Tuesday Teaser April 16, 2019 – Gina’s Wolf Part 43

It was 63 today!! It really feels like spring now. I meant to go for a walk, but decided to write a little more. Only one big chapter left and the epilogue, and then the rough draft of Gina’s Wolf is done. What comes after that?

Creating cover art.

Editing and re-writes= second draft

Beta reads/feedback

Polishing, incorporating beta readers’ feedback into the final draft

Send it to the editor

Re-writes based on editor’s comments and suggestions.

PUBLISHING!!!

Good news: I have an slot reserved with the editor for mid June. That means the book will be out and available around mid-July. Depending on how much re-writing I need to do. So, it is getting near. Soon you will be able to read this (much polished) book from start to finish. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait!

Here is the next bit in the story. Note: I am moving the location of the inner knife sheath to the back of the jeans, in slant so the hilt will be easy to grab and draw.

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“Ma’am,” stuttered one of the guards. “Mrs. Todd, what happened here?”

Jon pushed past the guards to her mother. “It’s obvious what happened. She murdered the president. Arrest her.”

A horn sounded three short blasts. The guards looked at each other. “We’re under attack!”

Her mother snapped, “Go! Find General Atwater.”

The two guards ran out. They apparently missed Jon’s raised hand. Jon took half a step after them but stopped, clenching his fist.

“Unacceptable,” he ground out in his gravelly voice.

On the ground, the president gurgled. Gina hopped back, staring down at him in horror. He was prone, his arms and legs splayed, one cheek resting on the canvas floor. The one eye Gina could see looked filmy, and a trickle of blood flowed from the corner of his lips.

“He’s still alive,” she croaked. She should do something to help him. She swallowed and crouched down to look for the bullet wound. Blood spread in a dark circle over the center of his back. “Is there a clean napkin?”

No one moved to check the table for napkins. Her mom was watching Tanner and Jon with narrowed eyes. They were watching her. Gina got up and went to the table. No clean napkins. She opened the chest that held the clean table ware and found a stack of clean cotton napkins, Grabbing the whole stack, she knelt again by her stepfather. One of his hands was palm down near his face. The fingers twitched. Gina took one of the napkins and pressed it to his back.

The sound of his breath rattling in his chest made Gina shudder. “Somebody, help.” Tanner and Jon both looked at her but didn’t move. “Help! I don’t think he’s breathing.”

Her mom’s cool face crumpled momentarily, then firmed again. Tanner turned a glare on her. “Murderess,” he proclaimed with relish. “You’ll hang.”

Mom ignored him. “Gina, double check.”

Reluctantly, Gina turned back to her stepfather. Only minutes ago, he’d tried to choke her. The front of her throat hurt from the pressure of his thumb on her windpipe. But she couldn’t just let him die, could she? Todd’s eye seemed to focus on her for a brief moment before it rolled so only the white showed through the slit between his lids. He let out a slow breath and his whole body seemed to shrink. His face went utterly slack.  Gina looked up. “I think he’s dead now,” she said numbly.

“Check him for a pulse,” Jon ordered.

Gina had no idea how to do that. “You do it.”

“No.” Her mother motioned to the door with the gun she still clutched. “Gentlemen, please leave. My daughter and I will tend to my husband.”

Tanner laughed angrily and advanced on her. “You’re under arrest.”

Shouts came from outside the tent. Gina turned her head to look toward the door, but it remained closed.

Jon said, “Tanner, let’s go. If the camp is under attack we need to get out of here.”

Tanner ignored him, reaching to take the pistol away from her mother.

“Young man, you should leave,” her mother said in a tight voice.

He didn’t, snatching at the gun again. “You grab Gina,” he tossed over his shoulder at Jon. “I’ll get  the mother. We can take both of them with us. Brother Saul will pass sentence on the murderess.”

Jon hesitated before leaning down to grip Gina’s shoulder and haul her up to her feet. “Come on, wife. Time to go.”

“I’m not going with you,” she snarled, struggling to break free of his hand. “Let me go.”

Jon hauled her close to his body. “I’ll pick you up if I have to. Better to come without a fuss.”

Gina tried to dig her heels in. “I’ll scream.”

He laughed shortly. “Who will hear you through that racket?”

The noise outside had increased. It sounded like a battle. The shouts and screams of men were punctuated by distant gunfire. Another shot sounded so close that Gina jumped and tried to duck instinctively. Jon’s fingers dug into her arms.

“Tanner!” His deep voice was almost soundless. Gina followed his horrified gaze and saw Tanner fall back and then drop to the floor. His head… She had to look away from the bloody mess.

Jon’s hands slackened. “Bitch,” he growled. “Murderess twice over. An eye for an eye, saith the Lord.”

There was murder in his eyes as he let go of her and launched himself at her mother. Gina scrambled after him but tripped over Todd’s arm. From her knees, she saw her mother raise the pistol again. Her finger tightened around the trigger. Gina flinched, expecting another blast of gunfire.

Click. Click.

Jon laughed savagely when the gun failed to fire. He ripped the pistol from her mother’s hand, twisted his hand so he held it by the barrel, and struck her across the face with the gun butt. Blood flew from her mother’s nose.

“Stop!” Gina scrambled to her feet and rushed him. “Stop it!”

Without pausing, Jon swung around and clocked her with the gun. She fell, half dazed, into a sprawl on her back. Something dug into her tailbone. The knife. She was an idiot. She had forgotten the knife! A little dizzy, she got to her feet and reached for the knife. It came into her hand with an ease that amazed her. Just like in practice. Jon was still beating her mother, bending over her fallen body.

A throat slice would be easiest, but his back was to her, so she probably couldn’t get to his throat. A wild stab to the back would probably result in her blade getting stuck in his vertebra or rib. She wet her trembling lips and angled the knife so the blade pointed out and up. Gaze centered on his lower back to the right of his spine, between his hip bone and ribs, she took one quick step toward him and jabbed the knife into his back with all the force she had.

He snapped up with a cry between a scream and a roar. The hilt of the knife was jerked from her hands, slippery with blood. She was too slow to avoid the gun butt as it crashed against her head. She fell, curiously cold and weightless, into a deep well of darkness. AS he light faded, she thought she heard someone far, far away calling her name.