#BookQW word is DRINK-- excerpt from Unholy Alliance, a #Tirgearr Publishing #RomanticSuspense --

Book quote Wednesday's word is drink.  

Here's how we play it-- find the word in an excerpt.  Below in Unholy Alliance, the hero and heroine realize they're after the same psychopath, Seamus McGinn. She wants to find her sister.  He wants to find the killer.

“You and I have a win-win situation. We’re after the same killer.” Whew. She fanned her face with her hand.

“Seamus McGinn,” he said. “From now on, we’re partners.”  

“I drew a composite sketch of him.” She retrieved it from a drawer under the counter. “I showed this to a dockworker. He sees him once in a while.” Time stood still as he looked over her sketch.

“Good likeness except for the eyes.  Not quite so round.”

“It’s hard to draw hollow eyes. His grin was nuclear.  Not good nuclear.  Hiroshima cruel.” She closed her eyes for a few erratic heartbeats, struggling to rein in her fear. She was a running engine going nowhere and not cooling down.

“Come here.” He tugged her close. “A dockworker saw him, where?”

She rocked forward into his arms, drawn to him by physics or hormones or old fashion need. “At a strip club off the Pacific Coast Highway on Cherry Avenue.”

“Well, hot damn, zip code 90813.  Population is dangerous.” He kissed her forehead, stepped back and gazed into her eyes.

“I can’t promise he’ll be there. Want to go with me tonight?” She took a drink of tea but had a hard time swallowing. She pictured Vivienne hurt and alone. Tears came from dread, but she kept them at bay.

“Can I pick you up at ten?”

“I’ll be ready.” She twisted in her chair. “Just wondered. Dr. Winter taught classes in rooftop gardening. I took his online class. Why would his laptop be important?”

“His research centered on enriching soil in poor countries.”

“So that crops flourish,” she said but waited for the shoe to drop.

“He made a discovery. Farmers who grow sorghum—“

“—for livestock.”

He nodded. “The compound improved clay and sandy soil.”

“Did something go wrong?”

“Not for the poor soil. It did for rich loamy soil. When added to fertilizer and spread on nitrogen-rich soil, toxins flourish.  Livestock die. People who ingest the meat die.”

“No.” She threw up her hands. “His formula is on his laptop.”

“It’ll be sold to the highest bidder.” He paused. “The highest bidder is a terrorist who kills for the sake of killing.”

“The richest soil in the United States is in the heartland.” Her heart pounded like a ticking clock. “Midwestern cattle farms are the target.”

“You have good instincts. Let’s find McGinn before millions die of poisoned beef.” He raised his eyebrow in silent question. “If Vivienne is with him, you’ll find her.”