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The Suicide Club
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Год написания книги
2018
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The Suicide Club
Gayle Wilson
Lindsey Sloan teaches the best and brightest students at Randolph-Lowen High School–exceptional teens with promising futures far from their small Alabama hometown. So when brash detective Jace Nolan arrives from up north and accuses her kids of setting a series of fires in local black churches, Lindsey is furious. No matter how Jace tries to convince her, Lindsey can't believe her pupils could do something so horrible, let alone be addicted to the rush of getting away with it.But when her attraction to Jace places her in mortal danger and people begin dying, Lindsey can no longer be sure just what her students are capable of. If Jace is right, it's up to the two of them to outsmart these criminal minds–before they carry out the ultimate thrill-kill.
The Suicide Clup
Gayle Wilson
For all the wonderful “nifty-gifties” I taught through
the years. The bad guys in this one aren’t you, my
darlings, but the good guys surely are.
Enjoy…and remember that it’s just fiction.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Prologue
“It was already starting to get boring. I mean, how many times can you do the same thing?”
“Boring? You mean compared to the excitement of just sitting here?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re so full of shit your breath stinks. You weren’t bored. You were a lot of things, dude, but you were not bored.”
“I’m bored.” The girl beside him reached for his beer.
“Because you have no imagination,” he said, releasing it.
He watched as she took a draw, tilting her head back so that he could see the movement of her throat in the moonlight. The pale column of her neck looked thin. Fragile. Vulnerable.
“So what do we do now, Mr. Imagination?” she asked when she finally lowered the bottle.
Gayle Wilson
Lindsey Sloan teaches the best and brightest students at Randolph-Lowen High School–exceptional teens with promising futures far from their small Alabama hometown. So when brash detective Jace Nolan arrives from up north and accuses her kids of setting a series of fires in local black churches, Lindsey is furious. No matter how Jace tries to convince her, Lindsey can't believe her pupils could do something so horrible, let alone be addicted to the rush of getting away with it.But when her attraction to Jace places her in mortal danger and people begin dying, Lindsey can no longer be sure just what her students are capable of. If Jace is right, it's up to the two of them to outsmart these criminal minds–before they carry out the ultimate thrill-kill.
The Suicide Clup
Gayle Wilson
For all the wonderful “nifty-gifties” I taught through
the years. The bad guys in this one aren’t you, my
darlings, but the good guys surely are.
Enjoy…and remember that it’s just fiction.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Prologue
“It was already starting to get boring. I mean, how many times can you do the same thing?”
“Boring? You mean compared to the excitement of just sitting here?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re so full of shit your breath stinks. You weren’t bored. You were a lot of things, dude, but you were not bored.”
“I’m bored.” The girl beside him reached for his beer.
“Because you have no imagination,” he said, releasing it.
He watched as she took a draw, tilting her head back so that he could see the movement of her throat in the moonlight. The pale column of her neck looked thin. Fragile. Vulnerable.
“So what do we do now, Mr. Imagination?” she asked when she finally lowered the bottle.
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