Sharon Sala - Torn Apart (Storm Front)

Praise for the novels of
SHARON SALA

Salas characters are vivid and engaging.

Publishers Weekly on Cut Throat

Sharon Sala is not only a top romance novelist, she is an inspiration for people everywhere who wish to live their dreams.

John St. Augustine, host, Power! Talk Radio WDBC-AM, Michigan

Veteran romance author Sala lives up to her reputation with this well-crafted thriller.

Publishers Weekly on Remember Me

[A] well-written, fast-paced ride.

Publishers Weekly on Nine Lives

Perfect entertainment for those looking for a suspense novel with emotional intensity.

Publishers Weekly on Out of the Dark

Also by Sharon Sala

THE WARRIOR

BAD PENNY

THE HEALER

CUT THROAT

NINE LIVES

THE CHOSEN

MISSING

WHIPPOORWILL

ON THE EDGE

Capsized

DARK WATER

OUT OF THE DARK

SNOWFALL

BUTTERFLY

REMEMBER ME

REUNION

SWEET BABY

BLOWN AWAY

Originally Published as Dinah McCall

THE RETURN

Look for Sharon Salas next novel

SWEPT ASIDE

available August 2010

SHARON SALA

Torn Apart

Every day, every minute, in a thousand homes and cities around the world, children are being molested.

They are at the mercy of their predators, who stalk them like prey; they are overwhelmed by what is happening, too frightened and intimidated to fight back.

And every night, thousands of children like the little boy in my story suffer silently under fear of death.

God will take care of the predators.

It is up to us to speak for their victims.

In my small way, by telling this story, I am shouting aloud for the world to pay attentionfor people not to look away.

For everyone who ever suffered in silence and for all the children who never made it homethis book is for you.

Contents

One

Bordelaise, Louisiana, May

M oonlight coming through the thin veil of curtains cast a pale yellow glow on the sweat-slicked bodies of the couple in the four-poster bed.

The womans long dark hair spilled across the pillow beneath her head, while the mans hair, still damp from an earlier shower, glistened in the moonlight.

Her legs were locked around his waist.

His hands were braced on either side of her body.

The intensity of their lovemaking was, as always, made all the sweeter because their time together was so brief. But the briefness of their interlude was not because this was a secretive affair. J.R. and Katie Earle were married, and to each other. It was his job that kept them apart.

A single bead of sweat ran from J.R.s hair and down the middle of his back, but he didnt feel it. The only thing on his mind was how good it felt to be making slow, sweet love to Katie.

Their bodies rocked in perfect rhythmthe kind that true partners knowmeeting each other thrust for thrust as the heat between them grew. Like dancers caught in the spotlight of moonglow, their bodies moved in graceful passion.

It wasnt until Katie began to moan and her body began to tremble that J.R. lost his own control. He gave up and gave in, spilling his seed deep inside her in wave after wave of helpless ecstasy.

Katie was still shaking from the rocket ride of her climax when J.R. buried his face against the side of her neck and then covered her face with kisses.

Ah, GodKatieso good. So good. You dont know how I miss you when Im gone.

Katie shuddered on a sigh as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

I love you so much, she said softly.

J.R.s heart skipped. That was a vow that never got old.

I love you, too, baby, he said softly, then pulled her to him and closed his eyes.

Like all married couples, their lives werent perfect. Katie would have been happier if J.R.s job didnt take him away from home, if they could be together every night, like most of the other families in Bordelaise. It wasnt the best of situations, but his job was too good to give up, and until now, theyd had no other options.

What Katie didnt know was that this weekend, J.R. had come with a secret. Macklan Brothers Oil had just given him a promotion that would mean hed be home every night. All they had to do was move to New Orleans and their lives would be perfect.

But there was a kink yet to be ironed out. J.R. knew how attached his wife was to this town and this house, and how fragile she had been emotionally since her parents deaths.

Katies parents had lived in Bordelaise all their lives until J.R. and Katie got married. That was when theyd deeded their little house to the newlyweds as a wedding present and moved to New Orleans, and that was where they were living when their grandson, Bobby, was born. Just before his second birthday, Hurricane Katrina hit. Communication ground to a halt. Cell phones didnt work. People whod been evacuated became separated from their families. Hundreds upon hundreds of people were unaccounted for. And Katies parents were among them.

The days of not knowing had turned into weeks of pure misery before their bodies were finally found, floating in what had once been the attic of their home.

If it hadnt been for J.R. and the knowledge that she had to stay strong for the child who needed her, Katie would have lost her mind.

Theyd gotten through the tragedy together, even though there were still times when the knowledge of how her parents had died threatened to overwhelm her. But the familiarity of Bordelaise, and the comfort of living in her childhood home, had been a buffer against the pain.

J.R. knew she hated being apart from him as much as he did her, but he was afraid to tell her about the promotion, and uncertain how she was going to feel about moving to the city of her nightmares.

It was that very fear that had kept him from blurting out his news the moment hed walked in, and it was still that fear that kept him silent as they fell asleep in each others arms.

On the other side of town, the window-unit air conditioner on the south wall of Newton Collinss trailer house vibrated noisily as it wheezed out intermittent puffs of cool air. The living room where Newt was sitting was dark, as were most of the other homes in Bordelaise. But that was as it should be, considering it was after midnight. The only other sound in the room was the steady slapping sound of flesh against flesh as Newt pumped his erection with rock-solid rhythm.

His lips were slack, his gaze locked on the flickering light of his computer screen, which showed the innocent faces of the pretty little boys cavorting on a trampoline. That the little boys were nude was just icing on the cake.

Outside, a passing car suddenly backfired, jarring Newts concentration. Afraid he would lose his erection, he tugged harder, which distracted his vibe even more. Despite his best efforts, his cock finally went limp. He groaned, then cursed. Now he either spent a night with frustrated dreams, or got up and did something about it.

Even though he was reluctant to leave the comfort of his trailer for the muggy heat of a Louisiana night, he could no more control the urge for satisfaction than he could understand why only pretty little boys got him off.

He dragged himself up from his recliner and began to dress. One positive note about being forty-seven years old and attracted only to little boys was that he didnt need to worry much about his appearance. Women would have been put off by his paunch, narrow-set green eyes and brown, thinning hair. He knew his chin was receding and his nose was too large for his face, but he didnt care. He had no interest in attracting women. They didnt attract him. Why bother to fight it?

By the time he was reaching for his shoes, he was already getting amped just thinking about what came next. He palmed his car keys and headed out the door.