by Edie Harris
Crazed: A Blood Money Novel By Edie Harris
Casey Faraday was a soldier before he was a spy, but family always came first, no matter what.
When a member of the Faraday clan is snatched off the streets and dragged halfway across the world, it’s Casey who follows the kidnappers’ trail to South America. Thrust into the heart of the cartel he barely escaped during an undercover assignment four years earlier, he’s unprepared for the shock awaiting him on Colombian soil.
Ilda Almeida—the only woman to ever tempt Casey into madness, the beautiful wife he’d mourned for years—is very much alive. And keeping a secret that will forever change life as he knows it.
Casey can’t control his hands—or his heart—around Ilda, but neither can he abandon his rescue mission. When cartel violence turns the jungle into a bloodbath, he can only protect one family: his.
Book three of the Blood Money series
Edited by Kerri Buckley.
79,870 words
Dear Reader,
It’s officially 2016! In the publishing world, we’ve been talking in terms of 2016 for over a year by the time it gets here, due to the amount of time some books are scheduled in advance. So for us, 2016 already feels like it’s been around for quite some time. And, of course, we absolutely already have 2017 and 2018 in our planners, and even though it messes with our brains to be thinking in terms of 2018, it’s great news for you since it means there will always be new books to read!
This January, as always, we start our Carina Press release schedule as we mean to continue the year—with a mix of science fiction, historical, male/male and suspense romance, as well as a romantic mystery and an urban fantasy thrown in.
A kidnapping forces an ex-CIA operative back into the violence of a Colombian cartel, where he finds the wife he believed dead to be very much alive—and hiding a dangerous secret in this romantic suspense novel by Edie Harris. Pick up Crazed: A Blood Money Novel this January, and then catch up on her other romantic suspense titles, Blamed and Ripped.
The Carina Press acquisitions team bonded over our love of A Duchess in Name, a historical romance from Amanda Weaver that kicks off her Grantham Girls trilogy. A wild passion unexpectedly blossoms out of the arranged marriage of the Earl of Dunnley and American heiress Victoria Carson, but will the lies that bound them in marriage finally tear them apart?
It’s time for another installment of the kick-ass and romantic male/male space opera series Chaos Station from Kelly Jensen and Jenn Burke. In Inversion Point, Zander and Felix have to find a way to face their doubts and preserve their love—while preventing another galaxy-wide war.
Are you ready for a mystery with a side of romance? When Detroit criminal defender duo Issabella Bright and Darren Fletcher are summoned to the island estate of a retired judge, a deadly chain of events is set in motion—one involving murder, stolen World War II treasures and a conspiracy of revenge that stretches all the way to Chicago, where Darren’s brother Luther wields their family’s power with cold, ruthless precision. Buy Jonathan Watkins’s Isolated Judgment, or go back to where the Bright & Fletcher mystery series began with Motor City Shakedown and Dying in Detroit.
Whoever said “violence is a last resort” never had a Minotaur for a best friend. We’re pleased to welcome back Joshua Roots with his newest urban fantasy, Paranormal Chaos. Warlock Marcus Shifter has been sent on the most dangerous mission of his career: travel to the remote Minotaur nation and convince them not to abandon the tenuous peace agreement between the humans and the paranormals.
Coming in February 2016: A male/male new-adult romance from K.A. Mitchell, Nico Rosso begins a thrilling new romantic suspense series with a hero you will love, we introduce new author Anna del Mar with her sexy romantic suspense, Lauren Dane re-releases a fan favorite, and so much more!
In the meantime, I wish you the very happiest of years as we travel into 2016. May your year be blessed with nothing but good books, memorable characters, and many, many happy-book-sigh moments as you read the last page.
As always, until next month, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
Dedication
For Jess, the most compassionate, resilient woman I’ve ever met, and her amazing son, Max.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Life in Death: The Faraday Story
“It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare.”
—Mark Twain
Prologue
The blow from behind sent him to his knees, dirt and dust clouding up around him as he skidded into the street. Noise from the club filtered out before the door slammed shut, and Casey rolled with a grunt, gaining his feet a split second before the air between him and his assailant filled with curses.
Curses, and the wicked blade of Manuel Dias’s machete.
Casey dodged to the side, reaching for his 9mm, but the machete caught him along his dominant arm, slicing through several layers of skin to draw blood. “What the hell, man?” He shook out his arm as he retreated deeper into the street, testing for muscle and tendon damage, but other than hurting like a sonofabitch, his limb appeared to be functioning.
A violent gleam entered Manuel’s dark eyes, but the man said nothing as he stalked closer.
Again, Casey moved to pull his gun from where it was tucked into the back waistband of his cargos, but then Manuel was there, his meaty fist crashing into Casey’s jaw and causing his ears to ring. Another blow caught him in his gut, hard enough that nausea threatened, and enough was enough.
Screw his cover identity. Screw this overgrown thug. Screw being fucking subtle. The time for subtlety was over, and he was going to burn this goddamn country to the ground.
Keeping his body bent, he waited for Manuel to set himself for another punch, then lunged. Locking his arms around his attacker’s rib cage, Casey drove Manuel to the ground, another dust cloud rising around them.
Disarm. Priority number one, and now that Casey wasn’t playing, he made quick work of ridding Manuel of the machete. He pounded his fist into the sensitive nerves of Manuel’s inner wrist, once, twice, until Manuel’s fingers spasmed into numbness. Casey snatched up the machete, shifted his weight until his knees pinned Manuel’s shoulders to the dirt and backhanded him across his smug, silent face.
As Manuel spat blood, Casey finally got his gun in hand and pressed the muzzle to Manuel’s sweating temple. For the first time in his life, he felt like the thug he’d pretended to be for so long. The Marin cartel had infiltrated his veins, after all these years, and Casey allowed the tainted power to sweep through him as he tilted his grip.
This was what it felt like to not think about consequences, or responsibilities. In this moment, he was a lone wolf and a gangbanger and a criminal and vigilante justice, and he didn’t need Manuel to say a damn word. He knew the man’s wrongdoings, and right now, with a pistol in one hand and a bloody machete in the other, Casey em
braced the role of judge, jury and executioner.
It was his right, goddamn it. His sacrifices, the pain and grief and guilt he’d carried for so long, had earned him this moment in time, his finger one second away from pulling the trigger and getting the hell on with his life. He wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep over killing Manuel.
So why isn’t he dead yet?
“Why are you coming after me, Manuel? Huh?” The muzzle dug in harder. “Who set you on my ass tonight?” Not that it took a genius, but Casey needed to hear it.
“Pipe.” Blood stained the corner of Manuel’s mouth, his teeth as he bared them in the faint glow of the streetlamp. “He knows.” His gaze flicked to the door of the club, tellingly. “He knows, Casey Faraday.”
Fear spiraled, and it had nothing to do with his actual name on Manuel’s lips. Pipe knew, and that meant—”So I’m a dead man, then?” He switched the gun from temple to forehead, levering his weight more firmly into Manuel’s shoulders. “Tough luck, asshole.” So long as it was only his life in the crosshairs, okay, they could deal, but the sinister glee in Manuel’s voice filled him with dread.
Dread that tripled when Manuel wheezed out a laugh. “You’re a dead man, and she is a dead woman.” He grimaced, coughing wetly. “Finally, she’ll be gone.”
Casey felt the final tethers on his humanity snap. Launching to his feet, he pocketed his gun and grabbed Manuel by his shirtfront, slamming him to his hands and knees. As Manuel straightened, his movements pained and slow, Casey shifted his hold on the machete and fisted a handful of Manuel’s greasy hair, yanking him up into kneeling submission.
Blood coated his forearm. Dust clogged every pore. His knuckles throbbed, his gut ached, and his jaw stiffened and swelled with every passing moment. None of that mattered—nothing about his body had ever mattered outside of what he could do for her. Protecting her. Loving her. And this fucker already had a target affixed to her back?
Oh, hell no.
Feral adrenaline spiked his bloodstream as he let the sharp edge of the machete’s blade rest along Manuel’s jugular. “If I were my brother,” he said, switching from Spanish to his native English, enjoying the way Manuel’s eyes narrowed, as if the man hadn’t quite expected him to give up the ghost, after all, “I’d inform you that you’ve just fatally miscalculated. But I’m not my brother.” He dug the blade a little deeper and watched blood well with grim satisfaction. “So you’ve got one shot left to pit-stop in purgatory on your way to hell. Tell me who’s after her, since it’s certainly not going to be you in about ten seconds.”
If he knew who Manuel had tagged to take her out, he could warn her.
Maybe...maybe he could save her.
Manuel bared his teeth, said nothing and sealed his fate.
“Wrong fucking answer, Manuel.” Hefting the machete in his hand, he tightened his grip and drew his arm back, ready to swing true. “You should know better than to threaten a bad man’s wife.”
Chapter One
One Week Earlier
Boston
Casey Faraday was sick and fucking tired of watching his family come to harm.
He paced the cobblestone alley from which his youngest brother, Adam, had been kidnapped barely an hour earlier. He’d already called in a few quiet favors with nearby airports and local authorities, floating Adam’s description—twenty-six years old, five-eleven, athletic build, shaggy brown hair, gray eyes, darker skin, probably wearing a T-shirt with some sort of nerdy pop-culture reference, likely in the company of three men of Latin descent—and asking for a direct call if he was spotted.
That was the key detail Adam had managed to share with Casey before the fighting broke out. Fighting Casey had heard with too much clarity from the other end of the phone; Adam had left the line open during the struggle, keeping up a running dialogue and trying to give Casey as much information as possible to go on, the stupid little genius.
“Cuándo la última vez que fue a la confesión, amigo? I haven’t been to mass in...ever.”
Followed by, “Three against one, and all more jacked than me. You dudes have a bullshit concept of what constitutes a fair fight.”
“Ugly motherfuckers. Island shirts and board shorts? This is Boston, assholes.”
And then, “Come at me, lefty. Come at m—oof.” What sounded like a gut punch, and Adam’s wheezing breaths as a scuffle ensued, more flesh-on-flesh strikes before the call had abruptly ended.
Casey’s heart had stopped during that dead air.
“Hey, boss.” Hand outstretched, Finn crossed the alley to where Casey stood. In his palm was a slim cell phone with a cracked screen. Adam’s. “Found this around the corner, at the Hanover Street intersection. Bastards probably had a vehicle waiting.”
As the director of Tactical Operations, Casey liked hiring ex-military, as evidenced by former Marine medic Finn and his partner, Henry, an Air Force officer, who’d served alongside Faraday Industries’ private pilot, Captain Reid Okumura. Part of it was Casey’s service history as a Combat Applications Group sergeant in the US Army—he just inherently trusted fellow soldiers more than civilians. They followed orders, kicked ass and never flinched under fire.
Casey took Adam’s phone from Finn’s grasp, touched the power button. The broken screen flickered to life, demanding a passcode. He’d have to add it to the rest of the busted hardware he needed Della Quinn’s special touch to repair. Of course, cousin Della—until recently Adam’s second-in-command—had relocated to the new Faraday Chicago location as of that very morning, so a trip to the Midwest was in order, probably as soon as he finished here. “I have yet to see a working camera monitoring this alley.”
“Traffic cams on the intersections are all functional, though,” Henry told him. Meaning they could maybe get an image of the vehicle Adam was taken in. “Do you want to go the legal route and make a request of BPD, or do we hack the footage ourselves?”
Casey grunted, for once not sure how to answer. Usually he’d go the less-than-legal route...but it was Adam who he’d demand do the hacking. The Faradays weren’t necessarily on great terms with the Boston Police Department, either. “Let me think on it.”
Glancing around the alley again, his penlight dancing from one dark, dirty corner to the next, he realized he barely needed any footage of this place to know what happened. Adam’s back had been to the rear door of the Thai restaurant, where he’d hidden a messenger bag filled with the tablet and external hard drive he had deliberately broken prior to the fight—anything to prevent crucial Faraday intel from falling into enemy hands. That messenger bag was now slung across Casey’s shoulders.
Displaced dirt and puddle splashes indicated what path the fighting had taken, and the two distinct sets of blood splatter, evident beneath the glare of Casey’s light, told him Adam had gotten in at least one solid hit. “Finn? We got blood.”
Immediately, the medic was at his side, tugging out his kit to sample the two sprays. Letting him work, Casey rose to walk to the end of the alley, Henry falling in next to him. “Made up your mind about the traffic cam footage yet?” the former lieutenant asked.
“Did Finn kiss and make up with Jaime Redding yet?” The supervising detective of BPD’s Forensic Technology Division had a long history of naming Finn as his personal nemesis, and until Finn cleared the air with Redding, it was highly unlikely the man would do Faraday Industries any favors, such as pulling footage files.
Henry sniggered. “Nope.”
Casey sighed. “Then I’ll add it to the list of shit I need Della to do before she sleeps tonight.”
“Didn’t she just get to Chicago, like, today?”
“She’s an hour behind now. Gives her more time to get shit done.”
“You’re a sadist.”
“And yet you still work for me.”
“Never said I wasn’t a masochist.”
Somehow finding the ability to chuckle, Casey paused at the mouth of the alley and stared out at the nearby intersection. On his ph
one, he made note of the street names and the locations of the red-light cameras. Finn walked up behind them, DNA evidence safely stowed in his kit. “Got what you need?”
“Yup.” Finn paused. “Did I hear you mention Redding?”
Another snicker from Henry, but Casey was done laughing. “Fix whatever you broke with the detective, buddy. Your little feud has finally interfered with my life, which means I’ve lost patience.”
“He’s the one who dumped my baby sister,” Finn grumbled.
“I can’t even tell you how much I do not care right now.” He didn’t mean to snap the words, but each second he stood there, crafting and discarding possible plans, the farther away Adam got from him, from home.
Finn instantly sobered. “I’ll go back to the compound and run these samples, see what pops up. Henry?”
Car keys jangled in Henry’s hand. “I’m driving. There’s nothing else we can do onsite, right, boss?”
Sad but true. “Listen up. This situation with Adam goes no further than us.”
“You mean—”
“Not to Frank,” he told them, naming his father, the intimidating Faraday patriarch. “Not to my mom. Not to anyone but myself or Tobias.” His other brother, the company’s chief counsel and financial officer, was about to get a call from Casey, anyway, so he’d know soon enough. “There’s no need to worry my parents unnecessarily.”
Though he could tell Henry and Finn disagreed with his decision, they didn’t naysay him, instead nodding their goodbyes and slipping around the corner to where they’d parked minutes after Adam had disappeared.
With a heavy sigh, his chest weighted by rage and fear and sorrow, Casey stalked the length of the alley once more, making certain he hadn’t missed a single clue. Unfortunately, there weren’t many clues to begin with, and his heart sank deeper into a miasma of negative emotion. Yes, he was damn tired of the bull’s-eye apparently fixed on his siblings. He’d need to take stronger measures to erase it.
