Chasing Lincoln's Killer Novels & Stories

She had used up all her strength running with Finley. He got in and immediately took off. Driving around the side of the trailer and onto the road. As they passed the fight, she caught Quinn’s horrified stare. And then she saw him turn and run towards Asher’s jeep. Huxley was driving way too fast. The car was sliding and slipping all over the dirt road. And then, it started raining. Apparently the old vehicle they were in didn’t have working windshield wipers. She saw a flash in her mirror and saw headlights catching up to them. Quinn was coming … he was behind them, chasing them.

“Have you heard? Lincoln has left the Khan!” someone spoke, feeling as though they got the news first. “Shows what you know! The Khan let him go on purpose! Did you know? After Lincoln left, he went to the Sun!” another said, this caused a debate to erupt. “Plus, and I bet you didn’t know this; Lincoln is dead!” the man said, a smile crept into his face. “How is this possible? Who killed Lincoln? Was it the Khan?” someone asked. “No! Accordingly, Lincoln was a lustful man, he even dared to take Sheldon’s wife! They were caught doing it by Sheldon himself!” the man replied. “The H*ll? That can’t be true isn’t it? Poor Sheldon!”

His eyes widen up, and he comes out of the room. Connor goes to the kitchen, but he hears some begging at the other side. Butler Robert is silent when looking at him, and even his maids are shutting their mouths up. The butterflies inside his stomach are landing on the lining—giving him an itchy feeling. Connor runs at the side garage. He witnesses Paul was pinned on the car. “Brother!” He goes to Lincoln while Paul is begging out the hell of him. “I did some research and your husband is a drug trafficker before. I don’t cultivate you to become a sore, Connor….” Lincoln said coldly as always from his low baritone voice.

I pulled into the office parking lot and killed the engine. I stayed right there in the driver’s seat. My hands would not stop shaking as I spread the case file across my lap. I had to put something together. Anything. One decent lead before I walked inside and faced the boss. Miss Lin. Twenty years old. Smart college girl. She was driving home from night class when someone ended her life. The scene looked all wrong. Half ambush, half accident. Her car had slammed into the guardrail, but the bullet holes in the windshield and the way her body sat twisted in the seat told the real story. Someone had waited for her. Someone had planned it.

There was no telling what Lorenzo would do when he was angry. There were rumors that he hurt people just for the fun of it. He once shot a man because he bought the same car as him. Another time, he beat up a guy just because he wore the same shirt as him. His temper was legendary. Violetta was scared. She had heard many stories about Lorenzo. How ruthless and vile he was. She couldn't believe she had let Evie into his room in the first place. She should have sent someone more experienced. She should have known better.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the man staring at him, but then when he turned his attention to him, he quickly glanced away. Not able to resist any longer, Lincoln got to his feet and began to walk to their table. Even though his heart was slamming against his ribs, he didn't stop. He reached the table and grabbed the bag. “Hey!” The man shouted, trying to recover the bag but Lincoln moved away quickly. He opened the bag and found a camera… and he was recording! He smirked. So, I was right after all. He is Ethan's hired stalker.

he said, his voice in a low tone. “Zero activity since yesterday afternoon. Her car was found in a parking garage downtown. It’s a clean slate, Mr Bran. It’s like she just… vanished,” the other detective said. I stopped pacing, the words hitting me with the force of a physical blow. A clean slate, the phrase echoed the emptiness I felt inside. I ran a hand through my hair, my mind racing, desperately searching for some forgotten detail, some insignificant clue I might have overlooked. Then, a flicker. A memory, so small and ridiculous, had been buried beneath my panic.

"Until Christopher asked me to find out about Nicole. You know I was overwhelmed with the coincidence. And at that moment I realized the wounds buried in my heart were being dug up for a reason. I knew I was going to have a taste of my revenge." Max snaps his eyes at me and then shrugs. "And when I got everyone exactly where I wanted, I knew this was it. This was my time." The sadness in his eyes is gone, and all that I could see now is a gleam of burning vengeance. "What can be more amazing than to have your daughter get killed here right in front of your eyes?" "Maximus, no..." my dad protests, trying to free himself.

“During my search for them, one of my intel sources mentioned him. He went to report the attacks in the woods to the authorities. That drew the attention of the hunters, they questioned him. And he talked. He spoke about the woman and the child.” My grip tightened again. “They’re still in the woods,” he finished weakly. “Somewhere.” “That’s impossible,” I snapped, fury igniting in my chest. There was no way. No fucking way. “I have combed every inch of this city,” I said slowly, my voice dropping into something far more dangerous. “Hospitals. Records. Borders. Shelters. You expect me to believe they vanished and hid in the woods like ghosts?” I leaned closer, my claws pressing into his throa

Chance walked round, confused as ever and ignoring the hungry pangs he was feeling. He hadn't had breakfast as yet and going to a whorehouse so early in the morning wasn't such a good idea. Chance stuffed his hands in his pocket, walking around in a daze until he found himself at the beach. He sucked in a breath, tasting the salty air which immediately take him back to his journey from Detroit to New Hampshire. (It wasn't an easy one, with police on the lookout for a crazy killer boy. Which they almost caught him, simply because he had foolishly broken into a house looking for a hot meal and a safe place to rest his head.