Wrong Chance Read online

  Praise for Wrong Chance

  By E.L. Myrieckes

  “Wrong Chance is a gripping glimpse into what makes a loving husband tick…and, unfortunately, what causes him to explode. Compelling momentum right up to the end.”

  —MRS. OASIS, COAUTHOR OF White Heat

  “Mind-bending.”

  —RAFEALA BARBOUR, AUTHOR OF Many Hats of a Woman

  “Brilliant. Wrong Chance is a phenomenal read. E. L. Myrieckes is an outstanding writer.”

  —BRENDA HAMPTON, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF Too Naughty

  Praise for E.L. Myrieckes (Writing as Oasis)

  White Heat

  (With Mrs. Oasis)

  “Excellent storyline from beginning to end. Nonstop drama.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  “A must-read, action-packed novel that grabs your attention from the beginning and doesn’t stop until the end. Oasis and Mrs. Oasis’s writing is addictive.”

  —BRENDA HAMPTON, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF Naughty by Nature

  “Off the chain. Check this book out. Oasis and Mrs. Oasis weaved a perfect tale.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  “I recommend White Heat.”

  —APOOO BOOKCLUB

  “Fast paced and well written. This one is HOT—careful while handling!”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  Push Comes To Shove

  “Entertaining cautionary tale.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Oasis is undoubtedly a creative genius. Push Comes to Shove proves it.”

  —TYRONE CLARY, PAROUSIA GALLERY ART

  “Oasis is a refreshing voice for a new generation.”

  —RASHAAN ALI, Essence BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF Nasty

  “Alas! Oasis is like a breath of fresh air to the literary industry, debuting with an entertaining and heartfelt family drama.”

  —JOYLYNN JOSSEL, AUTHOR OF The Root of All Evil AND When Souls Mate

  “A multicultural-suspense novel, vibrant and rich in characters. A plot so intense it literally leaves wounds on the heart. A stunning debut.”

  —DAWNNY RUBY, MAHOGANY MEDIA REVIEW

  “Push Comes to Shove has to be one of the best books I’ve read in a very long time! Its real life issues, believable characters, and its twists and turns have you laughing, crying, and shaking your head. Oasis is a talented author who is destined for great things in the literary world. This book is going to put him where he needs to be—at the top.”

  —KEILA MILLER, GROWN FOLKS CAFÉ

  “In his newest novel, Push Comes to Shove, Oasis brings the drama right to his readers’ face. His writing style is razor sharp, and the story line will cause your heart to skip a beat. I tremendously enjoyed this novel, and I look forward to more heart-throbbing stories in the future.”

  —BRENDA HAMPTON, Essence BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF NAUGHTY BY NATURE

  “An engrossing story. Push is a mixed bag of life situations and hard knocks that will keep you turning the pages—never a dull moment. Push Comes to Shove is destined for bestseller status.”

  —NATALIE DARDEN, AUTHOR OF All About Me

  “A positively compelling story that grabs you from the first paragraph and keeps you enthralled until the very end. A novel that [provokes] so many emotions: fear, anger, empathy, laughter, and tears. Push Comes To Shove is a tear jerker, but the end is oh so sweet.”

  —TINA BROOKS MCKINNEY, AUTHOR OF All That Drama

  “Push Comes to Shove: Smart, well-paced, and vividly entertaining.”

  —OOSA ONLINE BOOKCLUB

  “A heartfelt and laugh-out-loud book that had its tender moments. What an entertaining, powerful, and wonderful read.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  “This author always delivers fast-paced, cutting-edge drama. Great job!”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  “Push Comes to Shove was an excellent novel. The story pulled at my heart. My only regret was that I didn’t read it sooner.”

  —APOOO BOOKCLUB

  “A great read that is altogether addictive. It has you afraid to read the next page, but too scared not to proceed.”

  —URBAN REVIEWS

  “Wow! This book was so good. From the first page I was hooked.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  Duplicity

  “An engaging page-turner full of suspense and drama. Very entertaining.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  “Oasis has woven a hell of a good story, it’s a nail biter.”

  —TINA BROOKS MCKINNEY, AUTHOR OF Deep Deception

  “Duplicity is a beautifully orchestrated symphony of words. Oasis is ferocious with a pen.”

  —PITCH BLACK, AUTHOR OF Code of Honor

  “One hell of a good read. Psychological suspense novels don’t get any better than Duplicity.”

  —JAMES HENDRICKS, AUTHOR OF A Good Day to Die

  “Grab a snack, this one is sure to keep you occupied.”

  —S. CULBERT, AUTHOR OF Gutta Boyz

  “Literature at its best. A novel masterfully, artistically, and well written. Duplicity is a must-read. I stamp my approval with a guarantee—you will not be disappointed.”

  —BRENDA HAMPTON, Essence BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF Naughty by Nature

  “Oasis delivers a fascinating and gripping psychological suspense with masterful clarity. Duplicity seals his place as an innovative author and a mainstay in the genre.”

  —RAWSISTAZ LITERARY GROUP

  “Psychodynamically witty! Oasis’s Duplicity is a welcome respite in a literary desert.”

  —KAIYOS, DOCUVERSION CREATIVE WRITING INSTRUCTOR

  “If you like suspense novels, Duplicity is perfect.”

  —OOSA ONLINE BOOKCLUB

  “A well-written book; it had everything from drama to suspense.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  “Duplicity had me hooked. A quick and engrossing read.”

  —APOOO BOOKCLUB

  “Oasis provides a very engrossing tale with Duplicity, guaranteed to keep readers guessing as to what’s real and what’s make-believe.”

  —THE URBAN BOOK SOURCE

  “If you like stories that keep you guessing who the bad guy is, this is the book for you.”

  —ROMANCE READERS CONNECTION

  “An excellent mystery novel; it will keep your mind working and turning until the last page. Get this book right now and don’t get up until you are done.”

  —STARRED REVIEW

  Dear Reader:

  In this installment of a new mystery series, E.L. Myrieckes introduces us to Hakeem Eubanks and Aspen Skye, homicide detectives who team up to track a serial killer who is terrorizing residents in Ohio.

  The author cleverly weaves this spine-tingling tale that is full of twists and leaves readers guessing what’s to come next. A group of college students never realized that years later, their prank would lead to deadly mayhem. Mix in County Attorney Scenario Davenport, who has her own surprises, and courtroom drama supplements the spice.

  Myrieckes, also known as Oasis, is an author who focuses on creating memorable characters and stimulating story lines. I’m sure once you start reading Wrong Chance, you’ll want to continue this thrilling ride with a psychopath to the very end. Check out his other titles including Duplicity, White Heat, Push Comes to Shove and the ebook Eternal Flame.

  Thanks for supporting the authors of Strebor Books. As always, we strive to bring you amazing stories from prolific authors. We appreciate the love. You can find me on Facebook and Twitter @AuthorZane, on Instagram @planetzane and you can join our text service to be aware of upcoming titles and events by texting Zane to 51660.

  Blessings,

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonandschuster.com

  Fo
r Billy Williams Jr.

  ONE

  Death was the only solution. Killing herself was more humane than facing the truth of how she destroyed their family. She authored the suicide letter in an admirable script, which explained each and every sickening detail, and left it neatly folded on his junky desk. She purposefully placed the suicide letter between his self-proclaimed Bible, The 48 Laws of POWER, and his Animal Lovers magazine. Without the shadow of a doubt, she knew for certain her husband would find it there.

  When he was home, he spent more quality time at that damn desk—smoking marijuana, frolicking with the computer, playing email tag with his burnt-out animal enthusiasts, updating his Facebook account—than he did doing anything else, other than trying to get her pregnant.

  She stood in the doorway of their nursery with a .45 automatic dangling at her side. A tear rolled down her face. Despair swallowed huge chunks of her soul without chewing first. She wondered how he’d found the time between the long hours he put in at the veterinarian hospital and traveling the country to participate in moral protest to design such an elaborate nursery for their unborn child. Then the next thought slammed into her gut like a fist: He would be the epitome of the “World’s Greatest Dad” cliché. But she robbed him of that honor, which was part of the reason she knew killing herself was easier than taking on the truth.

  She raised the .45 automatic to her temple and quickly realized the weapon was much too heavy to hold there while she choked up the raw nerve it took to pull the trigger. Switching positions, she gripped the polished handle with both hands and shoved the barrel under her chin like she had seen on TV. Better. Comfortable. I can do this.

  There was no way she could come clean and stick around for the aftermath. He would snap; it most certainly would be nasty.

  She clicked the safety off like a pro.

  Tears rimmed her eyes, obscuring her vision of the baby crib.

  She eased the hammer back, building up the grit.

  She curled her trembling finger around the trigger.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and swore to herself that she’d do it on the count of three. End the lies. Escape the consequences. Get it over with. Check out. Her armpits were soaked with anxiety.

  One.

  She squeezed her radiant golden eyes shut.

  “Two.” This time she counted out loud, as if that would make the transition to three easier.

  The phone rang once and frightened the shit out of her. She almost shot herself too soon. Their answering machine took the call. Her recorded voice said, “Hello, this is Cashmaire Fox.” His: “And the one and only Chance Fox.” Together, the perfect couple said, “We’re not home. Leave us a message at the sound of the beep.” Then the machine beeped.

  “Cash, I’ve been sort of poking around with a few thoughts.” It was him on the line: Chance Fox. “Since I’m a career moron, thinking isn’t my most effective suit.”

  Cash opened her eyes. A single tear leaked and splashed onto her hand, as she visualized Chance while he spoke: blond dreadlocks pulled into a neat ponytail that pronounced a face so handsome that everyone considered him a pretty man.

  “You’re right about me not spending enough friggin’ time in the dungeon. I just get caught up in my work and missing you bums me out…”

  Cash listened to the rhythm of his breathing while he searched his mind for more words.

  “While our crumb snatcher bakes in your oven, I’ll be beside you the entire time. You’re all I have and I love you.” He sighed. “So I’ll be at doctor visits, Lamaze class, and the whole nine yards.” Then: “I leased a building ten minutes away from the dungeon. I’m opening my veterinarian practice there so I can always be near you and our little dude.”

  Cashmaire wished he would shut up. He was making it difficult to get to number three. She had to pull the trigger. She just had to, didn’t she?

  “Honest to goodness, dudette, you’re the chick I’ve dreamed about my whole life: honest, intelligent, and gorgeous. Damn, I’m getting a serious boner just telling you how I feel. I mean…your idea of a perfect world—strange, I know—coincides perfectly with mine. Forgive me for not being attentive to your needs. You are important to me. Family means everything. I love you and our son so much. There are no lengths I won’t go through to keep our family together or to eliminate anyone who tries to destroy our perfect world.” Then: “Law 15: Crush Your Enemy Totally.”

  Cash dropped the .45 automatic and crumpled into a pile of tears and regret.

  TWO

  Cashmaire Fox was an extremely gorgeous bitch. The problem was she knew it. Her mannerisms and attitude and personality oozed top-notch bitch. Her black hair was perfect by everyone’s standards. Lustrous, controlled, not a split hair or strand out of place, and it flowed down to her tramp stamp, the ankh tattoo on the small of her back. Her body was magnificent. A case study. A prototype. Not-so-blessed women envied and tried to imitate her God-given curves and delicate shape with expensive plastic surgery. Cash was the chick that other women hated, wishing they were fortunate enough to be born with good looks, a great ass, and a set of to-die-for tits.

  And powerful men did their damnedest to exploit and acquire her feminine gifts. She turned down Playboy two years in a row, stalling for a multimillion-dollar paycheck. Anything less was an indecent proposal for a bitch of her caliber. Back in 2008, she and Chance attended a party at the Playboy mansion. Hugh Hefner went on and on about how Cashmaire looked like Paula Patton to the highest superlative. “Pure estrogen,” Hugh had said about seven times in under two minutes. He promised Cashmaire that he wouldn’t give up until she became the centerfold of all time. Hugh had never lain eyes on unadulterated beauty until Cashmaire sashayed onto his property.

  Now Cashmaire turned away from her reflection in a Barnes & Noble showcase window and flipped up the collar of her shearling to keep the October chill at bay. She was no fool. None of her physical attributes would save her pretty little ass now. Speaking into her cell phone with an unsteady voice, she said, “I screwed up, Jazz. Everything is falling apart. Please tell me it’s safe for you to talk.”

  Her best friend sighed. “Leon isn’t around me, but—”

  “Good. I hate that abusive bastard. Jazz, I’m really falling apart.”

  “Girl,” Jazz said in a rushed tone, “sit your high-yellow tail down somewhere. You’re not falling apart. Let me call you back. I’m at the Convention Center in the middle of a book signing.”

  Cashmaire focused on Jazz’s new novel, Two Weeks’ Notice, through the bookstore’s showcase window. Her suspense thriller’s presence in the establishment flaunted her New York Times bestseller status, pushing other new releases of the genre to mere obscurity. A life-size picture of Jazz holding the book towered over Cashmaire. Jazz was a slender beauty with an espresso complexion and a milk-colored smile. Her silky black bob cut framed her pretty face. Her mesmerizing eyes lured fans and new readers into the store. Cashmaire couldn’t believe a picture like this existed of Jazz. Made Cash wonder what Jazz’s publicist did to get her to agree to the photo shoot that inspired such a memorable picture. It was a complete makeover from Jazz’s uninspiring norm. Things had really changed since their college days. Back then it was Jazz who showcased her beauty and Cash who hid hers behind drab clothing. Their roles flipped when Leon broke Jazz and Chance empowered Cash.

  Cashmaire thought about Chance and turned away from her best friend’s adorable image into a cold breeze that reddened the tip of her nose. An icy finger crept up her spine. She started pacing because her nerves were kicking a huge dent in her ass.

  “You can’t call me back,” Cash said.

  “And why not?”

  “Because I’m at Hopkins International Airport.”

  They sparred in silence; Cashmaire felt herself winning.

  “Excuse me? You’re here in Cleveland and didn’t tell me you were coming?”

  “News to me too,” Cashmaire said barely above a whisper.


  “Are you serious?”

  “I’m in trouble. Come get me before I lose it.”

  “Well, this is a plus. This means I won’t be getting my butt kicked tonight. Leon won’t hit me when witnesses are around.” Jazz sighed. “Chill out. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Hurry, okay?” Cashmaire shoved the phone in her deep pockets and bundled herself against the cold. There was no turning back now. In nineteen minutes, she would reveal the secret she was certain would destroy her marriage, devastate a good man’s life, and perhaps interrupt her loving friendship with Jazz. Cashmaire headed inside the terminal in search of a coffee shop. She wanted to be good and hopped up on caffeine while she figured out the best approach to lift the burden of such a nasty secret.

  THREE

  Something foul strangled the pit of Jazz Smith’s stomach and sent an irritating sensation along her nerve endings. She masked her absorbing brown eyes with a pair of dollar-store sunglasses and put her foot on the accelerator. The sleek automobile followed the command without effort. When Jazz turned into the airport’s arrival-and-pickup section, the foulness in her core turned sour. Cashmaire, her best friend of eleven years, the only soul who knew what had happened to her July 22, 2001, was nothing close to a “spur of the moment” woman.

  Cashmaire’s typical Type A personality didn’t allow for any spontaneity. Her meticulous planning was downright anal. So this unplanned visit absolutely scared the heebie-jeebies out of Jazz. And what had Cashmaire meant by she was in trouble? As Jazz eased the car to a stop, she prayed that everything was alright.

  As usual, another unanswered prayer; it was no fucking surprise, though. Jazz knew her petition had been rejected when she looked through the throng of travelers and internalized the pitiful look etched in Cashmaire’s face. Jazz sighed and shook her head. She wished she could write a formal grievance to God for neglecting His responsibilities as far as her prayer requests were concerned. This God relationship was totally unfair. He was nothing but a damn control freak.