Cover reveal and excerpt - Broken into Pieces - out 6 January

 Clear Water Creek Book 2

Blurb:

The bogeyman has a name and that name is Dominic Bateman.

Finn Austen is a man with something to hide and Sheriff Brandon Schofield wants to know what it is. Finn is scarred and mutilated and hides away in a house he’s made into a prison.

Should he run forever, looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, or should he go back to what he knew and where he belonged?

Brandon wants to open him up but Finn’s waiting for the bogeyman to find him. He knows time’s running out and he’s not sure he cares anymore.

“He should have killed me years ago. I should have let him.”

Possible Spoilers:

Themes: hurt/comfort, love at first sight, drama, angst.

Genre: Dark, gritty contemporary romance.

Warnings: Abuse, strong language, rape, violence, homophobia. Sexual scenes.

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EXCERPT

The moon hung low over the trees, illuminating the clearing, shining on the glassy surface of the still lake. On his way home, Sheriff Brandon Schofield drove down the rutted road leading to his house.

A long busy shift had started off with a drunk driver on the highway and continued with a domestic assault and a shoplifting. The assault had been the hardest. Brandon had only been in post two months and some crimes were more emotive to him than others. He didn’t want to see a wife battered by her husband, not when this town was so small that he rubbed shoulders with the guy in Bluey’s bar on the weekends. That was not his idea of fun.

Reuben Baxter had been bailed out later that day and gone to stay with his brother after a stern warning from Brandon. Had he done this before? Mrs. Baxter wasn’t talking, but her eye was black and she was clearly terrified of her husband. Reuben wouldn’t be laying another finger on her because Brandon would be watching like a hawk from now on.

Something caught his attention—the silhouette of a man in the trees. What was he doing out here alone? He stood with his back turned, hands in front of him.

Brandon’s foot shifted to the brake. He pulled over, staring. He couldn’t be, could he? He switched off the engine. Grimly, he got out, put his hat on and slammed the door before he walked into the trees, jaw set. Nobody got away with things like this on Brandon’s beat. He had standards and public urination was one of them.

“Sir?”

The man turned his head, startled, and cursed low under his breath before he fumbled at his pants.

“What are you doing, sir?” Brandon stepped closer.

“Ah, Officer.” The man turned around fully so the moonlight fell on his features. He was very attractive. Brandon might have been on the job, but he wasn’t blind. The fact that he was so handsome irritated Brandon further. Of average height with a lean body, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, he was dark-haired with eyes bleached of color in the moonlight.

“I got caught short.” The man slurred his words.

Brandon squared his shoulders, trying not to dwell on the man’s perfect face. “Are you drunk?”

“I’ve had a couple of beers. I came out for a walk and—”

“You thought you’d spoil an area of outstanding natural beauty by pissing on a two-hundred-year old oak tree?”

The man’s small mouth tightened to a pout. “And you’re wasting your time pulling me up for it? Don’t you have donuts to eat or something?”

Brandon tensed. He stepped forward, his aim being to intimidate the smaller man, and it worked. He knew he was an imposing figure at six feet and all muscle, but he had never seen anyone shrink back the way the stranger did now. He flinched like Brandon had leapt at him, one hand up as though he would defend himself.

What was this? First-hand experience of police brutality or something more? Brandon frowned. His gaze was drawn to the man’s right arm. A thick bandage ran from his wrist up beyond the sleeve of his T-shirt. His eyes moved back to the man’s face, and he noticed a dark smudge on his jaw. A bruise.

Brandon folded his arms, looked the man steadily in the eye and watched the nervousness spring up on his face.

“What?”

“What did you do to your arm?”

“An accident.” The man looked away.

“What kind of accident?”

“What the hell is this? Do you cross examine everyone you catch pissing on a tree or is it just me? Either arrest me or let me go, goddamn it!”

Brandon narrowed his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Finn Austen.”

“Well, congratulations, Mr. Austen. I’m sheriff here, and you just talked your way into being my guest for the evening. Let’s go.” He grabbed the man’s arm, reaching for his cuffs with the other hand.

Finn let out such a howl of pain at the contact that Brandon let go in shock. Finn staggered back, face turned away, right arm cradled to his body. He leaned against the oak tree he had just defaced, breathing heavily.

Brandon hovered behind him, composure lost, uncertainty taking its place. His gaze lingered once more on the bandaged arm.

“You going to tell me what you did to it now?”

Finn turned his head. “Go to hell,” he said between his teeth.

Brandon moved up behind him so he breathed on the back of Finn’s neck. The man trembled, his left hand clutching the oak tree hard, his knuckles white. This could go one of two ways. Either Brandon could continue to let Finn’s rudeness get to him and manhandle him into his car, or he could let it go, and exercise some compassion. He looked at the pale strip of skin on Finn’s neck between his T-shirt and hairline, where the fine hairs were shaved close. The place he liked to kiss on a man when the skin was smooth.

“You know what? Because you’re hurt, I’m going to let you go this once. But I tell you now, Mr. Austen, if our paths cross once more and you behave like this, you’re going to find yourself in a whole heap of trouble. Do you understand?”

He expected cursing or more smart comments. What he got was a curt nod. Brandon peered over Finn’s shoulder, noting how he bit his lip and how his closed lashes trembled on his cheeks. Brandon had clearly hurt him. He guessed he should be the one apologizing.

“Fine. Where do you live? I’ll give you a ride home.”

Finn shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was unsteady. “It’s okay, I’m just over there.” He motioned across the lake to the house standing alone.

Brandon was taken aback. He had seen lights on at the empty house—which stood directly across the lake from his own—for the past week but had never noticed a moving van or anyone unloading boxes. Nor had he heard gossip about the house’s new tenant. It seemed he had arrived like a ghost and lived like one too.

“Well, it’s a long walk anyway in your condition. I’ll take you. Come on.” Brandon set off toward his car, looking back at Finn.

Finn turned around, hesitating before he followed, still cradling his arm. Brandon opened the passenger door for him, and Finn climbed in before Brandon helped pull the seatbelt across him. As he leaned close, he smelled Finn’s scent. Fresh and pure like the ocean wrapped in a hint of soap, cologne and hair styling products. For a moment it stirred aching memories in Brandon before Finn caught the buckle with his left hand and fastened it and Brandon moved back. He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side. Arousal weighted his belly low down. He told himself he was being inappropriate but his libido wasn’t interested in that.

After starting the engine, he turned the car around and set off around the lake. They drove in silence, broken only by low music from the car radio.

He bumped down the rutted road to Finn’s house and drew up by the porch. No car was parked outside, and the windows were all dark. He glanced at Finn who made no move to get out. Brandon noticed him shivering and reached out to switch the heater on.

“Okay?” It was supposed to encourage Finn to get out of the car. Brandon was thinking about a glass of wine and a hot shower and was keen to leave, no matter how distracting this stranger was.

Finn nodded. “Wish I’d left a light on. It’s so dark.” Still he made no move to get out.

Brandon frowned, studying his face. He reached up and flicked on the car’s light. “Want me to come in with you? Check everything’s okay?”

Finn’s gaze swung to his, and Brandon saw his face properly for the first time. He hadn’t been wrong about his attractiveness. Finn was stunning. But his dark blue eyes were smudged black beneath with shadows like he hadn’t slept in a week, and lines of worry etched themselves around his delicate mouth. Brandon estimated he was about thirty, but the strain he clearly carried put him as older. The bruise on his jaw was starker in the light—purplish-blue and ugly.

“That would be great.” Finn only made eye contact for a moment before he looked away.

Brandon flicked off the light. “Come on.”