Book Title: Nightway Chant, Coulter & Woodard 3
Author: M.J. Calabrese
Publisher: Self-Published
Cover Artist: Jessica Henshall
Release Date: September 1, 2020
Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romantic Suspense
Trope/s: Murder and mayhem
Themes: Detective and Criminal Profiler
Length: 60 000 words
This is a trilogy and should be read in order
Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited
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Blurb
There was a time in Detective Eagle Woodard’s life that he would like to forget, but Eagle’s past catches up with him and it’s threatening to destroy everything and everyone he holds dear.
Dr. Adam Coulter is recovering from a cancer diagnosis and Adam and Eagle’s relationship is stronger than ever, but the continued disappearance of their son, Michael, overshadows their happiness. A new threat appears in the form of a man Detective Eagle Woodard thought dead. Sergeant Dean Kessler aka ‘The Viking’ is on a mission to destroy his old Black Ops team mate. Secrets held in silence by Eagle for over a decade come to the surface, threatening his relationship with Adam and with Eagle’s family.
Not only is The Viking after Eagle, but when Dean Kessler finds his younger brother is in Albuquerque, he becomes a target for his older brother’s revenge as well. Eagle wants to deal with Dean on his own, but the people who care for Eagle the most aren’t about to let him do this by himself.
The question is, will Eagle be able to keep the worst part of himself locked away or will he need ‘The Skinwalker’ to help him defeat ‘The Viking’?
Author’s Note: This book begins about six months after the end of Book 2 in the Coulter/Woodard series. This is the third planned book in the Coulter/Woodard series. No others are planned at this time, but who knows if the muse will strike. There are secondary characters who might need to have their stories told, but if they do, then the stories will be standalone novels.
PLEASE NOTE: This story contains some scenes of BDSM, drug abuse, and violent death. If these are triggers for you, this book may not be for you.
Pulling up to the Starbucks coffee café brought Eagle no pleasure today. There would be a mocha latte, but he knew he wouldn’t drink it all. He wouldn’t get the chance. Stepping out of the hot sun into the cool interior of the café, Eagle removed his sunglasses. He glanced around, taking note of the people sitting around chatting and then at the three young baristas manning the coffee bar. He pulled out his wallet and hesitated, fingering the card tucked into a slot where most men secreted away an extra $20 or $100 bill, in case they came up short. Eagle always kept this particular Starbucks gift card on him. It had been there for over 12 years and he never had to use it because using it would mean he owed someone a favor.
As he stepped up to the counter, he looked up at the menu as if making up his mind about what he wanted. The young Hispanic woman stood in front of him, waiting patiently as he made up his mind.
“Venti Mocha Latte, please.” He handed her the card.
The young woman looked at the card and frowned. “Uh, I think this is out of date. I’m not sure…”
Eagle smiled at her, “Ask your manager, I think he’ll honor it.”
She nodded and took it through a door to the side behind the counter. A few minutes later, the manager came out. He looked Eagle over and smiled. “Of course, we’ll honor this gift card, here, I’ll run it for you. Gracia, make his order.”
The girl had a cup in her hand, ready with her Sharpie, “Name?”
“Eagle.” He noted that the man’s hand shook slightly as he tried to enter the card. On the second try, he succeeded.
The manager looked up at him with a half-smile as he handed back the card. “Just enough for fifteen lattes.”
Eagle nodded and took a seat at one of the small tables to wait. Fifteen lattes meant fifteen minutes. If the barista was quick, he might get half of the latte down. Fifteen minutes later, Eagle didn’t bother to look up as someone pulled up a chair to his table and sat down.
“So, we finally meet Captain Woodard.”
Eagle took another sip, then looked up at the man across from him. “Detective Woodard now.”
The redhead in a generic, gray pinstripe suit smiled, “I know. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” He reached over and took Eagle’s latte, taking a sip of it before he continued. “How can I help you?”
“I need to get in touch with my team.”
The younger man sat up a little straighter, “That could be difficult.”
“There is a threat. I need to warn them. I may even need their help to eliminate this threat.”
The other man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he held the paper cup between his hands. He took another sip before looking up through thick, pale lashes. “Dean Kessler aka The Viking.”
Eagle cocked his head, studying the man more closely, “So, you’re aware of him?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what kind of a threat he poses.”
“Yes,” the man sighed as he reached into his wallet to remove another unused Starbucks gift card and handed it to Eagle, “and unfortunately, I can’t help you.” The man started to get up, but Eagle grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“He hurt my son. He’s going after my family.”
“I understand that, but my orders are not to interfere.”
“Whose orders?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
Eagle stood, putting his sunglasses back into place. He grabbed the smaller man’s upper arm in a death grip and propelled him out of the door. He didn’t stop until they were behind the large, blue trash bin behind the café. He whipped the man around, slamming his face into the dumpster, pinning him there. Reaching down to his waistband, he pulled his Sig Sauer and placed it against the other man’s temple. He could feel the younger man start to tremble and the sweat on his upper lip wasn’t due to the heat.
“Here, let me make this easy on you. You’ve read my file. You know what I am capable of. I need to get in contact with my team. I want those names and numbers and I will not take no for an answer.” He glanced down at the redhead’s left hand as it started to twitch as it moved toward his chest. “Don’t’ even think about reaching for your gun.”
My mother now regrets her fateful words she offered the day I came home from our small town library in Palm Springs, California (yes, I’m a Cali girl) complaining that there were no more books to read. “Then why don’t you write some.”
My father never saw his old Remington portable until I entered college and they gifted me an IBM Selectric. By then I had produced at least two dozen unpublishable novels which make me cringe when I read them today.
I found inspiration in innumerable odd jobs (from migrant work as a Date palm pollinator to the person who cleans the washing machines at the launderette to professional Dominatrix) for stories. After a stint in Rehab for Alcohol and Heroin abuse (so when I write those scenes, I know what I’m talking about), I cleaned up and have stayed that way for 29 years. (Me and Sir Elton, LOL). My gypsy lifestyle gave me a unique perspective on the different people who inhabited the Washington, Oregon, Arizona, California, and New Mexico areas where I have lived.
After 3 very bad marriages to men, I finally figured out what was wrong and fell in love with a woman when I lived in Portland, OR 23 years ago. We’ve been married since 2008 (yes it was legal in California at that time). We now live in Asheville, NC and love the people in this liberal and accepting corner of the mountains of North Carolina.
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