April 23rd, 2008 by zen2008

“I felt the power of death over life…” –Johnny Cash

Justice is as fast as a bullet…
As I lie in bed with Amanda, ignoring another late-night call from my ex, a shot rings out in the New York night and a beautiful starlet dies outside the city’s most popular nightclub. This is the kind of story I was born to chase but I never dreamed this story began over a hundred years ago.…

Suddenly another life is taken, the bullet fired from one of the deadliest guns ever made. Both victims are highly controversial, their murders more like public executions. My search leads me into the twisted world of The Boy a world defined by a demented code of honor and shocking, long-buried secrets of the world’s most infamous outlaw.

When this assassin realizes I’m getting too close to the truth, uncovering the past could jeopardize everything I care about. Because in his world there’s a fine line between good and evil, and the difference between innocence and guilt depends on who’s holding the gun.…

Australia

THE GUILTY was published in the US on February 26th, 2008

I conceived of the storyline for THE GUILTY while writing THE MARK. If THE MARK did not find a publisher, I planned to make THE GUILTY a standalone novel. As THE MARK did find a publisher, I was able to take the backdrop of the story and continue the series I’d begun in THE MARK.

Research for THE GUILTY included learning about the American West, specifically in the mid-late 1800’s. I also learned a great deal about antique weaponry and manufacturing. THE GUILTY was released in Australia in May, 2008 be released in the UK in January, 2009.

More to come…

Praise for THE GUILTY

“A painstakingly refined story, from the realistically constructed characters, to the consistently pedal-to-the-metal pacing…a brilliantly conceived, edge-eof-your-seat thrill ride.”

—Chicago Tribune

“THE GUILTY proves that Pinter knows what he’s doing as his exciting plot grabs readers from the first page. THE GUILTY is a fresh tale with original characters, as Pinter demonstrated in last year’s impressive debut, THE MARK.”
—South Florida Sun-Sentinel

“…hair-raising…Tension mounts, bullets fly and Pinter’s cool fusion of a new outlaw with blood ties to an old one hits the mark. The resolution is a ripsnorter, leaving thrill fans ready for the next Henry Parker newsflash.”
—Publishers Weekly

“Newspaper reporter Henry Parker returns in Pinter’s exciting follow-up to THE MARK… a suspenseful and shocking tale that will leave readers clamoring for the next Henry Parker novel.”
—Library Journal

“…well-executed gritty action…races along towards an ending of thriller proportions…Whether as journalist or crime stopper, Parker always manages to come out on top — and so has Jason Pinter, again.”

—Lincoln Journal-Star

“In one of the best thrillers of the year, Pinter brings to life America’s most legendary outlaw in an action-packed story. Parker is a hero we can cheer for without regrets…a can’t miss thriller, THE GUILTY is guaranteed to leave readers breathless for the next Parker mystery.”
—Press & Sun-Bulletin

“Pinter has hit upon a winner with Parker…Those who enjoy their noir with a dash of real-world research will love THE GUILTY. And if you aren’t addicted to this series by the time you finish THE GUILTY, check out the preview to THE STOLEN. It will give you something to look forward to this summer.”
—Bookreporter.com

“Readers who enjoyed Pinter’s first book, THE MARK, won’t be disappointed with his followup. It’s equally topical and well written.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“A captivating and thought-provoking read and thoroughly enjoyable. One of the great new voices in the genre.”
—CrimeSpree Magazine

“A fabulous thriller…The story line is fast-paced with a bit of romance in the air. The ending is superb and will prove to be one of the best of the year.”
—Midwest Book Review

“THE GUILTY is an explosive thriller with a fascinating plot and an unforgiving pace. With just two books under his belt, young Pinter has already proven himself to be a truly overwhelming new talent in the industry.”
—Becky Lejeune, Bookbitch.com

“A compelling thriller”
—Mysterious Reviews

“The book’s snappy dialogue and view inside newspaper bulletins, peppered with professional and romantic rivalries, combine to keep us turning the pages at a brisk pace.”
—Authormagazine.org

Prologue

They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. I disagree. I’ve lost before. I lost the affection of my parents before I was old enough to know that the world looked upon an estranged child with sad eyes. I lost my first love because I was too cowardly to protect her. I nearly lost my life due to circumstances beyond my control. All of those losses created holes in my life. Holes I’ve attempted to patch up, to cover, but they’ll always be there, even if they don’t leave a mark.

Doesn’t mean I can’t try to forget them. Through life. Through work. Through Amanda.

If she wasn’t here, lying next to me in our bed, her head inches from mine, I wouldn’t be here at all. It’s not that I’d be back in Oregon, paying my dues at the news desk of the Bend Bulletin, skiing at Mount Bachelor, thirsting through thirteen inches of annual rainfall, and paying two hundred bucks a month in rent.

If she wasn’t here, I would either be rotting in the ground somewhere or in a jail trying to stay alive while cursing a simple twist of fate. Her soft brown hair, eyes so bright and big I get lost in them. One year ago I was running for my life. A total stranger saved my life. Without her, everything would have been lost.

And God help me I can’t lose her, because I don’t have the strength to patch that kind of hole.

So as I lie here, watching Amanda’s chest rise and fall, all I can do is hope I’m here to witness every last breath of her life. And hope that, finally, the stories I report won’t be my own.

Chapter One

The limousine pulled up to the curb outside the Kitten Club, and like a cult waiting for its leader, dozens of heads turned at once. Hundreds of eyes widened. Pulses sped up, hearts raced.

A black-clad bouncer stepped to the limo and opened the door. A slender leg stepped onto the curb. Then it stopped, its owner making sure the cameras had time to swallow up every inch of perfect skin. Then another leg slipped out. The crowd moaned, the her body glitter giving her normally pale skin a translucent glow. The crowd gasped as her full form emerged. Those who weren’t too stunned to move pressed against the velvet ropes, the bouncers going into full push-em-back mode. Flashbulbs popped by the dozen. She flashed that million watt seductive smile, the one that had seduced and captivated people all over the world. They shouted at her. Nothing she hadn’t heard before. Yet as she stepped onto the red carpet, rolled out just for her, listening to the throng of fans chanting her name, Athena Paradis couldn’t help but feel that the world had given itself to her.

She waved to the dazed crowd, stopped to sign a few autographs and blow air kisses through ruby lips, laughed at the mismatched chunky schlubs who would be fantasizing about her that night as they lay alone in the dark. One thirty in the morning, but the flashes and screams made it seem like broad daylight. Just late enough for the party to be in full swing, just late enough to make sure she’d be the last memory of a night her fans would never forget.

Despite her seeming nonchalance, Athena spent many nights in breathless anticipation of these delicious moments when all eyes would be on her. Hearing digital cameras beeping, fingers tapping on cell phones as flabbergasted fans sent grainy images to their friends.

Young men trying to give her the same lame sultry looks she’d seen and laughed at a million times. Yet she would always smile just enough to make them think they had a chance.

This was Athena’s world, her oyster, and it was delicious. Everyone else watched from outside the snow globe, hoping that one special night they too might be touched by her magic.

In three days, Athena Paradis would release her very first album, The Goddess Athena. Her promotional tour was in full swing, and tonight at the Kitten Club was a prime stop. She was scheduled to guest DJ, spin and sing tracks that had never been heard outside the recording studio (created with the gentle touch of some very talented—and patient—sound producers, vocal coaches and technicians). Athena’s autobiography, HOW YOU CAN BE LIKE ME, was ghostwritten by a pleasant sixty-year old Jew named Herman Goldstein. It spent eight weeks on the New York Gazette bestseller list. Her signings all required extra security. Herman wasn’t allowed to attend. Three bouncers the size of minivans controlled the crowd. The mayor’s office had sent several off duty cops just in case. Athena’s manager and publicist had called Mayor Perez’s office nonstop requesting massive police protection for their twenty two year-old goldmine, but the second-termer refused. Not that he wouldn’t have wanted to.

The mayor was well known for his reliance on sizzle over steak, providing a good show to distract people from their woes. He’d written three self-help books and was constantly photographed alongside celebrities, including Athena Paradis. But the union was busy organizing a new contract, and they were squeezing him hard. Adding additional unnecessary force tonight would only make people angry. Every nightclub Athena graced with her presence would fatten her bank account by fifty thousand dollars. The hotter—or more desperate—the club, the more they paid. Most promoters, like the Kitten Club’s Shawn Kensbrook, tripped over themselves to pay Athena ungodly sums of money for a simple appearance. She would show up, pose for the camera, down a few kamikaze shots, dance on the bar, and within a week the patronage tripled. Best advertising in the world, and a hell of a lot more entertaining than an ad in a movie theater or those worthless postcards.

Tonight, though, wasn’t about appearances fees. If she seduced the crowd, it would be worth its weight in platinum for her album.

Athena sauntered past the throng of gawking men and starry-eyed women, slipping into the pulsating darkness of the Kitten Club. Her entourage was immediately met by Shawn Kensbrook, club promoter extraordinaire and co- owner of the Kitten Club. Just three years ago, what was now the Kitten Club had been an abandoned warehouse in Manhattan’s meatpacking district. It was destined to be torn down by developers or vermin, whichever got there first. Kensbrook was able to mount an army of backers to buy what was widely considered a sinkhole. Through his A-list rolodex, Kensbrook turned a pile of rubble into Gotham’s hottest nightspot since the heyday of Limelight. It’s cloud had grown to the point where New York Magazine had referred to it as “The Oprah Winfrey of music promotion.” If you had to jump on one couch to get maximum exposure, the Kitten Club was the place to jump. Shawn was decked out in a wool Versace suit that ran $2,200 and burned off a thousand calories a night. Shawn had purposefully bought it a size too small, the fabric stretching over his taut frame. Athena knew the only thing he worked harder at than promoting his club was promoting his body. Unlike most in the entertainment field, Kensbrook accomplished it solely through weightlifting, protein bars and the best personal trainers money could buy. Bastard didn’t even drink.

Shawn pecked Athena on the cheek and ushered her through the crowd to the DJ booth in the back. She shook hands with a guy Shawn introduced as DJ Stix, a light skinned black man wearing sunglasses rimmed with diamonds. No doubt they were real. Kensbrook would want his employees to dazzle in every way, no matter the price.

Athena’s manager, a twitchy man named Eddie, would be standing by in case she got the crazy urge to sing without proper electronic vocal support. Athena had an army of producers who made sure she sounded perfect in the studio. Live, anything could happen.

After the current song ended, Stix turned down the music and Kensbrook picked up the house microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, kittens, cats and lions of all ages,” he said. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to the Queen of all Media, her royal highness herself, the woman whose debut album drops this very Tuesday, give it up, show your love, for the beautiful Athena Paradis!”

The crowd roared as Athena waved, blowing imaginary kisses, flaunting her body and striking glamorous pose after pose. She was a God amongst mortals. She knew it, they knew it, and they all loved it.

Suddenly a deep, throbbing base began to reverberate through the club. Squeals of joy leapt from the lips of heavy breathing men and women. Then, after a dozen base thumps, the synthesizer kicked in, and the club came alive. The sweaty bodies congealed into a solid mass as the expertly arranged rhythm sent ripples through them, electricity making every person sway, every person bounce, every one of them belonging to her.

Sweat coated her upper lip. She licked it, shuddered at the sensation, and knew the night would be a memorable one. The blue Missoni dress clung to her body, the fabric clinging to her curves like tissue paper. The dress had been air-mailed by Ottavio Missoni himself, specifically for Athena to wear tonight.

She could feel DJ Stix’s eyes drinking her in. He didn’t even pretend to look away. Even Shawn Kensbrook couldn’t help but steal an eyeful as she danced and spun to the beat. Athena looked at them with a seductive grin, then raised the volume a few notches, increased the base. The music consumed the night. And then Athena jumped on top of the turn tables.

The crowd stopped dancing, stared at her, cheered her on. She ran her hands over her body, made every one of them feel like they could be her lover. Athena owned them. Every single one.

Somebody handed Athena a clear glass. She drank it in two gulps. Vodka tonic. With a hint of lime. She could feel the ecstasy tab kicking in. The whole world became a velvet dream, soft, wet and inviting. She kissed the air, watched as her lips sent waves of passion through hundreds.

When the song ended, Stix took Athena’s hand and escorted her back to her nine hundreds pounds of bodyguard. The crowd pleaded with her to stay, reaching and pawing as she was led through the crowd.

Shawn Kensbrook ducked through the prying arms. Athena’s lead guard recognized him, parted the way. Shawn was dripping with sweat. She envied that he could experience such ecstasy while sober. He threw his arms around her. Whispered into her ear.

“Athena, hon, that was off the charts.” “No,” she said. “Come Tuesday, that’s number one on the charts.” Shawn smiled, nodded.

“Look at this, I mean, will you look at it? All these people here for you…what’s that feel like?”

She smiled at him, flicked her tongue into his ear. She felt him shiver. Felt him grow hard in an instant.

“You’ll never know.”

Shawn watched as the bodyguards whisked her away. The bouncers parted the curtains, flung open the doors. Eyes waiting on line widened. Her limo waited just beyond the red carpet. It would take her to Nikos’s SoHo loft, where he’d have champagne, strawberries and other goodies waiting. They’d do it all night before passing out naked on his satin sheets. Tomorrow she would see her photo in newspapers across the city.

Athena stepped onto the red carpet and waved to her fans. Her new fans. Her old fans. Fans who would give anything for her. She took one step onto the carpet. Smiled. And then a crack of thunder filled the air, and a bullet smashed through her skull. And just like that, her blood staining the carpet an even darker red, the Goddess Athena died.

Readers review THE GUILTY

“Henry Parker is a fresh character and the storyline was highly original…you pulled me along
hour after hour until the story was complete.”
–Randy M.

“Great read. I like the build-up. Great tension between Henry and his ‘girls.’ As with THE
MARK, couldn’t put it down, so you need to writer a lot of books to feed your fans.”
–Jamie S.

“I did not think it was going to outdo your first, but it did!”
–Bob K.

“I loved it! I found it very interesting, and even surprised my husband with my new knowledge.
I look forward to your next novel.”
–Kate M.

“Finished it this afternoon and said, ‘WOW’!”
–Vickie B.

“Henry Parker is a fresh character and the storyline was highly original…you pulled me along
hour after hour until the story was complete.”
–Randy M.

“I enjoy your work. Lee Child is correct about THE GUILTY and Henry Parker.”
–Nooley R.

“Finished it up. Great work, man! You did excellent!”
–Chuck B.

“I can’t put the book down! Thanks again for another thriller!”
–Audre C.

“I just finished reading THE GUILTY and wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed both
your books. The story is great, the characters are wonderful and believable.”
–Wim B.

“I’ve finished the book and it’s one of the best books I have read in the last year.”
–Francesca B.

“Congrats on an awesome book. Can’t wait for the next. Keep up the great work!”
–Dan T.

“Such an interesting read. Can’t wait until THE STOLEN hits stores.”
–Mickie L.

“I read and enjoyed THE MARK and THE GUILTY. My family and I are looking forward to the
next book, THE STOLEN.”
–Peggy S.

“I read both your books in one day and can’t wait till the third and fourth…please keep writing
terrific novels and I will keep buying them!”
–Cheri S.

“Great work, man. You did excellent!”
–Chuck R.

“I finished THE GUILTY and it was awesome. Now I’ve read two books in my life and they’re
both yours.”
–Jimy E.

“Loved THE GUILTY as much as THE MARK…can’t wait for THE STOLEN!”
–Missy S.

“I am looking forward to reading your work for years to come. Your first two were great.”
–Tracey D.