Shadow of the Drill – @rhanidchae
A Gritty and Violent Thriller
“Buckle in for a roller-coaster ride of sensational story telling!” – Soooz Burke
A brutal experience transforms an unproven young tough into a ruthless killing machine.
For fifteen years he waited, building his body into an unstoppable weapon so that vengeance would be had through the strength of his will and the power of his hands.
On the bloodstained streets of a northwestern city, the enforcer known as the Drill stalks his prey. Judge, Jury, and Executioner; he seeks out those who target the weak and the vulnerable condemning them to the kind of justice that has made him a legend.
“The story is well constructed and importantly well-crafted and told… There is enough blood, mayhem, sex, lust, cruelty, love, bonding, male angst, female angst and revenge for even the most jaded reader. The action scenes are well drawn, well written and in addition the sensitive emotional scenes are handled in a way one would think Ms. D’Chae actually lived as a man and experienced what her protagonists are going through.” – John W Howell
Donny hit the tavern’s faded facade, rebounding off and landing on the ground with a squeal of protest. “I didn’t do it, Decker! I swear on my mother’s grave, I didn’t do it!” He rubbed his nose with one shaking hand, smearing mixed blood and snot over his face. I’m gonna die! Oh god, I’m gonna die!
Struggling to a sitting position with his back against the wall, he began to speak rapidly in his own defense. “Deck, please . . . ya gotta believe me! I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my day, but I wouldn’t be dumb enough to fuck ya over! I swear to God, I wouldn’t -”
His words ended in mid-sentence as the man in front of him took him by the throat and lifted him easily to his feet. He tried to pull away, but the fingers were a vise, and he only succeeded in cutting off his own air.
Don’t kill me! Don’t fuckin’ kill me! The thought was loud in his mind, but even as the words formed, he knew that it was useless to think them. If Decker wanted him dead, then dead he would be. The big man was not known for a forgiving nature.
At six feet and five inches, Decker towered over Donny’s slight five-nine frame while his exceptionally broad shoulders and massive arms spoke clearly of the immense strength that lurked beneath his skin. His oversized hand wrapped easily around his captive’s neck, constricting with carefully applied pressure. Donny’s face began to turn red from lack of oxygen, and he tried again to twist free, but he was unable to break the stronger man’s hold. If anything, the grip on his throat tightened.
I can’t breathe! Help me, Jesus – I can’t breathe! His fuzzing brain formed his thoughts with increasing difficulty, and he shook his head vigorously, but it did not help. Talkin’s no good – gotta run! His feet shuffled against the sidewalk as his fingers clawed at the hand that squeezed off his air with steadily increasing pressure. Gotta . . . run . . .
Decker adjusted his hold when Donny’s struggles slowed, being careful not to exert too much force. A slight smile rested on his lips as he allowed himself a brief moment of amusement at the expense of his prey.
It was not until Donny’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp that Decker loosened his hold, letting the disheveled man slump forward. Donny’s body tilted as he fell, but Decker caught him easily, making a casual check for a pulse as he did.
Satisfied that one still remained, he carried Donny to the curb and tossed him carelessly into the back seat of the high-performance Dodge Charger that he kept for work. He normally transported his prisoners in the trunk but, in spite of everything, he liked Donny and wanted him to travel a bit more comfortably.
As he key-locked Donny’s door, he took a quick check of the people in the surrounding area, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he found no cause for concern. Nobody’s payin’ more attention than they should. I love it when it’s this easy.
There was a fair amount of traffic moving on the downtown strip, but the people in the cars stared straight ahead as they passed the assorted hookers, dealers, junkies, and johns who wandered up and down the sidewalk in search of action on a Friday night.
As for the street denizens who loitered outside of the peep shows and low-rent hotels – they knew better than to get involved. The powerful enforcer known as the Drill had a well-deserved reputation for viciousness, which caused them to keep their eyes averted and their noses out of his business.
The only exceptions were two young girls who were clearly out of their element on the gritty downtown streets. They chatted loudly as they sashayed toward him, their youthful beauty hidden beneath too much eye shadow and the wrong shade of lipstick. It was obvious that they were trying to look older than they actually were, but their push-up bras and provocative clothing would bring them nothing but trouble if they stayed too long on the strip.
The taller of the two nudged her brunette friend, pointing at Decker while peals of girlish laughter filled the night air.
Cheerleaders, he thought with a mental groan. Lord save us from the terminally perky!
The girls were still giggling as they approached. Almost in unison, they slowed their steps – all the better to see and be seen. So far, the night had given them little by way of excitement,. but something about the tall stranger with the deliciously broad shoulders promised the kind of R-rated thrills that they had been looking for and they were not about to let the opportunity pass them by.
“We’re lost,” the shorter girl said as they drew abreast. “Can you tell us how to get to the marina?”
Decker leaned back against the side of the car, blocking the window even though nothing inside could be seen through the heavily tinted glass. Long legs crossed at the ankles, his body was deceptively relaxed while a disarming grin lifted the corners of his mouth.
The grin had the desired effect on the girls, as he had known that it would, for he was an expert at knowing exactly which expression was best suited to any given situation. And though he cared very little about the good looks that he had been given, he was not above using them to his advantage when it would best serve his purpose. The flash of a smile or the wink of an eye could often achieve the desired result with very little exertion on his part, especially when it came to charming the various women who crossed his path.
Ruggedly handsome, Decker had inherited his coloring and thick shock of wavy black hair from his Italian father. His impressive height and chiseled features had come from his Norwegian mother’s side of the family, and she had also given him his most striking attribute: brilliant blue eyes of an unusual shade and intensity that glittered beneath his brows like soulless orbs of the purest ice.
It was those eyes that coolly appraised the pair as he gave them the unneeded directions in a courteous but disinterested manner. He had no time for young girls seeking adventure, and he needed to move them along before Donny awoke and caused an annoying scene.
It was the tall redhead who first tore her gaze away from the hard magnificence of his body and the rough beauty of his face to look into the frigid pools of his eyes. Decker gazed back with silent menace, his message clearly readable though his lips continued to smile.
“We have to go.” The girl interrupted her friend in mid-sentence, gripping her wrist and tugging firmly. “We have curfew.”
Her words were followed by an awkward silence, and then the short brunette was gone, skipping down the sidewalk after her friend who had yet to let go of her wrist.
“The action is movie-worthy. The emotion is heart stopping and fear inducing. The bad guys are that understandable kind of despicable. The hero is a man’s man, the kind of bad boy we dream of finding. The writing is tight and almost fades into the background of the story you’re going to love.” – Loren Weaver
About the Author
Rhani D’Chae is a visually disabled writer who was born and raised in Tacoma, WA. Because of her failing eyesight, she no longer reads as much as she used to, but she does enjoy falling into the worlds created by other Indie authors as often as her vision will allow.
She enjoys chatting with readers and fellow writers via Social Media sites, and loves getting comments and other input from those who have read her work. She is on Facebook, and also on Twitter, @rhanidchae.
Shadow of the Drill is her first published novel, and is the first in a series that revolves around an unrepentant enforcer and the violent life that he leads. The second book in the series, Winter of the Drill, should be on Amazon’s shelves by the end of July.