Rick Suttle is a writer known for the novels, “Ghosts at Drayson Schoolhouse,” “Hauntings at Black Shadow Ridge,” “Hell Year” and “Bullies of Madison High.” He’s also written more than 5,000 online and print articles for numerous publications. Rick currently lives in Cincinnati, Ohio.
Ten years ago, four women and a man were murdered because of an evil scheme concocted by Oliver Koch, the late principal of Madison High School in Perryville, Ohio. After a decade of relative quietude in this rural town, two women are found murdered in August, 2016, and another one is missing.
Meanwhile, police officer Angel Tolbert has recently been hired by her former boss, Captain Humphrey Barrett, to go undercover as a barmaid and investigate the murders and kidnapping, which may once again be tied to a brutal girl gang called the Fiends and some ruthless drug dealers.
Angel tries to get herself noticed by the Fiend girls, many of whom work at a nearby Taco joint. Once she gets lured in, she can find out what happened to the women. But what her boss is asking is much more dangerous than she imagined. And she’s tempted to just quit her job and go back to her previous law enforcement job, or recommence a once-thriving modeling career. But quitting’s not in her makeup.
She works days and nights to find out what’s happening in this small town. Meanwhile, things become much more complicated when she becomes involved with a new guy and starts having trouble with another one at the bar. Her car is damaged for starters. Then she tries to stir up trouble with a girl at the restaurant. When she least expects it, she’s kidnapped herself and forced to fight one of the girls who’s trying to get in the gang. During this initiation, she must take a dive to determine what awaits her on the other side. She soon finds herself at an old house where she must fight off two bullies with her martial arts skills to avoid getting murdered and buried out in a rural pasture. Once she survives that ordeal, she must get find out who’s behind all the killings. And the ordeal that awaits her is far worse than she ever imagined.
Undercover Angel is the stand-alone sequel to Bullies of Madison High, which introduces a beautiful but tough-as-nails character whom the author plans to create a series around. Angel Tolbert is truly someone who every woman wants to be and every man desires.
“You alone,” someone said, as Angel listened to Smith’s cell. It was picking up the conversation between Mark and his suppliers over a microphone. Barrett and the other officers were also listening from their cell phones.
“Yeah, bro. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because you’re a snot-nosed punk who’s still wet behind the ears. And stop calling me that.”
Five minutes later, a couple squad cars entered the field from opposite ends. They flanked Barrett’s and Wilson’s cars but stopped a hundred feet closer to the woods.
Some static cheeped across the phone, blocking out part of the conversation.
“Come on,” said Smith. He raised the cell phone up and slapped the back of it.
“. . . grand.”
“How much?” said Mark.
Suddenly a horn honked in the distance. A cop in one of the flank cars had accidentally beeped.
“Who’s out there? I thought you said you came alone.”
“Did someone follow you?”
The inside lights to both squad cars came on, then several officers stepped outside their vehicles. Smith unhitched his seat belt.
“Barrett told us to stay in the car,” said Angel.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Smith. “And I won’t be a sitting duck for anyone. It’s time to nail these assholes once and for all.” He opened his door.
“But that’s what we have the Columbus officers for,” said Angel. “They’re specialized in this kind of stuff.”
“What the hell are you doing, Michael?” shouted Barrett. His sonorous voice startled Angel as it spewed from the squawk box.
Smith didn’t answer. He stepped out in the grass and shut the door. He then walked toward the front of the car. Just before he hunkered down, several people started shooting in the distance. The cops on the perimeters returned fire.
Angel ducked down, pushed the door open and rolled down into the field. She crawled forward on her stomach, got to her knees and leaned against the front fender, which was canted toward her and away from the direct line of fire.
More shots were fired. Angel aimed her Glock at the fringe of the woods and took a couple shots.
Bullets pinged off Smith’s car, then someone blew the windshield out. The volley of fire continued from both ends, then stopped about a minute later. Angel heard Barrett’s voice screech across the radio. She couldn’t hear what he was saying. But when she crawled back to the car, opened the door and leaned inside to grab the receiver, she saw Smith’s body sprawled across the front hood of his car.
The cops on the perimeters jumped into their cars. They moved forward.
She reached for the radio receiver. “Yes, boss.”
“Smith’s gone, isn’t he?”
“It appears so,” she said. She grabbed a small flashlight from her utility belt and shone it through the busted windshield. The circular light arced toward Smith’s face, which was canted toward her. He’d taken a bullet between the eyes.
“He’s dead, sir.”
“Fuck!” he shouted. “Cock-sucking mother fucker. Kiss my ass.”