Dead Silent by Shirley Wells

*The authors of Not Your Usual Suspects are posting blurbs and excerpts of our books throughout the week. At the end of the week, we're giving away a stack of ebooks (possibly a couple of print books, too) to one lucky commentator. The more times you comment, the more times you'll go into the 'hat'. We'll post the winner on the blog next Monday. See this post for details.

*   *   *

I’ve written romances and I’ve written mysteries and suspense. One of these days, I really must combine them and write romantic suspense. Meanwhile, I’m sharing an excerpt from my most recent Carina Press mystery, DEAD SILENT, and while most of this week’s excerpts have featured a super capable heroine and a tough hunk of a hero, my excerpt concentrates on goody versus baddie.


**There's a teeny bit of strong language.

DEAD SILENT

Dylan felt every bone in his back crunch as he landed on the ground below. He’d had the good sense to pull the thug with him, though, and the even better sense to roll slightly so he didn’t have two hundred pounds of muscle landing on top of him.

     Dylan was quicker and more agile. He managed to get astride him and pin him down. It took every ounce of his strength so it needed to be a very quick chat.

     “Right, let’s hear it.” He could barely speak and was struggling to force air into his lungs. “Why do you want me to stay away from this place?”

     “Dunno what you’re on about.”

     Dylan managed to knee him in the privates, which had him moaning in pain.

     “You fucking bastard!”

     “Angry fucking bastard,” Dylan corrected him. “Right, the cops should be here any minute. Talk to me or talk to them. Your choice.”

     Muscle Man had an inner debate with himself.

     “Okay.” Thanks to the orange glow from the streetlights, Dylan saw saliva dribbling down his chin. “A bloke asked me to do a job for him. I don’t know any more than that. He told me about your car, said you’d be coming into the Clough on Monday morning, and offered me a grand to send you back to London.”

     So it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. “Which bloke?”

     “Not a fucking clue.”

     There was a surprise. Not. “Has this man paid you for services rendered?”

     “No.” 

     “So—if you don’t know the bloke, how is he going to pay you?” 

     “He’s coming to the club. Next week.” 

     “Day and time?” 

     “Wednesday. A week tomorrow. I don’t know the time.” 

     Despite being convinced he’d broken a couple of bones in his spine, Dylan managed to knee Muscle Man in the balls again. Bad move. The bloke had benefited from his rest and struggled out of Dylan’s grip. Dylan staggered to his feet, ready to charge into the muscle when, joy of joys, he heard the welcome if totally unexpected sound of a police siren…

Ten months ago, Samantha Hunt set off for work...and was never seen again.

Despite the statistics of cold cases, Dylan Scott wants to believe the young woman's alive—and not just because her father, his client, is desperate to find his missing daughter before he dies of cancer. By all accounts Sam was a lovely girl, devoted to her younger stepsisters, well-liked at her work, in love with her boyfriend.

But as usual not everything is as it seems in sleepy Dawson's Clough. Sam's boyfriend has a violent past. She may have been having an affair with her boss. And Dylan can't shake the feeling that her stepfather is hiding something. Meanwhile, someone is trying to scare Dylan off the case.

Who wanted to silence Sam, and why? The truth turns out to be worse than anyone expected...

*     *     *

If you’d like more, you can read another excerpt on the Carina Press website.

For more information, please visit my website or find me gallivanting around the web on Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads.

Thanks for visiting. I hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s excerpts as much as I have!