A Deadly Chance by Alex Cage

A Chance Freeman Thriller

Chance Freeman’s Latest Job? Survive.

Chance Freeman is a smooth-talking, no-nonsense retrieval consultant—if you lose something valuable, he’ll get it back… for a price. A former LAPD SWAT officer who operates by his own rules, balancing a life of high-stakes jobs, fast fists, and even faster wit.

But when a routine night at his favorite jazz club turns into something far more dangerous, Chance finds himself in the middle of a deadly game. A mysterious woman, a desperate husband, and a missing persons case that doesn’t add up—before he knows it, Chance is tangled in a web of deceit, murder, and corruption. When his lead turns up dead and a shadowy figure lurks around every corner, Chance realizes this job is bigger than just collecting a paycheck.

From back-alley brawls to high-speed chases, from dirty cops to a conspiracy that runs deep, Chance must use every bit of his experience—his boxing skills, street smarts, and ex-cop instincts—to survive. As the clock ticks down and the bodies pile up, Chance isn’t just looking for a missing woman anymore… he’s fighting to stay alive.

With sharp dialogue, explosive action, and a dash of humor, A Deadly Chance is a heart-pounding thriller that will keep readers on the edge of their seats until the very last page.

Who can Chance trust? Who is pulling the strings? And will he make it out in one piece? There’s only one way to find out.

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Excerpt from A Deadly Chance © Copyright 2025 Alex Cage

CHAPTER 1

The first time I saw her, I was sitting at a bar top, ordering hot wings, crinkle cut fries, and a club soda with grapefruit juice. The jazz club’s door opened, and she floated across the floor toward me. Sounds from the saxophone, guitar, and piano all dampened as she approached. It was hard to take my eyes away from her. She wore a v-neck, navy-colored wrap midi dress with a slit. Sparkles emitted from her wrist as light struck her diamond-speckled gold bracelet. I glanced away briefly, but my eyes quickly returned to her alluring strides. We fixed on each other when she reached the empty bar. Her baby brown eyes complemented her mocha skin. She sucked in her lips and smoothed her dress before sitting one stool away from me.

“What can I get you, ma’am?” Robby, the bartender, asked.

“For now, I’ll just have a Coke,” the woman said in a gentle tone which kept the words lingering for seconds after she spoke them.

“You got it,” Robby said before turning away.

He glanced at me while shrugging his lips and nodding. It was a gesture he and I used for years to suggest the appreciation we had for a female’s appearance. The woman’s shoulder-length, curly, natural hair bounced as she adjusted herself on the stool. She brushed a bundle of curls behind her ear, exposing her sharp cheekbone and narrow jawline.

She smiled at me.

I smiled back. “How you doin’?” I asked.

Her eyes widened, and her smile grew. She threw a hand over her mouth as she laughed. A soft, enchanting giggle.

I continued smiling. “Happy my question makes you smile and laugh,” I said. She raised her palm and patted the air between us while continuing to laugh.

“No, no, no,” she struggled to say. “It’s just—you have a unique, deep voice. Has anyone ever told you that you sound like Barry White?”

“I may have heard it a few times,” I said.

Robby settled a napkin and a dew-dripping glass of Coke in front of her. “Sounds like Barry White and would look like him if he wasn’t bald and had more weight on him.”

I pointed my thumb at Robby. “See this?” I said. “I’ve been dealing with it since grade school.”

“So, you two went to school together?” she asked. “Yep. Right here in Tampa,” Robby answered. “Oh, okay.”

“My name’s Robby, by the way. Let me know if you need anything else,” Robby said before looking at me. “Your food will be out shortly, Mr. Barry White. The taller, leaner, bald version.”

She giggled. “You have the voice; you have the full beard. If you had more weight, some hair, and was a little shorter, you could go for Barry White’s son.”

I chuckled, then smiled.

“But,” she continued while fixing on my face, “a bald man with a deep voice is a weakness of mine.”

“You don’t say,” I said, leaning toward her. “Because a mocha woman with natural hair and full lips, filling a dress like the one you’re wearing, is a weakness of mine.”

She glanced away and gently traced her hand down the side of her neck. “You use that line before?” she asked.

“I was just gonna ask you the same thing.”

We laughed. I was just about to hit her with one of my best lines, but my phone

rang.

“One sec,” I told her before removing my phone.

The screen showed a missed call from Keith, my cousin. Not a very close cousin,

but close enough to where he felt comfortable calling me when he needed something. Yeah, I was sure he needed something and it could wait, so I figured I’d just call him back later.

“Sorry about that,” I said to the woman, placing the phone back inside my pocket. “Now, where were we?”

“You were telling me how you used that same full lips, filling a dress line on other women.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “I think we moved past that,” I said, half-smiling. She cocked her head to the side playfully. “Did we?” she asked.

My phone rang again, Keith’s number on the screen.

I sighed. “I’m gonna take this,” I said before slowly looking her up and down. “Don’t wanna but have to.”

“Okay.”

She smiled and kept her eyes on me as I stood and made my way toward the same door she used to enter. I stepped outside onto the sidewalk and under the cloud- blotted night sky. Pedestrians hoofed the sidewalk and cars whizzed past on the street. I found a spot near the jazz club’s entrance and leaned against the wall.

“Yeah, Keith?” I said with the phone to my ear. “Hi, cuz, I need a favor.”

I rolled my eyes. “Naw, really? Here I am thinking you were just calling to check on me.”

“You got jokes, but I’m serious, man.” “I was in the middle of sumpin’.” “Look, it’s a job.”

“You know I don’t like doing jobs for family.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you’re the best at what you do, and this one could be a nice payday.”

I sighed but said nothing.

“You’ca put it toward that downtown condo you been saving for.”

I inhaled, then slowly exhaled, hoping I wouldn’t regret what I was about to do. “What is it? And it betta not be nothing shady,” I said.

“No—well, it’s a watch.” “A wristwatch?”

“A Rolex. Uncle Eugene gave it to me.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow. “Rich Uncle Eugene? I haven’t seen him in years. Not since he left Florida. Why would he give you that?”

“He gave it to me when I went to visit him a little while back.” “You hustled it from him?”

“No, no, promise. He told me I can have it and sell it, or do whatever I wanted with it, I promise.”

“Uh-huh. How much is the watch worth?” I asked.