If you want a free copy of The Running Game email me at email@example.com and tell me your preferred format (EPUB, PDF, MOBI, WORD).
Here's the blurb...
Her father called it the running game. Count the exits, calculate the routes. Always be ready to run because they'll always be coming for you. Whatever happens, they'll always be coming for you.
Rachel had let her guard down and they had found her. She could run now, leave the city and try her luck beyond the borders, but with no money and a dark secret to hide her chances of survival are slim.
But then she meets two brothers with a dangerous past and secrets of their own. Can they help her turn the game around?
This is the first instalment of the Reacher series. Set in a grim and not too distant future, this urban thriller will keep you hooked until the last page.
What you want more!... Okay, okay - try a spoiler free sample....
The Running Game (Extract - L E Fitzpatrick)
Jackie Walters and Mickey Walters, no relation, sat in a white pickup at the entrance to Tower 8. There was rope in the back of the car and both men were armed. This was a new job for Mickey and he was nervous. The gun reminded him of his time in the service, before the disciplinary. He didn’t want to mess up his first job, he was young and needed the money, but he also needed something to take his mind off what happened out in the Middle East; what he saw, what he did. Taking his cue off his partner for the night he tried to relax with a few nips of vodka to steady his nerves. Slowly it was working.
Jackie was an old hand. He’d been doing Pinky Morris’ dirty work for so long his hands were black. In the good old days, when Frank Morris was running the show and Jackie’s knees were still good, he was considered as dangerous as his boss, but those times were long over. He was well past his prime and, if he was honest, he was waiting for the Morrises to cut him loose.
“Car?” Mickey guessed.
“Nope.” Jackie shifted in his seat. He had needed a piss for nearly an hour and his bladder was about to betray him.
“Hey Jackie, who’s Donnie Boom?”
“Why you asking?”
“I heard a couple of the lads saying the heard he was back in town. They weren’t too happy about it.”
“Well they wouldn’t be. Donnie Boom set the bomb that killed Frank Morris.”
Jackie didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“So are we going to take this Boom guy out then?”
“Jesus Christ, who do you think you are Mafioso? We’re not taking anyone out.”
Mickey gulped. “Did you know him?”
“Yeah I knew him, mad son of a bitch. Worked with him too, though I’d prefer working with a pack of rabid dogs. Still the guy, crazy as he was, was as loyal to Frank Morris as any lapdog.”
“So why did he kill him?”
“The question is why, after setting the bomb, did Donnie Boom run back into the building and blow half his head off? And that is a question the likes of you and me don’t try and answer if we know what is good for us.”
Mickey sighed. He glanced up at the tower. There were a number of lights flickering into life; families settling in for another night in their cramped homes. He watched the nearest window as a man went to his fridge. Mickey clicked his fingers excitedly.
“Kitchen begins with a 'K' you dumb bastard. I need to water the flowers, stay here and keep your eyes peeled.”
“What if she comes back?”
“Just watch her. Don’t move from this spot until I get back.” Jackie opened the door. It was getting colder in the city. The bite to the air painfully struck his cheeks as he wandered away from the towers, towards the small canal running alongside the apartment blocks. A pedestrian bridge crossed the river, illuminated by a weak solar lamp. It gave just enough light for him to find his way and not fall on his ass in a puddle of shitty water.
The Running Game - Coming Soon
Are you an author and fancy a spot in the Limelight? Email me your extracts/samples to firstname.lastname@example.org for some free advertising.