Chasing China White by Allan Leverone (best time to read books TXT) 📗

CHASING CHINA WHITE

Allan Leverone

PRAISE FOR CHASING CHINA WHITE

“Chasing China White starts with a simple premise—a desperate junkie agrees to do a favor for his dealer—but with each page, Allan Leverone raises the stakes and turns the screws until you’re left holding your breath at the edge of your seat. This noir tale is impossible to set aside until you follow its spiral all the way down.” —Hilary Davidson, Anthony Award–winning author of One Small Sacrifice

“As dark as the bottom of a well, this story clips along from one calamity to another. The real suspense here is whether Derek will see redemption, but Leverone makes us question if anyone really does. This is a strong dose that gets your heart pumping and will make you sweat, but like an addict, you won’t want to quit.” —Eric Beetner, author of All the Way Down

“As poignant as it is bleak and violent, Allan Leverone’s Chasing China White is a powerful, expertly written slice of gritty, bare-bones crime fiction, and just like the addiction it explores, once it has you in its grip, all you want is more. Highly recommended.” —Greg F. Gifune, author of Dangerous Boys

“Allan Leverone has a new one out—Chasing China White—a novel with a thrilling plot, evocative setting, deep characterization—suspenseful—you can’t put it down--this book has it all.” —Les Edgerton, author of Adrenaline Junkie, The Bitch, The Rapist and others

Copyright © 2019 by Allan Leverone

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chasing China White

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by the Author

Preview from 40 Nickels by R. Daniel Lester

Preview from Crossing the Chicken by J.L. Abramo

Preview from Tommy Shakes by Rob Pierce

For Craig, who taught me the true meaning of the word courage.

Part One

Crowder and McHugh

1

The sun hadn’t even risen yet when Derek got tossed onto the pavement like a bag of yesterday’s trash.

One minute he was dozing in the murky predawn grey, warm and comfy—more or less—in the back seat of an abandoned car. The next minute someone yanked open the door, grabbed him by the shoulders, dragged him off the bench seat and decorated the tenement building’s parking lot with the blood that leaked out of both elbows when he extended his arms to break his fall.

He rolled when he hit the ground and covered his head instinctively. Even confused and drug-addled and barely awake, Derek had spent more than enough time on the streets to know no matter how painful an injury anywhere else on his body might be, it paled in comparison to the damage his attackers could cause if they took a pipe or a baseball bat—or just about any other weapon—to his face or neck or skull.

Rolling didn’t work.

He heard a snicker of derision from somewhere above, and then felt a steel-toed work boot slam into his ribs.

Immediately all thoughts of protecting his head went out the window. Derek wrapped his arms around his midsection and tried rolling one more time, but there was nowhere to go. Apparently more than one attacker had decided to fuck with him, because he found his progress impeded by another asshole wearing—of course—work boots.

He mewled, whimpering like a drowning kitten, knowing how pathetic he sounded but unable to stop himself. The way things were going he was in very real danger of getting beaten to death, of becoming just another statistic, one more dead junkie no one would mourn.

Or even remember by this time next week.

So he whimpered and pushed himself onto his hands and knees, expecting at any moment to have his skull bashed in, wondering whether he would feel anything when it happened or if consciousness would disappear as if someone had pushed a button on a TV remote.

When a few seconds passed by and the end of the world didn’t come, Derek took a chance and squinted up at his tormentors. As he’d suspected, there were two of them. They stood on either side of him, shaking their heads and chuckling. Look what we’ve done to the helpless loser.

For some reason that little humiliation pissed Derek off even more than the attack itself. Even more than the lightning bolts of pain currently flashing through his rib cage.

“The fuck is wrong with you guys?” he said when it became clear the men had no immediate intention of ending him.

One of the men raised an eyebrow in surprise and shared a brief glance with the other. Then he drew back his foot as if to bury his boot in Derek’s ribs again, and both attackers erupted in laughter as Derek collapsed onto the ground and tried to cover up.

“You’ll speak when spoken to, dickwad.” Derek wasn’t sure which guy had issued the edict but he supposed it didn’t matter much. They’d demonstrated pretty conclusively they were in charge.

He nodded wordlessly this time and pushed himself back up onto his hands and knees. His ribs hurt and his bloody elbows throbbed and all he wanted to do was crawl back inside the old broken-down Caravan and go back to sleep, although he