Poor
Boy Road
Jake
Caldwell
Book
One
James
L. Weaver
Genre:
Thriller
Publisher:
Lakewater Press
Date
of Publication: March 21, 2016
ISBN
978-0-9944511-2-5
ISBN:
978-0-9944511-3-2
ASIN:
B019X3WELC
Number
of pages: 251
Word
Count: approx. 78,000
Cover
Artist: E.L Wicker
Book
Description:
As
a mob enforcer, Jake Caldwell is in the dark business of breaking
kneecaps and snapping bones. But each job sends him one step closer
to turning into the man he swore he’d never become—his violent
and abusive father. Leaving the mob is easier said than done. When
his boss offers a bloody way out, Jake has no choice but to take it,
even if it means confronting ghosts of old.
Arriving
in his Lake of the Ozarks hometown, Jake has two things on his mind:
kill ruthless drug lord Shane Langston and bury his dying father.
What he doesn’t expect is to fall in love all over again and team
up with his best friend Bear, the Sheriff of Benton County, to take
Langston down. Racing through the countryside searching for Langston,
the web of murder, meth and kidnapping widens, all pointing toward a
past Jake can’t escape and a place he never wanted to return—Poor
Boy Road.
Excerpt
“Open
the door, Carlos,” Jake said, pounding the door twice. No answer,
but the shadow wavered as if its owner was uncertain if it should
stay or run.
Jake
sighed and stepped back. With his good leg, he exploded forward,
driving his heel above the knob. The lock assembly collapsed against
the splintered wood and the door burst open. Carlos cried out as the
door cracked his face, his wiry frame collapsing to the floor. He
landed on his ass, holding his nose. Blood poured through his fingers
and onto his stained, white T-shirt. Jake entered the apartment to
the stench of cigarettes and fried onions, and shut the remains of
the door behind him. Carlos pushed back toward a kitchen stacked with
crusted plates and glasses, his wide eyes fearful.
Jake
tucked the Glock in his waistband and picked up a dented baseball bat
leaning against a bookcase covered with dead plants. He held it with
both hands, testing the weight. Thirty-two ounce aluminum fat barrel.
He walked to Carlos and tapped him hard on the leg with it.
“Where’s
your daughter?” Jake asked. The last thing he wanted was a little
girl to run in screaming. It happened before.
“Hospital.”
“Still?”
Carlos
nodded. “They can’t figure out what’s wrong.”
“Sorry
to hear it,” Jake said. He didn’t wish that kind of heartache on
anyone, but Keats wasn’t paying him as a shoulder to cry on. “The
two grand. Where is it?”
“Ain’t
got it. No insurance and the damn hospital’s sucking me dry.”
The
bat burned in Jake’s hands. He didn’t want to, but his orders
were to liberally apply a blunt object to Carlos’ legs if he didn’t
have the money. There would be hell to pay otherwise. He raised the
bat, white knuckling the handle.
“Please,
Jake,” Carlos pleaded, tears rolling down his weathered cheeks.
“It’s my little girl, man.”
The
brief howl of air and hollow thunk of metal meeting bone echoed in
his head, a ghostly sound from long ago. The excruciating pain would
rip through the man’s body, so intense he would shred his vocal
cords from the screams. He knew because he dealt this punishment too
many times in the past. He could feel it because he was once on the
receiving end. As the bat barrel wavered and Carlos sobbed, Jake’s
cell phone vibrated for the fifth time in twenty minutes. Like the
previous four times, he silenced it.
He
glimpsed a picture on the kitchen counter of Carlos and his daughter.
Eight years old, cute as hell in a white dress with a daisy in her
thick, black hair. What would happen to her if Jake broke her daddy’s
legs? What would Keats do to him if he didn’t? His cell vibrated
again.
Jake
tossed the bat on the floor. It clanked toward the busted front door
and he yanked the cell from his pocket, checking the number. 660 area
code. Home, if there was such a place. He needed to think and the
call provided as good a distraction as any. Jake answered with his
left hand and pulled the gun out with his right, training it on
Carlos.
“Dad’s
dying,” Janey said. His sister’s first words to him in a year.
Like he was supposed to give a shit.
About
the Author:
James
L Weaver is the author of the forthcoming Jake Caldwell thrillers
Poor Boy Road and Ares Road from Lakewater Press. He makes his home
in Olathe, Kansas with his wife of 18 years and two children. His
previous publishing credits include a six part story called "The
Nuts" and his 5-star rated debut novel Jack & Diane which is
available on Amazon.com. Author note: a handful of the raters are
actually not related to him.
His
limited free time is spent writing into the wee hours of the morning,
playing parental taxi cab to his kids' sporting endeavors, and binge
watching Netflix.
You
can read his blog at weaverwrites.wordpress.com and follow him on
Twitter @WildcatJim2112.
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/WildcatJim2112
Tour
giveaway
1
copy of Poor Boy Road and swag pack
3
ebook copies of Poor Boy Road
A high tide lifts all boats, so yes.
ReplyDeleteOf course!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the giveaway!!!
ReplyDeleteHave not read it yet would love to ty for the chance :)
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