Croft Ravens Nest Retribution

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-1-5439-1099-5
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 296 Seiten

Reihe: Ravens Nest Retribution

Former Military Police Captain Melissa Goodwin thought she had escaped the trauma of her marriage breakup and the death of her brother, Major Chris Goodwin, when she left behind her former life as a naval officer, and moved back to her hometown of Ravens Nest. Elected as the small town county Sheriff, she rebuilt her life, revived friendships and integrated with the local community. Her quiet existence goes into a tailspin when her estranged husband and the in-laws arrive in town, accompanied by the usual security detail that accompanies the likes of the Governor's family. Contending with an almost ex-mother-in-law (aka the Dragon Lady) is not her idea of a quality family reunion and causes a logistical nightmare when the community is cleaning up after a severe tropical storm. Trouble follows former JAG lawyer Harvey Willis like a shadow and this time was no different. Hot on his heels are a team of ruthless mercenaries, all converging on Ravens Nest, and threatening to disrupt the upcoming nuptials of their friend, Doctor Jessica Atkins. Harvey suddenly finds himself reliant on the last woman in the world who has time for him - his wife. Can he convince Sheriff Goodwin to give him the time of day and mete out retribution for the losses they had faced over the past year? The stakes are high in this explosive action pack second book set in the idyllic coastal town of Raven Nest.

Alex Croft has lived and worked as a healthcare professional in four countries, whilst travelling to many more. Drawing on life experience and exposure to different cultures, the author weaves aspects of medical treatment modalities, humanity, the power of conviction and intrigue into the story lines. Raven Nest Retribution is the second book in a series set in the fictitious town of Ravens Nest, where each book can be read as a stand alone novel. A fan of different genres of fiction, the author incorporates elements of suspense, humor, romance and fantasy into contemporary writing to enhance the reading experience.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Croft, Alex

Leseproben

Prologue

Six months ago: St Patrick’s Day, March 17th.

Melissa Goodwin pushed through the large wooden doors of The Hen and Peacock. Jack followed closely behind. Laughter and music accosted her senses as they entered the packed Irish pub and bistro. The bass sounds were booming from under the floorboards; green flashing lights and body heat engulfed her. She shouldered a path through the rowdy crowd and in the direction of the dark wooden counter top of the bar, elbowing her way in.

“Remind me to not take you up on any other offer that has the word green in it; not to eat something green, like the green beans and Brussels sprouts dish you made last week, and like tonight, to go green, save the environment and car pool. Don’t even get me started on those green antioxidant smoothies... I can’t believe you dragged me in here or made me wear this ridiculous green scarf, probably to match your creepy, glow-in-the-dark green contact lenses. You know you look totally preposterous with that green bow tie on.”

Jack scoffed, straightened his green bowler hat and crossed his arms; “What do you mean? Drinking those smoothies is a small price to pay for adding years to your life, and this is the finest drinking establishment in town.”

“This is the only licensed establishment in town.”

“There you go again. Nothing is ever good enough to satisfy your refined caviar and champagne city taste. You, Mel Goodwin, have willingly chosen Ravens Nest—this town—as your hideout, remember. Or are you worried some visitor will recognize you, take a picture and post it online? It is St Patty’s day. Lighten up. Let your hair down. You need to have some fun. Clear your aura of that dark, brooding cloud you insist on taking everywhere with you and relax for a change.”

Mel gave him one of those looks that could freeze hell over. She saw him flinch and smiled inwardly. As if she needed to be reminded why her life seriously sucked. A year of loss.

“I don’t think we are on friendly enough terms that you should feel comfortable commenting on my surly disposition. And don’t think you know me because I am temporarily, out of necessity, staying in your guest room.”

Hosting this annual festival meant all accommodations at Ravens Nest were fully booked months in advance, leaving Mel without her usual bed-and-breakfast accommodation for the past week. God forbid she would have moved back in with her dad, to a childhood home filled with too many painful memories. And she had made a pledge to never go back on her one-way ticket out of that house.

Jack rolled his eyes and waved at someone in the crowd; “So, arrest me already. Tonight, that changes. God knows, you need a friend who will be honest with you, and I am the only one man enough to call you on your BS. Everyone else is too chicken-shit scared of you. I’m also aware that your hands could probably be classed as lethal weapons. And before you volunteer, no demonstration is required. You need to befriend people, to socialize.”

So, he gets cocky when there were many witnesses around, Mel noted. But he was correct about her hands.

Mel huffed; “You mean unlike others with social graces, you don’t have a working filter between your brain and your mouth?”

“Whatever. You have a deputy on call to uphold law and order tonight. A couple of pints would do you good. Hell, I’ll even be your designated driver.”

“Oh, the sacrifices you make, Jack. Don’t think I don’t know you refuse to put your lips on a draught.”

They waited at the bar as a sea of green shirts was served. Dawn McLeod, Irish proprietor and barmaid, was pouring drinks from behind the handcrafted, dark wooden counter.

She looked up and smiled at Mel; “Nice to see you could make it, Sheriff. I like your green scarf. This one is on the house,” she passed Mel a perfectly poured Guinness on tap.

“Thanks, Dawn. I like what you have done with the place. I see you are still proudly displaying your purported nefarious heritage.”

Mel lifted her glass up to the dated picture of one of Interpol’s most wanted fugitives behind Dawn and took a sip. Ravens Nest had speculated for years whether Dawn’s colored past included moonlighting as a bomb maker for the IRA. All in jest, of course. She had an uncanny resemblance to the image of a notorious underworld figure in a framed mug shot, or more like one who was never captured or convicted of a crime, though. Innocent until proven guilty.

“If you bothered to visit The Hen more frequently, you would know that picture never leaves that spot. History is part of who we are; it reminds us of the reasons for choices made, which have led us to where we are right this moment... Next time, don’t wait three years to come in here again.”

Shit. Mel blushed. The rebuke stung. She had been back in her hometown for three months and had not set foot in The Hen. Not that she had expected to even be elected sheriff or to stay. Coming to Ravens Nest was an impulsive decision, just a time out, to clear her head. And with her military background and investigative skills, she took the opening as a deputy in town to keep her mind and hands occupied. From there, things took off and ran their own course. No one could have predicted that the previous sheriff, winning an all-expenses paid cruise, would quit his job so he could work as private security of the passenger ship. And she knew Dawn had been instrumental in helping her father, Jim Goodwin, in the campaign to get her elected and appointed to the position. It was not that she was ungrateful or did not really want to be here in Ravens Nest; it was just that she did not have the emotional reserve to care.

“Noted,” she did not know what else to say. I’m sorry did not seem to cut it.

“She is still going through her dark period. At least it looks like she is starting to allow more emotions to come through in her repertoire, other than ‘pissed-off’ and ‘grief,’”Jack piped in.

Dawn scolded and snapped her dish towel at Jack; “There is an Irish saying; may you have the hindsight to know where you have been, the foresight to know where you are going and the insight to know when you have gone too far. And you, Jack Foster, do not know when to shut your trap.”

Jack looked defiant and threw his hands in the air; “What? It has been long enough. Death is there to remind us how precious life is. At some point, you have to move on and decide if there is still a part of you that wants to live, to enjoy.”

Dawn tutted and smacked Jack on the side of his head with the flat of her hand; “Another saying you may find helpful: It is often that a person’s mouth broke his nose. Be glad you got away with only a smack. No drinks for you tonight.”

Jack smiled and turned away from the bar; “I call it as I see it, Lady. Someone needs to pull up their big boy pants and be prepared to be a catalyst for things to change and move forward.”

Mel felt the familiar knot in her throat as grief flooded through her. Survivor’s guilt. What would it say about her if she started living again, if she moved on? She had, in fact, made a promise to do just that. But that promise was much easier to rationalize cognitively than feeling the gut-wrenching, emotional guilt of actually letting go. She felt Dawn squeeze her hand and swallowed hard.

“Jack is a horse’s arse.”

Mel gave her a weak smile and took a fortifying breath; “Don’t I know it.”

“No wonder his vocation is staring into one.” Dawn added.

“Hey, helping breed thoroughbreds is an essential part of a veterinarian’s profession.”

“Jim is in the back manning the kitchen, if you need some space, Mel.”

Mel frowned. What? Her father was helping out in the kitchen? Since when?

“I’m fine,” she offered instead.

Dawn regarded her for a long moment and nodded slowly. She handed off another beer to a man dressed as a leprechaun.

“What trouble is my dad in this time?”

Dawn winked; “He is working off his single malt bar tab.”

Mel surveyed the tables that had been pushed closely together to make room for a dance area. The French doors were wide open, flowing out to the large deck and sandy shore.

Dawn smiled conspiratorially; “We are about to kick off the real festivities. You two stay out of trouble.”

“Not to worry; we are on the straight and narrow. Princess here is law enforcement. Just fun, fun, fun... like a heart attack,” Jack scoffed.

As if on cue, the lights dimmed and disco-era music started booming through the speakers. A roar of laughter and clapping filled the...