Welcome to newsletter number 25, my dear friends.
This week has flown by so quick, I’m still working on stopping my head from spinning. Despite that, I’ve managed to achieve a few things: finished an edit, filled in loads of interview questionnaires, developed some twists to the plot in Blood is Power, did a lot of research so I could accurately describe things I am most certainly not comfortable with, and wrote most of it down. The proof of a job well-done will be found in my beta readers’ comments. I’ve promised them an ARC by Monday 1st, and an ARC they shall have.
I’m tired, but happy. I can’t wait to get this book finished, so I can concentrate on something else for a week or so. It’s embarrassing how often I have to put myself in a tight deadline situation in order to finish a project. This is an element of psychological weirdness I will never understand! Probably because it is my weirdness. I need to be committed to doing something to the best of my ability, and then, as if that first one wasn’t pressure enough, I give myself stupidly tight deadlines. Well, I hate seeing the weeks pass by with nothing clear to show, no obvious progress. So I shorten the number of weeks, deliberately.
The result is three times the pressure (perfection, timely delivery and the worry of proving myself sub-standard in any unspecified way!), yet somehow – most of the time – I deliver. If only I could pull this one out of the hat, too. I’ll tell you how it went in my next newsletter.
“We don’t know where Ghedi’s wife is. We last saw her at the tracking.”
Ghedi pointed at his nose with two fingers held together like a gun. “Pft,” he said.
“Hang on a minute. Are you telling me you have a tracker in your head?” They all nodded. “Why did you allow this to happen? Why didn’t you get away?”
“Some people try.” His face was sombre. “They don’t get far. We are on an island.”
Nick swallowed hard, then stood. “I need to find the monster responsible for all this. Wherever he is. Does he ever come onto this island?”
“Rarely, he does. He was here just after lunch, with a young woman. Blonde.”
Nick’s ears pricked up. “Who? Did you hear a name?”
They shook their heads. “No name. He called her Precious. She is pretty enough to get a good job.”
“What’s a good job?”
“Mistress, maybe actress… Maybe for his Excellency’s personal pleasure.”
Nick could feel his jaw lock and a frown creep over his face. “What did they do? When they were here?”
“They met with the doctor, went into the clinic.”
Nick’s blood ran cold. Blonde, pretty enough to be a sex worker? A woman Dollar believed to be Maxi?
Ah, hell! If Tequila thought Maxi was in danger, would she…?
She would! She certainly would. The blonde Dollar had was Tequila!
Nick rubbed his temples and sucked in a deep breath. Stop! Stop thinking the worst! She might not be! It could be anyone.
But he had that feeling… that heavy pit of the stomach feeling. That blonde on Dollar’s arm was Tequila. And she was too close to pure poison for his liking.