Carnal Beginnings by Reily Garrett

Title: Carnal Beginnings

Author: Reily Garrett

Genre: Dark Romance Suspense

Release Date: February 5, 2018

A split-second decision can alter the course of your life.

Adara’s enigmatic and sexy boss asks a simple question. 

“How will you celebrate your twenty-first birthday?” 

Adara’s plan to escape the lie she’s lived since her parents’ death is so close she can inhale freedom. Days away, it holds the key to her survival. Finagling a job at a private investigation firm has added the final touches to her strategy to live under the radar. Her hunters are as sadistic as they are persistent.

Julien Crofton, an ex-Special Forces, private investigator, is unable to forge a connection with his beautiful personal assistant. Submissive by nature, she holds a will of steel underneath the haunted exterior. When he learns she comes with her own psychopathic stalker, determination to keep her safe tests his skills.

Passions ignite while evading her perverted family and a psychopathic stalker. 

Warning: adult content and ramifications of rape discussed.

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Prologue

Cell phones equaled the bane of Julien’s existence, except when they saved a life. His client, a woman targeted by her monstrous ex, hadn’t answered all afternoon.

With his attention divided between a staff meeting and the difficult client who ignored logic, his frustration skyrocketed. He’d fired off several texts before calling her house. The repetitive drone of her dial tone sent his paranoia level to DEFCON 1.

A homebody, her adventurous streak ranged the scale between knitting and collecting scarves. She should have been home.

He understood the type of man she’d married, weak-minded, controlling, and abusive, puppeteer to her marionette. From the first and only meeting where she sought his help, fear had radiated from her pores, exhaled in every breath until cloaking her damaged spirit.

Purple, blue, and maroon hues splashed the western sky, the color of the bruises she failed to conceal when slouched in the office chair. Soon, darkness would bleach all color from the sky, the same way death bleached color from soulless bodies. He drove faster, the wheels drumming on the asphalt, chasing headlights forever out of reach, just like her reasoning for going back to the house of horrors.

The setting sun reminded him that her husband would return from work soon and carry his rage home in search of a target. Similarities with memories from childhood provoked a shiver despite the meager light converted to heat via the windshield. Childhood flashbacks served no useful purpose.

Ignorance and nonchalance had twined to frame a bull’s eye on her forehead. He’d advised her to leave home two days prior, yet fear prevailed, dominating courage and hope. They could handle legalities later, but not if she lacked a pulse. The frightened woman insisted on returning to the dirtball in hopes of—something better.

The late morning call had demonstrated her new vein of determination, a declaration she was ready to pack it in and start a new life. Failure to arrive at his office either meant the scales of indecision favored the familiar—or she’d arrived at her decision too late.

As a private investigator, he’d seen the scenario rehearsed and unfold many times. For reasons unknown, human nature’s broken record played out on the Mobius strip, fate having trapped him in the loop.

The steady slap and scrape of windshield wipers whisked the few drops of rain from his windshield, evidence of heaven mourning its angels. He stomped the accelerator.

His Mazda ate up the miles as he tried to focus on the facts. The closer he got to her house, the more his mind screamed with recriminations…Too late. You should’ve come earlier.

Stones skittered into the grass bordering her driveway as the car slid to a stop in front of the bungalow. The one with the front door ajar.

Oh God, I’m too late. Not again. With little recollection of exiting the car or racing through the doorway, he knew in his gut what awaited. He’d promised her help, and failed. It didn’t matter that she’d ignored his advice.

In the middle of the living room floor, she lay face down, naked, remnants of pain still etched in her expression. Blood pooled under her abdomen in an ever-widening arc. Spatters of red adorned the surrounding wall cabinets, TV, and sofa. Her hair, burnt copper in the fading light and streaming through the bay window, didn’t cover wide staring eyes.

His heart pounded and sweat beaded his forehead. With shaking fingers, he bent and touched her neck to find a pulse, weak, fast, and thready. She’ll never make it, his subconscious roared as he snatched up his cell to dial nine one one.

The universe absorbed his bellowed pain, now perceived as colder than her body.

The warmth of her soul flowed out to stain the carpet in wild abandon. Air redolent of copper and the residue of gunpowder propelled the sour wad of acid to the back of his throat. The yapping of her ankle biter at his feet didn’t register until he saw its footprints surrounding the woman’s thin frame, written in her blood.

There were no second chances to avoid catastrophe. His excuses wouldn’t comfort her now.

Reily is a West Coast girl transplanted to the opposite shore. When she’s not working with her dogs, you can find her curled up with a book or writing her next story. Past employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction. 

Over time, and several careers, many incidents have flavored the plots of her stories. Man’s cruelty and ingenuity for torment and torture is boundless, not contained by an infinite imagination. Witnessing the after-effects of a teenager mugged at knifepoint for a pair of tennis shoes, or an elderly woman stabbed repeatedly with a screwdriver for no apparent reason, left an indelible impression that will forever haunt her subconscious. In counterpoint, she has observed a woman stop her vehicle in severe, snowy weather to offer her own winter coat to a stranger, a teenager wearing a threadbare hoodie. Life’s diversities are endless.

Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed after the kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.

In reading, take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four-legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.

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