the back seat. The man sitting there drinking champagne wasn’t a goon or a henchman. He was definitely the boss. “Detective, I’ve looked forward to meeting you?”

“And you are?” She didn’t know his name yet, but he was the Voice. The one that had tormented her in her dreams for weeks now.

“Jackson Eadmon,” he answered waiting.

“Ah, the entrepreneur and political powerhouse, of course.”

“You know my name, but not my face, Detective?”

“I’m not big on local politics, but everyone knows your name.”

He took another long sip of his champagne. “Would you care for something?”

Booze was the last thing she needed. She shook her head.

He shrugged and continued to study her. Hayden disliked his tactics. He struck her as just another too attractive, too rich stuffed suit. However, for a stuffed suit, he carried himself differently. Where some rich guys were ridiculously casual about things that should matter, this one seemed somber and serious about everything. It was an anomaly.

“I assume it’s you I have to thank for a nicely gift wrapped case.”

“You’re welcome,” he said it smugly. She frowned.

“The truth would have been better.”

“Truth is sometimes overrated, Detective.”

“I’m a cop, Eadmon. It’s my stock in trade.”

He nodded to her, then subtly reminded her, “A cop no longer, though, Detective.”

“Once a cop always a cop, Eadmon. You don’t outgrow the training. So, why am I here?”

“That’s an excellent question, Detective. Why are you here?” He smiled benignly.

“It’s a vacation, Eadmon. You seem worried, like a man with something to hide.” Eadmon’s laugh was husky and smooth, like woodsy scotch.

“There’s no man alive with nothing to hide, Detective Thursday.”

“On that, we certainly agree, so what’s your secret, Eadmon? What’s got your knickers in such a twist that my sudden urge for sea air makes you nervous?”

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