Café
Mazon
Crystal
Hubbard
The
tables are turned on a serial rapist and his dimwitted accomplice when they
attack a woman unlike any of their previous victims.
About
the Author:
Crystal Hubbard is a full-time writer
living in the Midwest. She is the proud mother of four and spends her free time
volunteering to support causes related to Veterans rights, the American Red
Cross, the American Cancer Society and writing workshops in elementary and high
schools. She is also a certified cake decorator and accomplished baker. Her
interests include martial arts, reading, sewing, boxing, hiking, yoga and
shopping for oddities at yard sales.
Excerpt:
He'd first seen her the last time he was
here, after he'd been interrupted by strange voices and footsteps. He hated being interrupted, especially since
he'd been having such a good time, but in the end it all worked out. If he hadn't taken the time to pound Terry
for getting distracted with that damn magic book, he wouldn't have seen his
latest flame. She'd rounded the corner
and headed straight for the café.
Dee and Terry had eaten there a few
times. Dee didn't much care for the
aloof manner of the staff or the snooty misspelled French name, but the food
was good and you got a lot of it.
Terry had complained the whole time, but
Dee had sat in the car all the rest of the night, waiting for his new target to
leave the diner. She didn't come out
until after the lunch rush.
Dee followed her to the subway, then took
Terry to McDonald's for a few Happy Meals.
Later that night, they went back to see if she'd return to the diner.
She did.
Every night, same time, same corner, same
routine until Dee couldn't stand it anymore.
Now, he finally had her. He pulled out his hunting knife, thrilled
with the clean grab.
He used the tip of his knife to trace the
center seam of the back of her pants.
The halves fell away, revealing two rounds of golden flesh. If her ass
wasn’t God’s finest work, it had to be in the top ten.
“No panties, huh?” Dee smirked. “You dressed for our date, I’ll give you
points for that.”
She glanced over her shoulder as the blade
lightly moved along her spine. "Are
you about finished?" she asked with a slight yawn.
Her voice was a low, silky, disinterested
growl. To Dee, it was as sexy as it was
annoying.
"Baby," Dee sneered, slicing
through the backstrap of her bra, "I haven't even got good and
started."
She turned around, slowly lowering her
arms. "Three women have been
assaulted and killed around here. Your
work?"…
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