Chasing Victory Excerpt

 

 ~Excerpt of Chasing Victory ~

Tristan was irritated. If he had been able to follow Jeffery as he planned, he wouldn’t be looking into the cold, dead eyes of his only lead. “Damn it, Wyatt.”

“No need to yell bro, I hear you loud and clear.”

Wyatt was miles away, yet Tristan heard his brother’s voice clearly in his mind, as if he were standing next to him. “Yeah, and if you didn’t take so many damn liberties with your telepathic link, you wouldn’t have heard me yell.”

“I also wouldn’t know what was going on, either.” Wyatt retorted.

“That’s why they made phones,” Tristan snapped.

“Right, and we both know how good you are about using those.”

“Don’t give me that. I would contact you as soon as I finished surveying the scene. You are too damned impatient, that’s all. You have been that way since birth, practically talked my ear off the whole way through the birth canal.” His mood had lightened slightly as he chuckled at his own joke. Wyatt always had a way of lifting Tristan’s spirits. Turning back towards Jeffery’s body, he became somber once again. “If I hadn’t been sidetracked following up on your lead, I might have been able to save Jeffery.” Tristan spoke aloud, upset with himself and his brother.

“Someone was out to get him. I know this is difficult for you to admit Tristan, but you can’t save everyone.”

“Yeah, well there goes our only real lead.” Tristan hissed while taking in his surroundings, trying to get a read on what had taken place. “There it is again.”

“What?” Wyatt answered.

“Shhh,” Tristan responded. “I’m not talking to you.” Flaring his nostrils widely to fill his lungs with the odors surrounding him, Tristan took in several deep breaths, each time filling his lungs more deeply. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. The scent from a person will travel in the wind forming a scent cone; these scents are picked up by bloodhounds, and Tristan. He had caught that same scent while tracking Jeffery through the forest. He knew Jeffery’s scent and that wasn’t the only scent cone he was detecting.

Old Spice and sweat, accompanied with the distinct odor of cigarette smoke still lingered, along with scents that were uniquely human: stress and testosterone. These stenches littered the area, and underneath them all, the strong scent of cordite given off by the gun and the blood soaked ground. It was highly possible that those were the scents of Jeffery’s killers. He turned slightly to his right and picked up another scent cone. It was weak, but it was there. Without thinking he moved with his eyes still closed, off towards the right. Lavender and chamomile. Someone else was here, a woman. By the weakness of her fragrance, Tristan surmised that she could not have been as close to the action. He stood motionless, letting the odors of the ghastly scene penetrate his every pore. He opened his eyes and continued walking, the lavender and chamomile growing stronger with each step. He walked about sixty feet, when he found a patch of bent and broken ferns. It was a small depression, but the lavender-and-chamomile woman had definitely been lying among the ferns. Crouching down into the depression, Tristan looked back to where Jeffery laid. He could barely see Jeffery and he was sure whoever had been laying here could not have heard or seen anything, except the gunshot that had ended Jeffery’s life.

Where To Buy

Amazon Kindle 

Amazon Paperback