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Crossroad Angels
Deborah Hadfield

Crossroad Angels

Fiction & Poetry

Voters Rating 121 / 1000

121

Synopsis

'Fifty Shades of Grey meets It's a Wonderful Life'

A plane crash reveals three chance encounters which offer redemption or ruin to those involved. Investigators Colm Donald and Tracy Scott fall deep into a dark, tangled sexual affair as they piece together the truth. They’re chasing suspected terrorist, George Williams, who seduced Irish journalist, Diane Harris, to protect his cover. How are the passionate partnerships related to the meeting of kind stranger, Frances David, who offers a lift and life-changing advice to eighteen-year-old Sarah Stephens, who’s alone and lost.

In her debut sexual thriller Deborah Hadfield shows she is not afraid to tease the reader with erotic twists and breathtaking turns. Her prose shows why her scripts have won awards and attracted world-class talent.

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Extract

Her heart rate hits 140 beats per minute. That’s what pure adrenaline does for you. 


The hotel room is dark, save for a thick finger of yellow light issuing from the hall. That finger touches a naked male body on the bed. She’s by his side now, softly stroking down his stomach, until she feels he's hard.  


His cock twitches. He leaps up, pins her against the wall. He bites her neck, hands roughly exploring her. Fighting at first until he orders, ‘I told you not to come until I touch you. Come for me, now!’


He flips her round. Her face is pressed against the wall as he lifts her hands above her head. He forces his fingers inside her lace panties, then grabs her hair, making her wet. Tracy Scott is utterly lost in the expert touch of Colm Donald. 


Even the cold metal of his wedding ring doesn't diminish her pleasure.


* * * 


The airbus is cruising serenely at 36,000 feet – until turbulence turns the plane into a rollercoaster. But there’s no off switch, no safety exit. This is no amusement ride.


The cabin’s full of panic, fear, puke and tears. But one passenger's immune. Captain George Williams - calm, icy cold, and clear. He’s jolted by the touch of a stranger.


Diane Harris grabs his hand in terror. ‘I'm too young,’ she sobs. His eyes are empty. Hers full of tears and terror. Her nails dig into his skin, drawing blood.


‘There's no right age to die.’ Williams doesn’t seem to feel the pain.


‘But twenty-five is too young?’ she stammers through tears.


Staring deep into her eyes he calmly brushes aside her red messy hair, and whispers: ‘Death can be a blessing.’


Her fragile confusion pierces his soul. Compassion punctures his conscience as he wraps his arms around her. His strength and certainty extinguishes her concern at his strangeness. Close to him, she feels safe and calm.


* * * 


The setting sun washes a sky full of ragged clouds in soft pink and bruised purple. But the breathtaking twilight isn't soothing the tortured soul of Sarah Stephens.


The eighteen-year-old stands on the edge of the pavement. She spies the headlights of a speeding red convertible. Will this one do? Any one will do. She hears faint sounds of rock music - what’s the track? Does it matter?. The car's a few feet away now. She closes her eyes, draws a deep breath, steps into road.


The impact is inevitable. But, surprisingly, not fatal. Frances David, twice the girl’s age and more, is calm despite calamity. She dashes out of the car and scoops Sarah up from the road, pours her into the passenger seat. She’s badly bruised but not broken.


Frances slaps Sarah to wake her. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, child?’ she screams.


The young girl offers no words, just confusion, shock, a vacant stare.


Frances softens. She’s forty, easily old enough to be the girl’s mother: ‘Where can I take you?’


Sarah shrugs. Frances strokes her face as if soothing a newborn baby.  This small act of kindness halts Sarah's drift, the descent into oblivion.


‘Sometimes we need to meet an angel at a crossroads to help us choose a better path,’ Frances says. It’s as though she's offering up a prayer.


‘Does that make you my guardian angel?’ Sarah asks timidly, a spark of something like hope in her eyes.


Frances smiles: ‘Maybe you're mine too. I could show you how to choose a different path. If you trust me?’


‘How do I know if you’re a angel or a devil in disguise? They all look the same to me.’


Frances smiles, a glint in her eye.


She starts the car.

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