Outrun the Night

By Daniel M. Sharpe

The flickering neon lights of the sleepless city do little to illuminate the shadowy truth as Michael finds himself ensnared in a complex web of lies. What begins as a routine investigation into a security breach for an old friend quickly descends into a maze of deception and danger. When the case turns deadly and claims his most trusted confidant as an unintended casualty, Michael takes the law into his own hands to enact revenge, whatever the cost.

Meanwhile, across the seductive neon sprawl, Jack slips seamlessly between personas to orchestrate daring heists and perilous jobs. His latest target—a covert data theft at the impenetrable RLK Aeronautics. As Michael relentlessly hunts for clues that plunge him deeper into the city's corrupt underworld, Jack meticulously plans and executes the perfect score.

Their paths converge in the darkness of the lonely docks, bringing Michael face-to-face with the thief he's been chasing. Outmatched and consumed by anguish, Michael wages one final confrontation, where deadly secrets and hidden truths surface beneath the pale neon glow. But amidst the raw emotions, double-crosses, and moral ambiguities, no one in this neon-noir thriller is quite who they seem.

When dawn breaks over the glassy harbor waters, mysteries remain about the true motivations and identities of those vanished into the night. In this electric thriller where right and wrong blur beneath the neon haze, one thing is certain—justice always comes at a price.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel M. sharpe
• Release date: Jan 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224349982

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The room hung heavy with a smoky haze, its dimly lit corners revealing only fragments of the man hunched on a worn-out couch. Michael, a man in his forties, bore the battle scars of a thousand skirmishes etched across his face and body. Bandages tightly wound around his torso and limbs told the tale of a recent brutal encounter. He cradled a broken glass, the remnants of which clung to his trembling hand as he sipped water with a deliberate, painful slowness.

The only sounds in the room were the rhythmic thump of a malfunctioning smoke alarm and the echoing ring of tinnitus in his ears. The discordant symphony of his surroundings mirrored the turmoil within him. Each thump of the alarm seemed to punctuate the gravity of his situation.

From the shadows, a voice pierced the oppressive silence, a soft but familiar presence that addressed him by name. You should be at the hospital, Michael.

His face contorted with grief as the voice reached his ears, a reminder of the concern that always lingered around him. Taking another sip of water, he hoped to drown the pain, both physical and emotional. I'm fine, he replied, his voice carrying the weight of stubborn pride. I can't.

THE WOMAN, HER FORM obscured in the dimness, stepped over a mess of files and folders strewn about the floor, approaching him cautiously. She perched on the edge of her cluttered desk, her presence a soothing balm amidst the chaos. What happened? Her words were soft and gentle, a beacon of compassion in the desolation of that room.

He rubbed his temples with his fingers, his head throbbing with agony. He could feel her presence just behind him, the weight of her gaze, the concern emanating from her in waves. My head hurts, he finally admitted in a reluctant whisper that betrayed vulnerability.

She didn't push, didn't demand. Instead, she leaned closer, her hand reaching out to rub his tense shoulders. Her touch was a lifeline in that sea of pain and darkness. Just tell me what happened, she urged, her voice mellifluous and understanding.

He took a deep breath, gulping air as if it were the elixir of life itself. Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, he recounted the events that had led him to this battered state. The room seemed to hold its breath; shadows shifting in an eerie, otherworldly dance as he delved into his story.

Well, I guess it all started last Monday, Michael began, his voice wavering ever so slightly as he struggled to maintain his composure. The shadows cast by the neon lights from outside danced across his face, highlighting the lines etched by years of seeking justice in an unjust world.

With a heavy sigh, his mind wandered back to the fateful morning, recalling the details as if they were happening right before his eyes. He remembered the familiar weight of his briefcase in hand, the click of polished shoes striking the concrete floor beneath him, and the way the neon glow from the city seeped through the frosted glass of his office door.

Like any other Monday, I arrived at the office around ten in the morning, Michael continued, emphasizing the familiarity of the situation. His eyes narrowed as he mentally retraced his steps, playing out the scene.

Upon opening the door, a pleasant aroma greeted him—freshly brewed coffee permeating the air. He took a moment to appreciate the comforting smell, knowing all too well how important it was to find solace in the small things.

Inside, Cheryl, his secretary and confidant, sat at her desk, auburn hair cascading over her shoulders as she focused on sorting through the day's mail. The orderly tumult of her workspace stood in stark contrast to the brooding ambiance of the surroundings. Her captivating green eyes darted from one envelope to another, fingers deftly arranging each piece into its designated pile.

Good morning, he said, offering a curt nod as he closed the door behind him. The neon glow from outside now faintly illuminated the office, casting an atmospheric hue over the scene.

Morning, Cheryl replied in their typical morning interaction. Her voice was a symphony of warmth and enthusiasm, a cozy melody amidst the cold reality of their profession.

Coffee is on your desk, she informed him, attentiveness to his preferences shining through. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air, a pleasant reminder of the little comforts that made their work environment feel like a sanctuary amidst the city's chaos.

Thank you, Michael replied, making his way toward his office. The familiar surroundings evoked a sense of calm, the dark wood paneling and moody lighting offering refuge from the harsh realities he often faced. As he settled into his chair, he couldn't help but express his appreciation for the woman who had become an integral part of his life. What would I do without you? He asked rhetorically, a hint of warmth seeping into his otherwise serious tone.

Cheryl smiled at his words, a brightness in her eyes that seemed to chase away the shadows, if only for a moment. She knew how much her support meant to him, and it filled her with a sense of purpose and pride.

He leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to the challenges that awaited them in the day ahead. Glancing out the window, where a pair of pigeons amusingly fought over a half-eaten doughnut on the street below, it was an absurd sight, one that momentarily pulled him from the heavy weight of his responsibilities.

The small yet poignant interaction between Michael and Cheryl served as a reminder that amidst the grit, sleaze, and unhinged chaos of their world, there could still be moments of humor and genuine connection. And as they continued to walk the fine line between darkness and light, they knew they could rely on each other.

The neon glow of the city seeped through the window blinds, casting eerie shadows across the polished hardwood floor of his office. He sat behind his sizeable desk, its dark mahogany surface an island of order in a sea of gritty uncertainty. Staring at the steaming cup of coffee in front of him, its aroma filling the air with comforting familiarity, he couldn't help but feel grateful for Cheryl's unwavering support, a constant amidst the unpredictable nature of their work.

Y'KNOW, HE BEGAN, swirling the coffee in his mug as his thoughts took on a contemplative tone, if it weren't for you, I'd probably be... He trailed off, trying to find the right words to convey his sentiment.

Broke and... Cheryl interjected with a playful glint in her captivating green eyes, leaning against the doorframe that separated their two domains. Broke and kinda smelly, she finished, grinning widely as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Michael let out a small chuckle, momentarily abandoning his serious demeanor in response to her witty remark. Despite the darkness that often enveloped their world, they found solace in these shared moments of humor and camaraderie.

Perhaps there's some truth to that, he conceded, raising his eyebrows as a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. For a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift ever so slightly, allowing a rare glimpse into the man behind the stoic exterior.

Cheryl returned his smile, her expression softening as she recognized the impact of their banter on Michael's mood. She knew that these fleeting moments of levity were essential for maintaining their sanity amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

With a shake of his head, Michael refocused his attention on the task at hand, his thoughts returning to the cases they were working on. As he did so, Cheryl silently retreated to her desk, her fingers dancing gracefully over the envelopes, her keen eyes scanning each one with practiced efficiency. With every piece sorted or discarded, her movements were a symphony of precision and purpose.

Watching her hands work diligently through the remaining envelopes, Michael allowed his thoughts to drift momentarily again toward the pigeons outside, now bickering over a new morsel. Despite the absurdity of their antics, a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, a subtle reminder that life continued its unpredictable dance beyond these walls..

A soft hum emanated from the neon sign outside Michael's office, casting a dim glow that filtered through the blinds and mingled with the low light of his desk lamp. Seated in his leather chair, surrounded by stacks of paperwork teetering precariously on the edge of chaos, Michael's mind wandered beyond the confines of his office, lost in the contemplation of nature's beauty as it clawed its way through the cracks of the concrete jungle.

A sharp knock at the door jolted Michael from his thoughts, yanking him back to the unforgiving demands of his job. As the door reluctantly creaked open, it unveiled Cheryl's auburn locks and piercing green eyes, etched with worry.

Hey, are you okay? she asked, her voice a cozy symphony of concern.

Michael blinked away the remnants of his daydream, his jaw setting with determined resolve. I'm alright, thank you, he replied, the words measured.

Cheryl's gaze lingered on him for a moment, and Michael could sense her desire to investigate further. However, she respected his boundaries and refrained from prying. Instead, she offered a small smile before turning to leave.

Are you in the mood for some coffee? he asked, standing up from his chair and trying to hide his distraction. He hoped the offer would quell Cheryl's concern, even if just for a moment

Sure, she replied skeptically, her green eyes rolling slightly as she saw through his attempt at normalcy. But you know that isn't going to help anything, right? She stepped out of the office, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more.

Michael, Cheryl called out from the doorway, Her voice exuded the warm and comforting enthusiasm of a trusted friend., It's a call from someone named Parker. She gestured at the phone on his desk, emphasizing the importance of the call with a slight arch of her eyebrow.

Park... Parker? Michael's eyes widened with surprise. I haven't talked to Parker in... it must have been at least ten years. The realization weighed heavily on his mind.

Cheryl watched Michael's reaction closely, her captivating green eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern. Sensing his need for guidance, she chimed in with practical information. Line two, she replied, pointing to the phone keypad.

Michael acknowledged her with a silent nod, his finger hovering over the button labeled 'line two,' hesitating briefly before descending to the desired contact. A wellspring of anticipation surged within him, the enigmatic call from the past rekindling emotions that had long lain dormant in the recesses of his memory.

Thanks, Cheryl, Michael replied, his voice betraying an edge of curiosity. He reached for the phone, his hand steady despite the maelstrom of emotions brewing beneath the surface. With a deep breath, he picked up the receiver and greeted Parker in a cheerful voice, Hello, Parker.

Michael, Parker began, his assertive tone reflecting his military background and no-nonsense approach to life. I'd like to meet you for lunch and discuss a discrete job.

The words hung in the air like smoke, thick with intrigue and shrouded in uncertainty. Amidst the garish visuals of his office, Michael felt an unhinged energy stir within him, propelling him forward into the unknown. And yet, beneath it all lay a glimmer of hope, a chance to reconnect with a former ally and perhaps find some semblance of balance amidst the moral complexities of his world.

Alright, Parker, Michael responded, his voice steady and deliberate despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. Let's meet at Jade Dragon Noodle Emporium down on Ninth Street. Do you think 12:30 will work?

Sounds good, Parker replied, his response reflecting his preference for brevity and directness in speech.

As the line went dead, Michael leaned back in his chair, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon him. His mind raced with questions, curiosity gnawing at the edges of his consciousness like an unrelenting itch. What could Parker possibly want after all these years? And why now?

As he sunk into his leather chair, the scent of old books and worn leather enveloping him, Michael couldn't help but reflect on Parker's lack of inquiry about his well being after all these years. It gnawed at him, like an itch he couldn't quite reach. He frowned, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the desktop. Was Parker really that callous? Or did the need for discretion supersede any attempts at catching up?

The silence of the room pressed down upon him, suffocating his thoughts as they tangled themselves into knots. Perhaps it was unfair to judge Parker so harshly by a single omission, but their past was not one to be taken lightly. A part of Michael wanted to dismiss Parker as a jerk, but something nagged at the back of his mind, whispering that there was more to this reunion than met the eye.

In his peripheral vision, Michael glimpsed Cheryl, bent over her computer, her fingers a whirlwind as she delved into the virtual domain in pursuit of answers. Their camaraderie's warmth provided a reassuring mooring amidst the surrounding sea of uncertainty.

Cheryl! he called out, his voice a clarion call slicing through the haze of memory. What did you find on Parker?

Give me a second! Cheryl shouted back from her desk in the reception area. The sound of her fingers tapping away at the keyboard filled the air, creating a rhythm that anchored Michael to the present.

Michael's eyes darted over the paperwork strewn across his desk, but it couldn't hold his attention. Instead, he found himself drawn to the cityscape beyond his window—a chaotic tapestry of neon lights, shadows, and frenetic energy. Amid this urban jungle, his sanctuary provided a respite from the madness outside.

Okay, here you go, Cheryl announced as she breezed into his office, clutching a printout. Her green eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement. So, our dear Mr. Parker left the military a few years back and landed a job at RLK Aeronautics. Now, he's head of security at their research and development facility near the port.

Interesting, Michael mused, taking the paper from Cheryl and scanning its contents. His mind raced with possibilities, each more intriguing than the last. What could Parker possibly want from him after all these years? And what did his new career have to do with it?

Very interesting indeed, he added, a hint of anticipation creeping into his voice. It was clear that this reunion would be anything but ordinary, and Michael found himself oddly invigorated by the prospect.

Something tells me you're not just meeting for lunch to catch up on old times, Cheryl opined, her tone playful yet shrewd. I bet there's more to this than meets the eye.

Perhaps, Michael conceded with a wry smile. But for now, all we can do is wait and see what Parker has in store.

True, Cheryl agreed, giving him an encouraging nod.

As she turned to leave, Hey Cheryl, Michael called out as she was about to exit his office. She paused her hand on the doorknob and turned around with a questioning look in her eyes.

Anything else I should know about Parker's recent history? he inquired, wanting to be as prepared as possible for their meeting.

Cheryl tilted her head, pondering for a moment before responding. Well, there have been rumors about some high-stakes projects going on at that research facility. Some say its innovative technology, others claim it's borderline illegal. But nothing's been confirmed, so take it with a grain of salt.

Interesting, Michael mused, filing away this tidbit of information in the back of his mind. It was always best to keep an ear to the ground, even if the whispers didn't always hold up under scrutiny.

Alright, thanks again, he said, offering her a grateful smile. Cheryl returned the gesture before finally stepping out of his office, leaving him to his thoughts once more.

As Michael sat at his desk, the room bathed in gentle, muted light, he grappled with a mix of eagerness and trepidation. He sensed that his impending reunion with Parker held the potential to unveil secrets with profound implications. However, he also knew that pursuing the truth, no matter how convoluted or disconcerting it might be, defined his very existence.

Michael, Cheryl called from the reception area, her voice a warm breeze that carried a hint of concern. Before you go rushing off to meet Parker, maybe you should change into something more... appropriate?

He glanced down at his rumpled clothing; the fabric was creased and worn from hours hunched over his desk. She had a point. What do you suggest? he asked, arching an eyebrow.

Your gray suit from last year's birthday party, she replied, green eyes sparkling with mischief. It makes you look dashing, and it'll certainly impress Parker.

Ah, yes. The suit that nearly suffocated me in its tight embrace, Michael quipped, rolling his eyes playfully. A fine choice, indeed.

Come on, now. It wasn't that bad, Cheryl chided. Besides, I've seen you handle much worse during your military days.

True, he conceded, his mind momentarily drifting back to those chaotic times. But I'd rather not relive them while trying to enjoy a leisurely lunch with an old friend.

Old friend? Cheryl echoed, a sly smile playing on her lips. Were you not just thinking he was somewhat of a jerk?

Guilty as charged, Michael admitted, chuckling softly. However, it seems only fair to give him a chance to redeem himself, don't you think?

Very generous of you, she remarked, a playful glint in her eye. Now go home and get changed. And don't forget to bring me back some noodles!

Okay, Cheryl, Michael said, adjusting the strap of his briefcase on his shoulder. Keep things in check while I'm out, alright?

Deal, Cheryl responded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Just make sure you don't get into any trouble out there.

Michael feigned innocence, raising an eyebrow. Me? I'm the embodiment of caution and decorum.

Cheryl chuckled, shaking her head. Your office would beg to differ, but that's why we make an excellent team.

Grateful for Cheryl's unwavering support, Michael grinned. He glimpsed his reflection in the hallway mirror as he turned to leave dark circles beneath his eyes, a testament to the burdens he carried.

See you later, Cheryl, he murmured, pushing open the hefty wooden door and stepping into the bustling city streets.

Amid the cacophony of Lenoir City's neon-lit dreams, Michael emerged from his office building, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the bustling street for a taxi. The briny scent of the nearby harbor mingled with the aroma of sizzling street food, awakening his senses to the vibrant urban tapestry before him.

Damn it, Michael muttered under his breath, watching another cab pass by without stopping. Finally, a taxi swung to the curb, its tires screeching against the pavement, beckoning Michael inside.

Where to? the driver asked, his eyes darting to meet Michael's in the rearview mirror.

312 Oceanview Drive, please, Michael responded, his voice firm and authoritative, betraying none of his inner urgency. As the taxi weaved through the pulsating heart of the city, Michael mulled over his past interactions with Parker, wondering what his former comrade had in store for him.

Upon arriving at his apartment building, Michael threw a few crumpled bills at the driver, not bothering to wait for his change. He hastened towards the entrance, his polished shoes tapping rhythmically on the pavement, each step echoing his growing anticipation.

The foyer of the building was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the garish kaleidoscope outside. Michael's footsteps echoed in the marbled expanse as he hurried across the floor. The elevator doors slid open with a muted hiss, revealing the narrow confines of the lift. Michael entered and pressed the button for the third floor, his reflection flickering in the brushed steel as the doors closed. The ascent was smooth, the hum of the motor barely audible, but it did little to quell the restless energy coursing through him.

Going up, Michael muttered under his breath, his thoughts already racing ahead to the meeting with Parker. What could be so important that it warranted a face-to-face encounter after all these years?

The elevator dinged softly, signaling its arrival on the third floor, and Michael stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. The smell of old carpet and polished wood hung heavy in the air, clinging to each surface like an unseen layer of grime. He strode purposefully along the corridor, his shoes thudding against the worn floorboards beneath the threadbare carpet.

Apartment 311 loomed before him, the peeling numbers on the door standing out like a beacon in the gloom. With practiced ease, Michael inserted the key into the lock and twisted it, the tumblers clicking into place with mechanical precision. He pushed open the door, its well-oiled hinges offering no resistance, and crossed the threshold into his sanctuary.

Michael took a deep breath. The lingering scent of the ocean breeze wafted through Michael's apartment as he stepped inside, momentarily pushing aside the weight of anticipation and curiosity that clung to him like a second skin. He closed the door behind him, sealing off the outside world and its cacophony of sounds from Lenoir City's vibrant streets.

Alright, he muttered, slipping off his shoes with practiced ease. The simple ritual marked a transition from work attire to something more appropriate for the occasion that lay ahead. His socked feet padded silently across the hardwood floor, making their way toward the bedroom where he hoped to find the outfit that would set the tone for his meeting with Parker.

Gray suit... gray suit... he mumbled under his breath, surveying the organized chaos of his closet. The hangers swayed gently as he sifted through them, each one whispering secrets of past events and encounters. It was then that his fingers brushed against the cool plastic sheath encasing the very suit he sought. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a rare moment of triumph in an otherwise uncertain day.

Ah, there you are, Michael said, plucking the suit from its resting place. The dry cleaner's