By Michael Sova
Genre: Thriller, Suspense
A professional killer makes a hit, leaving no obvious signs of foul play. There’s only one problem. He got the wrong guy and is reluctantly called back into service. His new target is female, blind, and scared. She knows he’s out there somewhere, closing in on her. She also knows she’ll never see him coming.
Years after the Deepwater Horizon disaster, bestselling fiction author Martin Reginald introduces a compelling new trilogy and tells a different version of that well publicized story. In the first two novels, he suggests the explosion was an act of sabotage and the presumed culprit was the owner of Sand-Sational, a Louisiana-based beach restoration company. The biggest revelations are promised in the final book in the series, but Reginald is murdered before the manuscript is completed. Why? Was someone trying to keep him quiet? Is it possible his novels were less fictional than anyone realized? What happens when it turns out Reginald himself was something of an illusion?
From the Caribbean to the Big Apple and back again, Blind Switch is a triumph of non-stop action and intensity in which very little is as it first appears. Michael Sova returns with his most intriguing, most suspenseful, and most surprising work to date.
About the Author
Michael Sova is the author of the suspense novels A Shot at Redemption and Parlor City Paradise, as well as his 2017 release, a sports-themed cookbook titled 21 Sundays of Fantastic Football Food: Celebrating the Foods and Follies of Professional Football. His new novel, a thriller titled Blind Switch, was published in July and is available now in paperback and most popular eBook formats.
On Twitter: https://twitter.com/Micsova
On Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KxlZtw
Blind Switch Excerpt
Having no better options, he waited directly in front of the bathroom door. The target would see him right away, or so Fisher assumed, but he didn’t plan on giving Reginald time to think let alone react. He’d grab his wrist and yank him forward. In that same motion, he’d get an arm around his neck, bring him to the floor, and the syringe tucked into Fisher’s waistband would do the rest. He’d managed similar takedowns half a dozen times before and never had a problem.
This time, however, the plan had to be modified slightly when Reginald turned the bathroom light off before pulling the door open. Fisher hadn’t considered that and it gave him pause. His eyes had already adjusted to the room’s dimness but he still couldn’t see for shit and he knew Reginald wouldn’t be able to see much of anything. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. If he didn’t hit Reginald just right, the asshole might fall backwards, slam into the bathroom door and send it crashing into the wall. Fisher doubted the sound would carry far but it might cause someone in a nearby cabin to come investigate. That wouldn’t do.
He took a step to the side, giving Reginald space to move into the room. Except… he didn’t. Fisher couldn’t see much but he could sense Reginald frozen in the bathroom doorway, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. His room hadn’t been dark when he went into the bathroom so why was it dark now? Was there a power outage? Had he turned the lights off himself without being aware of the act? Had something somehow come unplugged?
Reginald was weighing the various scenarios. That’s what anyone would do in that situation and had to be the reason he still hadn’t moved. Fisher wished he could see the expression on his face but all he could really make out was an indistinct mass against a pitch-black background. If Reginald were smart, if he had one shred of common sense, he’d retreat into the bathroom and close and lock the door. What could Fisher do then? It wasn’t like his target would sit there quietly while he went to work with his set of picks. But whatever the guy was thinking, Reginald must not have felt threatened because he reached back into the bathroom and hit the wall switch.
The room was instantly filled with bright, florescent light, as was a small area right in front of the door. That’s right where Fisher had been standing a few moments before. He’d moved but not far enough. His left shoe and the lower part of that leg were now brightly illuminated. Reginald stared at them dumbly and then his gaze slowly lifted. He had time to take in the black shoes, black pants, black jacket and black gloves. A question formed on his lips. That’s when one of the shoes shot up and caught him squarely in the nuts. His mouth hanging open, Reginald crumpled to the floor as Scott Fisher moved in.