Three years ago, Kylie Nichols was framed for murder. Now, she’s sick of running. Sick of tip-toeing around non-extradition countries and pretending to be a stranger. And she’s been dreaming of revenge…
When Russell Weisz created instant messaging app Ether, he never imagined it would be used by criminals. But now he’s seen first-hand the damage it can do. He wants to make amends, but in Australia, it’s not just the wildlife that’s dangerous.
Bronze is the eighth novel in the Blackwood Elements series but can be read as a standalone – no cliffhanger!
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Excerpt: The Beginning…
“Welcome back to Australia, Mrs. Watson. Enjoy your trip.”
The immigration officer handed back my passport, and I fought to maintain the slightly aloof expression I’d been practising in front of the mirror for the past week, when what I really wanted to do was cry with relief.
Relief that I hadn’t been arrested on sight.
My heart hammered in my chest as “Mr. Watson” cleared passport control behind me then placed a hand on the small of my back to steer me out to the waiting limo. A freaking limo. How the other half lived.
The driver took my fancy leather luggage—monogrammed with my fake initials, KW, which was a nice touch—and it was only then that I noticed my hands were shaking, a definite tremble I tried to hide by shoving them into my pockets. Then I realised I didn’t have any pockets because I was wearing a designer dress that probably cost more than the monthly salary I used to earn as a police officer.
Back in those days, I never used to tremble.
“Good flight, ma’am?” the driver asked as I slid into the car.
“Very good, thank you.”
The driver wasn’t in on the secret. As far as the staff at the Black Diamond Hotel and Spa were concerned, I was just another rich bitch flying in for a quiet but luxurious holiday on the Queensland coast, a week or two of R & R at the secluded resort an hour or so north of Brisbane.
“There’s chilled champagne in the cooler. Traffic’s light, so we should have a smooth ride. If you’d like to order dinner ahead of your arrival, I can call through to the chef.”
“I’m not hungry,” I said, then remembered my manners. “Russell? How about you?”
“Huh?”
He glanced up from his phone, where his nose had been buried for half of the flight from the US. For the other half, he’d been engrossed in his laptop.
“Do you want to order dinner?”
“Uh, right, I’m fine with whatever.”
So, that’d be one plate of nothing and one plate of anything, then.
“Could you just ask the chef to send some snacks?” I said to the driver.
“Of course, ma’am.”
Bodybuilder butterflies pounded my stomach, trying to batter their way out. Every time we rounded a bend, I looked for the police cruiser, waited for the siren, the flashing lights. The ink on my arrest warrant might have been dry, but the cops would never forget, especially since the person who’d framed me for murder was one of their own.
My ex-boss to be precise, who also happened to be my ex-boyfriend. Detective Sergeant Michael Brenner of the Brisbane City Tactical Crime Squad.
Every so often while I was on the run, I’d looked him up on the internet out of morbid curiosity. Had his deception been discovered yet? No, it hadn’t. Not only was he still in his job, he’d received a bloody medal late last year after saving a child from a burning building.
If I had to guess, I’d say he probably lit the fire himself. That was the kind of dirtbag he was.
Outside the car, everything was green. So much green. Such a difference from Egypt, where I’d been living until recently. I had to stop myself from pressing my nose to the window, from rolling the glass down to inhale the sweet, rain-soaked air as eucalyptus trees rustled above us in the breeze.
I’d grown up not too far from there in Rocky Ridge, a little town famous for having the best ice cream parlour in Queensland. The Ice House served over a hundred flavours, which was somewhat dangerous since the wait staff wore roller skates. But they’d had a lot of practice, and I’d never once seen them drop anything.
Back when I was free, I’d spent every holiday driving up and down this road, visiting the tourist attractions along the way, usually with my best friend, Chloe, sitting beside me rather than a half-stranger I was pretending to be married too. In those days, I’d dreamed of travelling the world, of seeing the exotic places from the TV in person, but once I left, all I wanted was to be back home.
Where was Chloe now? I’d sent one last email to her before I left town, explaining the situation, saying I was sorry and begging her not to believe the lies, but I hadn’t been in contact since. Did she hate me? I couldn’t blame her if she did. I’d missed her freaking wedding. For all I knew, she had a child now. Two children. Three. A family.
And speaking of family, I’d abandoned them too. My parents still lived in Rocky Ridge, in the house where I’d grown up, a compact white bungalow on a small plot just five minutes’ walk from The Ice House. Dad used to keep chickens in the yard. Did he still have chickens?
Would I ever find out?
Excerpt 2: The Chase…
“Ky, you have to leave now,” Leyton said in my ear. “The cops are ninety seconds away.”
Bless him, he’d given me thirty seconds more than Mimi had decreed, but I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when I was so bloody close.
I pressed my finger to the sensor, yanked the drawer open, then shrugged out of my backpack. There it was—Michael’s phone, right where I’d left it, plus five little boxes with my grandma’s jewellery and a bronze sculpture of my childhood dog that my grandpa had made. I’d loved that damn dog. I shoved the whole lot in the bag because whatever happened, I’d never be coming back.
“Ky, get out! They’re close. Too close.”
I ran. Out of the vault, past a terrified Barney Kemp, up the stairs, and into the bank. Every head turned to stare at me, but nobody moved as I sprinted for the door.
“Thirty seconds. Oh, shit.”
Shit indeed. There was the Mustang, exactly where I’d left it, but between me and the car, Shane Chapman jogged along the pavement, and the moment his gaze locked onto me, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of my body.
The Mustang rolled forward, but Leyton couldn’t get to me. The car was pointing the wrong way, and by the time he turned it around, I’d be cuffed on the ground. Why hadn’t I gone out of the damn fire escape? There was another Blackwood car waiting behind the building, and if I just managed to reach it…
I spun and ran.
Shane’s footsteps pounded after me as I ducked down the alley at the side of the building, dodging a pile of trash that spilled across the concrete. Could I make it? Shane used to run track in high school, but he’d eaten too many donuts in the years since. Lost shape.
A glimmer of hope shone as the far end of the alley grew closer, only to darken like a shadow across the sun as Owen Mills appeared in front of me. Oh, hell. Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell! I stood a chance taking one of them on, but not both. Where was Leyton? Would he come to help?
Then Owen dived to the side as a motorbike nearly ran him down. A dirt bike, the rider’s face obscured by a black visor as it skidded to a halt in front of me. What the hell?
“Well? What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Hold on. I recognised that voice.
“Mimi?”
“Well, it’s not the bloody tooth fairy.”
I swung a leg over the back, then grabbed Mimi’s waist as she twisted the throttle and floored it towards Shane. Would she go left or right? Neither, it turned out. She aimed straight for him, speeding up, leaving him no choice but to leap sideways into a pile of junk.
Then we were zooming along the main road. Sirens sounded as police cars turned to follow, and what did Mimi do? She laughed. The crazy bitch actually laughed.
Me? I shrieked as she rode down the centre line, missing an oncoming truck by inches.
“Don’t worry,” Leyton told me through my earpiece. “Mimi’s been in police chases before.”
