Download Blutzoll: Der Tod riecht nach Diesel und Schwefel by Alexander Wohnhaas PDF

By Alexander Wohnhaas

Edgar Rabe ist Söldner. Jahrelang hat er die Schlachten anderer geschlagen, bis ihn seine eigenen Dämonen einholen.
Merkwürdige Erscheinungen verfolgen ihn. Menschen, deren Augen plötzlich zu bluten beginnen. Blut und Feuer zeichnen seinen Weg. Mittellos, unfähig eine Waffe zu gebrauchen, gerät er zwischen alle Fronten, als Gangster, denen er Geld schuldet, ihn dazu zwingen, einen letzten Auftrag zu übernehmen.

Doch er beginnt seinen ganz eigenen Feldzug. Gegen die Monster, die er überall zu sehen beginnt. Bald jagen ihn Polizei, seine ehemaligen Auftraggeber und eine ganze, hysterisch gewordene Stadt. Ein unaufhaltsamer, tödlicher Kreislauf wird in Gang gesetzt, der Edgar tief in den Abgrund blicken lässt.

Einzig ein junges Mädchen aus seiner Nachbarschaft, die von einer Fußballerkarriere träumt, scheint sein wildes Herz zu beruhigen. Ist sie der Schlüssel, um sich endlich von den Schatten seiner Vergangenheit zu lösen?

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Ebook Details:

ISBN: 0425273423
EAN: 9780425273425
ASIN: 0425273423
Publisher: Berkley
Publication Date: 2016-02-02
Number of Pages: 304
Website: Amazon, LibraryThing, Google Books, Goodreads

Synopsis from Amazon:
The long island instances bestselling writer of An Early Wake returns to eire the place Sullivan's Pub proprietor Maura Donovan will get combined up with smugglers.

After calling eire domestic for 6 months, Boston expat Maura Donovan nonetheless has much to profit approximately Irish ways-and Sullivan's Pub is her lecture room. Maura didn't in basic terms inherit a enterprise, she inherited a tight-knit group. And whilst a tragedy moves, it's the controversy of the pub. a neighborhood farmer, out for a walk at the seashore along with his younger son, has mysteriously disappeared. Did he drown? Kill himself? the kid can say in basic terms that he observed a ship.  

Everyone from the neighborhood gardai to the Coast protect is scouring the Cork coast, but if a physique is eventually introduced ashore, it's the incorrect guy. An unintentional drowning or anything extra sinister? Trusting the phrases of the boy and hearing the suspicions of her worker Mick that the lacking farmer may have run afoul of smugglers, Maura makes a decision to enquire the abandoned coves and remoted inlets for herself. yet this time she can be getting into over her head. ..
GoodReads writer Information:

Author identify: Sheila Connolly

Author Description: Sheila Connolly has taught paintings background, established and advertised municipal bonds for significant towns, labored as a employees member on statewide political campaigns, and served as a fundraiser for numerous non-profit firms. She additionally controlled her personal consulting corporation supplying genealogical study providers. Now a full-time author, she thinks writing mysteries is lots extra enjoyable than any of her past occupations.

She is a member of Sisters in Crime-New England (president 2011), the nationwide Sisters in Crime, and the really good online SinC bankruptcy, the Guppies. She additionally belongs to Romance Writers of the US and secret Writers of America.

Sheila is Regent of her neighborhood DAR bankruptcy, and a member of the Society of Mayflower Descendants. She's additionally the grandchild of Irish immigrants (in case you're nervous that she's a snob). as well as family tree, Sheila loves restoring previous homes, traveling cemeteries, and touring. She is married, and has one daughter and cats.

She blogs with Poe's lethal Daughters and secret Lovers' Kitchen on Fridays, and Killer Characters the twenty fifth of every month.
www. sheilaconnolly. com

Author URL: http://www. goodreads. com/author/show/1178460

Additional info for Blutzoll: Der Tod riecht nach Diesel und Schwefel

Example text

Dickens could clearly see the grey-and-pink pulp glistening within the concave bowl of splintered skull. The fellow’s face was covered with blood, his eyes white orbs staring out through crimson rivulets. Dickens could think of nothing to do but offer the man some brandy from his flask. The mouth of the flask came away red from the man’s lips. Dickens helped him lie on the grass and then used the water in his top hat to clean the man’s face. ” asked Dickens. The man said only, “I am gone,” and died, the white eyes continuing to stare up at the sky from their bloody pools.

She was almost naked, her clothes reduced to a few token strips of bloody cloth dangling like old bandages from her torn flesh. Her left breast was missing. She refused to pause for the writer’s ministrations and did not seem to hear his urgings that she sit down and wait for help. She walked past Dickens in a brisk manner and disappeared into the few trees that grew along the bank. He helped two stunned guards extricate the crushed body of another woman from a flattened carriage and lay the body gently on the bank.

It seemed almost as though I were reading a book that I had written in the future,” he said softly, still turning the watch over and over in his hands. The gold caught the light from the single lamp. “It was a terrible thing… all about a man who mesmerised himself so that he, or his other self created by these mesmeric suggestions, could carry out terrible deeds, unspeakable actions. Selfish, lustful, destructive things that the man—for some reason in the dream I wanted to call him Jasper—would never consciously do.

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