Beverley: What’s your name?
Derrick: I’m Derrick. Derrick Caine.
Beverley: Where did you grow up?
Derrick: I was born n’bred in Louisiana. When my mama died I was forced to moved into my daddy’s shithole trailer. Made my mama’s place seem like a palace, but I ain’t one to complain.
Beverley: During what time period does your story take place?
Derrick: Not too far from now. Let’s hope for humanity’s sake it doesn’t happen, and it’s all just some effed-up dream I’m havin’.
Beverley: What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?
Derrick: Ain’t much to tell. Or, not much I’m willin’ to say. Had a crappy childhood. Would prob’ly be dead if it weren’t for my cousin, Mike, who did me the favor of ending my old man. Even still, I managed to land my ass in jail more ‘an once. But she saved me. My daughter. My Celia. And I couldn’t save her from the Seekers once the world ended.
Beats me why anyone would write about someone as jacked up as me. Why anyone could give a man a taste of happiness just to take it away.
Beverley: What’s your goal in this story?
Derrick: My goal is to protect the people I love, including Keira, the woman I’ve loved since I was just a boy, and to take out as many of the Seekers as I can along the way. Also, I gotta learn the Trade’s Rendezvous point. To do this, I gotta pretend to be one of ‘em.
Beverley: What conflicts are you facing?
Derrick: Mostly, protectin’ Keira from ‘erself. Woman is damn stubborn an’ underestimates the danger she’s in. ‘Course, she’d just scoff and say she’s capable of protectin’ herself. Guess it’s probably my problem, then, which leads to my internal conflicts. I never got over Celia’s death and the abuse I faced as a child, and I prob’ly never will.
Beverley: Do you have a plan for resolving them?
Derrick: Plan? Nah, I’m wingin’ it. Discovered that tryin’ ta control Keira will likely lead to castration, and I like my balls where they are, thank you very much. Any rate, we make a better team when we’re workin’ with each other than against each other.
Beverley: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?
Derrick: Just that I’m gonna git those bastards. Just ‘cause the world’s ended don’t mean the bad guys win.
Blurb for The Infiltrator:
A virus has rendered humanity mostly extinct. Keira Starr is alone, staying alive by staying on the run, sleeping in empty gas stations and the trunks of cars long abandoned on the highway. The world is overrun by “Ghosts,” the mindless, bloodthirsty dead, but they are the least of her problems. She is being hunted by ragtag groups of ruthless men, independent contractors working for a mysterious human trafficking ring. When she is finally captured, she discovers that Derrick Caine, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, may just have a different agenda altogether.
Excerpt for The Infiltrator:
“What happened to you?” she breathed. “Who did you lose?” She knew she was pushing him, that she should stop before she went too far, but it felt like observing a train wreck, watching from a distance as the engine rushed ahead at full steam, and, even foreseeing the impending disaster on the tracks, being powerless to stop it. “You risk your life tryin’ to save women and children. Who was she? Your wife?” She didn't even know why she cared. She didn't want to care. Derrick Caine was a virtual stranger to her, yet she knew she was already in way too deep.
He growled suddenly, a low, guttural sound that jarred her out of her trance when she rather unexpectedly found her space invaded by him for the third time in the past several minutes. Yet the charge in the air had shifted subtly; he no longer seemed angry, exactly, but there was something decidedly predatory in his eyes.
“You want from me?” His voice in her ear was a dangerous rumble that elicited chills up her spine and ignited a fire that bloomed hotly in her womb, a delicious contrast. Quite suddenly, all she wanted was to relieve the dull throb between her legs that his voice and presence evoked; she wanted him so badly that she physically couldn’t endure not to have him soon.
You. Just you. “I could ask the same of you,” she settled for, and she couldn’t stop the tremor in her voice. She was overwhelmed by him—by his nearness, by the heat emanating from his body, drawing her in. She tentatively raised a trembling hand, reaching up to touch a raised scar on his chest, just above his left pectoral. His chest continued to visibly rise and fall, and he was breathing hard through his nose in an obvious effort to calm himself, fists clenched in tight balls at his sides. His breathing hitched when she barely touched him, a feather-light caress, her fingertips just skimming the jagged edge of his scar. She had known all along that he was in pain. So much unbearable pain—yet he would never admit it to anyone, least of all her.
Buy Link The Infiltrator: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CFRXZCS