Sex. Money. Power. Control. Benjamin wants it all.
He is Bennie, a loving husband and father; Benjie, a beloved son. He climbs the ladder as Ben, a corporate banker, and rakes in money as a bestselling author. And when he wants to escape it all, Benjamin styles himself as Jamie — the lover of a beautiful musician.
His life, in a word, is perfect. But after years of keeping his separate personae a secret, cracks begin to appear in the façade.
When an unexpected series of events topples Benjamin’s carefully crafted world, his separate lives collide with dire consequences.
Ring Fenced is on an Amazon Countdown Promotion – selling at 99c /99p from 11-15 Sept 2019
Author Bio –
Having the background of a successful career in commerce and finance, Zach Abrams has spent many years writing reports, letters and presentations and it’s only fairly recently he started writing novels. “It’s a more honourable type of fiction,” he declares.
Writer of the Alex Warren Murder Mystery series, set in Scotland, Zach has also written the psychological thriller ‘Ring Fenced’ and the financial thriller ‘Source’, as well as collaborating with Elly Grant on a book of short stories.
Zach is currently producing a non-fiction series to help small businesses -using the collective title ‘Mind Your Own Business’. The first, ‘So, You Think You Want to be a Landlord’ is already available.
Social Media Links –
Website : http://zachabrams.wix.com/zach-abrams
Excerpt Ring Fenced for Seansbookreviews
Benjamin, in the guise of Bennie, returns home to find his wife, Natasha, distraught. This excerpt has Natasha confiding about her being blackmailed by a former boyfriend
“It happened this afternoon. I’d driven into the shopping centre in Barnet. I bumped into him there. At first I was so pleased to see him. His name’s Clive Richardson. He seemed so happy to meet me too. We hadn’t seen each other since university. We decided to go for a coffee to catch up. We went to Starbucks, you know, the big one on the corner. He said he’d forgotten his wallet so I paid, it was only a coffee.” Tash paused to gather her breath and her thoughts of how to speak next, before continuing in a dulled down version of a Tammy style monologue. “We had been close back in second year, very close. It was years before I knew you,” she added apologetically. “We talked about the old days and people we had known together. He asked me about what I was doing now. I told him about us, me and you and the children and everything. He seemed really pleased for me and really interested. He told me he had worked in the City as well but he’d lost his job because of the financial crisis. I noted he wasn’t looking too healthy and he was wearing old worn out clothes. I said I could try and help him. I’d put in a good word for him with you, see if you could help him or point him in the right direction. It happened then. He seemed to change into a different person. He got really nasty. He said he was sure I could do better than that. I didn’t know what he meant. I asked him to explain. He replied ‘the photos’. I still didn’t know what he meant. He said he still had the photos. Then it came back to me. When we were together, there had been a very drunken night after our exams. He had produced a camera and talked me into posing for some saucy photographs. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun but I was naked and holding up my breasts and stuff like that. It was nothing too heavy. I remember seeing them. They weren’t very good photos and I hated seeing myself naked and in those poses but he wanted to show them around and I had to stop him. It wasn’t long afterwards we split up and went our separate ways. Clive could see I now knew what he was talking about and he had this wicked smile, a leer almost. He told me I could help him and give him money. If I did he would give me the photos. He said it looked like I had too much money anyway and he’d help me get rid of some. He told me he thought the pictures were worth twenty grand and he’d get that much, one way or another. He said if I didn’t pay him he’d find someone who would. Someone who would print the photos and he said I wouldn’t like that. He picked up a newspaper from the next table and ripped off a corner and wrote down his mobile number on it and then pressed it into my hand. He said I was to call him when I had the money organised but I’d better be quick. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to get away. I ran to the car. I drove away and just drove around for ages. I didn’t want to see anyone or let anyone see me. I drove until it was time to collect the kids. I bought them food and then I brought them home and stuck them in front of the T.V. and just left them there to take care of themselves. I just couldn’t think. How could he do that to me? I feel like I’ve been assaulted. I feel so violated.”
Bennie kept hold of her hands and thought carefully before asking, “Did you sign a release?”
“Did you sign a release? Did he ask you to sign a release to give him permission to use the photos?”
“No, of course not, why would I?”
Bennie ignored her irritation and persisted, “Now think carefully; did he ever, at any time, ask you to sign any paper, for anything you didn’t know or understand at the time?”
Realising now what he meant, Tash took longer to consider this time, before answering, “No, I’m sure I never signed anything.”
“Right. It’s all okay. Everything will be alright but now I need to do some research. I want you to tell me everything you know about him and then give me half an hour to check out a few things.”
She took time to remember and then tell everything she could think of about Clive and gave a full recollection of everything he had told her today.
Bennie went over to the drinks cabinet, took out a bottle of Remy Martin and poured a large measure into a brandy glass before handing it to her. “Sip on that,” he said. He switched on the television and turned to a channel showing a game show, hoping it might distract her attention while he attended to other matters.
Bennie went to his office and fired up the computer and set to work. He returned no more than thirty minutes later and gave her a reassuring hug, saying, “That was very productive, we’ve got the bastard. It’s amazing what you can find out in only a few minutes by just using Facebook and Google. It must be easy money being a private detective these days. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got it all covered and he’s a dead man.”