Up in Smoke A King Series Novel - T.M. Frazier

UP IN SMOKE

A King Series Novel

By T.M. Frazier

2018 by T.M. Frazier

Cover Photo: Wander Photography

Cover Design: T.M. Frazier

Model: Jacob Rodney

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Epilogue

Bonus Scene

Acknowledgments

Also by T.M. FRAZIER

Keep In Touch with me!

For everyone who thinks they can’t.

You can.

Prologue

I deal in murder and mayhem.

Bullets and bravado.

Fear and faults.

I crush bones as well as spirits.

I plant seeds from which hatred and sorrow grow.

I’m a man among men, but I’m not really living.

I answer to no one.

I’m heartless. Soulless. Lawless.

Godless.

I’m what’s left of humanity after it’s burned. After good has succumbed to evil. When lies and lust roam free.

I’m what remains after the flames have been doused.

I’m Hell on Earth.

Brimstone and fire.

Embers and ashes.

I am motherfucking Smoke.

Chapter One

One Year Ago

Most folks turn out the lights before they go to bed, but not Morgan. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s had this strange habit of keeping her lights on even when she isn’t home. She even sleeps with her house lit up like it’s her job to guide the god damned planes over to the airport.

That’s how I know something’s wrong.

Her house is dark.

Way too fucking dark.

Motherfucking shit.

I pull my gun and silently make my way to the front door. It’s open. I lean against it with my shoulder and step inside. My boot slides over something slippery. An all too familiar smell singes my nose hairs.

I know the smell of death so well I can decipher the different stages of decay based solely on the stench lingering in the air. With one whiff, I know the death lingering inside is recent.

It’s pitch black. I slide my hand against the wall and follow it until my fingertips hit the kitchen backsplash and I flip the light switch above it.

The house is bathed in bright white light. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust. The white shifts to red.

So. Much. Fucking. Red.

“Fuck,” I holster my gun.

I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life. I’ve caused my fair fucking share of it, too. But nothing like this. There ain’t an inch of the kitchen not freshly painted in red. It’s smeared across the white tile floor as if someone crawled or was dragged from one side to the other. There’s splatter marks on every wall. Every cabinet.

This wasn’t just death. This wasn’t just a kill. A hit.

This was pure fucking evil.

I round the center island, coming to a stop as my boot connects with a slender bare foot. There’s no need for me to hurry over to her; it’s not like there’s any saving her now, but I shove my gun into the waistband of my jeans and race over to the other side of the island anyway. I crouch down over Morgan.

What’s left of her. Every inch of her naked body is twisted and contorted. Her once blemish-free pale skin has been sliced and cut and opened at every angle exposing teeth and skull. Her dark hair is wet with her own blood.

My eyes travel down her battered body. “No,” I shake my head