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    No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18)
    No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18)
    No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18)
    Ebook165 pages2 hours

    No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18)

    By T.L. Peters

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    About this ebook

    Jake and Snowflake encounter their most bizarre challenge yet in this action-packed new installment of the popular Jake Stone series.

    "Wild action, loved Snowflake. Peters hit it out of the park in this one."

    "Great, fast-paced read. I finished it in one night."

    "Peters just keeps them coming harder and faster all the time."

    "Loved it, just loved it."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherT.L. Peters
    Release dateAug 1, 2013
    ISBN9781301307609
    No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18)
    Author

    T.L. Peters

    "There's no question that Peters is a master wordsmith." Gerry B's Book Reviews About the author: T.L. Peters is an ex-lawyer who enjoys playing the violin and giving his dog long walks in the woods. In between, he writes novels.

    Read more from T.L. Peters

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      Book preview

      No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18) - T.L. Peters

      No Warning, A Jake Stone Thriller (Book 18)

      By T.L. Peters

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2013, T. L. Peters

      License Notes

      This e 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 are 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 work of this author.

      This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      To read more about the author and his other books, go to http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tlpeters.

      NO WARNING, NO TIME

      Chapter One

      Snowflake threw back her massive shoulders and stared down her quaking husband Jake, her golden hair flashing radiantly in the hot North Carolina late July sun, her green eyes brimming with furious brilliance. It was all poor Jake Stone could do to stand upright on his trembling feet under her stern and withering gaze. It had been nearly four years since Jake had witnessed such ferocity from his beloved wife Snowflake, who, so far at least, had been true to her word of maintaining matrimonial calm and stability.

      After vanquishing the dreaded Honeysuckle and the violent defeat of the malignant Daisy, Snowflake had kept her vow to settle into a quiet, almost serene existence in their backwoods Pennsylvania home with her tightly knit, but at times volatile brood. Even her interloping son-in-law, the heretofore wimpy Dirk Cobb, had recently found favor with the demanding Snowflake, and occasionally she could be seen giving him an encouraging rap along the small of his back in a sign of her growing approval.

      The calm, pastoral life seemed surprisingly to have agreed with Snowflake. She quickly shed the hard lumpiness around her waist line which she had resignedly come to ascribe to the ravages of age, and her slowly fading blond hair soon regained its thick, golden luster. Her long, powerful body became more supple and vibrant and, if possible, even stronger as her muscles tightened into hard but flexible strands instead of the jiggly cords that they had lately been resembling. Her eternally green eyes at times seemed to glow with a transcendent exuberance unmatched even in her distant youth. Her cheeks and forehead lost their creeping roughness and became smooth and soft and youthful again, and the burgeoning crow's feet around her eyes faded with the aid of a few expertly applied Botox treatments. It was the only bit of medically inspired artificiality in Snowflake's new look, that and a throat lift to remove some tight rolls of fleshy baggage that had accumulated around her Adam's Apple.

      In a word, Snowflake looked good, amazingly good, as good as she had ever looked. And why not? Without the stresses and strains of chasing down raging mega-villains and mass murderers, operating complicated and far-flung business enterprises, or riding herd over a churning stable of raucous female fighters and fitness freaks, Snowflake could direct all her lavish and learned attentions to herself and her little family, who all likewise seemed to benefit from her thoughtful and constant care.

      For example, her daughter Fierce had managed to lose a few nagging pounds and was now amazingly alluring in her pink tights and red tank top that she wore nearly every morning as she diligently trained her hubby Dirk on the elaborate gymnastic apparatus she had installed in their backyard. Under his wife's watchful eye Dirk's once lumpy and sagging frame became almost Adonis-like in its sinewy resilience and graceful tone. Even Jake began to look decent, or at least half-decent. At Snowflake's prodding he had started lifting weights again and, accompanied by his devoted pooch Samson, who was now close to 155 dog years old, had begun swimming laps across the nearby lake for much needed aerobics training. All of this generous self-improvement for Jake had been unmarred by any pugilistic bouts with his doting spouse until that very morning as they jogged along the Hatteras beaches a few days after arriving for a brief family vacation. It was then, with no warning, that she had attacked him.

      As the warm surf had begun to curl around Jake's bare, bronzed ankles, Snowflake had suddenly reached over with her powerful right hand, wrapped her long sturdy fingers around the back of his neck, lifted him high in the air and then in one fluid, graceful motion had tossed him into a crashing wave. After some moments of painful chagrin Jake had managed to pick his bruised fanny up from the hard, soggy sand and stumble back to the shore line, only to be unceremoniously flipped over his wife's broad back. After landing with a bracing thud and a tortured groan, Jake once again cranked his suddenly aching body up from the gravelly sand, where, just like in the old days, he found himself peering with stunned and somber fright into the searing eyes of the great and menacing Snowflake.

      What was that for? Jake moaned as he rubbed his sore wrist.

      Snowflake did not immediately respond, not orally anyway. Instead she continued to direct her flashing green eyes downward at his quickly crumpling physique. Jake had in the past few years, as noted above, become strong and muscular and agile, for a man that is, but his new prowess meant little when put against the demanding measure of a powerful woman, and even less so when it was judged against the near other worldly standards of his rejuvenated wife. All Jake could now do was stare back meekly while offering a few mumbling words of feeble defense.

      I'm sorry, Honey, he mumbled. Whatever I've done to upset you, I'm sorry.

      Suddenly the gargantuan Amazon looped her left bicep around his relatively scrawny neck, relative to her toned and muscular forearm that is, and yanked him against her bulging torso. His cheeks rudely slammed into her massive breasts, the force of the collision nearly knocking him senseless. Jake then felt his legs being thrust high into the air and quickly found himself cradled in her rippling, sun-kissed arms.

      Snowflake was attired in one of her old two-piece bathing suits, which fit her recently slimmed down and toned up form with the appropriate degree of voluptuous snugness. Jake could not help but gawk helplessly at the gleaming red top wedged precariously over her sweaty cleavage and the stringy black bottom languidly churning over her jagged and pulsating thighs. But it was her abdominal muscles that astonished him the most. To describe them as six-packs would have been a criminal understatement. They were more like ripped cords of flailing steel.

      Why are you hurting me? Jake whimpered. What have I done?

      This time Snowflake responded by hoisting his outstretched body directly overhead and then tossing him roughly some dozen yards through the air before he finally landed in a weedy sand dune. Luckily for Jake the sand was soft and the weeds were not adorned with briars or thistles, and a minute or so later he was able to shake away the mental cobwebs and rise successfully, but haltingly, to his feet.

      I thought so, Snowflake finally spoke, a luxuriant edge to her deep-throated voice.

      Thought what? Jake muttered, eyeing his wife's muscularly twitching stomach with a mixture of awe and unease.

      Now that I see you in the raw, so to speak, I can tell, she said crisply.

      Tell what? Jake asked, peering down to make sure his gold Speedo bathing suit was still wrapped around his private parts.

      You could hardly be expected to keep yourself from falling into such a common trap, she continued brusquely, a smile peppering the corners of her rich, full lips. After all, you're just a man,

      I've always been just a man, Jake answered vacantly, rubbing his hands along his battered sides to make sure he had sustained no broken ribs in the truncated melee. Jake hated breaking a rib, something that had occasionally befallen him in his past sparring matches with his excitable wife. For him a broken rib was the worst possible injury, since it hurt whenever he breathed, which meant it hurt all the time, and yet it wasn't a fatal wound, so that there was no easy escape. Jake decided to complete his thought with what for him was the obvious conclusion to be drawn from it all, just in case his head-strong wife was in the mood to gloss over her own personal responsibility in the whole tawdry affair. You married me knowing full well that I was just a man.

      It was all my mistake then, huh? Snowflake bellowed, laughing pleasantly.

      What gives? Jake replied quickly. Why did you beat me up all of a sudden after so many years of uninterrupted peace and marital bliss between us? I thought you had finally gotten over your violently domineering ways.

      Snowflake marched slowly toward him, her powerful hips undulating seductively like some great snake slithering across the sand. Jake once again felt her stern and unwavering green eyes gradually subduing within him any hint of resistance.

      You've turned into a complete gym rat, she growled suddenly, standing over him now, her breasts heaving like two great erupting volcanoes over his scraggly graying hair. You've lost your zip. You're all sizzle and no steak.

      All sizzle, Jake whined. I'm the same as I've always been, more or less anyway. When have you held me up to such a high standard anyway, me a mere man?

      You used to have an edge to you though, and now you've lost it, she snarled, but with a twinkle in her eyes. You need more than some muscle and a decent pair of lungs to be my man. You need gumption. You used to have gumption in spades, but you've lost it. I blame myself in part. The quiet, easy life was too much of a temptation for you. But now it's high time you get your gumption back.

      And with that mysteriously majestic pronouncement, Snowflake flicked her rock-like wrist against his brittle jaw. The blow was not really a punch, because an actual punch delivered by Snowflake's bony hand would no doubt have killed Jake instantly, nor could it be considered a slap, because an outright slap would have rendered him immediately unconscious. It was more like a love tap, but a love tap from the newly ferocious Snowflake was more than any man could handle, certainly more than Jake was prepared to deal with, and he quickly found himself once more squatting painfully on the sand. This time, however, he wisely decided to stay put, nonetheless managing enough of this so-called gumption to gaze up at her hulking shoulders with an expression of controlled defiance.

      I don't know what you're dithering about, Jake muttered. I thought I was doing what you wanted—getting in shape I mean. What's with the fisticuffs anyway? I thought we were through fighting.

      Snowflake again threw back her massive shoulders and gazed up at the hot, blinding sun. As she stood there, like some ancient goddess from hell, Jake's eyes blithely roamed over nearly every inch of her curvy musculature. Jake didn't really want to be so smarmy and submissive, but he couldn't help it.

      I'm starting to get bored, she gushed suddenly.

      Jake shook his head. This was more like it, he thought sadly—now we're getting to the real reason she's so ticked off. Jake, however, was not about to cede the moral high ground without at least a few more weakly delivered words of protest.

      But you promised. No more wild antics. We would settle down. We would seek peace, not war.

      I know what I said, she replied coldly, as if her voice were made of steel.

      You have to resist these violent impulses of yours, Jake admonished meekly. Think of the kids.

      I know, the great Snowflake conceded in a more gentle tone, her chin drooping slightly. But I'm a woman. I require stimuli.

      You're all woman, Jake corrected her, more woman than any man can handle. But isn't it enough that you're so youthful-looking and svelte and spectacularly powerful again?

      To what end? she asked glumly, peering down at him. What good are my muscles if I can't use them?

      You can use them to look after me and the kids, Jake implored nervously. Isn't that what you always really wanted anyway?

      Snowflake sighed as she dropped down to her knees beside her deflated and still wary

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