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You Don't Know Me

by Michelle Thompson

306 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1900; ISBN 1-4120-1522-7; US$25.50, C$29.00, EUR21.00, £15.00

When you aren't trusted, betrayal is a way of life. When hope fails, treason is your only option and when your life is on the line, murder is just survival.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book Betrayal - Espionage - Murder. Nothing ever happened in Sandy's life - that is until she found her husband in bed with another woman. From that moment on and after a chance encounter with a stranger, Sandy's life was thrown into a world of danger and death. Brady thought he was working for the good guys. He had spent his life righting the wrongs of the world and protecting his nation from danger, but now he was the one on the other end of the rifle scope with everyone out to stop him at all costs. Jordan has everything he needs. He is wealthy, powerful and most of all he has the worlds black market and top government officials in his back pocket to help him carry on his illegal activities. Nothing and no one every created problems for Jordan, until his world collided with Brady and Sandy. As Sandy fights for survival, Brady fights to clear his name and Jordan fights to maintain his hold on the people of power, no one is safe and no one can be trusted. The winner of this fight will be the one who gets out alive.

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About the Author Michelle Thompson studied writing at the University of Utah and earned her degree at Salt Lake Community College. Growing up in a law enforcement family and a love of travel are just two of the things that have fueled her writing. Michelle lives in Utah with her husband and two boys where they ski, boat, camp and hike.

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Sample Excerpts

Harry lay face down on the ground outside the door, blood pooling up on the shadowed cement from the bullet hole through the back of his head. Sandy turned away, falling to her knees and threw up into the bushes. Her body shook and cold chills ran uncontrollably through her veins. She leaned up against the building for support, unable to turn and look at Harry again. She was scared and didn't know what to do except to hold herself up and hope she wasn't going to faint. She had never seen anyone die before and it seemed as though everything had been shifted down into low gear.

"Mrs. Hutaker," a dark hair man in a gray suit asked her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Sandy mumbled, still shaking and trying to control her stomach as she supported herself against the black brick building.

"I need to speak with you," the man said. Sandy turned to the man realizing slowly that a stranger knew her. "Who are you," she asked.

"Richard Timms, FBI," he said showing her his ID card that read - Federal Bureau of Investigation - Richard Timms.

Sandy just nodded. She'd never seen an FBI badge before, but it seemed real enough to her.

"We've been following James for some time and need to ask you some questions," he said.

"James?" Sandy shook her head. "I don't know a James."

Richard hesitated. "The man who was just shot," he said. "You were seen with him."

"Harry," she choked out his name. "His name was Harry."

Richard nodded and took her gently by the arm. "Let's go over there where it's a bit quieter," he said, leading her over to the side parking lot away from the circling crowd around the body.

When they rounded the corner, Richard reached around behind him and pulled out his gun, pointing it at Sandy's shocked face. She stared at the black metal of the weapon in the small amount of light that was given to her by the parking lot lamp across from them.

"Harry, huh?" He scowled. "Give me the files."

"Files," she squeaked out.

"Stop playing games with me," he demanded, emphasizing himself by pushing the gun a little further up into her face. "I want those God damned files now."

"I..." Sandy stuttered, trying to find the words to convince him that she didn't know what he was talking about, but she didn't have a chance. She heard two spits from a silencer and Richard Timms staggered into her, his hand releasing the weapon he had been holding on her as he grabbed her shirt, pulling her down with him until she was on her knees next to the dying man.

Sandy stared down into his face as his grip released and his eyes glazed over. Pushing the dead agent off of her, she scrambled on her hands and knees across broken beer bottles and gravel that covered the parking lot as she made her way toward the crowd that still stood over Harry, waiting for the police who could be heard off in the distance.

A car skidded around the corner, cutting her off from the crowd before she had a chance to even get close enough to the nearest person to call for help. Two men climbed from the car with guns in hand. Sandy pulled herself up with the help of the wall and turned to run. Cutting across the near empty parking lot she ran along a narrow street lined with small, unkempt houses. The heels of her dress shoes clumped on the pavement as she ran. The men who had cut her off jumped back into the car and started the chase. She didn't have time to remove the shoes as she tried to flee from the headlights that illuminated the back of her as she ran from the pursuing car.

Suddenly a shadow darted across the street and rammed into her, sending her body crashing through a set of plastic garbage cans and over a small wooden fence just before the car careened over the place where she had been running, waiting to be run down like a startled deer. Brakes squealed and the car spun itself around, the headlights pinning down the two who were still sprawled on the dirt patch that was supposed to be someone's front lawn. The car engine revved and the tires broke loose on the pavement. The man who had just slammed into her now grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him before she could gain her footing. Pulling her along behind him, he made his way to the rear of a faded gray house. Stumbling, she grabbed at him to steady herself. Her hand fell onto the cold metal casing of a gun that was tucked into the waist of his jeans. Her feet stopped moving and he dragged her a few steps before realizing she was no longer voluntarily following him.

Her mind had frozen and fear had taken over, leaving her paralyzed, not knowing whom to trust and not knowing where to go. She stood there shaking her head as though she were a mad woman hearing voices. In her mind all she could see was Harry's body lying on the cement surrounded by his own blood, only this time she could see herself lying next to him. They were going to kill her. It was real now.

Without a word the man pulled the weapon out from behind him and leveled it at her head. He grabbed her arm again and pushed her out in front of him. He directed her down a small set of concrete stairs that ended at a warped, paint chipped back door. With the gun, he motioned her to sit against the short concrete wall facing the door. He sat down next to her and pulled a wet, dirty tarp over them. Sandy closed her eyes, feeling the water from the tarp seep down through her hair. The leaves that were held to the canvas tarp by spider webs brushed up against her exposed legs and arms. The man's gun pressed itself into her neck to keep her quiet as they heard voices moving around the yards above them, searching the area.

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Catalogue Information

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