The Devil's Candidate
by
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Sam pointed to a lighted street two blocks away. "The cab will wait for us there," he said. "I hope you won't mind. I wanted to spend a few moments alone with you." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "There's something I've wanted to do all night." "What's that?" she asked, batting her eyes flirtatiously. He drew her near and gave her a deep, hard kiss. She lost herself in the kiss, moaning with pleasure. "Ooh Bob," she said when he pulled back. "That was so incredible."
Sam pushed her against the wall, kissed her again, harder. He felt her melt into his arms. "Come here," he whispered urgently, as he led her by the hand. "I need you. Now." He walked about twenty feet at a swift pace, pulling her by the hand, wanting her to feel his urgency. A car sped by. He looked warily around. There were no other cars in sight. Where was the alley he had seen on the drive in? Then, he saw the dark opening, ahead to his right, and he walked in, pulling Beatriz in behind him. "D*mn it, Beatriz, you've got me so hot my balls hurt." She giggled. "I've never done it in an alley before." He pulled her deep into the darkness, his eyes searching for movement, for anyone sleeping in carton beds. The place looked deserted. He drew her close to him, played with her hair. He kissed her again. Abruptly, he put a hand on each of her shoulders and whirled her around, so her back was to him. He moved into her so their bodies were touching. His hand moved up her skirt, all the way up her velvety thigh, until he felt the naked moistness. Talk about coming prepared, he thought, drawing lazy circles on her skin with his fingers. Nearby, he heard the roar of a motorcycle, then the crunch of gravel as it drove off. Her quiet moans echoed in the darkness. He took his right hand and brought it to her breasts, rubbing through the black lace bra. The nipples stiffened under the stroke of his gentle fingers. She moaned again, and his arm shot up into her neck, the muscles in his neck bulging in concert with Beatriz' eyes. He squeezed with unrelenting force until he lifted her off the floor. She clawed at his arm with her bitten fingernails and kicked his chins. She whelped, and he put the weight of his arm against her windpipe until he felt her go limp like a rag doll. He squeezed until he heard the sharp crack of bone. He let her body drop to the ground. As he stared at the dark crumbled heap of inert woman, he shook his arm to relieve the cramp that had set in. A moment later, Beatriz' bladder relaxed, and the pungent smell of urine permeated the alley, mixing with the musty smell of the darkness. "When you look for trouble, Beatriz, you're bound to find it," he whispered.
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About the Book
Is your soul worth the Presidency of the United States? Samuel Brewster finds out when he becomes THE DEVIL’S CANDIDATE. Does Sam’s tortured mind really hear the macabre voice that commands him to kill? Will the gruesome killings unlock the chilling madness, which lies beneath the calm exterior of the nation’s next President? Will the goodness in Samuel prevail, or will he be dragged farther and farther into a horrifying cycle of mayhem and bloodshed? The relentlessly suspenseful plot will keep the reader turning pages into the wee hours of the night through plot twists and turns that stretch into a mind-jarring end.
About the Author
Vivian Sprague immigrated to the United States from Cuba in the early Castro years. After earning an MBA from the University of Miami, she established a wholesale school supply business. She is currently CEO of AFP School Supply. She lives with her husband and daughter in Miami, Florida. Her greatest desire is to turn from her distinguished career in business to writing suspense novels full time. This is her first book.