Tag Archives: Suspense Thriller

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A Detective Al Warner Novel

Warner series, Book 6

 

Suspense / Thriller

Date Published: 11-11-2021

Publisher: GnD Publishing LLC

 

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Detective Al Warner’s investigation of a street hooker’s death leads to a
case of human sex-trafficking. Nicki, an undercover cop, is snatched while
carrying a concealed tracking device, but it’s stripped from her before she
can activate it. Warner is stymied as she struggles to send the locating
beacon.

 

Meanwhile, an young woman, Maggie, is offered a lucrative deal as a birth
surrogate for a secretive, wealthy couple. While living nine months in
luxurious seclusion, she learns her fetus is a tool of extortion, and fears
for her life. Al Warner is struggling to solve two cases at once. It all
comes together in a violent conclusion, with Warner once again thrust into
deadly peril.

 

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 EXCERPT

~ 5 ~

 

Jack Harris pushed out of his chair and scurried to head off Warner as he strode toward his office.

“Got a minute, Boss?” He panted softly as he touched the Warner’s arm.

“Yeah, Jack. What’s up?” He studied the short detective. “You still gettin’ physical therapy? You look winded.”

“Some, but this job doesn’t provide much free time. I’ve got—”

“Cut the crap, Jack. We need ya here, but in good workin’ order. I want ya to see the therapist four times a week. Make a schedule and stick to it.” He laid a hand on Harris’ shoulder. “Got it?”

“Yes, Boss.” His cheeks pink-tinged as he studied his shoes.

“Okay.” Warner nodded toward his office. “Ya waylaid me for a reason. What’s up?”

Harris tapped on his pad. “I got a call from Damian Torres.”

“The Miami-Dade Sheriff’s detective?”

“Yeah. A Seminole brave found a woman’s body in Big Cypress, near the Collier County border.” He glanced at his tablet’s screen. “The sheriff’s M.E. IDed her as one Ada Funck.”

“And they called us why?” Warner, followed by Harris, entered his office and perched on the corner of his desk.

“Apparently, she’s got a record as a Miami hooker… a street walker from the Miami Springs area.” Harris pocketed his tablet. “He figured since she was one of ours, we’d be interested, especially since it was so unusual.”

“Unusual?” Warner rose and circled his desk “Why?”

“Well, she had the expected track marks on her arm. Most of those babes are users, but they were old and well-healed, and her tox screen was clean as a whistle.”

“Huh.” Warner looked up from the report he’d begun to scan. “Any info she was in any kind of rehab?”

“Nope.” Harris settled on a chair. “And she looked healthy. Or at least she was before she croaked.”

“What d’ya mean, ‘healthy,’ Jack?”

“Well fed, decent haircut, nicely trimmed nails. Nothing you’d expect from one of those babes.”

“So,” Warner scratched his chin, “someone was takin’ good care of her. Cleaned her up, fed her, maybe made a concubine outta her. Then what? Dumped her like trash?”

“Maybe. And one more thing, Boss.”

“Yeah, what?”

“The sheriff’s ME says she’d given birth right before she died. It was a Caesarian delivery.”

“Weirder by the minute. Not uncommon for a hooker ta get knocked up, but I’d guess it would be rare for taking it early.” Warner slouched back in his chair. “They sendin’ the vic up to our ME? I’d like the Hawk and his CSU unit to go over her, too. See if they missed something.”

“Figured that’s what you’d want.” Harris stood. “She’s on the way to his lab right now.”

“Good.” Warner selected another file to review. “Give it to Dean Beck, and you run all the follow-ups. Keep me posted.”

“On it, Boss.” Harris headed for the doorway.

“Hope this ain’t the beginnin’ of some new, nasty creep on the prowl,” he muttered under his breath. 

It’d been six months since the unsatisfying conclusion of the Shadow affair. A non-conclusion at this point, and still a bone the FBI was chomping on. It was out of his jurisdiction now.

Seems like we can’t go a full year without some major loony poppin’ up. His gut had the uncomfortable feeling more bad stuff was coming, sooner rather than later.

He sighed, and began scanning a batch of action reports. 

Warner’s thoughts drifted to Eva. Something was on her mind. Well, she’d spill it when she was ready. His lips arched into a small grin. What a lucky bastard he was for a woman like that to actually love him.

~ 6 ~

 

Warner pushed through the swinging doors of Miami-Dade’s Crime Lab and spotted Jack Harris huddled together with Moe Gold, CSU’s legendary Hawk.

“So, guys, what d’ya got?” Warner asked.

The Hawk glanced up and grinned. “Ah, The Hero graces us with his presence.” He shook Warner’s hand and chuckled.

“Been over four years, Moe. You ever gonna get tired of that lame moniker?”

“You keep refreshing it, Detective, case after case. The Baby Butcher, The Angel of Death, all the way up to the Shadow killings. It never gets stale.” His brown eyes twinkled over the beak-like nose that had earned him his nickname.

“You’re some piece of work, Hawk.” Warner gave a friendly squeeze to the back of the neck of the round-shouldered, almost dwarfed CSU wizard. “So, clue me.”

“Not a lot that seems to add up to anything, Detective.” He glanced at his notepad. “Ms. Funck was twenty-three, and despite a field of track marks on her arm, had a sterling clean tox screen.” He slipped off his stool and beckoned the two detectives to follow him to an array of color photos on a white board.

“Despite some critter predation, we determined she was unusually healthy and well-groomed for someone in her line of work. Still verifying the COD, and we found no trace evidence that will tell us about her killer, or where she’d been prior to death.”

“Clothing tell ya anything?”

“I’ve been checking that, Boss.” Harris accessed his Android. “Looks like her clothes came from Target, and the one shoe we found was a Sears closeout. Thousands of identical things everywhere.” He pocketed the tablet. “I got Tech accessing security footage of all the local stores using a facial rec program to see if we can pick her up doing the shopping, but it’s a long shot.”

“Yeah.” Warner scratched his neck. “And it won’t tell ya much unless she was with someone we can ID.”

Warner scanned the photo array. “Musta been a pretty gal before the critters got at her.” He turned to Harris. “So, where are ya goin’ with this?”

“Beck and a couple of patrol cops are canvassing hooker alley in Miami Springs, looking for someone who knew her, and anything else he can learn.”

“Good luck with that.” Warner chuckled. “Rare to find anyone there who’ll talk ta cops. Maybe the local patrol guys might have more of a connection.”

“I’ll write up what I’ve got and send it to your computers,” the Hawk said. He laid a hand on Warner’s forearm. “I’ll print your copy, too, Detective. I know you like things on paper.”

“Thanks. Old school’s always worked for me, pal.” He turned to leave with Harris. “Let’s hope this is a one-timer, and not some new nut with an obscure agenda.”

The Hawk perched on his stool and picked up a file. “But those are where you shine, Detective.”

“Don’t mean I gotta like it, Moe. Let’s go, Harris.” 

The two detectives exited CSU, going separate ways. 

About the Author

George A. Bernstein

George A. Bernstein, now living in south Florida, is the retired President
of a modest, publicly held appliance manufacturer. He spent years attending
writing seminars and conferences, learning to polish his work and developing
a strong “voice.” George is acclaimed by his peers as a superb wordsmith and
a crafter of surprise endings no one expects. He works with professional
editors to ensure his novels meet his own rigorous standards, and all of his
books are currently published by small indie press, GnD Publishing LLC, in
which he has an interest.

Taken is the sixth of his Detective Al Warner Suspense series, with the
first five; Death’s Angel; Born to Die; The Prom Dress Killer; White Death;
and Sniper, all garnering rave reviews. His Detective Al Warner has
attracted many fans, with readers likening Warner to James Patterson’s Alex
Cross. Four of his novels are also now available in Audible.

Bernstein’s first novel, Trapped, was a winner in a small Indie publisher’s
“Next Great American Novel” contest, and received high praise, gaining many
mostly 5-star reviews, reaching “Top 100” status. His second novel, A 3rd
Time to Die (A paranormal Romantic Suspense) has also garnered mostly 5-Star
& 4-Star reviews, with one reader likening him to the best, less
“spooky” works of Dean Koontz & Stephen King.

Bernstein is also a “World-class” fly-fisherman, setting a baker’s dozen
IGFA World Records, mostly on fly-rods. He’s written the popular Toothy
Critters Love Flies, the complete book on fly-fishing for pike &
musky.

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The Wall TOUR

The Wall cover

Suspense/Thriller

Date Published: 8/17/2020

Publisher: Entangled Publushing, LLC

 

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Set in an uncomfortably familiar future…

We built a wall to keep the dangers of the world out…but was it actually
meant to keep us in?

Your every word is monitored. Your every movement watched.

If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.

And if you stay within the wall, the Loyalist Party will protect you.

Gideon Frome knows that safety is an illusion. Ten years ago, his perfect
life was shattered, and he left Washington DC in disgrace, sentenced to
serve on The Wall. He may be back, lauded as a hero, but he knows he’s
only traded one prison for another, assigned a position to the infamous
Secret Service.

Kate Buchanan uses her illegal predictive engine to monitor the
“chatter,” flagging perceived threats to America. When the
program suggests that nuclear war is imminent, and people around her start
to die, Kate can no longer hide. She needs help, and it comes from the most
unlikely place—Gideon Frome, a ghost from her past.

The American people thought they were safe, but it’s becoming
shockingly clear that the price of safety is too high. And somehow,
together, Kate and Gideon must tear down the walls that keep their country a
prisoner.

 

The Wall paperback

EXCERPT

Gideon shifted the weight from his left foot. His leg was beginning to ache, and he rubbed at his thigh. He’d taken a piece of shrapnel there five years ago, at the same time he’d gotten the scar on his face, and it still gave him problems.

How long until he could leave? Too long, at a guess.

Christ, had he actually enjoyed these events in the past? It seemed inconceivable. However, if he wanted his life back, he was going to have to suck it up and look like he belonged. Act like he belonged. And maybe if he did it long enough, he might actually feel like he belonged.

The problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The room was crowded. Anyone and everyone had clamored for an invitation to the party of the year. Plus, there were a large number of security agents. More than he remembered from the past. Men in the black uniforms of the president’s personal bodyguards—selected from the elite of the Secret Service—stood at the doors, while others mingled with the crowd. There was even a sniper on the second-floor interior balcony, covering the room.

Either Harry was paranoid, or there was an elevated threat level. If so, no one had told Gideon about it. That was hardly surprising; he suspected that no one, with maybe the exception of Harry himself, actually wanted him there. 

But he wanted answers, and this was where he would find them. 

Once he had those answers, then…

Who knew? Though revenge wasn’t the solution. 

Most of the time he believed that.

Harry was making the rounds, shaking hands and smiling as he headed this way. Gideon wasn’t sure whether he would be acknowledged, but the president halted in front of him. He was flanked by two Secret Service officers, dressed in their black uniforms. Harry’s army, as they were known within the service. 

He took the proffered hand. Harry’s grip was firm, and his smile was sparkling. Good dental work.

“Happy birthday, sir,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m glad you could make it.”

“I was grateful for the invitation, Mr. President.”

“We must all practice forgiveness.”

He could feel his muscles tightening. He’d done nothing that needed fucking forgiving. Neither had his father. For a second, he felt an echo of the dark anger that had been his companion for the first few years after his father’s death. He pushed it down and forced a smile. “Thank you, sir. I appreciated the chance to come home.”

“You’re a hero now, Gideon. You saved America from invasion. The people love you. We need heroes at a time like this.”

At a time like what? He’d seen the polls. There was a good chance that Harry would keep his position when—or maybe if—it came to an election. “Your approval ratings are higher than ever, sir.”

“Maybe,” the man mused. “But I’ve been feeling lately that they don’t appreciate me. That needs to change.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“I must go now, but we’ll talk again.” Harry smiled and patted Gideon on the shoulder, and his guards stiffened at the contact. Christ, they were jumpy. 

Gideon watched as the group walked away. Harry had always needed constant approval. It came from growing up in his father’s shadow; Harry Senior had been larger than life and an impossible act to follow. Charismatic. People loved him and would follow him anywhere. No doubt his son had always believed he was second-best.

Trouble was, he was right.

About the Author

After a number of years wandering the world in search of adventure, N.J.
Croft finally settled on a farm in the mountains and now lives off-grid,
growing almonds, drinking cold beer, taking in stray dogs, and writing
stories where the stakes are huge and absolutely anything can happen.

 

Contact Links

Author Website

Author Twitter

Author Facebook

Author Goodreads

Newsletter

 

Purchase Links 

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The Wall Blitz

The Wall banner

The Wall cover

Suspense/Thriller

Date Published: 8/17/2020

Publisher: Entangled Publushing, LLC

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png
 

 

Set in an uncomfortably familiar future…

We built a wall to keep the dangers of the world out…but was it actually
meant to keep us in?

Your every word is monitored. Your every movement watched.

If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.

And if you stay within the wall, the Loyalist Party will protect you.

Gideon Frome knows that safety is an illusion. Ten years ago, his perfect
life was shattered, and he left Washington DC in disgrace, sentenced to
serve on The Wall. He may be back, lauded as a hero, but he knows he’s
only traded one prison for another, assigned a position to the infamous
Secret Service.

Kate Buchanan uses her illegal predictive engine to monitor the
“chatter,” flagging perceived threats to America. When the
program suggests that nuclear war is imminent, and people around her start
to die, Kate can no longer hide. She needs help, and it comes from the most
unlikely place—Gideon Frome, a ghost from her past.

The American people thought they were safe, but it’s becoming
shockingly clear that the price of safety is too high. And somehow,
together, Kate and Gideon must tear down the walls that keep their country a
prisoner.

 

Excerpt
Gideon shifted the weight from his left foot. His leg was beginning to ache, and he rubbed at his thigh. He’d taken a piece of shrapnel there five years ago, at the same time he’d gotten the scar on his face, and it still gave him problems.
How long until he could leave? Too long, at a guess.
Christ, had he actually enjoyed these events in the past? It seemed inconceivable. However, if he wanted his life back, he was going to have to suck it up and look like he belonged. Act like he belonged. And maybe if he did it long enough, he might actually feel like he belonged.
The problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
The room was crowded. Anyone and everyone had clamored for an invitation to the party of the year. Plus, there were a large number of security agents. More than he remembered from the past. Men in the black uniforms of the president’s personal bodyguards—selected from the elite of the Secret Service—stood at the doors, while others mingled with the crowd. There was even a sniper on the second-floor interior balcony, covering the room.
Either Harry was paranoid, or there was an elevated threat level. If so, no one had told Gideon about it. That was hardly surprising; he suspected that no one, with maybe the exception of Harry himself, actually wanted him there.
But he wanted answers, and this was where he would find them.
Once he had those answers, then…
Who knew? Though revenge wasn’t the solution.
Most of the time he believed that.
Harry was making the rounds, shaking hands and smiling as he headed this way. Gideon wasn’t sure whether he would be acknowledged, but the president halted in front of him. He was flanked by two Secret Service officers, dressed in their black uniforms. Harry’s army, as they were known within the service.
He took the proffered hand. Harry’s grip was firm, and his smile was sparkling. Good dental work.
“Happy birthday, sir,” he said.
“Thank you. I’m glad you could make it.”
“I was grateful for the invitation, Mr. President.”
“We must all practice forgiveness.”
He could feel his muscles tightening. He’d done nothing that needed fucking forgiving. Neither had his father. For a second, he felt an echo of the dark anger that had been his companion for the first few years after his father’s death. He pushed it down and forced a smile. “Thank you, sir. I appreciated the chance to come home.”
“You’re a hero now, Gideon. You saved America from invasion. The people love you. We need heroes at a time like this.”
At a time like what? He’d seen the polls. There was a good chance that Harry would keep his position when—or maybe if—it came to an election. “Your approval ratings are higher than ever, sir.”
“Maybe,” the man mused. “But I’ve been feeling lately that they don’t appreciate me. That needs to change.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I must go now, but we’ll talk again.” Harry smiled and patted Gideon on the shoulder, and his guards stiffened at the contact. Christ, they were jumpy.
Gideon watched as the group walked away. Harry had always needed constant approval. It came from growing up in his father’s shadow; Harry Senior had been larger than life and an impossible act to follow. Charismatic. People loved him and would follow him anywhere. No doubt his son had always believed he was second-best.
Trouble was, he was right.

 

About the Author

After a number of years wandering the world in search of adventure, N.J.
Croft finally settled on a farm in the mountains and now lives off-grid,
growing almonds, drinking cold beer, taking in stray dogs, and writing
stories where the stakes are huge and absolutely anything can happen.

 

Contact Links

Author Website

Author Twitter

Author Facebook

Author Goodreads

Newsletter

 

Purchase Links 

Amazon 

B&N 

Kobo

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Speakeasy Blitz

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Speakeasy cover
Suspense Thriller / Historical
Date Published: 12/21/2011
Publisher:  Dark Hour Press, LLC
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The novella is centered on Eddie Durante, owner of a speakeasy who’s supported by his mobster uncle—the boss of the Durante family. Eddie is a young widower after his family’s rival, the Caprice family, murdered his wife over a territory dispute. After devising a plan that retaliated against four of the rivaling capos, Eddie is left with the daunting task to try and move on. That is, until he’s notified that the Caprices have put a hit man in the speakeasy—and Eddie’s name is on the list. But things take an unexpected turn when Eddie instead starts to find the dead bodies of his relatives, the ones who had helped in the retaliation.
Behind the backdrop of jazz music and glistening flappers, murder after murder begins to unravel as revenge takes center stage, and Eddie soon learns that some secrets can’t be taken to the grave.
Excerpt
Once the doors were closed, Sal didn’t take long to get right to the point. “They know it was you, Eddie.”
The words slapped him across the face, but Eddie didn’t respond.
“That you were the one who came up with the idea,” Sal continued. “They’re out for retaliation, and it’s rumored that they’ve sent a torpedo into this juice joint of yours. That’s part of the reason why I’m not being too open with the information. Afraid of who might be listening.”
A hit man in his speakeasy. Eddie stared out the windshield, watching Sal begin to light a cigarette out of the corner of his eye. “I had a lot of ideas,” he remarked hoarsely, fear and dread subtly mixing into his thoughts.
“Only took one,” Sal responded as he lit the cigarette. He silently offered one to Eddie, who refused with a shake of his head. “Sorry, kid,” Sal explained as he took a puff. “After what they did to your wife, I wouldn’t have blamed ya.”
Eddie remained silent, his eyes drifting to the bootleggers who were moving the last of the crates. No wonder they weren’t laying their eyes on him. He was a dead target.
Sal took another drag on his cigarette, taking a moment for himself. “Don’t worry, though,” he finally remarked. “Your family’s got your back. My brother-in-law, your dear uncle, has requested that Joe stay by your side until we can square away if there’s a torpedo and who it is.”
“What?” Eddie balked, shattering his calm exterior.
“It’s temporary,” Sal cooed, trying to calm the young man down. “He’s just some extra protection.”
Eddie gawked, unable to believe that they’d send Joe, of all people, to protect him. “He’s crazy,” was all Eddie could summarize when it came to his cousin.
“He’s happy,” Sal tried to smooth over.
“Trigger happy,” Eddie corrected.
Sal shrugged his shoulders. “He gets the job done. And when the boss’ favorite nephew needs protection, the boss will only send the very best.”
“I don’t need protection,” Eddie fought back, trying not to raise his voice to the lunacy. “And even if I did, I have Anthony and Marcus in there—”
“Little orphan Anthony and Baby Marcus?” Sal choked, half laughing, half sputtering on the cigarette smoke. “Marcus is too naive, and Anthony,” but Sal had to chuckle first before he could continue. “Well, ya better just pray your killer isn’t a female.”
“Thanks for warning me,” Eddie begrudgingly admitted as he pulled the door handle…
About the Author

A. M. Dunnewin grew up with a taste for mysteries and thrillers, inherited ever so lovingly from her family. An affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association, A. M.’s own stories cover a wide range of genres that tend to take a dark turn when least expected. With a B.A. in Psychology, she’s a gambler of words, obsessed with chai tea, and addicted to books – everything from classical literature to graphic novels. Other hobbies include art, history, music, equestrianism, and a good classic film. She currently dwells in Northern California.
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