Razing Kayne
Authors: Julieanne Reeves
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense
RAZING KAYNE
By
Julieanne Reeves
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely
coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 Julieanne Reeves
NOOK
EDITION
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copy Right Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form
or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written
permission of the publisher.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks,
or trade names of their respective holders. Hellsgate Publishing and Julieanne Reeves
are not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Hellsgate Publishing and the Burning H logo are trademarks of Julieanne Reeves DBA
as Hellsgate Publishing.
Editorial Service: Finish-the-story.com
Cover: Killion Group Inc.
Image: Zai Aragon| Shutterstock.com
Internal Formatting: Killion Group Inc.
First Edition: November 2012
ISBN: 978-0-615-67103-1
Published in the United States of America
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication Page
To the brave men and women who choose to walk the thin blue line: Thank you for your
unwavering service. You are our every-day hometown heroes.
In Loving Memory of:
Pamela Rea Reeves: You handed me my first romance book and said read. I did. You
encouraged me to chase rainbows, and taught me to dream, to love, to hope; to fly.
I've never stopped. Thanks, Mom.
Marcy Rogers: The founder of Marcy's Kids (Now Payson Community Kids) A non-profit
outreach program for “at risk” youth. They say one person can't make a difference.
Well whoever the hell “they” are, were wrong. They hadn't met you.
~*~*~*~*~*~
To my family – the cool ones who actually know I write – thank you for your support
and encouragement. Tracy, that includes you and Shannon, you've been my sisters since
the very beginning.
To my children, Puddleduck and Werewolf: You are not of my body, but of my heart.
No mother has ever loved her children more than I love you. You are my light and my
strength; you make my world whole.
Last, and certainly not least, to my posse: The irreverent, crazy, funny as hell,
keep me up way too late laughing until I cry, women of “Wisteria Lane.” You are quite
simply the best. Thanks for celebrating the good, lamenting the bad, talking me down
from the ledges, and helping me bury the bodies
.
Acknowledgments Page
Payson Fire Chief Marty Demasi and Hellsgate Fire Captain John Wisner: Thanks for
answering all my strange random technical questions about procedures and fire apparatus.
Arizona State Trooper (Ret.) Roger Cain, Payson PD Sgt. Dean Faust (Ret.) US Border
Patrol Senior Agent Paul Reece (Ret.) and a few active duty who I won’t name here
(you know who you are): Thanks for letting me tap into your collective knowledge and
experience.
Any liberties I took, or mistakes I made were entirely mine, because you guys rock!
To all the Dispatchers, Officers, Firefighters,
EMS
and ED personnel of Northern Gila County: None of you made it into these stores.
I promise. It was an incredible honor to work with you over the years. Thanks for
the laughs, the friendship, and the great memories.
Sharon “Shay” Cox and Author Hayden Braeburn: Thanks for letting me use your first
names.
To Ondrej Kasl: You make an awesome undercover InterPol Agent. Thanks for the use
of your name. I had no idea you'd become such an important character in this series.
It should be an interesting journey.
“There is
a sacredness
in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently
than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable
love.”
~ Washington Irving
PROLOGUE
Santa Barbara California,
Two years ago.
Officer Kayne Dobrescu pulled into his designated parking space, shut off his Titan
Sidewinder Softail motorcycle—a holdover from his bachelor days—and let out a heavy
sigh, staring at the apartment building his family called home.
God, he was tired. No, exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. He'd
just finished the second of back-to-back double shifts, and it had been ten days since
he'd had a day off. Officers were discouraged from working so many hours for safety
reasons, but the department had been seriously short-staffed lately, and Kayne desperately
needed the money. He had a wife and three precious children who depended on him for
everything.
He hated how little time he got to spend with them these days. It seemed like he only
ever saw them anymore when they were sleeping, and he missed them with every fiber
of his being. But he was the sole provider, and they depended on him to keep a roof
over their heads and food in their bellies, and ensure they were cared for while he
worked.
Resigning himself to the inevitable argument that he was sure would ensue sometime
tonight between him and his
wife,
he unstrapped his helmet and climbed off his bike, thinking of the three bright spots
in his dreary world. As tired as he was, he wanted to spend time with his kids. So,
he'd lock up his gun and dump his duffel bag full of duty gear in his closet, pack
up two toddlers and a baby, and head to the park. There he’d spend the afternoon pushing
swings, rolling around in the grass, chasing them through the sand, and racing them
down the slide; all the while listening to their sweet little voices say, “Again,
Papa, do it again!” followed by uncontrollable giggles of delight.
Kayne was grinning by the time he reached the door. He made a big procession of getting
his keys out and noisily rattling them as he unlocked the door, knowing they would
hear and be ready to pounce. He pushed open the door, bracing for impact.
Deafening silence greeted him.
He glanced toward the corner, only to see the stroller in its usual place. Reason
said they could be anywhere, but his gut screamed something was very, very wrong.
Instinct trumped reason. He palmed his service weapon and began searching for the
unseen threat.
Living room, clear.
Kitchen, clear.
Senses on high alert, he eased around the corner and made his way down the hallway.
As he reached the bathroom door, an unidentifiable noise stopped him in his tracks.
After a moment he heard it again, a soft sob.
Oksana
.
With little regard to his own safety, he pushed open the door, having no clue what
he was about to find within, but needing to know his family was safe. His terrified
wife, Oksana, stood over Niki and Natalia's bodies. She was fully dressed and sopping
wet. Both children lay prone on the floor, wrapped in towels.
For one brief second Kayne thought she'd looked happy to see him, but then it registered
what was wrong.
Niki and Natalia lay unmoving, their skin blue, their sightless eyes staring at the
ceiling.
His children were dead.
“
My God, Oksana, what have you done?
” A part of him, the cop part, realized there was no chance of bringing them back,
but the father in him fell to his knees, needing desperately to try and save his children.
Christ, she’d drowned them. She’d fucking drowned them
.
“Call 9-1-1!” he shouted, even as he began to administer C.P.R. He checked Niki, who
was closest, and confirmed what he already knew. No pulse, no respiration. Sealing
his mouth over his son's, he gave him two quick breaths before turning to his daughter
to repeat the process. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered where Tasha was,
but, right now, Niki and Natalia needed him. He had to focus on them.
Kayne had no idea how long he'd been administering to his children—breathe for Niki,
breathe for Natalia, begin chest compressions on both simultaneously, repeat process—when
the unmistakable sound of a bullet being expelled and a new round chambered in a semi-automatic
pulled him out of panic.
Kayne stilled and looked over his shoulder at Oksana.
“I'm so sorry.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. The firearm was pointed toward him, held in a violently
trembling hand. How the hell had she gotten a hold of his service weapon?
She spoke again, but he couldn’t hear her over the rush of blood pumping through his
body. A look of determination crossed her face, and she swiftly turned the gun on
herself, placing it against her head. Before he could stop her, before he could do
more than shout, “No!” she pulled the trigger, doing the only thing she could to him
that was worse than killing him.
Leaving him to live with the knowledge he'd failed his children and his wife.
