WASTELAND (Wasted #2.5)
Inside
the halls of Osiris, the men and women who make the contract killing agency
tick polish their weapons and hone their skills. But how did they start working
for Nero and Lex in the first place, and when did they find out they were
destined to kill people for a living?
Before
Frankie Fairholm let you into her crazy, dysfunctional world of murder for
hire, the lives of these men and women were already in danger. Their training
was put to the test alongside their morals.
A
troubled Catholic school girl with a penchant for murder, a naive con-woman in
over her head, a driven socialite with a bad day that keeps getting worse, an
assassin second-guessing his sworn oath... being a contract killer doesn’t mean
you aren’t human, it just means your humanity is hard to find, and probably a
bit tarnished.
About the Author:
Author
C. Elizabeth Vescio likes to play in the
dark world of cynicism and death. Her Wasted series touches on the demented and
humorous side of a delightfully dysfunctional family. Vescio is an
award-winning photographer and avid font snob. She lives in Las Vegas with her
husband and three dogs.
Author Links: Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | WastedSeries Website
Excerpt from the Accidental Savant
My feet hit the pavement, making the “bomp bomp bomp” of my heels match my
pounding heart.
It was the first time I had to run in stilettos. Even better, I was running in a ridiculous
pink party dress, which Brian had made me wear.
I always fall for the wrong kind of guy.
This particular bad choice had been taking advantage of my poker skills—making me
cheat lonely men out of thousands at the casinos in Vegas. I almost got away with it, until
a big Italian guy burst in on a tournament and pointed a gun at my head. Behind him, two
more men appeared—not quite as intimidating, but still packing major heat.
Brian took one look at the men and bolted from the room, leaving me and everyone else
to lose our shit. I wasn’t the most graceful under pressure.
The big guy seemed like he was after Brian, but he quickly turned his focus on me, which
made me panic and bolt. Guns meant business.
So, I found myself running; I started on the top floor of a suite at Caesar’s Palace and
somehow managed to find my way to the parking garage. I don’t know how. Everything
was a blur, but I didn’t dare stop.
Scary men were after me and, of course, my shitty boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.
The only thing powering me forward was the line of coke I had snorted in the bathroom
an hour prior.
It was four in the morning; the garage was empty of people. I made my way to the back
entrance, hoping I could escape down Flamingo Road toward the Rio.
I was almost to the exit when the headlights of a black SUV lit me up from behind.
I turned my attention to the screeching brakes to make sure I wasn’t about to get run over.
That’s when I was tackled from the side by what felt like a Mack truck.
We both went flying; his hand grabbed onto my frilly pink dress and ripped a portion of
the tulle. I rolled out of the way to get a better look at him.
Same guy from upstairs, I realized.
He still had the gun in his hand, but he was a bit out of sorts.
The back door to the SUV opened up and another man emerged. I did a double take—he
looked the same as the man in front of me.
Jesus Christ.I didn’t have time for this.
Excerpt from the Accidental Savant
My feet hit the pavement, making the “bomp bomp bomp” of my heels match my
pounding heart.
It was the first time I had to run in stilettos. Even better, I was running in a ridiculous
pink party dress, which Brian had made me wear.
I always fall for the wrong kind of guy.
This particular bad choice had been taking advantage of my poker skills—making me
cheat lonely men out of thousands at the casinos in Vegas. I almost got away with it, until
a big Italian guy burst in on a tournament and pointed a gun at my head. Behind him, two
more men appeared—not quite as intimidating, but still packing major heat.
Brian took one look at the men and bolted from the room, leaving me and everyone else
to lose our shit. I wasn’t the most graceful under pressure.
The big guy seemed like he was after Brian, but he quickly turned his focus on me, which
made me panic and bolt. Guns meant business.
So, I found myself running; I started on the top floor of a suite at Caesar’s Palace and
somehow managed to find my way to the parking garage. I don’t know how. Everything
was a blur, but I didn’t dare stop.
Scary men were after me and, of course, my shitty boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.
The only thing powering me forward was the line of coke I had snorted in the bathroom
an hour prior.
It was four in the morning; the garage was empty of people. I made my way to the back
entrance, hoping I could escape down Flamingo Road toward the Rio.
I was almost to the exit when the headlights of a black SUV lit me up from behind.
I turned my attention to the screeching brakes to make sure I wasn’t about to get run over.
That’s when I was tackled from the side by what felt like a Mack truck.
We both went flying; his hand grabbed onto my frilly pink dress and ripped a portion of
the tulle. I rolled out of the way to get a better look at him.
Same guy from upstairs, I realized.
He still had the gun in his hand, but he was a bit out of sorts.
The back door to the SUV opened up and another man emerged. I did a double take—he
looked the same as the man in front of me.
Jesus Christ.I didn’t have time for this.
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