Brooding Shadows (Hahmood The Killer Book 5)

A Bank Robbery Gone Wrong Puts Hahmood in the Line of Fire

When a young man named Toby falls in with the wrong crowd, he becomes part of a dangerous plan to rob a bank holding tens of thousands of dollars in railroad wages. But when the robbery goes badly, the gang’s ruthless boss starts looking for answers—and Toby’s girlfriend turns to Hahmood for help.

What begins as a plea to save a young man from his mistakes quickly draws Hahmood into a deadly confrontation. With the gang closing in and the stakes rising, the outcome could change the lives of everyone involved.

Discover Hahmood’s latest case and find out who will be the last man standing.

Excerpt from the book

They ambushed him from behind as he stooped down beside the river and, using his cupped hands, took a mouthful of water. He heard their approach too late. As he swung around, reaching for his gun, a shadow moved over him and something hard cracked across his jaw and lights went off in his head.

The next thing he knew, they were dragging him over the hard, unforgiving ground.

“You shouldna gone against us,” said a voice from somewhere in the distance.

Tobias McShane did not understand. The force of the blow made his mind race. He could not recall what he had done, or who these people were. Everything swirled horribly through his mind, and he fought desperately to cling to a single word that would help him make sense of it all.

“Shut up, Frank,” came another voice. “We ain’t got time for any conversations.”

“I’m tellin’ him, is all,” responded Frank. Jumping down from his horse, he brought McShane to his feet. “Isn’t that right, Toby? You hear me, Toby? You still alive?”

“Sure he is, although you hit him frightful hard. String him up from that tree over yonder.”

McShane felt strong hands forcing his own backwards, pulling the leather thongs that bound him ever tighter. He bit down on his bottom lip and forced his eyes open. Through the blur of unfocused, swirling mist invading his sight, McShane sagged in Frank’s grip and allowed himself to be taken to the aforementioned tree. He looked up and winced, his neck creaking with pain. Blood ran down his face, dripping to his collar. He wanted to speak out, demand what was happening, give any form of resistance, but he could do neither. The strength had left him and all he could do was watch as Frank threw the rope over an outstretched branch.

“We’re gonna hang you high, Toby, for what you did.”

Frank fitted the noose around McShane’s neck, tugging it tight. The other man joined him and together they lifted McShane into the saddle of a patiently waiting horse.

“Why you do it?” asked Frank.

“I told you to shut up talking to him,” snapped the other. “We’ve come to do this as quickly as we can. We don’t need no discourse with this varmint.”

“Yeah, I get yeh, but it would be nice to know the real reasons.” He prodded McShane in the leg. “Tell us, Toby. Why you do it? Why you tried to help that teller, eh? Was it something you planned, something you agreed so you could sell us out to the sheriff?”

McShane shook his head. Through his slack mouth, he managed to mumble, “Do what?”

The effort of forming coherent words caused him to tense up as yet another huge wave of agony crashed through his head, especially around the area where the blow struck. He almost pitched into unconsciousness, but then Frank gave him a tremendous dig in his ribs and he yelped, sat bolt upright and immediately vomited.