Novels by Debbie County

Celestine's sits on the top floor of the Meridian Building,glass walls offering a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of New Harbor. It's the kind of restaurant where reservations are made months in advance, where entrees cost more than most people's weekly rent, where politicians and CEOs conduct business over wine that's older than their marriages.Mavis arrives at six fifty-five, dressed in a suit he bought that afternoon. Charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, nothing flashy. The Glock is tucked against his ribs in a shoulder holster, hidden beneath the jacket. He knows they'll search him. He's counting on it, actually.The hostess at the podium looks up as he approaches, her professional smile already in place. "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?""Phoenix. Seven o'clock."Her smile doesn't waver, but something shifts in her eyes. Recognition maybe, or just awareness that he's expected. "Of course, Mr. Phoenix. Right this way."She leads him through the main dining room. Cryst

The warehouse smells like motor oil and old concrete.Mavis arrives exactly on time, parking his sedan in the shadows between two shipping containers. The sun has fully risen now, morning light slanting through gaps in the corrugated metal walls. Vik'ki's guards are visible everywhere on catwalks, behind crates, standing near the entrance with rifles held casually.They don't stop him this time. Just nod as he passes.Inside, Vik'ki sits at the same desk on the elevated platform, but he's not alone. Three men stand around him, all wearing the kind of tactical gear that suggests they're more than simple street muscle. Maps are spread across the desk surface, marked with red circles and connecting lines.Vik'ki looks up as Mavis approaches. "You're punctual. I like that.""You said it was urgent." Mavis climbs the platform, his eyes scanning the maps. They show New Harbor and the surrounding areas, with concentrations of marks in the financial district, the docks, and several warehouse

The penthouse suite Mavis rents under a false name isn't as luxurious as Phoenix Tower was, but it's secure. Twenty-third floor, reinforced doors, three exit routes he's already mapped in his head. The windows face east, giving him a view of the harbor and the rising sun painting the water in shades of copper and gold.He sits at the dining table with his laptop open, three burner phones arranged beside it. His shoulder is bandaged now, the bullet graze cleaned and wrapped. The bruises on his ribs have darkened, but the pain is manageable.Sleep can wait. Right now, he needs information.The System chimes softly:[Mission Update: Establish Market Dominance.][Target Identified: Helix Industries.][Acquisition Probability: 91%.][Projected Timeline: 5-7 days.]Helix Industries. Mid-sized tech manufacturer, struggling with debt after a failed product launch. Their stock has been falling steadily for six months. Perfect target for someone looking to acquire assets on the cheap, strip wha

The SUV has the smell of cigarettes.Mavis sits in the back seat, wedged between two of Vik'ki's soldiers. Both men are built like refrigerators, shoulders so broad they press against him from either side. The lieutenant rides shotgun, occasionally glancing back through the rearview mirror with that same easy grin.Nobody speaks.The city slides past the tinted windows in streaks of neon and shadow. They leave the motel district behind, heading west toward the docks. The buildings grow older, more industrial. Warehouses with broken windows. Chain-link fences topped with razor wire. This is Vik'ki's territory, where legitimate business fears to tread.Mavis keeps his breathing steady, his hands resting casually on his thighs. The System hums quietly in his mind, tracking the route, calculating escape probabilities that keep dropping with every mile.[Survival Rate if Hostile: 23%.][Recommendation: Assess situation before engaging.]Twenty minutes later, they pull up to Pier 47.The wa

Mavis povThe motel is exactly what Mavis needs. It's cheap, anonymous, and far enough from the financial district that no one will think to look for him here.He pays cash at the front desk, using a name he invented on the spot. The clerk barely glances up from his phone, just slides a key across the counter with grease-stained fingers. Room 214. Second floor. The stairs creak under Mavis's weight as he climbs, each step sending fresh pain through his bruised ribs.The room smells like old cigarettes and industrial cleaner, attempting to hide decades of neglect. Stained carpet, Flowery bedspread that's seen better years. A television attacked to the dresser like someone might actually want to steal it. Water stains spread on the ceiling in patterns that look almost plannedMavis locks the door behind him, engaging both the deadbolt and the chain. He sets his gun on the nightstand within easy reach, then moves toward the bathroom.The fluorescent light flickers twice before staying

Mandy Moore PovThe office is silent except for the soft hum of air conditioning.Mandy Moore stands at the floor-to-ceiling windows of her corner office, forty stories above New Harbor's waterfront. The harbor spreads below like a sheet of dark glass, reflecting the city lights in fractured patterns. Morning sun bleeds orange and gold across the horizon, painting the water in colors that will disappear within the hour.She holds a crystal tumbler of sparkling water, ice cubes clinking softly as she shifts her weight. Her reflection stares back from the window—sharp features, high cheekbones, dark hair pulled into a severe bun that doesn't allow a single strand out of place. Her designer suit is charcoal gray, tailored perfectly to her frame.On the television mounted to the wall behind her desk, news footage plays on mute. Phoenix Tower burning, flames pouring from the top floor, emergency vehicles swarming like insects. The banner scrolling across the bottom reads: "MYSTERY EXPLOSIO