For those who have read The Pilot Soars With The Bad Boy, I want to thank you. The kind words are much appreciated.
I knew that you would immediately ask about Carson's story. Being sick for three weeks has put me terribly behind schedule. Carson's story should be done and submitted, but its not.
To prove I'm working on it, here is an unedited sneak peek. Have a wonderful day.
Carson scrambled to unjam the chain and turn the deadbolt. Blood made everything so slippery. In desperation he turned the knob and threw all he weight at the door. The tiny hairs on the back of Carson’s neck rose in terror when he heard Sammie’s yell behind him.
He had waited until Sammie took a break from carving into the skin of his belly. Once the madman was in the bathroom, Carson yanked his blood-spattered hands from the ropes tied around his wrists and made a break for it.
Naked and covered in blood, Carson set his sights on the busy road on the other side of the parking lot hoping someone would stop and help him.
Carson managed to take two steps before a heavy body sent him crashing onto the unforgiving asphalt. His head was jerked up by his hair before his face was slammed down into the pavement. Pain exploded from his nose and lights burst behind his eyelids. Carson knew in an instant his nose was broken. Sammie smashed his head down again and Carson’s whole body went numb. Vaguely he was aware of his upper body being lifted and Sammie dragging him back into the motel room.
Carson lurched up into a sitting position. His bad arm gave out and in his nightmare muddled state he tipped off the bed and onto the hard tiled floor. He lay there and let understanding seep into his brain. He no longer was trapped in a bedbug infested motel room or lying on a moldy carpet reeking of stale cigarettes.
The patio doors leading out to the lush courtyard came into focus and Carson caught a glimpse of the sparkling water of the pool in the moonlight. A glance at the glowing red numbers of the clock sitting on Isaiah’s dresser told Carson it was just after two in the morning.
Carson had a sudden urge to go swimming. He had always enjoyed taking a dip in the pond during his days working at the Earl ranch. At this time of the night no one would see his scars or care he had only underwear to swim in.
Five minutes later Carson was in the pool. The water was warm and felt so good against his sensitive mangled skin. Clad in a pair of green and blue boxers, Carson swam a lazy if awkward breaststroke across the pool. He could lift his injured arm somewhat, but was finding the water’s resistance hard to push through. He kept trying. Carson longed to be able to use his arm and hand again.
“What are you doing?”
Every muscle in Carson’s body froze in panic, and he sank like a rock. The water burned his nostrils, and he lurched up to the surface. Thank goodness the water was only at chest level. It took some coughing, choking, and a bit of puking before Carson could peer through burning eyes and see Jimmy Earl standing at the edge of the pool.