I wrote a little six book series called Lakehouse Security. The last book, Repeating Love, came out last month in October. In that series one of the main characters is the head of a secret government team called Demon Elite. I decided to do a spin-off series. The first book of the series is called Crash and will be available through eXtasy Books in January.
If Crash heard one more country music song he was going to kill someone, preferably his mother, who played the same record over and over again. Yes, record. As in big flat black disc thing. The record was an old one she used to play all the time when he was a kid, after his father died, and it had a scratch on it. She would lift the little black arm and move it past the scratch whenever it would get to that part.
His mother had gone a little crazy after his dad died, but in all the good ways. It was as if she had been set free and, in a lot of ways that was probably true. She had gotten herself a job, something she hadn’t been allowed to do before. Any money she had left over after all the bills were paid she spent on Crash first and then herself second. He remembered going with her to buy the record player and how excited she had been when they got it home. He hadn’t seen her excited up until that point. Her eyes sparkled in a way that Crash had never seen before. All his dad’s controlling abuse had killed some of that sparkle and the record player helped her get it back.
Maybe that was way she still had the thing, and hadn’t upgraded to the latest technology. It was a reminder to them both of the day their lives changed for the better. Some people deserved to die and his father was one of those people.
So yeah, Crash would let the woman play her country music record endlessly until it drove him slowly crazy, but he didn’t have to like it.
He sat at his mother’s kitchen table watching her work in the kitchen. He didn’t always have time to visit her, something she complained about whenever she called. Literally, said something every time she called. When he did visit it was like immersion therapy, because that’s how his mother wanted it.
“Tell me about the boys you’re dating, Chester,” his mother said as she was cutting up vegetables. She was the only person on the planet allowed to call him by his given name. He’d break someone in half for even uttering his name under their breath. Everyone else called him Crash, a nickname he got in basic training. The nickname had lived long and prospered over the years. It even carried over to Demon Elite. He liked it better than his given name.
“I don’t date boys, mom.” She made him sound like a creepy disgusting pervert.
She waved a hand in the air. “You know what I mean.”
Yes, he knew exactly what she meant. She thought every guy he dated looked like a small waif, which wasn’t true at all. In comparison, just about every man on the planet was smaller than him. He wasn’t an average guy in any way. He looked like his dad, although Crash looked a little less like a badass biker than his father had before he died. Still Crash was well aware that he was equally as intimidating looking. He liked that he looked like he could rip someone’s head off. If they pissed him off, he just might. He had definitely done worse to people.
“No, I’m not dating anyone.” It was hard to date anyone seriously. Not because he didn’t want to but because he seemed to attract those men that was looking for a little bit of one and done danger. They took one look at him and thought he could give them that little extra spice for the night.
Whatever, it got him laid, which was good enough for him. Plus, he sometimes thought all those cute little dudes that came on to him probably had a point. He was dangerous. More dangerous than those men realized. Even his own mother didn’t fully understand what it was he did for a living. He was the guy Justin called when he wanted someone taken out. He killed people for a living and didn’t apologize for it. Hell, he usually didn’t feel bad at all.
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