More by Val Cameron
Warning: This novel contains violence and sexually explicit scenes which may be disturbing to some readers.
When Cindy Parkers' fourteen-year-old body shows up in a dumpster, Fran Walters of the Organized Crimes Against Children Task Force knows that this isn't just a case of a teenage runaway reaching a tragic end. There is a mark on Cindy's body, a branding Fran knows well. Fran hits the ground running to track down the origins of the cult which abducts young girls and weaves their innocence into a fabric of prostitution and pornography. Fran knows she hasn't much time; another girl will soon be abducted, as they have every year on the 7th September. Fran knows because once she wore the brand of September 7.
September 7th ...
To save this year_s September 7th girl, Fran must find and destroy the man she knows as Uno. But someone else is hunting Fran_s prey, and although Jake Harrison has his own agenda, Fran needs his dangerous skills.
Banish the darkness ...When Harrison unknowingly leads Fran back into the nightmare of September 7, her memories threaten to destroy her. Desperately she fights free and tracks Uno to the cult_s headquarters on a remote Mexican mountaintop. There she battles Uno to rescue a young girl from the dark, and in defeating him, finally banishes her own darkness.
ÿHe chose the city of La Paz because the name meant peace, and when a stranger named Brent Markesson offered to take him sailing on a boat named Far Reacher, Dale believed he'd found the peach he was looking for.
Everything about Brent Markesson fascinated Dale - his boat, his lifestyle, and his dead wife. Then Markesson offered to hand it all over, and suddenly nothing was what it seemed - not the sailboat, not the woman, and especially not the murder.
Warning: This novel contains mature content that may disturb some readers.
My carefully smooth, rounded letters knit into words as I write. I, Suzanne Collins, leave all my worldly possessions to my son, David.
He_s a man now, but I remember him sobbing, chubby arms gripping my left leg. I remember depositing him in his crib, closing the door so he wouldn_t hear.
All my worldly possessions. Sagging sofa. Scarred table. Rocking chair. Mother_s china. Only one cup left_
Warning: Val_s stories and novels contain violence and sexually explicit scenes which may be disturbing to some readers.
Rachel sits in the hard chair nearest the door, long legs stretched out. As she listens, one hand toys with brown hair spilled over her shoulder. Violence in the air tonight. Four cold walls, vinyl floor covered with a circular braided rug. Two sofas. Two chairs. Six women.
The brunette named Hazel digs red nails into her palms. Head down, eyes closed. Short hair, dark frown for last week, her thirtieth birthday in the psych ward at St. Paul_s. Her head jerks and she glares at Alice on her right. _You ever want to kill a man with a gun?_
...Rachel has a gun.