Crawling Into Bed With Parker
Williams
And a Good Book
Important
things first, are these sheets silk or cotton? When you're used to sleeping in the hills,
abandoned buildings, or even the fucking sewer, you're grateful when you get to
sleep in a real bed. I special order my linen from Parachute bedding. It's
amazing. They're more expensive, but when you make $250,000 a kill, you can
afford the finer things in life.
What
are you wearing? Right now? Seeing as how I just got home
from an operation, I took a shower and put on my Luxe robe. Sammy always wants
me squeaky clean before we make up for lost time, if you know what I mean.
What
are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight? Hell,
I don't care. Kelly's got to clean it up. And after his little joke, the more
crumbs, the better. Throw in some peanut butter and jelly. That shit stains
real nice.
If
I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find? That
drawer? My Desert Eagle .50 caliber with muzzle brake is near the front for
easy access. Even though I keep my guns locked away, I want something close at
hand in case it's needed. In my line of work, you're either ready or you're
dead.
There's also a garrote, a
Richmond Laser 240 mm kitchen knife – yeah, I know. I've got a set of them, but
Kelly keeps this sucker so sharp, I have to have it nearby just in case someone
tries to break in, or if I get the munchies in the middle of the night.
Oh, and lube, too. Lots
and lots of lube.
Do
you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the
night? Sammy makes a blanket fort. It makes him feel safe
when I'm not home. When I am, the walls come down, and he snuggles with me.
Can
I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up? Well
now that depends. I've been teaching Sammy to use the stuff I keep in that
dresser drawer. Exactly how lucky do you feel?
What
are we reading? Haven's Creed by Parker Williams
Blurb:
An act of violence destroys his
family and ends the life he knows. To escape his haunted past, he joins the
military, where, as a sniper, he is trained to kill with precision and detachment.
When a covert organization offers him a new purpose, he becomes Haven, an
operative devoted to protecting the innocent when he can and avenging them when
he cannot.
After ten years of battling the evil in the world, the life no
longer holds the attraction or meaning it once had, and he’s ready to walk
away. Then he meets Samuel, a young man forced from the age of twelve to work
as a sex slave. If ever a man had a need for Haven, it is this one.
Yet nothing about this growing
relationship is one-sided. Sammy gives Haven a stability he’s never known, and
Haven becomes the rock upon which Sammy knows he can depend.
When Sammy reveals something about the enemy Haven has been
hunting for months, Sammy fears it will destroy what they’ve built and he’ll
lose his home in Haven’s heart.
Excerpt:
Decades of grime, caked and baked in the summer sun, crusted the
filthy rooftop. I shuddered at the thought of what I might be crawling around
in. Either way, considering the eddies of snow and ice swirling around in the
bitter cold breeze freezing my exposed skin, I almost wished for the heat of
summer now. Better to be up here sweating my balls off than freezing them.
Winds off Lake Michigan could be brutal, but they were even worse
at the top of the building I’d selected. I’d chosen a tight spot, especially
for a man my size. Still, it offered me the best possible vantage point. My
muscles cramped as I slithered forward on my stomach, and the gravel bit into
the skin where my shirt had pulled free from my vest. The edge of the roof held
a myriad of pipes and ductwork. Great for cover, not so good for aiming. I
pulled myself in between two pipes that gave me line of sight of the house
where the deal would go down. It would be an awkward shot, especially given the
weather, but I’d taken worse. My breath fogged the lenses of my goggles a bit,
but not enough to matter. At least not to my target.
My fingers stiffened as I slid the chamber into the rifle, the
fingerless gloves providing little protection against the elements. It reminded
me why I didn’t live in Chicago anymore. I hated winter with a passion. Give me
my home in Florida or the one I kept in Arizona and I would be much more
content.
The car pulled up a few moments later, drawing my attention back
to my assignment. I glanced at my watch. Early. I hated when targets didn’t
stick to a timetable. It was very rude. The driver ran around and opened John
Dunkirk’s door, allowing the dead man walking to slide out of the backseat and
step onto the sidewalk where he waited as Kenneth Alamo came out of the modest
house. My fingers itched. Alamo had been in and out of prison for possession
and distribution. His name should be next to Dunkirk’s, but he wasn’t my
target. There would certainly be a reckoning for him at a later date. Maybe
this event would set him on the straight and narrow. Unlikely, but in my line
of work, stranger things happened.
While Alamo and Dunkirk exchanged handshakes and a brief bro hug,
the driver closed the car door then pulled a case from the trunk, placed it on
the hood and stepped away. I took note of the briefcase he carried and I
tensed. The poison housed in the innocuous looking satchel was the reason I’d
been sent. Twenty-seven people had died, that we knew of. Almost half of them
were school kids, some as young as seven.
My employer frowned on that and had sent me to get the justice
their families wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. The fact Dunkirk had avoided
prison was reason enough he had to come our attention and had gotten his name
on a death warrant.
Dunkirk cracked the lid just enough so the other guy could look
into it. I imagined the buyer being gobsmacked at the amount of crap crammed
into the small case. Enough to make him a shitload of money, and at the same
time, give people on the streets their last fix.
While they were both occupied, I took aim. No one noticed the red
dot on Dunkirk’s back. I squeezed the trigger in one fluid, practiced motion.
The explosion of air that echoed off the rooftop announced his imminent death.
The moment his chest exploded, chaos filled the streets. Men swarmed from the
nearby building like so many cockroaches. The listening device I’d planted in
Dunkirk’s car allowed me to hear the barked orders to find whoever was
responsible and deal with him. By the time they got their shit together, I
would be back in the shadows and on my way home.
I pulled out my phone and tapped out a quick text message.
“It’s done. Next?”
The reply came back a moment
later. “Police converging. Go now.
Talk later.”
I slipped the phone back into
my pocket. I could hear the sirens in the distance. They’d arrest the trash,
but the man responsible for all the death through the poison he sold on the
streets would never have been taken to prison. His lawyers would have guaranteed
it, just as they had the last four times he’d beat the rap the government put
together. Dunkirk had enough dirt on a handful of key politicians to ensure
he’d live to spread his filth on the streets again. That was why they’d sent me
in. If there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, dead men told no
tales and, in Dunkirk’s case, sold no drugs.
You Can buy Haven's Creed at
Barnes and Noble
And in Paperback via Createspace
Meet the author:
Parker Williams
believes that true love exists, but it always comes with a price. No happily
ever after can ever be had without work, sweat, and tears that come with
melding lives together.
Living in
Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Parker held his job for nearly 28 years before he decided
to retire and try new things. He enjoys his new life as a stay-at-home author
and also working on Pride-Promotions, an LGBT author promotion service.
Where to find the author:
Connect with
Parker on: Twitter: @ParkerWAuthor
Publisher: Parker Williams
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