Son of a Pitch Entry: Forbidden

Title: Forbidden

Age and Genre: Adult, Suspense / Romance

Word Count: 100,000

Query:

Screams of terror and gunfire echo within the walls of a compound. The horrific massacre of fifteen Americans forces two government officials of The Republic of Islamic Provinces and Territories to plot a cover-up. The secret is thrust into the hands of a ruthless police captain, Hashim Sharif. Frustrated with his corrupt superiors, he covertly searches for forensic evidence. If his loyalty is questioned, an unmarked grave awaits him in the desert.

The gates of hell crash down on Sharif when he is ordered to execute the one witness – Eliza MacKay. It’s unthinkable to become the same gutter vermin he hunts in Samarra’s dark streets. Placing MacKay out of sight inside his apartment, he risks the wrath of Allah.

Hit men, the CIA, and his government have Sharif and MacKay in their cross hairs. Justice may never be served. Even so, he cannot commit an act most forbidden – treason. His family’s honor would be forever lost. With his Muslim morals and his life on the line, Sharif becomes the beast his enemies dread.

In spite of her struggle with PTSD, Sharif admires Mackay’s tenacity. He’s tortured by his deepening passion. If escape is possible, love will only get in the way. Or will it save them?

First 250 words:

*The Republic of Islamic Provinces & Territories, Year 2047 (introduced in prologue)

Eliza’s intuition begged her to leave RIPT*. She stepped up to the window overlooking the airport’s tarmac. The tower’s search beacon sliced through the ebony sky like a knife’s sharp blade. She shuddered. Her cold hands fidgeted with her head scarf. Jet engines roared as Air Arabia 267 reached takeoff speed. In seconds, the 747 disappeared into Samarra’s night sky like a homesick angel.

Her PTSD erupted with a child’s shriek. A ragging inferno and twisted metal flashed before her. Get out, hurry. Wide eyed and gasping for air, she darted through the crowd.

“Stop,” shouted a security guard. He grabbed her arm and yanked her aside. His painful grip instantly cleared her mind. A second guard pushed her forward. “Move,” he commanded in Arabic.

The officers shoved her into an office where a heavy-set man sat behind a desk. His tan colored military uniform barely fit his broad shoulders. A sign on his desk read ‘Sergeant Muntazar’. He merely glanced in her direction while thrusting his sidearm into his shoulder holster.

Oh God. She swallowed the last of her saliva. Who the hell knows I’m in Samarra? Eliza struggled to take a deep breath. What if he – Stop it. You’re a MacKay. She wrestled her panic into submission.

“Sergeant, why have I been treated like a criminal?” Her Arabic was passable.

“You’ve been here five hours, miss. Nervous. Explain, please.” His voice sounded casual, almost sultry. But his shoulders said, ‘Don’t fuck with me.’