Wednesday, December 7, 2016

"Unforgiving" by Adnan Alisic

by Adnan Alisic

Unforgiving by Adnan Alisic is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well. The book will be released early January 2017 but is available for pre-order.

12 years after surviving horrific massacre, 15-year-old Meho commits ruthless murders and sets in motion the event which could change the world order.
The murders are followed by the trial of the century, where media vilifies Meho as a psychopath, mass murderer, and a monster -  all under the influence of FBI, who are trying to conceal the identity of the victims and protect the National Security.
The only person who believes that Meho is innocent is his 10-year-old brother Bucky, who will turn heavens and earth to free Meho. After learning the truth, Bucky is devastated, but not all things are as they seem, and the truth will be revealed at the very end.

Book Video

January 29, 2016
My name is Meho, I am fifteen years old, and tonight I’m going to commit murder. But you have to know that the bastards I’m going to kill are not like you and me. They look like humans, they talk like humans, and they live like humans. But they are not like us. They are monsters capable of committing unspeakable horror.
And I’m not different than any of you. I have a great family who love me unconditionally. I hate going to school, and I have an annoying little brother whom I love to death. I’ve been bullied, assaulted, and called names, but that’s not the reason why I’m doing this tonight. This is all because of promise to my little sister.
After a lifetime, I saw him right in front on my house. When I opened the door, my heart ripped out of my chest. The Monster had escaped from my nightmare and came to my reality to finish what he had started long a time ago.
He is over six-feet tall, with a buzz cut, a pointed nose, and a sinister tattoo on his neck that I’ll never forget. Frozen like ice, I stared at him for eternity, horror of images flashing through my mind. Fortunately, he didn’t recognize me. But I knew who he was. Every night I see him in my nightmares.
“I have pakage for mister Miller,” he said with a heavy Slavic accent.
In roaring silence, I scanned his FedEx shirt, took the package, scribbled something on the paper, and shut the door in his face.
From that moment, my whole life changed, and every second was dedicated to hunting the Monster down. I used my hacking skills and found out all I needed about him. And the most horrific thing I discovered was that he is not alone.
During the past seven weeks, I found out he lives in a single-story house around Bell Road and 14th Street. He drives a late model S-Class and works only Mondays and Fridays. His days are spent from coffee shop to coffee shop, and his nights from strip club to strip club. His last stop of the night is the shady bar on 12th Street and Bell, and that’s where I’m waiting now.
My heart thunders as I watch drunk patrons stride in and out, chatting mumbling, and laughing. The darkly tinted window of the bar blisters with neon signs of Heineken, Budweiser, and Bud Light. Cars roar down the busy Bell Road, and every once in a while tires scream and horns blare. Next to the bar is a pool hall, and the cracking of the pool balls spills into the chilly night.
I am sitting on the curb about ten yards from his black Benz, my palms getting sweaty. Tonight, my wiry frame is adorned in Guess jeans, gray turtleneck, and my favorite Jordans. The school backpack is on my back, but tonight it wasn’t packed with books.
My heart stutters when I see him stumble out of the bar with a group of people. They laugh, and after saying farewells, he ambles toward his car. Suddenly, everything grows quiet and the only noise I hear is the melody he whistles. The melody from my nightmare. He stops, takes a deep drag of the cigarette, and its glow illuminates his evil eyes. Clutching the small Taser in my hand, I get up as the blinkers flash and the locks pop open on his car.
“Sir can you take me home?” I ask politely.
He glances at me, then opens the door. After taking his leather jacket off, he collapses in the leather seat. I make a few steps forward, as he slams the door and buzzes the window down. He swings his hairy arm out, cigarette glowing in his thick fingers.
“Why would I give you ride?”
I step to the window and glare at him. An inked two-headed eagle ominously snakes up his neck as the stench of alcohol and cigarettes assails my senses. His dark, snake eyes, drill through me and in them I see myself — a skeletal, harmless-looking boy, with a leather backpack on his shoulders, and a frightened expression on his face.
He starts the car and my hand shakes. In a flash, I press the Taser to his beefy neck, and he starts convulsing in the leather seat. For a brief second, a terrifying shriek roars in the night, which was extinguished by the roar of Benz’s eight cylinders as his cramped foot presses onto the gas pedal. I storm to the passenger side, toss my backpack in the back seat, and hop inside.
“Drive!” I scream.
I see his hand reach to his hip and I quickly press the Taser to his cheek. After he stops dancing, I pull a chrome-plated .45 from the leather holster on his hip and toss it in the back seat.
“Drive!” I scream again, pressing the Taser to his neck.
“I coon’t!”
I jump out, open his door, and try to push him to the passenger side.
He struggles, and I press the Taser to his groin.
“Okay, okay!” he screams, and like a pine log rolls to the passenger side.
I jump inside and pull three Xanax pills out of my pocket.
“Drink this!”
His mouth is a gaping hole and I stuff the pills inside, but he turns toward me and spits them out. I give him a quick jolt, pick up the pills and shove them inside his mouth. He tries to spit them again, but I zap him until he gulps.
I yank the car in reverse, back out, and moments later, I am gliding down the busy Bell Road.
“What the hell is going on there?” Special Agent Kirkovsky asked peering through the windshield.
“It seems like the fool is so drunk he can’t even drive,” Agent Cornwell responded from the driver’s seat.
They were inside the blue Impala parked in the back parking lot. The car was littered with empty Red Bull cans and crumpled Wendy’s wrappers. Both of them were in their early forties, tall and athletic, dressed in jeans and polo shirts, and very cramped after sitting for hours observing their target.
“Who’s the kid?” Kirkovsky asked.
Agent Cornwell snapped a few high-resolution photos, hooked the camera to his laptop, and logged onto the FBI’s Next Generation Identification. A few seconds later the information spilled out.
“Meho Miller, fifteen years old, lives in Scottsdale, comes from a very affluent family. He was in trouble —”
“They’re leaving, they’re leaving,” Kirkovsky snapped.
Cornwell passed the laptop to Kirkovsky, started the car, and slowly rolled out of the parking lot.
I obey all the traffic laws as every cell in my body shakes with fear. My eyes constantly dart between the Monster sitting next to me and the busy traffic ahead of me. One hand is on the steering wheel and another always clutching the Taser in case of an emergency.
“Why’r you doin this?” the Monster lethargically slurs his words, the effect of the triple tranquilizer evident by now.
I keep quiet, and twenty minutes later, I park in front of the empty warehouse on Thunderbird Avenue and shut off the car.
“Let’s go!”
As I open the door, Monster’s hand glides toward me, way too slow for me not to notice. I quickly get out of the way, and give him a quick zap on his head. He shrieks like a seagull, and seconds later, he struggles out of the car. I pick up my backpack, his gun and cell phone, and lead him inside the warehouse.
The blue Impala rolled inside the murky parking lot across from the deserted warehouse and stopped in the dark corner. From there they had a clear view of the black Benz.
“It looks like he’s so drunk, he can barely walk,” Kirkovsky said.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
Kirkovsky sipped on his Red Bull, then smacked his lips. “This is definitively out of his daily routine.”
“Call the other team.”
Kirkovsky got on the radio and conveyed the location. Ten minutes later, a green Dodge Caravan rolled in and parked on the other side of the parking lot.
[Want more? Click here to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
"Unforgiving gives readers not only the dark side of Meho - the one who is cold and calculated and kills but also the family side where Meho and Bucky were taught the skills of hacking and biochemistry by their grandfather. [...] The killing scenes were amazing, and it shows readers the dark, cold truth about what PTSD and revenge can do to someone even if they were at a young age when the incident occurred. [...] If you want a dark teen angsty read with crime elements, then check out Unforgiving by Adnan Alisic." ~ Paula Phillips
"This was a dark but interesting story. In a lot of ways it was easy to relate to the way Meho behaved. His early life was harsh and cold. Killing meant survival, and who wouldn’t want to off the people who have taken so much from them? [...] The author is a good writer and does an excellent job of fleshing out the characters and keeping the reader on their toes. The world is full and vibrant so the story is easy to read. [...] Over all it is a good read and I would read more by this author." ~ Domoni
"This was a interesting read for me. It kept me on my toes. A fast paced read as well. The Author does a great job on the story and the characters. I could imagine them. It got me into the book like I was there with them. This is a dark story so if you like dark stories this book is for." ~ Stacey Schneller
"This novel is fast paced. Prose is conversational. Dialogue is taut. While some of the twists and turns strain credulity, suspense and excitement keep you wanting to know exactly where it’s going and how it will all turn out. If you like tough tales about young people, it might be for you." ~ Joe Kilgore, US Review of Books

About the Author
After witnessing terrible war atrocities, Adnan Alisic escaped from Bosnia and came to Phoenix, Arizona where he became a successful businessman. Entangled in a gambling addiction, he was forced to execute this sensational casino heist.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win an ebook copy of Unforgiving by Adnan Alisic and a $25 Amazon gift card.