President on Edge, page 1
President on Edge
Kerrigan Presidents Series, Volume 5
W.J. May
Published by Dark Shadow Publishing, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
PRESIDENT ON EDGE
First edition. November 15, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 W.J. May.
ISBN: 979-8223379126
Written by W.J. May.
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
THIS BOOK IS LICENSED for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the arduous work of the author.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
President on Edge
Book 5 of the Kerrigan Presidents
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
Cover design by: Book Cover by Design
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Leaders in Control
Director on a Mission
Devon Seeking Guidance
Gabriel’s Vanishing Light
President on Edge
Agreeing the Future
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
The Chronicles of:
Devon
Angel
Julian
Molly
Gabriel
Rae
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
The Prequel series is a Sub-Series of the Chronicles of Kerrigan.
The prequel on how Simon Kerrigan met Beth!!
Download for FREE:
THE CHRONICLES OF KERRIGAN: PREQUEL –
Christmas Before the Magic
Question the Darkness
Into the Darkness
Fight the Darkness
Alone in the Darkness
Lost the Darkness
The Chronicles of Kerrigan
BOOK I - Rae of Hope is FREE!
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gILAwXxx8MU
Book II - Dark Nebula
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ca24STi_bFM
Book III - House of Cards
Book IV - Royal Tea
Book V - Under Fire
Book VI - End in Sight
Book VII – Hidden Darkness
Book VIII – Twisted Together
Book IX – Mark of Fate
Book X – Strength & Power
Book XI – Last One Standing
Book XII – Rae of Light
THE CHRONICLES OF KERRIGAN SEQUEL
Matter of Time
Time Piece
Second Chance
Glitch in Time
Our Time
Precious Time
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
Living in the Past
Present for Today
Staring at the Future
Kerrigan Chronicles
Book 1 – Stopping Time
Book 2 – A Passage of Time
Book 3 – Ticking Clock
Book 4 – Just in Time
Book 5 – Time in the City
Book 6 – Ultimate Future
The Kerrigan Kids Series
Book 1 - School of Potential
Book 2 - Myths & Magic
Book 3 - Kith & Kin
Book 4 - Playing With Power
Book 5 - Line of Ancestry
Book 6 - Descent of Hope
Book 7 – Illusion of Shadows
Book 8 – Frozen by the Future
Book 9 – Guilt of My Past
Book 10 – Demise of Magic
Book 11- Rise of the Prophecy
Book 12 – Deafened by the Past
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President on Edge Blurb
CAREFUL PULLING ON threads, you never know what might unravel...
When Kraigan's latest clue leads to the most unlikely of places, the Kerrigan Gang is forced to consider how far they're willing to stretch to solve the mystery of his abduction. But things have taken a turn in London, and a series of dark coincidences makes them wonder if the circumstances of his kidnapping are more serious than they first appeared.
Tensions are brewing between the Council and the Knights. A brush with the shadow organization leaves one person dead, and one in the hospital. The gang comes together to finish them once and for all, but the arrival of a mysterious package changes everything.
Could the two cases be linked? Could Kraigan be in trouble after all?
Are they already too late...?
Contents
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
Kerrigan Chronicles
The Kerrigan Kids Series
Find W.J. May
President on Edge Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Agreeing the Future Book #6 Blurb
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
The Kerrigan Kids Series
TUDOR COMPARISON:
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The Chronicles of Kerrigan
PREQUEL –
SEQUEL –
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
More books by W.J. May
Chapter 1
“I once bludgeoned a man with a pineapple in Majorca.”
Devon closed his eyes, drawing in a steadying breath.
It seemed like another lifetime, he’d actually been enjoying himself—having what was meant to be a lively family discussion over dinner in the backyard. Wisps of smoke drifted lazily from the barbeque, the dogs cheerfully massacred the remaining piles of snow. If he closed his eyes and listened carefully, he could make out the faint strains of Christmas carolers a few streets down.
Then just like clockwork, things had gone disastrously off course.
Someone had discovered a numeric sequence embedded inside a scavenger hunt. The lively discussion had sharpened, the burgers caught fire. By the time the ashes finally settled, a new course had been set. The disaster didn’t reveal itself until later. Until after Devon had already volunteered.
Angel had made the discovery. Angel had provided the contact.
Angel had been selected to come along.
“Well, half a pineapple,” she amended. “An entire pineapple seemed excessive.”
She wasn’t selected, she volunteered. To torture me.
His eyes opened slowly, coming to rest on a single face in the middle of the crowd.
Instead of donning a tragic holiday sweater like the rest of the city, the lovely assassin had opted for a signature leather bodysuit—the kind of sleek, cinematic ensemble that had made half the people crammed in the little café check for a futuristic motorcycle parked outside. A pair of combat boots had been laced to the knee, and sheets of frosting-white hair framed a face teeming with such giddy merriment, you’d never have guessed she just admitted to assault.
Or maybe you would, if you knew her.
“That’s a funny thing to say,” he answered pointedly, feeling the curious eyes of the other patrons. “If you have any other funny stories, maybe you should save them for the car—”
“We’d been tasked with an aerial incursion and the pilot overshot our drop-point,” she continued, twirling a set of keys around her finger. “Breached the compound and landed us right in the middle of some poor guy’s lunch. He reached for his weapon...I grabbed the next best thing.”
Devon stared in spite of himself before casting a quick look around.
By now, there were several people watching—inching discreetly closer to h
“You really don’t have to tell me stuff like that,” he muttered, as half a dozen whispered conversations broke out around them. A set of classic holiday tunes piped from the speakers, but the words still managed to carry. “Especially not if the statute of limitations is already—”
“I read somewhere the key to every good relationship, is to keep discovering new things about each other,” she interrupted bluntly, turning to face him. “I once bludgeoned a man with a pineapple in Majorca.” Their eyes locked for a split second, then she gave a dainty shrug and moved up a place in line. “That’s something you might not have known about me.”
Devon stared after her in silence, too surprised to have progressed to anything else. It wasn’t until someone tapped him on the shoulder, he remembered he was supposed to move as well.
“I almost forgot,” he said on a chuckle, understanding at the same time, “your crusade against me.”
He probably should have put it together when she’d volunteered the night before. Or maybe that morning, when she’d clambered into his car. They might have been up to their ears investigating the world’s most irritating abduction, but leave it to Angel Cross to have her own agenda.
“That’s right,” she answered lightly, keeping her eyes on the display. There were only a few remaining pastries, but she’d come armed with a knife. “My endless crusade to build a meaningful relationship with one of the most important people in my life.” She glanced back with a wan smile, whipping at least three people with her long hair. “I’m a real witch.”
Your words, not mine.
The fox decided not to engage, turning his attention to the rest of the room. Despite how long he’d lived in the city, it was a place he’d never been—more of a bakery, than a café. One of those places that was across the street from something slightly more interesting, and always escaped notice. Angel had insisted upon it that morning, though he could hardly imagine why. Aside from a stray-like tendency to steal from other people’s plates, he’d never met anyone less motivated by food.
Except maybe Gabriel.
He smiled to himself, putting it together.
“Just like your brother,” he murmured.
Her head tilted a little, though her eyes stayed on the pastries.
“What’s that?”
“We’re about to make some dark foray into your childhood stomping grounds, and you kick things off by stopping at a bakery.” He smiled again. “Your brother did the exact same thing.”
They moved up another place in line. They were close now, nearly to the counter.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with my brother,” she remarked, shooting another look over her shoulder. It was hard to decipher her expression. “What’s that been like?”
He let out a hard breath of laughter. “Like he hasn’t been telling you all about it.”
The words rolled swiftly off his tongue, but to be honest, it was hard to guess what Gabriel might have shared. The siblings were a closed unit, but the assassin was notoriously private. Then again, their world had opened a great deal when Cromfield’s safe house had mysteriously caught fire.
“He’s told me a little,” she admitted, as the man ahead of her started to order. “He’s told me his side.” When the man pointed to an éclair, she clapped loudly for attention, then shook her head very slowly. He got a croissant instead. “I’ve been reading between the lines.”
And what have you been reading...?
Devon held the question back, considering hers instead. How were things going? What had their time together been like? Things had been so chaotic, it felt almost impossible to summarize.
“It’s been—” He caught himself almost as soon as he’d started, the words jumbling together in his mouth. The problem was, it was never just one thing with Gabriel. If you stepped into those waters, you swam with the sharks. “It’s been a lot. For both of us, I think.”
Their eyes met in the silence.
It’s been a lot.
She studied him a moment, as the man in front of her paid. For as many things as the fox was keeping to himself, there was just as much swirling behind those blue eyes. If he hadn’t felt the effects of her tatù personally, so many times, he might have sworn the girl was just a tad bit telepathic.
“It was a big thing you did,” she said quietly, “covering for him, like that.” She started to say something further, then merely shook her head. “Thank you, Devon.”
He stared back in surprise, unable to process it.
“...you’re welcome,” he finally managed.
A moment passed, then another.
“Excuse me, miss?”
They turned at the same time to see the cashier leaning nervously over the counter. At first, Devon thought he was prompting her to order. But the man’s gaze was fixed upon the floor.
“I think there’s something on your shoe,” he concluded apologetically.
The friends lowered their eyes slowly, the rest of the line lowered theirs as well, and stared at the violent red smears on the tile. The ones that led directly to a pair of combat boots.
That’s blood.
“That’s paint,” Devon said quickly, flashing a grimacing smile. “I’m so sorry about that. We just got back from...” Excuses failed him; he could only repeat. “She was painting.”
At the very least, he expected Angel to corroborate the pitiful story, but the assassin was far more concerned with her boots. It wasn’t until he nudged her, that she even bothered to reply.
“I was painting with a bookie this morning,” she murmured, turning her leg to examine the extent of the damage. “He got paint all over me.”
And just like that...we got arrested.
“You know what, honey?” he said with another strained smile. “How about you wait in the car? Outside the car,” he amended quickly, casting a fearful look at his beloved Porsche. “You can get yourself cleaned up. I’ll get us some breakfast.”
She lifted her eyes, smiling at little at honey.
“Well, that sounds lovely, darling.” She cast a final look around the shop before making her demands. “I’ll take the largest white mocha they have. And that éclair—get me that éclair.”
The words echoed ominously behind her, as the door swung shut.
Devon flinched in the silence that followed, bolstered only by the anemic strains of “Jingle Bells” coming from somewhere near the heater. He turned slowly to the counter, already bracing for whatever he might find, but the culprit had relocated to the sidewalk and no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention. The cashier was draped over the counter, staring after her with a moonish expression he hadn’t seen since primary school. It took him a second to notice Devon was there.
“Dude...well done.”
The fox stared back in surprise as he began working on the order—blending the mocha and carefully transferring the éclair into a paper bag. He’d been expecting questions, threats. At the very least, he expected a pointed ‘suggestion’ that he make some effort to clean the floor.
But the man was utterly sincere, adding a flourish of ribbon to the bag.
Well done.
“How do you mean?” Devon asked cautiously.
The man let out a snort of laughter, stirring in the cream. “That is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Like—movie star beautiful. I don’t know how you can even...” He cast another look at the sidewalk and promptly lost his train of thought, staring with a vacant expression. “Bloody hell.”
Devon followed his gaze.
Really?
The girl in question was currently hopping from foot to foot, muttering curses in Italian, as she attempted to clean a bookie’s arterial spray from her shoes. Crowds of festively-dressed tourists parted to avoid her. A squirrel, who’d been watching with interest, had retreated to a higher branch.
