Praise for The Lost Voices:
"Another great work by a very talented author who loves his period works and characters from his great plots. He writes with verve and intent to deliver the imagination something unexpected and greatly appreciated... Brilliant..."
~ Gavin, Readalot Magazine reviewer
Excerpt
On the Edge of Survival
A man does not always know the moment his life is taken from him. It rarely arrives with warning. More often, it is something he wakes into—already decide.
Robert came to in the darkness. The taste of salt and rot was thick in his throat, and the floor beneath him tilted with the roll of the sea.
A ship.
Rough voices echoed off the wood, muffled by the thick, briny air in the hold.
“Won’t need a horse where he’s goin’…”
Coarse ropes bit into his wrists—tight, the fibres grating skin. No give.
Heavy boots thudded against the timber, the vibrations rattling his bones.
The men stepped back.
A figure moved through the dim light, tricorn hat low, hand resting on the pistol's grip.
“I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
A boot ground against his throat, leather rasping skin and pressing his Adam's apple.
“How do I know you’re tellin’ the truth?”
Robert clawed at the stale air, chest burning for each ragged gasp.
“Smythe… sent me… Leeds… The Nags Head…”
A pause.
Then—
“Slit his throat.”
The knife flashed—cold glint and slicing whoosh—descending toward his neck.
“WAIT! I have jewels!”
Silence.
Everything changed.
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