Next Exit, Dead Ahead

by CW Browning

  Tossing the knife aside, Martese opened the box, frowning when he came across heavy, black plastic sheeting. He pulled it open.

  “Dios Mio!”

  He shoved himself back from his desk, staring into the box in horror.

  Jenaro Gomez stared up at him.

  Martese wiped a meaty hand across his lips, his hand trembling as he stared at the head. There was no note. Just the head.

  Slowly, his shaking stopped and La Cabeza took a deep breath. Getting up from the chair, he walked over to the window again and stared outside.

  Jenaro had been so confident he could catch the Hawk and pay him back for killing the former La Cabeza. Martese had wondered at the wisdom of engaging such a formidable assassin at a time when their forces were already stretched thin. They were trying to rebuild the Cartel out of chaos. Jenaro, however, had been adamant. In a moment of good humor, Martese gave his permission.

  Now, Jenaro's head sat in a box on his desk.

  La Cabeza shook his head and rubbed his neck. If this Hawk could get through all the soldiers with Jenaro, and then get Jenaro himself, he was indeed a formidable foe. Lapsing deep into thought, Martese struggled with thoughts of vengeance and the realization that, with the loss of Jenaro and his team, his Cartel was even weaker. After a long while, La Cabeza raised his head and turned away from the window.

  The Hawk would not be pursued.

  Epilogue

  Damon set the thick log on its end on a tree stump and picked up the axe. Gripping it firmly, he swung it up in an arc, bringing the blade down sharply on the wood, splitting it in two. The two halves fell off the stump and he set the axe down, turning to get another thick log from the pile behind him. The sun was starting to set, bathing the backyard with an orange glow. The back deck of his large, rambling farmhouse was about fifty yards away, and two huge bull mastiffs lounged on the varnished wood, watching him adoringly.

  Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, Damon glanced toward the house. He frowned when he saw the cloud of dust coming in from the road. The driveway consisted of a half-mile of dirt, making it impossible for any vehicle to approach the house unannounced. Hawk raised an eyebrow and glanced at his watch. It was too late for UPS and he had sent the farm hands home for the weekend.

  Leaning the axe against the fence beside him, Hawk watched as the dogs raised their heads, looking toward the driveway. He returned his gaze to the cloud of dust, his eyes narrowing, watching as it grew closer. A car was traveling at high speed toward the house. Reaching behind him, Hawk pulled out his Beretta and started moving toward the drive, flipping off the safety. One of the sudden gusts of wind that had been ripping across the fields all day blew in from the left and Hawk paused as the clouds of dust around the car swirled away briefly, giving him a glimpse of the vehicle.

  He flipped the safety back on and tucked his gun back into its holster, a smile crossing his face. The dogs got up and ambled off the deck, stretching before turning and heading toward the side of the house to see who was coming to visit them. As the car approached the house, it slowed down and the dust clouds lowered, swirling away.

  Damon walked out to where the drive met the old barn, stopping to watch as a black Shelby GT 500 pulled past the house, growling as it rolled forward. It came to a stop, the powerful engine humming for a moment before it switched off. Silver racing stripes, now covered in dust, ran the length of the sports car and Damon nodded in approval, his lips curving into a grin.

  The dogs barked and started toward the car to investigate as the driver's door opened.

  Viper got out, smiling faintly as the enormous dogs barked and headed straight for her. Closing the door behind her, she glanced at Hawk, her eyes concealed behind sunglasses.

  “Bull mastiffs,” she said.

  He grinned.

  “Bull mastiffs,” he agreed, moving forward. “Meet Jack and Daniel.”

  Alina grinned and turned to the mastiffs. She held out a hand to each and they promptly shoved their snouts into her palms, tails wagging, snuffling and sniffing her as they pressed forward. The tops of their heads came to her waist and she smiled, rubbing their ears. Damon allowed them to greet her, then called them to heel when they showed no signs of stopping. As Jack and Daniel reluctantly went to his side, Alina brushed off her hands and tossed her hair out of her face, turning to face him. She took in his faded jeans and black tee-shirt and her heart started thumping.

  “Nice dogs.”

  “Nice car.”

  Alina's lips curved.

  “It was time,” she murmured.

  Damon looked at her steadily.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “It wasn't hard,” she answered. “I knew where to look.”

  Damon's lips twitched and he studied her for a moment.

  “You're a long way from Jersey.”

  “Well, I wanted to see the horses,” Alina replied with a faint smile.

  Damon let out a bark of laughter.

  “Well, then, come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Alina placed her hand in his and felt his strong fingers close around hers warmly. Damon turned to walk across the small field on the other side of the driveway, entwining his fingers with hers. Jack and Daniel barked and ran ahead, leading the way to a wooden fence in the distance.

  “I wondered if I would hear from you,” Damon murmured, glancing down at her, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “After a week, I decided you were still pissed. After three, I gave up.”

  “I had some things to take care of,” Alina told him quietly. She hesitated, then continued, “I needed the time to think, anyway.”

  Damon shot her a look from behind the glasses.

  “And buy a new car?” he asked softly.

  Alina grinned and nodded.

  “I owe you an apology about the car,” she said. “You were right. It was time. I just didn't want to let you see that part of my life.” She glanced at him and he was silent, listening as they walked. “I've spent ten years separating my old life from this one,” she told him quietly. “Everything fits into its appropriate box nicely, except you. The Mustang, it was part of my past, something I've wanted since before I could drive. It's part of someone I don't know anymore. Somehow, having you know about it...”

  “Made it real again,” Hawk finished for her.

  Alina looked at him.

  “Exactly.”

  “I know what you mean,” Damon told her. “I feel it now, having you here. We're not used to this, you and I. We're not used to letting people in.”

  “Then why are you so damn calm about it?” Viper demanded.

  Hawk laughed.

  “Because I know you,” he replied simply. “That's all I need to know.”

  Alina glanced at him, a feeling of warmth washing over her, and she smiled slightly as his fingers squeezed hers briefly. He nodded in front of them.

  “There they are,” he said softly.

  Alina looked into the fenced field, taking in the sight before her. The setting sun lit up the horizon in a breathtaking display of orange and purple, painting the sky in streaks of color. Milling around the large field in small groups were about fifty horses, their colors ranging from black to brown to gray to white. Bathed in the colors of the sinking sun, they appeared magical and regal at the same time.

  “These are all yours?” she asked, leaning on the fence and gazing over the field.

  “Yes.” Damon took off his sunglasses and propped them on his head, leaning next to her while the dogs took off, chasing a rabbit and barking joyfully. “This is just one herd. I have two more.”

  Alina glanced at him and encountered sparkling blue eyes.

  “Wow,” she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away from those eyes. “You really are a cowboy.”

  Damon grinned slowly and reached out to pull her sunglasses off her face.

  “Yes, ma'am,” he drawled.

  Alina caught her breath, her dark eyes me
eting his, and smiled.

  “I don't know if I can get used to that drawl,” she said softly.

  His eyes smiled into hers as he slipped his arms around her, pulling her to him.

  “I got used to the Jersey accent,” he murmured.

  “I do not have an accent,” Alina muttered, her eyes narrowing.

  “Whatever lets you sleep at night,” he retorted with a grin, lowering his lips to hers.

  Alina forgot all about horses, mastiffs, cars and accents as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her eyes sliding closed. None of it seemed important. All that mattered was his strong arms around her and his heart beating against hers.

  It was a long while later before Alina came to her senses to find herself sitting on the fence, her legs wrapped around his hips. She pulled away, her breathing ragged, disoriented about what had brought her back to earth with such a jolt. Damon groaned and lifted his head, his eyes dark cobalt blue. He seemed to realize exactly what had nudged her back to reality and he sighed, looking over her shoulder.

  Alina raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when she was literally nudged, quite firmly, on her shoulder blades. Spinning around swiftly, she came nose to nose with a black horse.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed softly, her eyes widening.

  The horse stared at her with warm brown eyes before lowering his head to nudge her again questioningly. Alina giggled, clapping her hand over her mouth at the sound. Her shoulders shook slightly and she looked past the black horse to find about five others crowding behind him, all trying to get a look at her.

  “Do they do this with all your lady friends?” she asked, turning to look at Damon.

  “I don't know,” he answered. “You're the first one they've seen.”

  Alina laughed as the horse nudged her again in the back. She twisted around on the fence, sitting with her back to Damon, and reached out to stroke its neck.

  “What kind of horses are they?” she asked over her shoulder, dropping her hand and watching as the black horse shook his head, causing his mane to flow out majestically behind him.

  When Damon didn't answer right away, she turned her head to look at him. He had a smile on his face as he slipped his arms around her waist. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear,

  “Mustangs.”

  Note from Author

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed Next Exit, Dead Ahead, please take a moment to leave an honest review. Reviews are invaluable to authors, and it would be greatly appreciated!

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  Copyright © 2014 by Clare Wroblewski

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Dissect Designs / dissectdesigns.com

  Book design by Clare Wroblewski

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  CW Browning

  Visit my website at www.cwbrowning.com

  First Printing: 2014

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  Did you love Next Exit, Dead Ahead? Then you should read Next Exit, Quarter Mile by CW Browning!

  When Alina Maschik – code name "Viper" – flees Syria, she has a serious problem. Someone knows much more than they should about the elusive assassin. With orders to lie low, Alina returns to Medford, determined to do just that.

  But once again, New Jersey refuses to co-operate.

  The Casa Reino Cartel is moving mysterious cargo up the Eastern seaboard; a tragic accident in the Pine Barrens kills a local street racer; FBI Special Agent John Smithe is looking for answers where there shouldn't be questions; metro area hospitals are stockpiling a new antidote, and an invisible foe has zeroed in on Viper.

  A web of intrigue stretching from Damascus to the Pine Barrens has been skillfully cast. Now, Viper must confront ghosts from her past even as she fights to unravel a sinister plot before thousands of Americans die.

  Read more at CW Browning’s site.

  Also by CW Browning

  Kai Corbyn Series

  Games of Deceit

  Shadows of War

  The Courier

  The Oslo Affair

  Night Falls on Norway

  The Iron Storm

  Into the Iron Shadows (Coming Soon)

  The Exit Series

  Next Exit, Three Miles

  Next Exit, Pay Toll

  Next Exit, Dead Ahead

  Next Exit, Quarter Mile

  Next Exit, Use Caution

  Next Exit, One Way

  Next Exit, No Outlet

  The Exit Series Box Set #1: Books 1-3

  Watch for more at CW Browning’s site.

  About the Author

  CW Browning was writing before she could spell. Making up stories with her childhood best friend in the backyard in Olathe, Kansas, imagination ran wild from the very beginning. At the age of eight, she printed out her first full-length novel on a dot-matrix printer. All eighteen chapters of it. Through the years, the writing took a backseat to the mechanics of life. Those mechanics, however, have a great way of underlining what genuinely lifts a spirit and makes the soul sing. After attending Rutgers University and studying History, her love for writing was rekindled. It became apparent where her heart truly lay. Picking up an old manuscript, she dusted it off and went back to what made her whole. CW still makes up stories in her backyard, but now she crafts them for her readers to enjoy. She makes her home in Southern New Jersey, where she loves to grill steak and sip red wine on the patio.

  CW loves to hear from readers! She is always willing to answer questions and hear your stories. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. If social media isn’t your thing, she can also be reached by email at cwbrowning12@gmail.com and on her website at www.cwbrowning.com.

  Read more at CW Browning’s site.