The journey started after CR interviewed big city detectives about their lives on the job; then talked with some of their victims.
That resulted in her first YA series: McSwain & Beck.
The novels are works of fiction, only based on real life events, but you can't help but wonder while reading the books which parts are true.
Excerpt from Fireworks on the 4th:
With the NVGs guiding us in the dark we crossed the desert by timing our moves with the guards alternating walks around the perimeter. Jake kept watch while I crawled through the fence then he followed and we jogged silently in the direction of the guard shack. A couple feet away, he signaled me to get flat on the ground. I complied.
Through the NVGs, I watched as one of the security guards stepped out of the shack and began to make his rounds. When he disappeared behind the building, Jake pulled the M9 from his hip and moved in silent, but stealth-like mode toward the shack. He sidled up alongside the building, staying just underneath the windows. Took two steps until he was square in the opened door, and raised the weapon.
Before the guard even got the chance to raise his head from his magazine…THWAP – Jake fired.
A dart protruded from the weapon and hit the guard center chest. Several seconds passed before the guard’s lanky frame slumped down. Jake quickly moved him out of view. At the same time, he signaled me to run toward the back of the building.
I took flight, and hid behind one of the four-wheeler’s. When I glanced back, Jake was no longer at the shack and disappeared from my sight.
The first security guard reappeared from the other side of the building, and made his way back toward the shack. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed his partner was not at his post and automatically reached for his weapon. Before he could, Jake unexpectedly rose up out of the ground where he was buried in the sand. The M9 was raised.
THWAP – a dart hit the guard in the neck.
Jake caught him before he slumped down, lifted him off the ground and returned him to the shack. He grabbed supplies from his side pocket, quickly bound the guards’ wrists with plasti-cuffs, and covered their mouths with duct tape.
The take down was so methodical and quick, I knew my father had been doing missions like this for a very long time. I couldn’t help but watch in awe. He signaled me to join him as he entered the garage.
“Now, we move fast. They’ll be out for a while, but no guarantees how long.”
We did a quick search of the garage, checking inside the white box truck. He signaled me to get behind him as he double-checked the office then we met up at the door to the basketball-sized room I referred to as the kill house.
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