By Jessica Speart
It is referred to as Delta Gold -- caviar from the endangered Mississippi River paddlefish that opponents the world-renowned beluga. And now that greed has all yet decimated one billion buck Caspian Sea undefined, the Russian mafia is casting its deadly line into the land of ElvisTennessee is the purgatory the place the U.S. Fish and flora and fauna carrier has consigned Rachel Porter for making difficulty. Now, posing as a grimy agent at the take, she's diving right into a shark pool of hungry predators drawn by way of the smell of massive cash. yet there is extra roiling those waters than a thriving alternate within the unlawful poaching of paddlefish for his or her roe -- as Rachel's research unearths even scarier secrets...and homicide. In guarding the golden egg, Rachel has gotten in method too deep over her head. And now she's in grave probability of studying the that means of "extinct" firsthand.
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22 Jessica Speart proached, giving his brother a knuckle punch on the arm. “It’ll be just like on TV, where Pa escapes and is on the run. ” Woody bellowed. Both boys scurried through the shed door. Then Hardy turned toward me with a surly expression. ” Actually, I was feeling pretty darned good. Woody took a pack of Redman tobacco from his pocket and bit off a plug. A bulge the size of a large tumor formed in the side of his cheek. “I mean, especially for a low-level government lackey like yourself, who makes nothing but chump change,” Hardy began to needle.
He proceeded to explain that he was modeling himself after his favorite pro wrestler—one who carried around a head. ” I’d inquired. “Not if you view it in psychoanalytic terms. Actually, my wrestling idol, Al Snow, says that what I’m expressing is healthy. I’m projecting a nonverbal cry for help. ” he said, grinning from ear to ear. I’d asked no more questions, but let the makebelieve serial killer keep on walking past. “Here are more munchies for you to nosh on. ” Vincent added a platter of scrumptious fried calamari to the table.
I heard the sound of historic Beale Street before I even arrived, throbbing and oozing the blues. Oooh, my man left me and now I’m so all alone! I slowed to pay my respects as I passed by the crown jewel of Memphis’s soul, then continued on home. BLACK DELTA NIGHT 35 I passed the community of South Bluff, its abodes ﬂaunting lace curtains. One oh-so-chic townhouse fashionably displayed a shocking pink toilet, being used as a planter, out on its stoop. Another residence sported a classic orange-and-white ’64 Corvette parked in its drive, looking as luscious as a Creamsicle.
Black Delta Night by Jessica Speart