Jackson Rule
Chapter One
The urge to run was overwhelming. But Andrew
Jackson Rule had not survived the past fifteen years in
a maximum security prison by running, and so he
walked through the last set of locked gates leading to
the outside world as if he didn't care that this was the
first breath of free air he would be taking since his sixteenth
birthday.
The security guard accompanying him seemed jittery.
Jackson knew that he'd garnered a reputation inside
for being a hard-ass. But he didn't care. It had
kept him alive and more or less in one piece, if you
didn't count the scars, both inner and outer, that he
was taking with him.
Jackson Rule had been convicted of only one crime,
but it had been an unforgivable act against God and
society -- even in the minds of the most hardened of
inmates -- and one to which he had calmly confessed
without blinking an eye.
Finally, they were at the gate. The guard paused,
eyeing Jackson Rule's new denim pants and jacket --
compliments of the state of Louisiana -- and the plain white T-shirt he wore beneath it. He glanced down at
Jackson's shiny new boots and then handed him the
duffel bag containing all of his worldly possessions.
"Here you go, Rule. Don't forget to write," the
guard said ... read full excerpt from: Jackson Rule ebook
