Fighting Dirty – Cover Reveal

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Fighting Dirty

by J.C. Valentine
Blind Jacks MC, #2
Publication Date: February 22, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, MC Romance, Biker

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SYNOPSIS:

What happens when an outlaw biker’s obsession puts him between a beautiful nurse and her vicious stalker?

Ryder

When a brutal attack sent him rolling into a beautiful nurse’s life on a gurney, the chance encounter seemed like a dream come true. She patched him up and gave him a reason to believe in love again, shining light into his dark and dangerous world.

There’s only one problem… She’s on the run from a violent past that’s about to catch up with her in the form of an ex-husband who’s used to getting what he wants, no matter what stands in his way. It might get him killed, but Ryder’s never backed down from a fight, and this is one he’s determined to win.

Tiffany

Starting over isn’t easy. Years of learning new towns, new people, and new jobs have left Tiffany tired, lonely, and ready to give up. Until a hot, sexy, bad-boy biker barreled into her life and she fell…hard. Latching onto the over-protective biker seemed like a good way to escape her daunting past, but life is never that simple.

Club life isn’t what Tiffany imagined it to be, and she soon realizes that her hot new man has a long and wild history that may be more than she bargained for. Between the women and rumors of violence, she finds herself caught between a psychotic ex bent on her destruction and the man who isn’t what she thought him to be. When things quickly begin to unravel, Tiffany doesn’t know who to trust or where to turn.

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EXCERPT: READ CHAPTER ONE BELOW!

Hearing a gunshot, Tiffany ran to her vehicle and grabbed her medical bag from the back. Racing back in the direction the sound originated from, she was intercepted by one of the brothers and hustled into the MC clubhouse instead. Clutching her soft-sided first-aid bag, she came to a staggering stop inside the back room.

The sight unfolding in front of her was nothing short of alarming. Ace was lying on his back across a pool table, and Ryder was standing over him, plugging a hole in his thigh with a pool stick. The table was covered copious amounts of blood, and if that wasn’t bad enough, black bats and Halloween streamers hung down around the arguing pair, like a not-so-funny comic backdrop.

Stumbling over a hay bale, she ignored the pumpkin that went rolling off to the side and slid to a stop beside the pool table. “This is not proper compression procedures for a wound, babe,” she chided Ryder.

Jerking open her bag, Tiffany snapped on a pair of rubber gloves before shooting the love of her life another disapproving glare. “Why in the hell did you take the first-aid class, if you weren’t going to take it seriously?”

Jerking back, Ryder stared at her indignantly. “Don’t look at me like that, doll. I tried to push on it with both hands, but the blood wouldn’t stop gushing out all over the damn place. The stupid fucker’s got abnormal goblin blood or some shit. I swear, it was fightin’ to get out of his body. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Pluggin’ the damn hole up is the only thing that worked.”

Tiffany shook her head and mumbled, “Yea, you’re a freaking hero, babe.”

Quickly pulling out a sterile pad and some clamps, she climbed onto the table to have a look for herself. Pulling slightly at the skin around the pool stick caused blood to pool again, and Ace groaned in pain.

“It sounds like the bullet may have nicked a secondary artery. You’re simply compressing the artery at the injury site. Plug it with your finger next time.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

Unsure exactly what was up with the stubborn set of Ryder’s jaw, Tiffany insisted again, “I’m serious. It’s less likely to damage the artery and soft tissue.”

His face contorted into an expression of absolute disgust. Jesus, what was his problem?

“You gotta be kidding me, doll. I ain’t about to stick my finger in some dude I don’t even like.” Her big, beautiful biker was looking at her as if she was ten kinds of crazy.

Ace’s furious voice filled the air as his hands white-knuckled the sides of the pool table. “Fuck you, man. I don’t even think of you as a brother.”

Ryder smacked him roughly on the side of the head and bent down to look him in the eye. “Of course, you don’t. You ain’t a brother until you earn your bottom rocker. ‘Til then, you’re just a snot-nosed prospect.”

“I’m the only snot-nosed prospect around here who’s done a dime, so fuck off.”

Climbing up to get a better look, Tiffany scolded the squabbling men. “Knock it off, both of you.” Cutting her eyes up to Ryder, she gentled her voice. “Ease up on the pool stick, baby. I’m going to try and clamp off the artery. This is so far beyond my ability, I don’t even have words…”

The moment he pulled back, a tiny arc of blood squirted from the wound. Using forceps, Tiffany quickly clamped off the artery and got to work stabilizing him for transport to the local emergency room. Her time as an ER nurse came in handy hanging around with this wild bunch of bikers.

Glancing up at Ace’s handsome face, she saw he had three dots tattooed beside one eye and a tiny teardrop inked on his cheek. She vaguely remembered Ryder saying that meant he’d killed someone in prison and led a crazy life. Then again, that statement could pretty much describe every man in the club, including her beloved Ryder.

She frowned as she continued to work on his wound. “I thought you two were finished shooting each other up.”

Ace darted a quick glance from Ryder back to her. Licking his lips, he admitted softly. “I..uh… kind of shot myself.”

Tiffany noticed the little drops of sweat beading up on Ace’s forehead and the tightness around his mouth when he spoke. His gaze slid away she tried to catch his eye.

“Let me guess. You were cleaning your gun, and it accidentally went off.” That was always the story when someone got shot and nobody wanted to give up the details.

Ace’s eyes jerked back up to hers. “Hell no. I pulled the trigger and there was a delayed discharge. I thought it was a misfire. When I brought the gun down to open it up, a bullet came out and hit me in the leg.”

“I see.” Tiffany could almost see imagine like that in her mind’s eye. Since there was a ring of truth to his tone, she let it go and continued cleaning and packing the wound.

“It burns like a bitch.”

Ace’s exasperated words tugged at her heart strings. Since they’d do a drug screen when he hit the emergency room, however, it would not be in his best interest to have illegal pain killers in his system. That meant all she had to offer was empathy and fast transport to a doctor.

“There can be particles of burning and unburned powder embedded in your skin. Gunpowder residue can feel like burning. Because the gun was so close to your body when it discharged, you caught a little more of it than usual this time.”

“Are you gonna stitch me up?”

“Your artery is damaged beyond my ability to repair. You really do need a good surgeon.”

Smiling up at her, Ace’s expression was more like a grimace. “I’d rather you do it. You have a nice touch.”

Ryder cuffed the injured man on the side of his head yet again. “I already told you not to get friendly with my old lady, you stupid fucker.”

Shooting Ryder a frown, Tiffany turned her attention back to Ace. “I’m a registered nurse, not a physician. Now, I know you wouldn’t want the artery to collapse at some point in the future when you’re running for your life, now would you?”

He groaned pitifully when she taped the wound closed over a stack of gauze. “No, ma’am, I sure wouldn’t.”

“Want me to drive you to the hospital?”

Ryder grunted as he jumped down off the table and turned to offer her a hand. “You ain’t driving him anywhere, ‘cause I don’t trust this stupid fucker any farther than I can throw him. I already called for an ambulance.”

Letting Ryder help her back down off the pool table, she didn’t object when he pulled her in for a light peck on the lips. Looking up at him, she smiled. “You two have practically been joined at the hip lately, so I’m not buying all that BS about hating him for a minute.”

Shoving a strand of hair back out of her face, he looked into her eyes. “Don’t act like you know me, baby girl. I’m a dark, mysterious fucker. No woman knows what’s going on inside my head.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled back. “Keep telling yourself that, handsome. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep learning all your secrets.”

“Ain’t no good can come of that, babe.”

Ace’s exasperated voice cut through their conversation. “Hey, there’s a dying man right over here. Any plan for how to deal with that problem, lovebirds?”

Stepping back, Tiffany gestured toward the door. “Go look out for the ambulance and get them in here as soon as possible. I don’t feel comfortable moving him.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Turning to face Ace, Ryder pointed at the man. “Do not touch my pretty little nurse, you filthy fucker.”

Ace immediately reached out and touched her arm with one bloody finger.

Punching the palm of one hand with his fist, Ryder turned to leave, muttering under his breath, “Can’t wait for a certain stupid fucker to get patched up so I can pound him into sawdust.”

Shooting Ace a dark look, Tiffany began tossing the bloodied bandages and ripped packages into a nearby trash can. “You sure do love to keep my man perpetually pissed off at you. Mind if I ask why you do that?”

Easing to a sitting position, he kind of shrugged. “If it weren’t for arguing with the dumb fuck, I’d have no one to talk to.”

Moving to his side and helping him to stand on his good leg, she replied, “That’s not true. I see the other club members talking to you all the time.”

“They talk at me, not to me. I’m the stupid, pathetic fucker wearing the face of a child rapist. Ryder is the only man in this club willing to look me in the face when talks to me. How’s that for fucked up?”

Grabbing her bag, she frowned at him. “You and your brother were twins? I didn’t know that. For some reason, I thought you were older.”

Glancing away, he grunted. “Three and half minutes older and whole fucking lot less of a demented freak. Not that it matters to anyone around these parts.”

A small, timid voice sounded off from the doorway. “It matters to me.”

Turning, Tiffany saw Ryder’s teenage sister standing there in her Halloween outfit. She had dyed her hair black and was wearing a cute, black shirt with long, flowing sleeves, and black jeans. The black witch’s hat sitting proudly on top her head and the wooden, hand-carved wand were the only indicators that she was supposed to be a witch. Tiffany panicked.

“Rose, your parents will not be happy that you came into the clubhouse. You know the rules. Amscray before they find you in here with him.”

Ace rumbled, “Forget her parents. Ryder will lose what little is left of his mind if word gets back to him that his little sister was in here. Turn yourself around, young lady, and head on back out to the barbecue.”

Planting her hands on her hips, Rose stared the huge man down. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m sixteen now.”

“You’ll be a grown up when you’re twenty one. Now get the hell outta here, kid.”

Regardless of the words he chose, Ace’s voice took on a soft quality when he spoke to the teen, and Tiffany realized he was afraid of hurting the her feelings. He refused to look at her as silence spun out between the two of them.

Tiffany didn’t know what to do, and things were already getting absurdly awkward. “Rose, will you see if the ambulance has arrived? They don’t always come in with sirens blaring.”

Nodding, the young teen turned on her heel and walked out the door, her long, brown hair catching the wind and floating behind her like a cape. The sunlight rushed through the door, casting strange, creepy shadows of the Halloween decorations on the floor that slowly diminished as it drifted closed.

Whirling around to look at Ace, Tiffany demanded, “What was that all about?”

Ace huffed. “Who the hell knows. After the shit my brother pulled on her, she needs goddamn therapy, if you ask me. Of course, no one ever asks me shit. Why in the hell do I feel like I could run circles around this building?”

“When the human body sustains serious damage, it releases adrenaline and endorphins to dull the pain and give the person the strength to fight or flee. It’ll wear off before long, and you better pray you are in front of a doctor when it happens, because that’s when the pain kicks in full force.”

“Jesus, you sound like a walking medical encyclopedia.”

Their conversation was interrupted by several volunteers from the local ambulance service barreling through to the door. After checking Ace over, and hearing Tiffany’s rundown on what was beneath those bandages, they elected not to tear them off. Loading him carefully onto a stretcher, they eased him into the back of a waiting ambulance. It all happened so quickly, Tiffany didn’t have time to ask to go, leaving her behind with worry niggling at the back of her mind that the clamp would fail, and he’d bleed out if the EMS workers weren’t real careful.

Watching the oversized vehicle kick up dust as it made its way up the long, dirt road, Tiffany wondered if they were taking him to a hospital or some local doctor. If he went to the hospital, law enforcement would automatically be called because it was a gunshot wound. She didn’t think the club would welcome getting questioned by the police. Private physicians were more discriminating, and the more rural ones usually only called if they suspected foul play. It didn’t really matter, though, since he hadn’t nicked the femoral artery. As long as he got treatment by an actual physician, she suspected he’d be just fine.

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READ HOW RYDER AND TIFFANY MET IN MARKED FOR DEATH, BOOK #1 IN THE BLIND JACKS MC SERIES!

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AVAILABLE ON ALL PLATFORMS!

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SYNOPSIS:

Tiffany

Leading a nomadic life, I’ve been on the run from my rich ex-husband for years. I’ve learned every trick in the book, staying one step ahead of him and his trackers. He’s taken everything from me, and despite everything, I’ve managed to carve out a life. But he’s getting close again. It’s time to hit the road, to start over…but it looks like the universe has other plans.

Ryder

As Sargent at Arms, stalking the crazy man trying to kill my MC brothers is part of my job description. Protecting the club is what I live for. Unfortunately, today I’m the loser in our never ending game of cat and mouse. The last thing I remember before waking up in the emergency room is staring up at the sky while bleeding out onto the cold, hard pavement. Then the pretty nurse walks in and turns my world sideways, and those soft hands know just how to handle a big, angry biker like me. With a psycho on my tail, the stakes couldn’t be higher. I know I should walk away, but self-preservation has never been much of a strong suit. As my enemy closes in, I’ve got no gun, three bullet holes, and absolutely zero patience left. The question is, who will be the one to sign my death warrant—the crazy-ass biker who’s gunning for me…or the sexy-as-sin nurse I’ve got a hard-on for?

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ABOUT J.C. VALENTINE

J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Trilogy. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.

Living in the Northwest, she has three amazing children and far too many pets. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.

Sign up for J.C.’s newsletter and never miss a thing! https://bit.ly/1KxXWWB

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Breaking Down My Walls – Virtual Blog Tour

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Contemporary Romance
Date Published: November 30, 2017
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After the torment of her childhood, Taya believes in love for everyone … except herself. Some things can’t be untaught.
Beautiful and tough, yet the most private woman anyone has ever met, Taya knows everyone has a past, yet she doesn’t share hers. Her past must remain behind her for her sanity and so the only man she has ever loved will move on with someone who hasn’t been destroyed by those who were supposed to protect her.
Then a threat has her past storming back in and taking over.
After looking into the big, baby blue eyes of the deranged little orphan who was dragged, kicking and screaming, into his home, Levi is determined to be the boy who will teach Taya that not every offered hand will betray her.
Playful and gorgeous, Levi’s first passion is the girl who consumes his heart. His second is serving his country, following in his father’s footsteps. When Levi is deployed overseas, he encourages Taya to spread her wings and pursue her dreams, hoping she will come back to her roots and the man who is waiting for her.
Levi is mistaken.
Taya can’t change who she is and has built a life for herself far away from the only man she will ever love.
Can Levi convince Taya their relationship is worth the fight? Can he force her to overcome her fears and let him in completely? Can Levi prove his love is the freedom she has been searching for?
Levi allowed Taya to control their relationship in the past, but now things have changed. He is taking control back, with or without her consent.

EXCERPT

“I’m really sorry, Levi. Please don’t be mad at me. I know how much you and Gunner have done for me. I wasn’t trying to disrespect either one of you. I swear. It’s just, in the last week and a half, I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster.” Taya stopped talking, hoping he would respond.

He didn’t say a word. Not even the slightest reaction to give her hope.
Nothing.
Instead, Levi turned up the radio. Big mistake. The silence was better than the song. Each word was an attack on their circumstances. “Not Easy” by Alex Da Kid, featuring X Ambassadors, Elle King, and Wiz Khalifa was tormenting the duo.

Life hadn’t been easy for Taya, but Levi had always tried to make sure she always had someone in her court. From day one, he had been the one person who she could always count on. Now, as she sat there in silence, she realized she might have finally pushed him too far. Levi really did have a breaking point, and he had clearly reached it.

Taya started to tear up, her eyes filling to capacity.

Levi had always loved her unconditionally, even with all her faults and weaknesses. It was one of the reasons she wanted him to find someone else, and the reason she had stayed in Toronto. Levi deserved a woman who could love unconditionally, just like him. He deserved a woman who was strong in body and mind. Taya knew she was only strong in body. Her mind was damaged. Even after seventeen years, she still woke up screaming with nightmares.

How many men wanted to make love to a misfit with a haphephobia?

Taya hated that Levi knew the term. Not many people did. But Levi knew it meant she had a rare phobia of touch or being touched that was associated with her PTSD.

Yeah, Levi had respected all her boundaries when they’d had sex in the past, but no man should have to follow such bizarre rules. It was beyond embarrassing and humiliating. She would rather use a vibrator for the rest of her life than condemn him to that kind of relationship.

In sexual relationships, if there was no emotional connection, a man could at least expect a good roll in the sack. Taya couldn’t even offer him that.

As the first of her indignant tears fell, adding to her self-loathing, she lowered her head in shame. She hated to cry. It was a sign of weakness.

Levi watched Taya in the rear-view mirror as the oncoming lights lit up her face and allowed him to see all the emotions play across it. She was breaking his heart, but if he was going to succeed with his plan, he had to learn to suppress his reaction to seeing her hurt.

He stayed strong until he saw her lower her head and a big, fat tear rolled down her cheek. Then his willpower started crumbling.

He chanted to himself to stay strong and keep his eyes on the road, not the rear-view mirror. This was for her own good. He had to face the fact that there were going to be more tears before he could get her to admit the truth.

Levi questioned for the millionth time why she couldn’t show her emotions. He had to get her to open up and share what had happened all those years ago. He had to understand the depth of her captivity.

 

About the Author


Anne Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario, Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart. She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her lifelong dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier then riding on the back of her husband’s Harley and throwing her arms out and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is excited and can’t wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.
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Saving Madeline – Blitz

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Women’s Fiction
Date Published:  May 2017
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On Sale for $1.99 for a Limited Time!!
SAVING MADELINE is unusual, heart-wrenching and humorous. In the beginning, Roxy, a spunky, young actor arrives in Hollywood to follow her dream and escape from her mean-spirited family. When she finds herself coexisting in a cramped Los Angeles apartment with a wounded warrior and her German shepherd, tensions run high. And then her mother moves in—so much for escaping.
Along comes the well-connected acting coach, James Jonathan Jarvis, and Roxy’s big break in showbiz: a part in a reality TV show with a wilderness survival theme. But a week before rehearsals begin, her mother disappears. Roxy’s search leads her close to Montana where she and Madeline become trapped in a real life-and-death situation.
Though bombarded with daily challenges, the women laugh at their frequent calamities, and Roxy’s Hollywood misadventures buffer the troubling glimpses into the world of a woman whose memory is fading.
Excerpt
A short excerpt from the section
Guests Come Knocking
In Saving Madeline
Then Roxy contemplated doing something she’d sworn she would never, ever do. Don’t do it. Do Not Do This! Her palms sweated, her stomached rolled, then taking a deep breath, she did it. She opened the Help Wanted section of a regular newspaper and searched for an ordinary, though flexible, part-time job—just like normal, non-showbiz people did. To her surprise, she spotted two possibilities right away. One involved helping first-year college students revise and edit their failing work from the required course, Writing 101. Piece of cake. She could do that in her sleep. The other required someone capable of assisting a high school aged male with his guitar playing and songwriting.
“Ah, ha!” she declared. Now that was a tasty piece of cake. She wanted that job. Without any hesitation, Roxy made the call, which resulted in an on-the-spot phone interview with a pleasant, friendly woman.
“There is just one more question I must ask,” the woman said after they’d spoken a while. “And I’d like to offer my apology in advance for asking it.”
Roxy waited, curious.
“My son has a thing for starlets, and starlets seem to have a thing for him. Do you consider yourself a starlet?”
Not certain of the meaning or motive of her question, Roxy replied, “What’s a starlet?”
Genuine, hearty laughter traveled across the phone line, followed by, “Perfect. You’re perfect. When can you start?”
* * *
“Hi. You must be Liam,” she said. “Come on in. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?”
“Thanks, man. A beer would be great.”
He was a good-looking young man with short dark hair and eyes to match. She figured he was kidding about the beer because he definitely wasn’t old enough to drink. He was still in high school. So she smiled and played along.
“One beer coming up—right after I check your ID.”
He shot her a look of annoyance. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, but I thought you were joking. You weren’t?”
“Hell, no. Come on. Everybody drinks beer.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Not a problem. Wine, whiskey—I’m not picky.”
The content of this first conversation with her arrogant new student was unbelievable. Was this typical behavior for an L.A. teen, or was she just being a mid-western geek?
She brought him a can of soda and asked him to play something. He didn’t react. She nudged, needing to make this small job a continuing reality. “How long have you been playing guitar?”
He shrugged, reluctant to answer her simple question, so she asked again.
He sipped his soda, looking both bored and annoyed. It was as if he didn’t want to be there, but then with a tilt of his head and one eyebrow slightly raised, he tossed out an answer. “Since I was a kid.”
In her estimation, he still was a kid, albeit an alcohol drinking kid. When he finally freed the Martin guitar from its case and played a few bars, Roxy was blown away. As badly as she needed the cash, she let him know that she wasn’t the right person to advance his guitar playing ability. Between the two of them, he was by far the better musician. His musical talent was amazing.
“That’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m more interested in breaking into show business than I am in upping my guitar skills.”
For now, Roxy kept her thoughts to herself. She could relate to his dream, but she wasn’t the person to help him with that, either. She had no connections, no ‘ins’ when it came to breaking the showbiz code.
She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “So you’re here expecting me to help you break into show business via your songwriting ability?”
“Not exactly.” He gave her a lopsided smile. She gave him a confused frown. “I’m here because my parents are trying to keep me out of trouble. They’ve lined up a bunch of activities to keep me busy. You’re just one of them.” An amused expression flashed across his face. “Hey, since I am here, what do you think of this?” He played a new riff on his guitar. “Are you any good with lyrics? Help me come up with some words to go with that.”
His unique musical style intrigued Roxy. She dug out a notebook and pencil and settled on the floor in front of him. The words and music came together with surprising ease. Or so it seemed. They both agreed they were on to something great and had the beginnings of a real song.
With their first session over, Roxy asked, “Same time next week?”
Placing a few folded bills into her palm, he shrugged. “Sure.”
After her student had managed to shove the ill-fitting door closed, she stood in her living room with her ears ringing from the sudden silence. After spending time creating and playing music with Liam, the apartment felt empty, lonely.  She didn’t like that feeling, but she did like the fact that she held $30 cash in her hand. Cash she had earned.
Expecting to see a twenty and a ten, she sat and stared at the money. The two faces staring back at her belonged to neither Alexander Hamilton nor Andrew Jackson. She stood face-to-face with Ulysses S. Grant times two. One hundred dollars. Was this a mistake? Should she be elated or concerned? Until Roxy learned the truth, she’d consider the extra $70 to be a gift, a bonus for a job well done.
# # #
 
About the Author

Cricket Rohman grew up in Estes Park, Colorado and spent her formative years among deer, coyotes and beautiful blue columbine. Today she is a full-time author writing women’s fiction and mysteries about the cowboys, lovers, teachers, dogs, the great outdoors—even Alzheimer’s. And, so far, there is a dog in every one of her novels.
Book 1 FOREVER ISLAND and Book 2 WINTER’S BLUSH of The Fantasy Maker series, romance novellas, were released November 2017.
The romantic western, COLORADO TAKEDOWN, is scheduled for release early summer of 2018.
Prior to writing, Cricket’s career path included the following adventures: actor, singer, audio/video producer, classroom teacher, school principal, and U of A assistant professor.
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A River of Silence – Blitz

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Mystery
Date Published: January 24, 2018
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
 
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When Detective Winston Radhauser is awakened by a call from dispatch at 12:45a.m., it can mean only one thing—something terrible awaits him. He races to the Pine Street address. In the kitchen, Caleb Bryce, nearly deaf from a childhood accident, is frantically giving CPR to 19-month-old Skyler Sterling. Less than an hour later, Skyler is dead.
The ME calls it a murder and the entire town of Ashland, Oregon is outraged. Someone must be held accountable. The police captain is under a lot of pressure and anxious to make an arrest. Despite Radhauser’s doubts about Bryce’s guilt, he is arrested and charged with first degree murder. Neither Radhauser nor Bryce’s young public defender believe he is guilty. Winston Radhauser will fight for justice, even if it means losing his job.
 

 

Excerpt

 

Prologue
1988
In only eleven minutes, Detective Winston Radhauser’s world would flip on its axis and a permanent line would be drawn—forever dividing his life into before and after. He drove toward the Pima County Sheriff’s office in Catalina, a small town in the Sonoran Desert just twelve miles north of Tucson. Through the CD speakers, Alabama sang You’ve Got the Touch. He hummed along.
He was working a domestic violence case with Officer Alison Finney, his partner for nearly seven years. They’d made the arrest—their collar was sleeping off a binge in the back of the squad car. It was just after 10 p.m. As always, Finney wore spider earrings—tonight’s selection was a pair of black widows he hadn’t seen before.
“You know, Finn, you’d have better luck with men if you wore sunflowers in your earlobes.”
She laughed. “Any guy intimidated by a couple 14-carat web spinners isn’t man enough for me.”
He never missed an opportunity to tease her. “Good thing you like being single.”
The radio released some static.
Radhauser turned off the CD.
Dispatch announced an automobile accident on Interstate 10 near the Orange Grove Road exit. Radhauser and Finney were too far east to respond.
Her mobile phone rang. She answered, listened for a few seconds. “Copy that. I’ll get him there.” Finney hung up, then placed the phone back into the charger mounted beneath the dashboard.
“Copy what?” he said. “Get who where?”
She eyed him. “Pull over. I need to drive now.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What the hell for?”
Finney turned on the flashing lights. “Trust me and do what I ask.”
The unusual snap in her voice raised a bubble of anxiety in his chest. He pulled over and parked the patrol car on the shoulder of Sunrise Road.
She slipped out of the passenger seat and stood by the door waiting for him.
He jogged around the back of the cruiser.
Finney pushed him into the passenger seat. As if he were a child, she ordered him to fasten his seatbelt, then closed the car door and headed around the vehicle to get behind the wheel.
“Are you planning to tell me what’s going on?” he asked once she’d settled into the driver’s seat.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her unblinking eyes never wavered from his. “Your wife and son have been taken by ambulance to Tucson Medical Center.”
The bubble of anxiety inside him burst. “What happened? Are they all right?”
Finney turned on the siren, flipped a U-turn, then raced toward the hospital on the corner of Craycroft and Grant. “I don’t know any details.”
TMC was a designated Trauma 1 Center and most serious accident victims were taken there. That realization both comforted and terrified him. “Didn’t they say the accident happened near the Orange Grove exit?”
“I know what you’re thinking. It must be bad or they’d be taken to the closest hospital and that would be Northwest.” She stared at him with the look of a woman who knew him almost as well as Laura did. “Don’t imagine the worst. They may not have been in a car accident. Didn’t you tell me Lucas had an equestrian meet?”
Laura had driven their son to a competition in south Tucson. Maybe Lucas got thrown. He imagined the horse rearing, his son’s lanky body sliding off the saddle and landing with a thump on the arena floor. Thank God for sawdust. Laura must have ridden in the ambulance with him.
But Orange Grove was the exit Laura would have taken on her drive home. The meet ended at 9:00 p.m. Lucas always stayed to unsaddle the horse, wipe the gelding down, and help Coach Thomas load him into his trailer. About a half hour job. That would put his family near the Orange Grove exit around ten.
The moon slipped behind a cloud and the sudden darkness seemed alive and a little menacing as it pressed against the car windows.
Less than ten minutes later, Finney pulled into the ER entrance and parked in the lot. “I’m coming with you,” she said.
He shot her a you-know-better look, then glanced toward the back seat where their collar was snoring against the door, his mouth open and saliva dribbling down his chin. It was against policy to leave an unguarded suspect in the car.
“I don’t give a damn about policy,” she said.
“What if he wakes up, hitches a ride home and takes out his wife and kids? Put him in the drunk tank. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He ran across the parking lot. The ER doors opened automatically and he didn’t stop running until he reached the desk. “I’m Winston Radhauser. My wife and son were brought in by ambulance.”
The young nurse’s face paled and her gaze moved from his eyes to somewhere over his head.
With the change in her expression, his hope dropped into his shoes. He looked behind her down a short corridor where a set of swinging doors blocked any further view. “Where are they?”
It was one of those moments he would remember for a lifetime, where everything happened in slow motion.
She told him to wait while she found a doctor to talk to him, and nodded toward one of the vinyl chairs that lined the waiting room walls.
He sat. Tried to give himself an attitude adjustment. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Laura or Lucas could be in surgery and the nurse, obviously just out of nursing school, didn’t know how to tell him.
He stood.
Paced.
Sat again. The hospital might have a policy where only a physician could relate a patient’s condition to his family.
His heart worked overtime, pumping and pounding.
When he looked up, a young woman in a lab coat with a stethoscope around her neck stood in front of him. She had pale skin and was thin as a sapling, her light brown hair tied back with a yellow rubber band. Her eyes echoed the color of a Tucson sky with storm clouds brewing. “Are you Mr. Radhauser?”
He nodded.
“Please come with me.”
He expected to be taken to his wife and son, but instead she led him into a small room about eight feet square. It had a round table with a clear glass vase of red tulips in the center, and two chairs. Though she didn’t look old enough to have graduated from medical school, she introduced herself as Dr. Silvia Waterford, an ER physician.
They sat.
“Tell me what happened to my wife and son.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It was an automobile accident on Interstate 10.”
The thread of hope he held started to unravel. “Are Laura and Lucas all right? I want to see them.”
Her throat rippled as she swallowed. “There is no easy way to say this, Mr. Radhauser. I’m so sorry for your loss. But there was nothing we could do for them.”
All at once the scene bleached out. The tulips faded to gray as if a giant flashbulb had gone off in his face. The doctor was rimmed in white light. He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, praying for a mistake, a miracle, anything except what he just heard. “What do you mean there was nothing you could do? This is a Level 1 Trauma Center, isn’t it? One of the best in the state.”
“Yes. But unfortunately, medical science has its limits and we can’t save everyone. Your wife and son were both dead on arrival.”
His body crumpled in on itself, folding over like paper, all the air forced from his chest. This was his fault. Laura asked him to take the night off and go with them. Radhauser would have avoided the freeway and driven the back way home from the fairgrounds. And everything would have ended differently.
He looked up at Dr. Waterford. What was he demanding of her? Even the best trauma center in the world couldn’t bring back the dead.
There was sadness in her eyes. “I’m sure it’s not any comfort, but we think they died on impact.”
He hung his head. “Comfort,” he said. Even the word seemed horrific and out of place here. Your wife and son were both dead on arrival. Nine words that changed his life in the most drastic way he had ever imagined.
“May I call someone for you? We have clergy on staff if you’d like to talk with someone.”
A long moment passed before he raised his head and took in a series of deep breaths, trying to collect himself enough to speak. “No clergy, unless they can bring my family back. Just tell me where my wife and son are.” His voice sounded different, deeper—not the same man who went to work that evening.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But when deaths occur in the ER, we have to move them down to the morgue.”
Radhauser stood. Beneath his anguish, a festering anger simmered. Laura was a good driver. He was willing to bet she wasn’t at fault. More than anything now, he needed someone aside from himself to blame.
Outside, a siren wailed, then came to an abrupt stop. The sound panicked Radhauser as he headed for the elevator, waited for the door to open, then got inside. He pushed the button to the basement floor. He’d visited this hospital morgue once before to identify a fellow police officer shot in a robbery arrest gone bad. The door opened and he lumbered down the empty hallway.
As he neared the stainless steel door to the morgue, a tall, dark-haired man in a suit exited. At first Radhauser thought he was a hospital administrator. The man cleared his throat, flipped open a leather case and showed his badge. “I’m Sergeant Dunlop with the Tucson Police Department. Are you Mr. Radhauser?”
“Detective Radhauser. Pima County Sheriff’s Department.”
Dunlop had a handshake Radhauser felt in every bone in his right hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Detective.”
“Are you investigating the accident involving my wife and son?” Radhauser looked him over. Dunlop wore a pin-striped brown suit with a yellow shirt and a solid brown tie—the conservative uniform of a newly-promoted sergeant. The air around them smelled like antiseptic and the industrial solvent used to wash floors. “Have you determined who was at fault?”
Dunlop hesitated for an instant. “Yes, I’m the investigating officer. From the eyewitness reports, your wife was not to blame. A Dodge pickup was headed south in the northbound lane of Interstate 10 near the Orange Grove exit. No lights. He hit her head-on.”
Radhauser cringed. The image cut deep. “Was he drunk?”
“I need to wait for the blood alcohol test results to come back.”
The anger building inside Radhauser got closer to the surface every second. Silence hung between them like glass. He shattered it. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You were on the scene. What did you see? What did the breathalyzer read?”
Dunlop’s silence told Radhauser everything he needed to know. “Did the bastard die at least?”
“He was miraculously uninjured. But his twin boys weren’t so lucky.” Dunlop’s voice turned flat. “They didn’t make it.” He winced, and a tide of something bitter and hopeless washed over his face. “The idiot let them ride in the pickup bed. Five fucking years old.”
“What’s the idiot’s name?”
“You don’t need to know that right now.”
Biting his lip, Radhauser fought against the surge of rage threatening to flood over him. “Who are you to tell me what I need to know? It’s not your wife and kid in there. Besides, I can easily access the information.”
Dunlop handed him a card. “I know you can. But you have something more important to do right now. We can talk tomorrow.” He draped his arm over Radhauser’s shoulder the way a brother or a friend might do.
The touch opened a hole in Radhauser’s chest.
“Say goodbye to your wife and son,” Dunlop said, then turned and walked away.
In the morgue, after Radhauser introduced himself, a male attendant pulled back the sheet covering their faces. There was no mistake.
“Do you mind if I sit here for a while?” Radhauser asked.
“No problem,” the attendant said. “Stay as long as you want.” He went back to a small alcove where he entered data into a computer. The morgue smelled like the hallway had, disinfectant and cleaning solution, with an added hint of formaldehyde.
Radhauser sat between the stainless steel gurneys that held Laura and Lucas. Of all the possible scenarios Radhauser imagined, none ended like this.
Across the room, two small body bags lay, side by side, on a wider gurney. The twin sons of the man who killed his family.
The clock on the morgue wall kept ticking and when Radhauser finally looked up at it, four hours had passed. He tried, but couldn’t understand how Laura and Lucas could be in the world one minute and gone the next. How could he give them up? It was as if a big piece of him had been cut out. And he didn’t know how to go on living without his heart.
###
For an entire year afterwards, Radhauser operated in a daze. He spent the late evening hours playing For the Good Times on Laura’s old upright piano. It was the first song they ever slow danced to and over their fourteen years together, it became their own.
He played it again and again. The neighbors complained, but he couldn’t stop. It was the only way he could remember the apricot scent of her skin and how it felt to hold her in his arms on the dance floor.
Night after night, he played until he finally collapsed into a fitful sleep, his head resting on the keyboard. The simple acts of waking up, showering, making coffee, and heading to work became a cruel pretense acted out in the cavernous absence of his wife and son.
 
About the Author

Susan Clayton-Goldner was born in New Castle, Delaware and grew up with four brothers along the banks of the Delaware River. She has been writing poems and short stories since she could hold a pencil and was so in love with writing that she was a creative writing major in college.

Prior to an early retirement which enabled her to write full time, Susan worked as the Director of Corporate Relations for University Medical Center in Tucson, Arizona. It was there she met her husband, Andreas, one of the deans in the University of Arizona’s Medical School. About five years after their marriage, they left Tucson to pursue their dreams in 1991–purchasing a 35-acres horse ranch in the Williams Valley in Oregon. They spent a decade there. Andy road, trained and bred Arabian horses and coached a high school equestrian team, while Susan got serious about her writing career. 
Through the writing process, Susan has learned that she must be obsessed with the reinvention of self, of finding a way back to something lost, and the process of forgiveness and redemption. These are the recurrent themes in her work.
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Alien Alphas – Book Blitz

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