While I’m going through the final page proofs for HUNTER OF SHADOWS, the next book in my BY MOONLIGHT series which will be on the stands November 29, 2011, I thought I’d tease you a little bit with this scene where my hero, Silas MacCreedy first meets Max Savoie.
Max Savoie lounged in an expensive suit paired with red high tops, one of which bobbed indolently at the end of his crossed leg. He’d inherited an empire from the mobster he’d protected since making a name for himself as a teen. That name was whispered in awe and fear, allegedly soaked in the blood of those who challenged Jimmy Legere.
Since assuming Legere’s mantle, Savoie had embraced public life by appearing at high-profile social events, by being a partner on a huge urban reclamation project called Trinity Towers, by becoming very involved with a detective in the NOPD. Some said he was moving his business toward legality, but the fact that he was with Blutafino cast a shadow of doubt on that claim.
Silas wasn’t interested in what people speculated about Savoie because he knew the truth. The man’s surface sophistication couldn’t hide what he really was.
Max Savoie was damned by the unavenged souls of Silas’s family. And their wailing for justice nearly drowned out all reason as Silas stood rigidly in the doorway.
“Creed, come in,” Manny called. “Freshen my drink and pour one for yourself while I finish my business here. I’ll just be a minute.”
An amiable smile spread across gritted teeth. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Savoie?”
The sleek killer gave him a cool glance. “No. Thank you.”
Crossing behind Savoie’s chair on his way to the well-stocked bar, MacCreedy drew in the man’s scent. Savoie twitched at that subtle intrusion, picking up the fact that he was being psychically touched, but he didn’t turn to acknowledge it. Now they both knew each other for what they were and were not. What they were not, was human.
Silas fought to steady hands that still felt his mother’s blood upon them as he mixed Blutafino’s drink. He blinked hard to dispel the image of his father’s dismembered body gruesomely strewn at his feet. His stomach pitched and tightened as the scorching stench returned to his nose at the agony of the Terroit’s mark being burned into his skin. But he fiercely buried the shock, the horror, the pain, and quieted the shrieks for retribution with a promise.
The time is coming. Justice will be done.