Teri Woods - True to the Game III

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2008 by Teri Woods

Reading Group Guide copyright 2008 by Hachette Book Group USA, Inc.

Excerpt from Alibi copyright 2008 by Teri Woods

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Grand Central Publishing

Hachette Book Group USA

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New York, NY 10017

Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroupUSA.com.

First eBook Edition: July 2008

ISBN: 978-0-446-54812-0

GENA, WHATS GOING ON?
WHY WOULD SOMEONE BE TRYING TO KILL YOU?

Rik pulled Gena close and walked her into the motel room. He shut the door.

Why are you questioning me like this? she asked.

You offered me a lot of money when I was in jail.

So?

Where did you get that kinda money?

She turned and headed for the door. Rik grabbed her.

Gena, did you find Quas money?

Rik, let me go! What the hell is wrong with you?

He backhanded her. Gena stumbled back a few steps, and then raced for the door. She was able to snatch it open before he grabbed her.

Help me! Gena screamed. Somebody help me!

Shut up and just tell me where the rest of the money is, Rik shouted. He slung Gena onto the bed, then tried to kick the motel door closed. The door flew back open. Someone she knew was standing in the doorway...

Four out of five... Wonderful... a great story... a fast-paced exciting read that will surely keep you on your toes.

Urban-Reviews.com on True to the Game II

This book is dedicated to
Leon Blue

Mom, Corel, Jessica, Chuck, Dexter, Carl, Brenda, Lucas, Brandon, and my girlfriend, Kashan.

Oh yeah, my secretary, Tracy.

Thanks.

February 18, 1991

G ena slowly tried to open her eyes, feeling pain beyond belief throughout her entire body. She was bruised from her head to her toes. She looked around the room, not quite realizing where she was. At first, she had thought she was in a hospital, lying in a bed. But, as time passed, she realized she wasnt. The rooms dcor was unlike any hospital dcor that she had ever seen. Her head, left arm, rib cage, and left thigh were all bandaged. She could barely open her bruised and blackened eyes. She couldnt pull herself out of the bed without feeling agonizing pain. Her body felt sore and she needed rest. Her only assurance that she was safe was that she was being taken care of by a nurse and a doctor. She felt the nurse near her bedside constantly and could overhear the nurse talking to the doctor in the distance. She sang to her, she read to her, and she talked to her. The kind and loving nurse fed Gena and gave her pain medication and sleeping pills. She closed her eyes again.

Gena rested her body and mustered her strength as the weeks passed. Early one morning, Gena awoke to a ruckus outside her bedroom door. The sound of voices filled the tiny hallway. Startled but not afraid, Gena looked around the room. It was intricately designed, with a touch of sophistication; Gena did not recognize anything. Where am I? She couldnt help but begin to wonder. She decided to make finding the answer to that question her lifes mission. Ready to move around, Gena rose from the king-size bed that she had been lying on. There was a breeze blowing through an open window, she noticed, as the soft silk panels were billowing gently with the air. She could smell the sweet fragrance of flowers wafting through the window. She mustered up as much strength as she could, desperately wanting to know where she was.

Gena clasped one of the bedposts and made her way to the bottom of the four-poster bed. From there she threw her wobbly legs forward and grabbed hold of a nearby accent chair. She braced herself using the arms of the chair, and then carefully made her way around it, until she was able to grab onto a nearby dresser. Using the dresser as a support, she slowly made her way to the open window, where she was finally able to peer outside and get a glimpse of her surroundings.

She was on the second floor of what appeared to be a home. She could see very large homes all around her. Steeply pitched slate- and granite-tiled roofs and well-manicured backyards with massive swimming pools and tennis courts filled her view. She peered down into the backyard just below her and found an equally large swimming pool and adjacent tennis court, along with the fragrant garden that had attracted her attention initially. The azaleas, roses, Russian sage, gardenias, and other flora spread throughout the landscape painted it in rich hues of blue, red, white, yellow, green, and purple. Where the hell am I?

Gena turned toward the dresser and pulled open the first drawer, only to find it empty. She moved on to the second drawer, to find it in the same state. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth dresser drawers were also empty. She was in a guest bedroom, and there were no secrets kept here. She turned and spied two doors on the opposite side of the room. One she surmised to be a closet, while the other would have to be the guest bathroom. Hoping that the closet or the medicine cabinet would reveal something, she made her way across the room toward them. She had regained her equilibrium and was doing quite well moving around the room.

Gena opened the first door to find a row of plastic clothes hangers facing her. There was nothing on the shelves, nothing stored at the bottom of the closet, nothing period. Disappointed, she turned her attention to the next door. She had been correct in her assumptions, as the second door was to the guest bathroom. Gena braced herself on the door handle and stumbled inside. She held on to the bathroom sink and yanked open the medicine cabinet. Nothing.

Dammit! Gena cursed. She was growing frustrated with each passing moment. She was in a luxurious prison, all alone and wounded. She couldnt run away if she tried. Her entire body was one big ache and pain. Think, Gena, she told herself. Think. What do you remember? What do you remember?

Gena thought long and hard as she slowly made her way back to the massive four-poster bed, where she lay down again. Where am I and who brought me here? She started to think back and remembered Jerrell. We were in a motel. It was then she remembered going into the bathroom and looking in the duffel bag Jerrell had under the sink. She remembered the duffel bag full of money, and the rope, the bottle of acid, buckets of cement, the metal handcuffs, and chains. Jerrell had taken her to a motel room where he had tried to kill her. She remembered fighting him. Yes, I remember, but then what? What happened? Did I trip or fall or something? No, I was running for the door when he grabbed me, and then... ? At first Gena could not recall, then she slowly began to remember. The gun. Someone shot Jerrell and saved me, or was it Jerrell who fired the gun?

Who had done the shooting and who got shot? Did Jerrell shoot someone? He was trying to kill me and now he must have me here, holding me hostage. What the hell does he think hes doing? It doesnt even make sense. If he was going to kill me, why didnt he just go ahead and do it? Someone else must have saved me, but who? None of this makes any sense at all.