Chapter Excerpt from HUMAN SACRIFICE by M. Elaine Moore


Chapter Excerpt from HUMAN SACRIFICE by M. Elaine Moore




For L.A.P.D. detective Aubri Payton, the only thing worse than being abducted is learning the cost of her ransom…
For as long as she can remember, Aubri’s life has consisted of pain and perseverance. A past she can’t explain. A future she can’t quite face. Then, the last thing she wants…a new partner. One she barely tolerates. Strangely, one who seems to understand her. As soon as she begins to feel a connection to him, she finds herself in the worst situation of her life. And suddenly, Aubri is faced with the ultimate decision…save her own life and hand over the partner she thought she never wanted, or save his and make herself a human sacrifice.



They’ve done a full search of her place, and found nothing. Not
even a fingerprint that doesn’t belong. The lock on her door was expertly
picked, and there isn’t a trace of a struggle. Had she even known they were
Her house is now a crime scene, the center of an investigation,
the place from which his partner has been abducted. The place he had been last
night for that oh-so-short, impromptu visit to check on her. The place he had
finally lost all sense of caution and had kissed her.
He wanders back through the memories of last night. Had he let
things go on, had he pressed his luck instead of drawing away, would she have
let him? Would it have ended up as more than one kiss? Would she have pulled
him into her bedroom for the night? What if? He rakes his hand through his hair
and lets out a breath. Would she still be here had he stayed?
“Chris,” says Waite, yanking him out of his headspace.
“There’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s go.”
He nods, still lost in last night, still knocked flat by the
reality of the situation at hand. Aubri is gone, and for once, he has
absolutely no idea how to help her.
* * * * *
She fights to keep her face emotionless, her gaze blank. She
cannot let them see the recognition in her eyes at the mention of his name.
They have to think they’re wrong. She stares at the man, feeling his filthy
hand on her throat. She wants to vomit.
“I don’t know who that is,” she says, keeping her voice
Bullshit,” he yells, grasping her throat again, slamming
her head against the pipes.
She struggles to breathe. “I really don’t know him. You have
me confused with another woman.”
“Really, mija, because we’ve seen you with him. We know
you’re his girlfriend.”
His girlfriend? Really? That’s the best they can do? She nearly laughs,
but the situation is far too grave. “I’m not. You’re wrong. I don’t know a
Chris Avery.”
They look at each other. She can’t tell what either one is
thinking. She sees fury, hate, frustration. She’s pissing them off. But she
won’t give him up. She has no idea why they want him, or why they would dare go
to these lengths to get him, but she knows with certainty that if they find
him, they probably intend to kill him. How can they not know where he is?
They knew where to find her.
“You were with him last night,” the Caucasian guy says.
“So yeah, we know you’re his girl. Where is he?”
Shit. “What do you want
with him?”
The Hispanic smiles. “If you don’t know him, why do you care,
“Because if you’re willing to do this to me, it makes me
wonder what you plan on doing to him.”
He smiles again, a sickening, sadistic grimace. “Worse, mija.
Much, much worse.”
* * * * *
Time passes with alarming speed. And still, there’s no clue where
she is. Or who has her. Nothing makes sense, and it’s infuriating. He paces
around like a caged animal, trying to figure it out. Someone has gone to great
lengths to abduct a police detective from her home. They have to have a reason.
They have to want something in return for her life. But if you’re leveraging
someone, they have to know that you have what they want. And so far, no one has
come forward with a demand.
Which terrifies him.
Leverage is one thing. Revenge is another. If it’s retribution
they want, there’s little to be done. If this person wants revenge against
Aubri, he’s not going to contact anyone, not going to make any demands. Because
the one thing he wants, he already has.
Hours pass. Darkness falls. With it, comes a sense of hopelessness
he’s sickeningly familiar with. He drives around, praying he’ll see something.
He talks to contacts on the street, asking about a beautiful, dark-haired
woman. No one knows a thing. It’s as if she never really existed, except in his
own mind. He goes back to her house and ducks beneath the crime scene tape.
Total silence. A heavy darkness oppresses the room. His heart squeezes. Where
is she?
 If she were dead, wouldn’t he feel it? He’s so in tune with
her, so in sync now, wouldn’t he know? Grasping for something to hold onto, he
tells himself he would. It’s the only thing he can do.
* * * * *
They’ve left her alone again. Her face throbs, her throat is dry,
everything aches. None of that even compares to the idea that they want him.
And if they found her, they can certainly find him. But why haven’t they? How
much simpler would it have been to just snag Chris from his apartment? Or from
her house last night? There’s something else to this, but she can’t figure out
what. She has no idea why they gave up so easily before. She had expected them
to keep at her until they got what they want. But they hadn’t.
Light fades from the room. The night becomes maddeningly silent.
Where the hell is she that there is no sound? No traffic, no
voices, nothing. If she screams, will anyone hear her? No. She’s alone.
 When will they come back? She’s sure they will, knows they
aren’t done with her. She also knows, with sickening certainty, that when they
do, they won’t give up as easily. They’ll attempt to beat the information out
of her. She imagines that at some point, they’ll decide they like the looks of
her. She’s surprised it wasn’t their first line of attack. She squeezes her
eyes shut at the thought. They’d have to un-cuff her for that, wouldn’t they?
This would be too awkward. She could fight then. They’re big, but so far she’s
seen no weapons. It gives her just a bit of hope. She clenches her fists and
relaxes them, and remembers the ink scrawled on her palm. Her fortune. I
will always save you. Trust me. 
She sucks in a breath, feeling her
throat constrict.
 She has hours upon hours to think, to access all the dark
thoughts and memories swirling around in her head. Hours to ask herself
questions. Just what has Chris Avery come to mean to her? Why is she willing to
suffer for him? Is it for him, or for Evan? Is she determined to save her
partner’s life at all costs because she’s that connected to him now, or is it
because she couldn’t save the first one? She imagines it’s just a bit of both.
Loyalty and penance. But the truth is, Chris has come to mean something to her.
Something she can’t allow herself to lose. She curls her hand and strokes her
fingertips over the ink on her palm.
Sitting on the cold concrete, her ankles now raw from rubbing
against it, she begins to go a little stir crazy. She has never been prone to
panic, and she forces herself to remain calm now. But she can’t help but fight
the cuffs. She tugs, trying to pull her aching hands through. She knows better.
They’ll swell, and there will be no hope of escape. Not that she has much hope.
She’s alone, and for all she knows it’s forever.




About Sahara Foley

Bio: Until my husband died on Christmas 2012, I never thought about becoming a writer. In fact, the act of writing a story terrified me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved reading, just never had the knack for writing. The thought of writing dialogue scared the bejeebers out of me. See, Bob was the writer. He wrote stories for years but could never get a traditional publisher interested enough to publish even one. Now I understand why, as they were unpolished outlines. Then, after 30 years together, Bob passed away and my life was turned upside down. About a month later, I was sitting around my apartment, trying to adjust to the worst event in my life, when a little voice spoke to me. Why not publish Bob’s stories? To be truthful, ever since the advent of self-publishing, I always wanted too, that’s how much I believed in his stories. But I knew I would have to fight him for every little change I made to his outlines. Sorry, honey, but they had to be done. So, I pulled out the box of stories, dusted them off, and started on a new adventure: The World of Self-Publishing. Boy, did I have a lot to learn. I finally published several short stories early in 2014, then my horror novella, It Lives in the Basement. While I was working on them, I was slowly learning the craft of writing, and getting The Secret of Excalibur ready for publication. Excalibur was my favorite story of them all, and in the back of my mind, I knew I wanted a publisher. One day on Twitter, I ran across a tweet from Creativia Publishing, and that was another game changer for me. I signed up with them in December of 2014, and it was the best decision I’ve made. One thing I’ve discovered on my new adventure, are all the really awesome and talented Indie Authors. If you find the right community of Indie Authors, all they want to do is help each other. I found that I love promoting them and their books, so that’s how I setup my blog. For readers to meet Indie Authors. Anyway, enough about me. Here’s all my contact information: Facebook: Twitter: Pinterest: Google Plus: Amazon Author Page:
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10 Responses to Chapter Excerpt from HUMAN SACRIFICE by M. Elaine Moore

  1. Sheri Spotts Blevins says:

    Exciting read. Fascinating story. Wondering too much about their backstories and futures, or is it FUTURE? Must know, have to purchase.

  2. J. M. B. says:

    Well that’s pretty powerful. I was trying to find something to read, I think this is it. Will reply after reading the whole book. Always did love police mysteries.

  3. Tricia says:

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    It’s nice to come across a blog every once in a while that isn’t the same unwanted rehashed information. Wonderful read!
    I’ve bookmarked your site and I’m adding your RSS feeds to my Google account.

  4. Vivien says:

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    Thanks for the post. I’ll certainly return.

  5. Gilda says:

    I’m really impressed with your writing skills and also with the layout on your blog.
    Is this a paid theme or did you modify it yourself?
    Either way keep up the nice quality writing, it is rare to see a great blog like this one today.

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