Title: The Painted Phoenix
Author: Sarah Kay Moll
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: July 20, 2020
Length: 75200
Genre: Contemporary thriller, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, literary/genre fiction, criminals, crime syndicate, children, family drama, pansexual, polyamorous, open relationship, mental illness, artist, lawyer, tattoos, dark, depression, PTSD, HEA
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Synopsis
With paintbrush in hand, Nate Redfield takes a city full of ugliness and makes it beautiful. His quiet, empty life is a refuge from a harrowing past, and although he has nothing to love, he also has nothing to lose. Standing up to the syndicate is a good way to end up with a hole in his head, but Nate is not afraid to die.
For once in his life, he’s going to do the right thing, even if it kills him. And it probably will.
But the most dangerous criminal in the city—a man whose sadism and ruthlessness have become local legend—decides to spare Nate’s life. On the streets, Ras is a cold-blooded syndicate enforcer, and makes no apologies for it. But he pursues Nate with a tenderness like nothing Nate has ever known. While no amount of violence could compel Nate to betray his moral compass, love leaves him defenseless.
The vibrant portraits Nate paints tell every story but his own: a lost little girl who thinks of him as a father, a lawyer who tempers justice with compassion, a crime boss and an art thief, and the killer who stole his heart. Ras offers him the love he’s yearned for all his life, if only he is willing to close his eyes to the violent truth. But his story is not one of compromise. It is the story of an indomitable spirit, rising like fire from the ashes of his past.
The Painted Phoenix
Sarah Kay Moll © 2020
All Rights Reserved
“When I was in your apartment,” Ras says, “I have to admit I looked at a few of your sketchbooks. They are very beautiful.”
Despite the compliment, Nate winces. Those sketchbooks are like diaries, but with pictures instead of words, and they chronicle the darkest parts of his life, delving into the ugliest reaches of his soul.
“There’s a little girl who shows up often,” Ras says. “Is she your daughter?”
“Not really. I mean kinda, ’cause my name’s on her birth certificate. But not like… I mean, I never fucked her mom or anything. I was just there. I was the only person she had.”
Ras raises an eyebrow. “Your name is on her birth certificate?”
“Yeah,” Nate says past the lump in his throat. He misses her, desperately, and he knows she’s probably in trouble and there’s nothing he can do to protect her. Going to find her would mean going to find Troy, and Troy would get him high, and then he would lose everything.
“When she was born, I was standing outside the hospital room. The mom—Traci—she and I got to be friends while she was pregnant. I kinda took care of her, even though it wasn’t my kid. Nobody else was there at the hospital to look after her, so I stayed and waited for the baby to be born.”
Ras nods for him to continue, watching him in a way that makes Nate feel like he really cares about the story.
“So when the baby came, it was just me, standin’ out in the hallway in case Traci needed me. I heard the baby cry, really loud, and then the nurse came and got me. Thought I was the dad. Turns out Traci didn’t want to hold her new baby. She wouldn’t even look at her. So the nurse gave me the baby.”
Nate chuckles, glancing at Ras. “Fuckin’ crazy, right? I was some dipshit kid, I didn’t know nothin’ about how to hold a baby. But she stopped crying when I held her. She looked up at me with these dark eyes, and I told her I was always gonna love her and always gonna protect her, and—”
Nate’s voice breaks, and he bows his head to hide the overwhelming emotions crashing over him.
“You really are a hero.” Ras’s green eyes are wide and gentle. Everything about him, the relaxed tilt of his shoulders, the kind turn of his lips, speaks of openness, of guilelessness.
“I’m not.” Nate hunches his shoulders and draws his knees to his chest, staring out at the dark city. “I ain’t seen her in years. I send clothes and food and stuff, but it’s not the same as bein’ there. And I was just a selfish junkie back then anyway. I was no good for her.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Ras’s hand settles on his shoulder, a brief press of warmth that leaves Nate wishing for more. “What’s her name? Tell me a little bit about her.”
As Nate talks about the little girl who will soon be turning seven, something eases in his chest, and he finds himself opening up in ways he never has, with anyone. Ras seems both genuinely interested and truly touched by the story of Sierra’s first steps, her first tooth, her first word. Nate talks until his throat is dry—unaccustomed to holding conversations that last for more than a few moments. Ras puts an arm around his shoulders as he talks, and somehow, that seems fine, seems safe, despite the danger those hands represent to the rest of the world. He doesn’t need to wonder what it means, the physical affection he drinks in like he’s dying of thirst. These moments, suspended in the sky with the city sprawled all around them, are like time out of time, unconnected to anything he’s lived before.
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Sarah Kay Moll is a wordsmith and an amateur homemaker. She’s good with metaphors and bad with coffee stains, both of which result from a writing habit she hasn’t been able to quit. She lives a mostly solitary life, and as a result, might never say the right thing at parties. She’s passionate about books, and has about five hundred on her to-read pile. When she does go out, it’s probably to the library, the theater, or the non-profit where she volunteers.
Sarah lives in a beautiful corner of western Oregon where the trees are still changing color at the end of November and the mornings are misty and mysterious. She spends her free time playing video games and catering to her cat’s every whim.
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