Silver James

CROSSFIRE is LIVE on Amazon! Click on the cover pic graphic or the title to head over to grab it there. If the ‘Zon isn’t your preferred retailer, no worries. All the stores affliated with Draft2Digital will be going live soon and I’ll keep updating the links here on the website. In the meantime, here’s a snippet associated with the graphic.
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Thick mist drifted inland from the firth and the foghorn’s mournful wail reminded boats in the harbor of the rocky shoals reaching like claws to snag unwary sailors. Fraser Kincaid stared at the granite headstone standing like a sentry in a hidden corner of the cemetery. His chest burned with the tears he refused to shed. Dougal didn’t deserve his tears. Anger, yes. Disdain, likely. But not this terrible pain threatening to rip him straight down the middle.

The monument’s epitaph mocked him:

FOLLOWED HIS PATH TO WAR –
LOST HIS WAY IN PEACE

The block letters were chiseled on a bas relief banner stretching across the width of the stone. Not for the first time, Kin wondered what words would memorialize the banner on his own monument. “Feckin’ fool,” he muttered under his breath. Yet he’d never take what he considered a coward’s way out.

I can’t let you fall alone. The words slammed into him, the voice as familiar as his own. Because he’d been the one who’d made that vow. He’d promised to be there. To hold on. To walk that same path. But he hadn’t.

“Kin?”

He shook off the warm hand that landed on his shoulder. He didn’t need the touch to remind him of the men at his back. Brothers-in-arms. The Hard Target team. Duke Reagan and the others had his six. Always. Not like Dougal.

“He took the easy way out.” Kin spat the words, their bitter taste coating his tongue.

“Every man has his own demons, yeah?” Lochlan O’Toole stepped up beside him. “’Tis not an easy decision, what he did.”

Everyone standing on that barren hill had seen action. Had killed to survive. Had killed as ordered. Had demons from walking through the fires of hell just to survive. But was just surviving enough? This was a question too many veterans asked and one that often went unanswered.

Giving up was easy. In retrospect, he realized Dougal always chose the easy way. He shouldn’t be surprised the man had opted for the final easy way out. Kin was honest enough to admit that it pissed him right the hell off. How many times had he reached out to Dougal? And been rebuffed. And then that last telephone conversation. Kin vowed to not let go. And he hadn’t. But Dougal did.

The only woman in the group slipped beneath Duke’s arm. Cory’s red hair glowed bright as copper despite the fog. Kin watched as contentment settled around Duke and he knew the answer. Just surviving wasn’t enough.

There was more in life and living it. Duke discovered it, had healed. And Kin would find that more too. Find her. His one. Or die trying. And maybe, just maybe, his epitaph would read something heroic. He glanced at the men and woman who stood with him on this bit of heathered moor. The wind kicked up, herding the fog into wispy wraiths.

A voice, familiar and forlorn, carried on that wind. “You’re no coward, mate,” Dougal’s ghost whispered in his ear. “Now get your arse out there and go fight the good fight.”
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And so the countdown begins! Like all insecure writers, I’m biting my nails, switting coffee and trying to NOT obsessively click refresh for links and/or sales. I should go do something. Like finally get around to rearranging my office. Yeah, I’ll get right on that, just as soon as I hit refresh one more time. 😉