Irreparable Harm (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 1)
Melissa F. Miller
Meet pint-sized firecracker Sasha McCandless in the gripping debut from USA TODAY Bestselling Author Melissa F. Miller.
After eight long years, attorney Sasha McCandless is about to make partner at a prestigious law firm. All she has to do is keep her head down and her billable hours up.
When a plane operated by her client slams into the side of a mountain, killing everyone aboard, Sasha gears up to defend the inevitable civil lawsuits. She soon realizes the crash was no accident: a developer has created an application that can control a commercial plane's onboard computer from a smartphone.
Sasha joins forces with a federal air marshal, and they race to prevent another airline disaster. But when people close to the matter start turning up dead, Sasha must rely on both her legal skills and her Krav Maga training to stop the madman before he kills her.
walk into a moneyed attorney’s office, full of dark, gleaming wood, oriental carpet, loads of bookshelves and gold-framed certificates, diplomas, and pictures of the neglected family. Something in keeping with the décor of Caroline’s space and the rest of the firm. But Cinco’s office was one of a kind. The walls were painted bright orange and there was not a diploma, certificate, or family portrait to be seen. A single piece of art hung on the long wall to the right of the door. It was an
should go get some air. He agreed right away. Like, no problem. Brought his beer bottle with him. Once we were outside behind the house, he smashed it against the wall and just lunged at me. He was a madman, slashing at me, screaming that I was trying to move in on his action. To this day, I’ve never seen anything like it. Some of the fraternity brothers ran out and wrestled him off me. Got me to the hospital. I needed forty-two stitches. Lost a ton of blood.” Mickey shook his head like he was
Irwin’s house Jerry Irwin was packing his overnight bag when the cell phone rang. He looked over at the nightstand to see which of his disposable phones it was. Pittsburgh. Where the hell was Gregor? He hadn’t even called in with a progress report. He folded his long-sleeved polo shirt and put it down on top of the bed. “What is it?” he snapped. “Don’t take that tone with me.” Irwin sighed. Two more days, he told himself. Just two more days of suffering this insufferable bitch. “I
they paid them nonetheless. Gregor had begun finding creative ways to add charges with his own customers, and they, too, just dug deeper into their wallets. Gregor stepped out of the car and into the parking lot. He went around to the trunk and stood back about a foot and a half. Popped the trunk with the button on the key fob and waited. As the trunk lifted up in a slow smooth motion, the guy sprang up and shined a flashlight right in Gregor’s face. He blinked and took a step back. The guy
Patriotech-issued smartphone.” Vivian glared at Irwin. “Good job getting the files back, Jerry,” she said through clenched teeth. “Actually, Sasha figured out which planes were modified before we ever got Warner’s files.” Connelly told her. “Using your files.” Sasha repeated her question, waving the gun for emphasis. “Who lined up Calvaruso and Jones?” “I did,” Irwin said. “Vivian used her connection with Laura . . .” “Laura Peterson?” “Yes, she’s on the board of the cancer center. Vivian