Dangerous Denial excerpt:
Amazon 5 star review- Reggi Allder will hold you on the edge of your seat as you follow her real-to-life characters.
In the Sonoma wine country surrounded by the golden California hills, Jon Lancaster parked the rented sedan near a rural farmhouse. From the windshield, he glanced at the vines in the open fields, absently wondering what kind of grape grew there.
A hawk, searching for a rodent for dinner, circled overhead, gliding on the wind currents in the cerulean sky. Evening approached, but in summer, the temperature was as blistering as midday. He wiped sweat from his forehead, took a deep breath, and immediately regretted it, but the smell of the rich soil, mixed with fertilizer, wasn’t what bothered him.
Released from the hospital after a long stay, his healing ribs still ached if he breathed too deeply. Waiting for the pain to subside, he rubbed his left leg encased in a plastic boot worn to support a broken ankle and tibia.
He should exit the car and settle into the cottage behind the whitewashed farmhouse. What’s the hurry? Here to relax and recoup after a violent and tumultuous year, would he enjoy the seclusion, or be bored?
His older brother, Webb, and his wife, along with the rest of the family, had returned to work in Washington D.C. Unable to do his job, Jon decided to stay in the Bay Area for the moment.
A lump formed in his throat when he remembered his loss. Three years ago, his wife had been killed. Afterward, he’d continued to work with the government’s Rapid Advance Task Force. Still, he’d been like the walking dead, appearing to function but not capable of feeling anything. Now all the emotions he’d denied rushed into his consciousness and seemed to suck the oxygen from him.
All things considered, maybe peace and quiet wasn’t a good idea. It gave him too much time to mull over the past. But in his current condition, unfit to do much else, what good was he? Learn to take it easy. After you mend, you can decide what you want to do next.
With a grunt, he swung his legs out of the car, then limped to the trunk and grabbed his duffle bag.
Overlooking the yellowing grassland that surrounded the home, sunlight glared off the farmhouse windows. He put on his sunglasses and wishing for the crutches he needed, walked down the stone path toward the front.
Skye Turner had rented the front house and held the key to his one-bedroom cottage at the back. A brass knocker, in the shape of a horse’s head, was fastened to the oak door. After knocking several times without a response, he beat on the paneled entrance with his fist. Too damned hot and exhausted, his shoulders slumped. Why didn’t people keep their appointments as promised? When she’d answered his phone call, Ms. Turner had been pleasant enough and had told him she would be waiting with the key when he arrived. Well, so much for keeping her word.
However, he might as well know what kind of a person she was. It would save him exasperation and disappointment later. No need to depend on an unreliable woman. They had discussed her helping him with the simple household chores until he could manage better on his own. The compensation was generous, thus allowing her to work less outside the home, and permitting her to concentrate on her art and the classes at Sonoma State University.
He’d try knocking one more time. If no one answered, he’d find the cottage and see if he could jimmy a window and crawl in. It would have been easy before the beating he’d taken a couple of weeks ago. Even so, determination was ninety-five percent of the battle. Right? After all, he had a history of completing assignments, regardless of his condition.
He mopped his forehead with the back of his hand. Was it the heat or his exhaustion wearing down his weakened body? A little shaky, he leaned on the door and took a slow breath. Shit. He hated this sense of helplessness. In twenty minutes, he’d take the pain meds ordered by the doctor.
Harder than necessary, he pounded on the door again. “Ms. Turner, are you in there?”
He turned the handle, surprised when it opened. “Hey, anyone home?”
Someone struck Jon when he entered the house. Pain spread through his chest. Fortunately, he saw the baseball bat coming and was able to block the full impact of the blow.
“Get out!” The woman held the bat ready to strike again as her hazel eyes exhibited fear.
“What the hell!” He lunged forward and yanked the weapon from her hand but struggled to keep his balance as agony shot through his leg. “Lady, are you crazy?”
