Today is our stop on the blog tour for Exit Wounds by Nikki Archer. We’re so excited to share this contemporary crime novel! Check out our post and grab your copy today. About Exit Wounds: Colt is on the run. After a family argument ends with her father dead on the floor and the murder weapon in her hand, the heiress to Mexico’s largest drug cartel is left with few options. As the police rush to piece together evidence and name a suspect, Colt and her boyfriend speed south. If she wants to stay out of jail, she’ll have to sacrifice a different sort of freedom and leave America for the anonymity and relative safety of Mexico. But at her drug lord uncle’s Playboy-esque villa, the outlaw princess must make a choice: accept her place in the family legacy, or try to make her way alone. And her uncle may have more skeletons in his closet than even Colt could’ve imagined. Get Your Copy Today! Amazon | iTunes About Nikki Archer: Nikki Archer lives in New England, where she teaches high school English and spends her free time pursuing as many degrees as humanly possible. She divides her life into hockey season and baseball season, and she really really hates socks. She spends all of her extra money (and some that’s not exactly extra) on concert tickets and trips to interesting places. Her first novel, “Whatever’s Left,” is a YA romance, but “Exit Wounds” is her first venture into the world of crime writing. Connect with Nikki: Facebook | Website Enter Nikki’s Giveaway: a Rafflecopter giveaway
Puerto Vallarta is a city in the heart of Mexico, roughly a thousand miles from the U.S. border, nestled alongside the Pacific coast. Amid the tourist traps and a scattering of resorts, my family runs one of the largest cartels on the continent. Not long ago, my parents were the king and queen of the Alvarez cartel. Now, my uncle Tito calls the shots.
Dallas thinks it’s a bad idea. I’ve seen it in the set of his face ever since my mother dropped the duffel bag and told me to start packing. Now as we speed west on Route 10 through New Mexico in my Jeep, a hundred miles from El Paso, a hundred miles from my dead father and grief-stricken mother, he’s gotten his argument formed and starts in on the alternatives.
"It’s not a sure thing that a jury would convict you, you know." Like we were in the middle of a conversation, instead of sitting in silence for the past hour.
My skin is damp with sweat that has nothing to do with the temperature. My thighs stick to the seat. My stitches itch. "I’m not sure I want to risk a life sentence for murder one on 'not a sure thing'." It comes out bitter and bitchy, but before I can apologize, Dallas smacks the steering wheel of my Jeep so hard that I jump.
"This is bullshit, Colt."
His anger flares my own, and suddenly I’m unbuckling my seatbelt, yelling at him. "You don’t have to come with me, Dallas. You can pull the fuck over and take a cab home, and I’ll get the rest of the way there by my damn self." The breeze from the open window hurls a lock of my hair into my mouth, and I swipe at it in irritation.
When he turns his eyes to meet mine, they’re wet with tears. Not misty, not glassy, but full-on overflowing, wet tracks glistening off his cheeks, trailing into his scruff of goatee. He tries to smile and it about breaks my heart. "Not on your life. If these are the last days I get to spend with you, I’m taking every second I can get."