Fortune’s Fool
No conscience. No complications. No going back.
Gritty, unflinching crime fiction for readers who love moral complexity, small-town corruption, and protagonists who are precisely as dangerous as the villains.
McCabe turned and walked through the winding exit. After a second, the kid caught up, walking right at his heels. They passed others on their way in, a flight having landed a few moments earlier. Once in the terminal’s flow of traffic, the kid zipped around him and McCabe watched him go. The kid raised a hand and flipped him the finger without looking back.
McCabe laughed, switched his carry-on from one shoulder to the other, and walked back toward his gate. He passed a woman holding a little girl by the hand. The woman’s beauty was striking. A heart-shaped face, ice-blue eyes, and chestnut-colored hair cropped about an inch above her shoulders. Something instantly familiar about her. The little girl beside her was perhaps four, maybe five-years-old with the same face, hair, and eyes of the woman whose hand she held. Could’ve been her clone.
The woman stopped abruptly as he walked by.
“Lucky?” she said.
Stupidly, McCabe turned around.
Chance McCabe is messy, damaged, and trying so damn hard not to be the villain.
