Just published - January 2008!

Without a word, he raised the gun and fired twice into Mason's chest. The shots sounded like firecrackers to Kelly-not like the loud explosions she associated with gunshots from the movies. Two spurts of dark red blood shot out from the fresh holes. Mason let out a terrible cry, looked toward Kelly with desperation, dropped to his knees, and then collapsed facedown into a small puddle on the dirty pavement. With a look toward Kelly, the men ran far back into the alley and disappeared into the darkness.

The morning after her husband's shooting death off the Las Vegas strip, Kelly Reed is beside herself. There's a funeral to arrange, her mother-in-law to console, and the frightening thought of an unknown future. Who should she call first? It's an enormous burden to have thrust on her, without Mason there to share the load. At home later that day, Kelly fishes around in the refrigerator-freezer and pulls out an envelope containing ten thousand dollars in cash. She grips it tightly with both hands. Nervously, she says aloud, "Here we go …"