by Toby Neal
“And I love you, son. Now where’s that daughter of mine? I need to feed her up so my grandbaby grows big and strong.”
Two Months Later
Dolf
Dolf locked up the small storefront office he’d opened, marked with a hand-painted sign: North Fork Savings and Loan. He, JT, and Roan had gone back to Newton and infiltrated the fortified town, located the Humvee, and stolen it back. Dolf had been relieved to see that his gold was intact where he’d hidden it, but also surprised at how little it really mattered to him now.
The gold was safely stashed in the depths of the Haven’s survival shelter complex, and it formed the basis of the bank system he had started in the town to help the remaining residents resume life. He saved or loaned gold at small interest rates to customers in need, and was often paid in barter items.
Today he had earned a bag of potatoes and a brace of piglets in a pet carrier, and he felt silly picking up the squealing container and walking next door to Avital’s clinic.
He’d bought the aging barbershop next to the office building because he was buying anything that came up for sale—but the ancient association of a barbershop with medicine, the red-striped pole in front, and word-of-mouth were all it took for people to bring their sick and injured to Dr. Avital Luciano.
Dolf set the piglets down outside and went into the small waiting area, taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs to wait. Avital came out from the treatment room in back, stripping off a pair of latex gloves and tossing them in the bin. “You’re early,” she said. “I just saw my last patient of the day. Chicken pox.”
“Should you be treating that in your condition?” Dolf’s brows snapped together in concern, his gaze on her waist, now gently rounded. She smiled, slipping out of her lab coat to hang it up and doing a little shimmy with her hips, just for him. God, he loved her.
“You’re so protective, my dragon. But I’m not made of gold. You are.”
“Ha, ha.” He stood and walked over, taking her in his arms. “I’m not precious, like you. Carrying our child.” Looking down into her cognac-colored eyes was still intoxicating to him. He wrapped an arm around her back and caressed her belly with his hand, bending to kiss her sweet and long. “I can’t wait to get you home and…disinfect you properly.”
She laughed and whacked him on his chest. “Not if I disinfect you first, worrywart.”
They locked up the clinic and stepped out into the last rays of evening. November had brought a snap to the air, and Dolf helped Avital on with her coat. The pigs squealed in their carrier as he picked it up. “For you, my lady.”
She laughed at the squalling, scurrying mess of small pink piglets. “They’re adorable! Can they stay with us in the apartment?”
JT had helped Dolf knock the wall out between three of the rooms that they’d originally been given to use, and they’d made a cozy little two-bedroom apartment in there, with room for the baby, their own hot plate, and a king-size bed that got frequent use for more than sleeping.
“I draw the line at any more animal company than Slash and Butch,” Dolf said. “And I’m hoping those two decide to be outdoor pets any day now.”
The dog and cat had taken to life on the farm with ease. Slash camped out in the barn all day, hunting rats, while Butch joined the other two dogs in patrolling the property and barking at anything that moved—but they both returned each night to the steel door leading down into the bunker where the family slept.
Dolf held Avital’s hand as they walked to the Humvee, parked out of sight behind his office building. Stripped of its golden burden, the vehicle was still impressively solid, and it gave Dolf a feeling of security to open the door for Avital and give her a hand up into the cab for the drive home to the Haven.
Pirates on motorbikes had come through the town not long ago, raiding Millie’s Restaurant but finding nothing else worth stealing—the town kept a low profile, hiding its activity. Everyone was highly aware that raiders could return any time, and like most residents, Dolf and Avital never went anywhere unarmed.
Dolf knew they were taking their chances coming to work in the town at all, but Avital had insisted, and he loved her for it. He would be right next to her, watching over her every day, for the rest of their lives.
Click here to receive Emily Kimelman’s
Sydney Rye Mystery Series Box Set
Books 1-3 + Bonus Audio
Click Here to receive Toby Neal’s
Lei Crime Series Box Set
Books 1-4
Acknowledgments
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for going on this journey with Dolf and Avital!
We love this book so freaking much—it’s the story where we really hit our stride as co-authors and discovered the angsty, hot, super emotional tone of the Scorch Series. We had way too much fun writing this one…and shed a few tears, too, along the way.
Sometimes we think Cinder Road is our favorite book, but we usually think that about all of the novels in this series. We fall head over heels in love with the characters and become completely wrapped up in them during the creation of every single novel. (Don’t tell our husbands, but we totally have book boyfriends…six of them!)
While writing the rest of the series we referenced Cinder Road a lot as the “perfect” book, because it came so easily and really captured what we hoped for when joining forces—a fast-paced book with characters who felt alive, and whose love you believed in and rooted for.
The first book, Scorch Road, got there in the end but was a TON more work. One of the things we learned from Scorch Road was we needed more communication. So now we spend a lot of time talking on the phone, texting, and sending emails at crazy hours with bursts of inspiration. Emily sent Toby a long email at three a.m. about the opening of this book—specifically, how ugly Avital’s dress should be at the funeral. It’s not all brilliant inspiration!
Each author is responsible for one of the characters—their behavior, narrative arc, and actions. Toby was in charge of Dolf, and Emily ran Avital (as much as either of these incredibly strong-willed characters would allow!) About halfway through the book, Dolf and Avital seemed to take over and we were on the ride almost as much as the reader.
That magic has become our favorite part of the process—when the characters tell the story, and our writing vision and voice become united on the page. With Cinder Road, the story of an aching, forever connection shared between twins and the woman they both love developed quickly and beautifully.
If you liked the book, any reviews you leave are a tremendous gift! We thank you in advance.
Read on the next page for the opening chapters of Smoke Road, Scorch Series Book 3 (Luca)
Sincerely,
Toby (Neal) & Emily (Kimelman)
Click HERE to join our mailing list and never miss a new Toby & Emily title!
Click HERE to see more of Toby’s work! Click HERE to see more of Emily’s work!
Click HERE to join the Toby & Emily Facebook group, where we hang out and do giveaways and more!
We are both award-winning, bestselling authors with a lot of fast-paced reads to keep you turning pages late into the night, should you be waiting for the next Scorch Series book!
Smoke Road
A Scorch Series Romance, #3, Luca
Haunani
Nani felt naked without the familiar weight of her shoulder holster and ankle rig, but only Secret Service agents were allowed to carry weapons on Air Force One. She buttoned the gray suit jacket over her tailored, nipped-in waist and smoothed the pants down for the hundredth time before slicking back a few tendrils of rebellious hair—her Hawaiian heritage, with its thick, unruly waves, always warred with the orderly sleekness of her Japanese heritage. That pretty much summed up Nani’s life’s journey so far—trying to control things that refused to be controlled.
Like viruses.
Nani’s hand slid into her pocket to rub the quarter-sized piece of clear turquoise beach glass she al
ways carried. Touching it calmed and steadied her.
She could do this.
“Give me your cell phone. We are going into SCIF.” Nani’s escort, a female Secret Service agent named McMillan, held her hand out. Nani nodded, slipping the phone out of her pocket and setting it in the woman’s hand.
A Secure Compartmentalized Information Facility meant all communications were controlled. No one had phones or any other devices, and even pens were subject to removal. McMillan talked into her earbud, checking if the room was ready and all the bigwigs present for Nani’s briefing. “Just waiting on the Secretary of Defense. The Secretary of the Army, the Joint Chiefs, NSA Advisor, heads of Homeland Security and the Center for Disease Control and the FBI chief are already there—and of course, the President and Vice President.” McMillan rattled off the titles of some of the most powerful people in the United States government like they were ingredients in a recipe—and in a way, they were—a recipe for dealing with disaster.
Nani clutched her file on the Scorch Flu virus currently ravaging the nation, and at Agent McMillan’s signal, headed in to meet the President.
The onboard “war room” was intimidating—a second story in the giant plane, the room was twenty feet long and decorated with flags, the US coat of arms embedded in the nap of the carpet, with a horseshoe-shaped table fully occupied by government brass. The President sat at the apex of the table, and in the middle was a raised kiosk with monitors displaying highlighted maps with “hot spots” of the virus’s outbreak.
Lines chiseled the President’s cheeks like runnels from a heavy rain, and his shoulders appeared rounded under the pressures of the office. Weary blue eyes lifted from the monitors, and all heads turned to look at Nani as she entered.
“President Harrison, Dr. Haunani Kagawa, bioterrorism and virology expert, consultant to the FBI, Homeland Security, and the Centers for Disease Control—here to report on the Scorch Flu.”
Her title sure sounded good. If only the news she carried were anything but the worst kind. Nani sucked in a breath as she glanced around the room. She’d thought their conference would be more private, but it was what it was. Nani straightened her spine—she never did anything halfway, or less than her best. She could do this.
“Mr. President. A pleasure, as always.” Nani approached the desk with a confident stride and put out her hand. Harrison stood briefly and shook it. He was shorter in person than he appeared on TV, only an inch or so taller than Nani’s five foot nine.
“Glad to have your outside perspective on this so-called Scorch Flu, and why the hell it’s spreading so fast. This thing should never have become a pandemic.”
“You are right about that, Mr. President.” Nani opened her folder and took out some reports, passing one to the President as McMillian took the rest and distributed them.
“Tell us more about what we’re dealing with,” the President said.
“Yes. There’s no easy way to say this, and I know you prefer plain speaking, Mr. President. I’m afraid Scorch Flu, or A/3/H2H4, is a U.S. developed, weaponized virus.”
The room burst into exclamations and comments at this bombshell. The President speared her with a piercing look. “That’s a hell of an accusation, Dr. Kagawa.”
Nani’s cheeks burned and she stood ramrod straight. The edge of the folder cut into her fingers as she held it too hard, and the pain grounded her. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But I have intel that confirms it. If you’ve had time to look at my biography since our last meeting, you know that I have a background with the FBI as well as my specialization in terrorism and virology. I’ve been tracking the outbreaks of the virus since it started. Please look at the map on page 3.” She used a pen to point to the paper in question in his packet, and the map also appeared on the monitors. “There’s no way for spontaneous outbreaks of this virus to have happened. The virus, a strain developed as a research tool only, has been stored at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in the Army Research Lab, which as you know is a highly secure military facility. It could not have gotten out by accident and infected this many people, this quickly.” Nani pointed to the “hot spots” of outbreak across the U.S. map with her pen. “Not only did we make this virus, but I can see by the chemical markers on samples we’ve collected that it was taken from the inert stored version and weaponized for highly contagious infection—it survives airborne for an hour and on surfaces up to twelve hours. Someone has stolen it and distributed it in an organized fashion. We’ve been breached, sir. Scorch Flu is a bioterror attack.”
Nani paused to let this layer of bad news sink in.
“What do you know about how the virus got out of the ARL?” The chief of NSA asked.
“I don’t, sir.” Nani turned to face the deceptively mild-mannered spy boss whose habit was to wear a bow tie and a tweed jacket with patched elbows like an academic—but the eyes looking into hers were highly perceptive. “My tracking of the flu has focused on the information I’ve gained by actually interacting with the virus itself in the outbreak “hot spots.” I have an MD degree as well as a PhD in virology, and I’ve been working with the doctors on the front lines to track Patient Zero—the first person known to have the virus. Through that investigation I’ve been forced to conclude that there are at least five Patient Zeros, strategically located around the United States.” In a room full of older, powerful white men, Nani had to keep her cool and emphasize her expertise in her specific areas. “I cannot speak to how or why the virus has appeared this way, only present to you that it has—and that it could not have been accidental.”
“And she has all the facts?” The Vice President snorted as he spoke up for the first time. The VP looked like an Aryan poster child—buzz-cut blond hair, a thick neck, and cold blue eyes that measured Nani and found her not only wearing brown skin, but ovaries.
Nani cleared her throat and continued to address the President. “Mr. President, I am an independent investigator and scientist. I do not work for any government agency. Though I am well-versed in FBI and investigative procedures, I was chosen by the CDC to relay this news and do this briefing for you in no small part because I am not a government employee. I have nothing to lose by telling you the truth, and I’m not good at kissing ass.”
Harrison leaned back in his chair to stare at the coat of arms decorating the center of the ceiling, and gave a dry chuckle. He shook his head and refocused on Nani. “The girl’s got sand,” he said to the VP on his left. “And she has a damn good point.”
The VP did not reply, continuing to stare at Nani. She ignored him.
Nani cut in. “If I may, Mr. President.” She flipped a page in the President’s report and pointed. “The FBI and Homeland Security have identified a potential source of the attacks—a white supremacist group, led by a persuasive and brutal leader, Tanner Hillish. His center of operations is in Texas.” She shared the bio on the man suspected to be the source of the flu’s devastating outbreaks. “Scorch Flu, as the media has dubbed it for the high fever that most patients die from, is a swift and deadly killer. It’s also liable to keep mutating, thus making vaccination difficult.”
“We need to keep this whole thing under wraps,” the VP said. “The fewer who know about this, the better.”
General Beauregard, the grizzled Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, spoke up. “My recommendation is that we carry out a stealth operation and send a small investigative team to track this Texas terrorist, and possibly re-appropriate and destroy the virus. We don’t want anything getting out about it being a US bioterror attack.”
Nani ground her teeth. These men were more worried about the country’s image than stopping a pandemic that killed within a day from a critically high fever, or a matter of a few weeks from respiratory drowning. Scorch Flu was effectively shutting down their country and they thought they could “keep a lid on it?”
On the other hand, if other countries realized the virus was US-made, it would be grounds for accusations of bioweapons development
that could lead to another world war….
The Pentagon had unleashed it on themselves by creating and storing the virus in the first place—but that didn’t make its victims any less innocent.
“Pardon my question, sir.” Nani inclined her head respectfully toward General Beauregard, bristling with medals and insignia. “But wouldn’t it be better to have a national manhunt with all-agency participation? We could then bring superior numbers to bear upon the terrorists, unearth their cells. We think there are many of these nationalist skinhead groups, and they’re growing.”
The chief of Cyber Intelligence spoke up. “She’s right. Our intel shows that these groups, including Hillish’s Great Nation America group, are recruiting at a staggering rate. They’re claiming that the Scorch Flu is the hand of God—striking down the unrighteous and weeding out ‘impure undesirables’ from our nation.”
Nani shuddered at the twisting of her mother’s faith into something so hateful. She’d grown up attending church with her mom, a small, gentle woman who followed the teachings of her church with compassion and love—that was the Christianity that Nani loved…even if she no longer practiced it.
The President shook his head. “That’s certainly compelling, but I’m sorry. The Vice President is right. We have to keep a lid on this thing for as long as possible. The more cooks in the kitchen, the greater likelihood of spilling the sauce—and the implications for us internationally if this information gets out would be devastating.”
Vice President Pigeon spoke up. “Mr. President, we need you out in front, sending a strong message that we have things under control—comforting the people. I think we should give Dr. Kagawa a chance to do more than talk, since she claims to be such an expert. General Beauregard and I can spearhead this operation while you focus on more important things—like running the nation. I can think of no one better to head up the special investigation unit than you, Dr. Kagawa.”
