Spotlight Saturday: Missing in Action (Clearwater Creek Book 4) by Scarlet Blackwell

 

Our second #SpotlightSaturday is Missing In Action by Scarlet Blackwell. This is the last in the Clearwater Creek series, and best read as part of that series.  The book, and the whole series is out now on kindle unlimited so if you like what you read in the excerpt, the whole series is there to grab.  Enjoy!

From the blurb:

Holden’s hiding from the press after his agent stole all his money.   

Tyler’s just hiding from life after Afghanistan stole his leg.

There’s twenty-two years and a wealth of hurt and bitterness between them. It doesn’t stop them wanting each other.

Holden’s been leading a shadowy existence all his life and his secret is way too explosive to share with anyone. He can’t talk about the things he needs and craves on a daily basis.
Tyler’s down on his luck and battling just to stay afloat in a world of pain, flashbacks and nightmares. The two of them are worlds apart, but thrown together by circumstances that have them questioning what’s most important to them.

Excerpt:

The nightmare was the same again. The dust, the blood, the screaming. Then his own cries as he looked beyond his knee and saw nothing but torn and charred flesh. Tyler awoke with a start, dazed, sweating, disorientated. He thrashed on the bed before he took in the small bedroom, the sun streaming through the open curtains. He fell back with a gasp. The nightmares even invaded his afternoon naps now, while the flashbacks were at times near damn continuous. A sudden thud on the door sounded like a gun firing and startled him. He didn’t get visitors, who could it possibly be? He shuffled to the edge of the bed and put his feet down, relieved he’d kept his leg on to sleep. Down the short hallway, he saw a shape behind the frosted glass of the door. He only wore shorts, but he didn’t stop to pull on a T-shirt. He swung it open.

A man stood there, shorter than Tyler, maybe five feet ten and lean, wearing faded jeans and a white open-necked shirt. He was maybe twenty years older than Tyler, his dark hair streaked with silver, and handsome, with dark eyes.

Very handsome. For a moment, Tyler couldn’t speak. With a sinking feeling, he thought he knew who this was.

“Mr. Lockhart?”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, waiting.

“I’m Holden Maddison. Your new landlord.”

Tyler’s heart sank. Yeah, it was who he thought it was.

The guy’s gaze flickered down Tyler’s body, glancing at his prosthesis and moving back up again with unease written on his face. Tyler was used to the reaction. A twinge of pain just completed his misery.

“You’ve been expecting me, right?”

Tyler said nothing. He had nothing to say.

The man looked irritated. He sighed. “I sent you notice to leave over two months ago, Mr. Lockhart, and now I’m here moving in, and I find you’re still here.”

Tyler swallowed. “Look, I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m not causing trouble here. I’m not in your house, I keep myself to myself. Why do you need me gone?”

Holden Maddison looked wrong-footed for a moment. “I need quiet to work.”

Tyler frowned. “And your house is there and mine is here. I don’t play loud music; I don’t have parties. Why exactly are you throwing me out?”

Holden stared at him for a moment. “You have till the end of the week.” He turned and walked away, across the driveway, away from the annex and into the main house, where he closed the door.

Tyler slammed the door. Prick. He had a feeling he knew the guy’s name and face, and had done when the letter of eviction had arrived. Was he famous? Had Tyler seen him on the TV? He couldn’t place him. Maybe he was, and that was why he was such an asshole. What did it matter who lived in the little cottage on his land? Tyler was paying rent for fuck’s sake. He never went anywhere or saw anyone, how exactly could he disturb Holden? He went back into the bedroom and sat down. His leg was hurting; his stump was shrinking and resting too hard into the prosthesis. He should have taken it off to sleep. He grabbed a jacket from the chair in the corner. He should have rested his leg and he should have applied more socks to the ever increasing layers that he was always fucking about with, sometimes five times a day, but instead, he slammed the door behind him and set off down the rutted track. Walking would help him clear his head, help him think what he was going to do when he became homeless.

The day was too hot, he realized belatedly. Too hot when the end of your has-been leg was jammed too deep into the prosthesis and sweating made it worse. Too fucking hot for limping along the fucking road in Clear Water fucking Creek like he had somewhere to go. He had nowhere to go and no one to see.

By the time he made it to what passed for the town square, with the doctors’ clinic, the bakery, the diner and Bluey’s bar, he was in agony. Why the fuck hadn’t he added extra socks? What the hell was the matter with him? Was he some sort of masochist?

He’d only been in the diner once. He could hardly afford to eat, never mind dine out, but if he didn’t sit down soon, he’d fall down. He was sweating profusely and his leg was all sorts of misery that threatened to undo him. Even worse than the usual phantom limb pain. He didn’t know how much money he had in his pocket, but they couldn’t refuse to serve him a glass of iced water while he rested, could they?

He climbed the steps to the diner torturously and pushed open the door. The blast of cold air that hit him almost made him groan in pleasure. He limped inside. It was a small, homey place, with only a couple of patrons enjoying a drink. Behind the counter stood a lean dark-haired man of average height in his thirties, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and polishing steamy glasses fresh from a dishwasher. Tyler had intended to go straight to the counter and order the water. Instead he fell into the nearest booth, almost collapsing onto the padded couch.

He heard running footsteps as he sat with his eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard. “Are you okay, Sir?”

Tyler cracked open his eyes. The guy had come out from behind the counter. He stood there with the cloth twisted in his hands, concern written all over his pretty face. For a moment, he looked like water in an oasis, the nicest thing Tyler had seen all day. Well, that was apart from the silver fox at his door not so long ago, but he didn’t need to think about that asshole.

Missing In Action is currently available as an e-book and can be read as part of your Kindle Unlimited Subscription