Cries in the Night
Read Cries in the Night Online
Authors: Kathy Clark
Cries in the Night
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2015 Loveswept eBook Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Kathy Clark
Excerpt from
After Midnight
by Kathy Clark copyright © 2012 by Kathy Clark
Excerpt from
Killer Date
by Kathy Clark copyright © 2014 by Kathy Clark
Excerpt from
RIP
by Kathy Clark copyright © 2014 by Kathy Clark
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
L
OVESWEPT
is a registered trademark and the L
OVESWEPT
colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.
eBook ISBN 978-0-988-34366-5
Cover design and illustration: Bob Wernly
Originally published in the United States by Nightwriter93 in 2013
v3.1_r1
CONTENTS
Books by Kathy Clark and Bob Kat
Excerpt from
RIP (Rest In Peace)
BOOKS BY KATHY CLARK & BOB KAT
NEW ADULT
Due Dates
(Book #1 of Scandals Series)
WINNER BEST INDIE ROMANCE BOOK OF 2014
Killer Date
(Book #2 of Scandals Series)
Worst Date Ever
(Book #3 of Scandals Series) scheduled Winter, 2014
YOUNG ADULT
Oh My God (OMG)
Book #1 of See You Later (CUL8R) Series
TM
under pen name Bob Kat
WINNER BEST INDIE YOUNG ADULT BOOK OF 2013
Be Right Back (BRB)
Book #2 of See You Later (CUL8R) Series
TM
under pen name Bob Kat
WINNER READER’S FAVORITE 2013
Believe It Or Not (BION)
Book #3 of See You Later (CUL8R) Series
TM
under pen name Bob Kat
WINNER BEST INDIE ROMANCE BOOK OF 2014
READER’S FAVORITE 2014
Rest In Peace (RIP)
Book #4 of See You Later(CUL8R) Series
TM
under pen name Bob Kat
Don’t Judge Me (DJM)
Book #5 of See You Later (CUL8R) Series
TM
under pen name Bob Kat due Early 2015
SUSPENSE
After Midnight
(#1 Denver After Dark Series)
WINNER BEST INDIE SUSPENSE BOOK OF 2013
READER’S FAVORITE 2013
Cries in the Night
(#2 Denver After Dark Series)
FINALIST COLORADO HUMANITIES AWARD 2014
Deep Night
(#3 Denver After Dark Series) scheduled Fall, 2014
MAINSTREAM
Life’s What Happens
FINALIST BEST INDIE BOOK OF 2013
READER’S FAVORITE 2014
ROMANCE & CONTEMPORARY WOMEN’S FICTION
Angel of Mercy
(#3 Angel Series)
Another Sunny Day
Born to be Wild
Cody’s Last Stand
Cold Feet, Warm Heart
Count Your Blessings
Golden Days
(sequel to
Another Sunny Day
)
Goodbye Desperado
Hearts Against the Wind
(Crystal Creek Series)
Kissed By an Angel
(#1 Angel Series)
No Satisfaction
Passion and Possession
Phantom Angel
(#2 Angel Series)
A Private Affair
Risky Business
Sight Unseen
Stand by Your Man
(Crystal Creek Series)
Starry Nights
Starting Over
Stroke of Midnight
Sweet Anticipation
Teacher’s Pet
Tempting Fate
DEDICATION
My father was a firefighter with the Houston FD, and some of my best childhood memories were of the times I visited him at the firehouse or listened to his incredible stories. I’ve never known anyone who loved his job more than my dad. Just like the proverbial Dalmatian, whenever he saw smoke when he was off duty, we would jump into the car and track down the fire. He was the kindest, gentlest, strongest man I’ve ever known. This book is for my dad … my hero.
Thanks to all those amazing men and women who risk their lives every day to rush into burning buildings while trying to get everyone else out alive. Forget sports and movie stars … the real heroes wear clunky rubber boots, fifty pounds of equipment and fire helmets, drive big bad-ass fire trucks and know how to save the day while looking gorgeous and cooking great meals in the firehouse.
A special thanks to the firefighters at DFD Station 26, especially Captain Steve Barker (who helped me with the details and is also a brilliant editor!) and Scott Kruse (who modeled the uniforms for me). Their information on day-to-day operations was invaluable. And also to South Metro Fire Rescue, especially Becky O’Guin. I was lucky enough to attend their Citizens Academy which I would highly recommend to everyone. It’s a fun and an eye-opening experience. I hope I didn’t screw things up too badly and that I did you proud.
And, as always, to my readers and my street team for their super fandom, a special thank you. It is because of you that I write. For exclusive bonus scenes and fun contests, be sure to sign up for my newsletter at
http://eepurl.com/Z5ypX
via MAIL CHIMP.
Recommended for 17 years and older – language / mature subject matter
CRIES IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
The back door slammed with such force that the small house shuddered. In the spare bedroom the woman froze in front of the ironing board, the iron paused in mid-air. Steam poured out of the holes with a hiss, but she didn’t notice. Instead, her gaze raced across the room and met the wide eyes of her son who had been playing with a boxful of Matchbox cars.
He dropped the tiny red Ferrari he had been holding and scuttled backward, disappearing under the bed. No words had been spoken, but he knew the drill. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He had learned early that out of sight also meant out of the line of fire.
The woman wasn’t so lucky.
Heavy, quick footsteps signaled the man’s approach down the hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she realized she hadn’t taken a breath since he had entered the house. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her nerves and steel herself for the battle ahead. Even before she saw his face, she knew he was angry … at her, at his son, at his boss, at his life. It didn’t really matter. He always came home to share his dissatisfaction with her.
“Where the hell is he?” The man wasn’t large, but when he was in one of his moods, he seemed to expand in size until his presence filled the doorway.
“Who?” she managed to ask, struggling to keep her expression under control. For some reason, it made him angrier if she showed fear even though her legs were visibly trembling.
He threw his car keys at her. She tried to dodge, but the unexpected movement and her own swollen bulk slowed her. The keys smashed into her left cheek, then fell to the floor with a clatter.
“You know who. That piece of shit kid. He left his goddamn sled in the driveway and I ran over it. Twenty bucks. Trashed. I work hard and get paid shit. And he just throws his toys around like they were nothing.”
“He’s usually really careful …”
He cut her off. “Didn’t he go to school today?”
“They had a teacher’s workday.”
“Then he has no excuse for not bringing in the garbage cans.”
“It was snowing too hard.”
“Not too hard for him to play.” He kicked the basket of laundry against the wall. “You fuckin’ baby him too much.”
“He’s only six.” She knew that arguing only made him angrier, but her motherly instinct was to defend her young.
The man’s dark gaze raked the room before focusing on the abandoned Matchbox cars. His nostrils flared and he moved toward the bed, knowing it was the most likely hiding place.
“No!” the woman cried. “Leave him alone.” She reached out to grab him, but he swung his arm to fend her off as if he was swatting away an annoying insect. She reacted by striking back. Unfortunately, the iron was still clenched in her hand. The hot surface landed flat against his forearm and the back of his hand. Steam oozed out of the holes as the skin sizzled.
With a guttural roar, he jerked back as quickly as possible and looked down at the arced-shaped blisters that had already bubbled up. Like an enraged bull in the ring distracted by the matador’s cape, he turned his attention back to her.
“What the fuck?” He knocked the iron out of her hand, grabbed the front of her sweater in his meaty fist and pulled her forward, over the ironing board which clattered to the floor. Her feet scrambled to keep upright as he dragged her over the metal legs.
“I … I’m … sorry, Carlos. I didn’t mean to …”
He silenced her with a punch in the jaw so hard that her teeth rattled. Momentarily dazed, she didn’t struggle as he slammed her back against the door frame. Her head cracked against the wood and she could feel the sharp edges biting into her shoulders. She didn’t fight back as he hit her again and again. She knew she deserved this. If she hadn’t hit him with the iron, he wouldn’t have come at her like this. The skin over her eye slit under his knuckles, and she could feel the warm flow of blood pour down her face. As bad as it hurt, she knew it was nothing like the pain he was feeling from the burn. So she let him take it out on her. She owed him that.
It wasn’t until his blows moved lower that her defense mechanism got its second wind. His fist buried into her breast. Swollen from the imminent birth of her baby, the pain shot through her like a lightning bolt. He drew back and would have landed a blow in her expanded abdomen, but she collapsed, trying in the only way she knew how to defend her unborn baby. He released his hold on her sweater, but instead of stepping away, he kicked her.