ROAR (2 page)

This book deals with a subject matter none of us want to talk about much less read about in our escapist fiction. However, that’s never stopped me before! So I hope as you read about Kristoffer’s great loss and the consequences we all potentially face in this twenty-first century world that it will spark conversations between you and your loved ones before it’s too late and you or they are faced with the unthinkable.

Normally in this space, I warn those who might have triggers and share information about where they can go to find information or someone to speak with if unexpectedly triggered in one of my books. I’m not going to do that in this one because I don’t want to spoil the read for you. Kristoffer’s decisions may be controversial for some, but ultimately how can we judge what
we
might do in similar circumstance unless we’ve experienced it?

Roar
is one man’s journey from darkness to light as he struggles to maintain his dignity and integrity while opening his heart to love again. I hope you will boldly go where no Romance has gone before. (Yes, these two are Trekkies and there will be lots of fun along the way, too!) Hang on as this book takes you on the roller-coaster read of a lifetime.

Here are some of the songs that inspired Kally as she wrote
Roar
,

Kristoffer Roar Larson and Pamela Jeffery’s story.

Warning
: Possible spoilers!

Kristoffer and Pamela

Lady Antebellum –
One Day You Will

Miles Davis –
Time After Time
and unspecified titles

Chuck Mangione –
Give It All You Got

Billy Joel –
She’s Got a Way

Bill Withers –
Lean on Me

The Eagles –
I Can’t Tell You Why

Richard Beymer and Natalie Wood –
Somewhere
(Westside Story)

Carrie Underwood –
There’s a Place for Us
(from Narnia 3)

John Coltrane –
Blue Train

John R. Burr –
For the Asking

Dave Barnes –
Until You

Dave Barnes –
On a Night Like This

Paul Brandt –
On the Inside

Philip Wesley –
Dark Night of the Soul

Wynton Marsalis –
What is This Thing Called Love?

Bryan Adams –
Everything I Do (I Do It For You)

Faith Hill –
Breathe

Billy Eckstine –
Because You’re Mine

Westlife –
Beautiful in White

Westlife –
It’s You

Kristoffer and Tori

Sting –
Fields of Gold

Hollywood Undead –
Coming Back Down

Bread –
I Would Give Everything

Keith Anderson –
I Still Miss You

The Williams Brothers –
I Can’t Cry Hard Enough

Darryl Worley –
I Miss My Friend

Eva Cassidy –
Autumn Leaves

Thad Fiscela –
Angel Kisses

New Order –
Elegía

Miles Davis –
Blue in Green

Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwo’ole –
Somewhere Over the Rainbow

K
ristoffer Larson gripped the steering wheel to control the shaking in his hands. As he inched around the curve, flashing blue and red lights on half a dozen emergency vehicles came into view and set his jagged nerves on edge. The emergency flares a quarter mile back failed to prepare him for the enormity of the accident.

Don’t let the memories take over.

Fighting for control of his heart, he counted the seconds it took to breathe in deeply and release the air slowly, all the while inching forward in the right-hand lane at a jaw-tightening pace.

First responders blocked access to the passing lane. If only he could teleport himself to Denver and bypass the accident altogether.

Highly illogical.

He didn’t even want to think about the nightmares he’d have when he closed his eyes tonight.

The temptation to move onto the shoulder and take the exit up ahead nearly won, but he wouldn’t obstruct emergency vehicles needing to reach the victims. Yet having to drive by the carnage and possibly witness the retrieval of bodies—living, dead, or lost somewhere in between—made him wish he were back at Forseti Group headquarters with Gunnar.

If only he and Tori had headed home earlier.

If only he and Tori had stayed at Gunnar’s thirty minutes more. How many times had he tortured himself with those thoughts about that horrific moment…

Too late.

Images of Tori’s bloodied and battered face flashed before his eyes as bile burned the back of his throat. Forcing deep breaths, he blew the air out through his mouth—well, when he remembered to breathe, that is. Despite efforts to keep his gaze averted, as he crept closer, he saw what appeared to be four vehicles involved in the pileup. No,
five
. Damn it. One was rammed under a tractor-trailer, practically invisible except for the trunk. Had any of its occupants survived?

Of course, there were fates worse than death. He hoped whoever was in that vehicle hadn’t seen it coming. No skid marks. Probably had no clue what happened to them.

Unfortunately, his beloved Tori
had
seen what was coming—not only the stopped eighteen-wheeler in front of them, but also the pickup truck that slammed into the Mercedes’ passenger door as Kristoffer attempted to avoid a similar fate to the poor souls in that car over there. Unknowingly, his knee-jerk response had put Tori in the direct path of the truck that night.

Almost past the wreck. Eyes straight ahead
.

He managed not to see anything more of the wreckage, until a police officer held up a gloved hand for him to halt right beside one of the mangled cars. His heart hammered, robbing him of breath.

Don’t look. Don’t look, damn it!

Seconds later, an ambulance pulled up on the right-hand shoulder and crossed in front of him to park beside the tractor-trailer. As if in slow motion, he watched the crew exit the emergency vehicle and remove a stretcher from the back.

Kristoffer’s chest ached, but he couldn’t turn his head away. In strobe-light effect, his mind flashed between this scene and one on that dark night four years ago.

Stay in the moment
.
Don’t let it consume you again.

He tried to remember his training with Gunnar Larson, not only a well-respected Dominant and Whip Master in the Colorado BDSM alternative lifestyle community, but also his first cousin. He’d spent a lot of time mentoring him on the control of his mind and body. With supreme effort, Kristoffer took several more complete breaths and shifted his focus to the guardrail. Not a mark on the silvery steel, unlike the one his car had rammed off I-70 four years ago.

Don’t go back there.

The sound of crumpling metal assailed his ears.

Tori’s scream for him to stop was cut short, followed by the deadly crunch of metal until all that remained was an eerie silence inside the car.

He shook off the memory with great effort seconds before the low rumble of the Jaws of Life cutting off the roof of a vehicle bombarded him—another sound that sometimes woke him from a deep sleep to this day. As victims were extricated from one of the cars beside him, he turned his head toward the valley beyond the guardrail.

Until a sudden thought occurred to him. What if he forced himself to view today’s wreckage? He didn’t know these people. Tragic though their suffering might be, perhaps these images would replace his own memories from that heartbreaking night. Would that help him bury the past once and for all?

Kristoffer turned toward the sound, mercifully finding two police officers holding up a white sheet to shield him and others from witnessing the gruesome sight. Had one of the victims screamed the same way Tori had that night? He didn’t remember much about the aftermath, but her horrified shriek revisited him during flashbacks that continued to haunt his days—and most especially his nights.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to the occupants trapped under the semi. He wished they’d hidden that vehicle instead. Awareness slammed into him as to why they weren’t concerning themselves with that car, and he swallowed down more bile. With any luck, new nightmares would now blot out the accident involving the love of his life.

Focus on something else. Like tonight’s meeting you’re going to be late for. Gunnar is counting on you.

Work had kept him from losing his mind the past four years. Safe, unemotional business. He went over the directives Gunnar had given him this afternoon. His objective was clear—determine if the purchase of a successful BDSM training academy would be a sound investment for Gunnar’s portfolio. Far from his cousin’s typical financial venture, this one seemed highly illogical and more sentimental.

His cousin had mentored a number of well-respected Dominants over the years. Mistress Grant, who’d been running Denver’s Masters at Arms Club for the past several years, came to mind as one of his most proficient students. Nearly a decade ago, she’d introduced Gunnar to Damián Orlando, a fellow veteran who had been wounded in Iraq. Gunnar had taken the Marine amputee under his wing as well. Of course, his cousin trusted both Damián and Grant with his life and allowed them inside his home and dungeon.

Kristoffer constantly reminded his cousin that he needed to be extremely careful whom he invited inside his inner circle. But Gunnar hadn’t had it easy when he returned from the war and had a soft spot for struggling veterans.

He also had a soft spot for other causes, including a school for girls in Afghanistan run by a former soldier. Kristoffer knew Gunnar didn’t reinvest every penny into Forseti Group paramilitary operations. His government contracts aside, he also diverted a substantial amount of assets to humanitarian projects.

My job is to make sure Gunnar earns enough to continue whatever operations or activities he chooses.

An officer whistled, bringing him back to the present. He waved Kristoffer onto the shoulder of the highway, and a sense of relief overcame him as he left the horrific scene behind and made his way toward Denver. He fought hard to focus on the road to keep himself from being involved in a similar accident—again.

*     *     *

Only ten minutes late for the scheduled tour, he pulled into the parking lot and cut the Jag’s engine. Staring at the warehouse-like building that was the home of the prestigious academy, he mentally prepared himself to go in like the tiger of finance Gunnar expected him to be—confident, authoritative, and ruthless when it came to closing the deal.

Without a doubt, this place would require more hands-on involvement than Gunnar had time for at the moment. His covert operations in Afghanistan were heating up after the massive withdrawal of American troops. Too many lives were at stake.

Normally, Gunnar gravitated toward safe, conservative investments as close to blue chip as possible in this day and age. Financial planning that required no personal involvement. What on earth did he see in this BDSM training academy? To Kristoffer, a BDSM relationship was best cultivated in a deeply personal setting between two like-minded adults. Ideally, a Dominant trained his own submissive or bottom. Gunnar’s interest in the lifestyle differed significantly from his own.

Kristoffer and Tori were among a small number of people Gunnar had given instruction to in his home dungeon near Breckenridge—and were far less into the lifestyle than the others. He and his wife hadn’t delved into even a Dominant/submissive dynamic, but enjoyed some lighter aspects of kink. Gunnar had stressed the importance of safety, making sure Kristoffer didn’t do any damage while tying Tori up or doing light floggings in the privacy of their home.

Whips, knives, suspension, and inflicting pain or harsh punishment didn’t fit their dynamic at all, but were Gunnar’s forte. He admired his cousin’s talent and expertise with the whip and suspension. Witnessing him in action was a thing of beauty, and sometimes Kristoffer had taken Tori to the dungeon to watch with him, but she had no interest in trying those things.

Gunnar’s sadistic tendencies while playing with a willing masochist, always consensually, made Kristoffer pity any enemy deserving this man’s wrath.

The skills Kristoffer had learned for Tori were rendered useless when he lost her. Only in the past couple of years had Kristoffer ventured into Gunnar’s dungeon to practice and learn new Dom skills. He’d never hooked up with anyone. but used it more as a way to release some of his frustration. Gunnar usually found a Dom willing to let Kristoffer practice on his submissive. No strings, no sex, and no guilt.

Without a doubt, he owed Gunnar his life and sanity several times over. If Gunnar wanted to open a tent selling arctic moss in the middle of the Sahara Desert, then Kristoffer’s job was to negotiate the best deal possible and make sure the venture made a huge profit. What else did he have to do with his time since the accident? Focusing on Gunnar’s financial interests provided him with great personal satisfaction.

Gunnar saved my life.

Steeling himself after taking a few more minutes to regroup, he stopped stalling and opened the car door to quickly traverse the parking lot. The heels of his polished, black leather wingtips clicked a staccato beat on the pavement. Continuing his assessment of the property, he saw no visible cracks or potholes in the asphalt lot’s surface. His attention turned to the building. The exterior appeared sound as well.

The moment Kristoffer walked inside, he recognized Brad Anderson. The headmaster at the academy had a commanding presence with his height and muscular body, but it was Anderson’s gregarious smile that threw Kristoffer off-center for a moment.

Anderson greeted him with a firm handshake as Kristoffer explained about the pile-up near Georgetown. He regretted having held these people up even longer while he indulged his case of rattled nerves.

The headmaster waved away his concerns and addressed the group, promptly reminding them all why they were here. “Let me explain the concept behind The Denver Academy. While we run both submissive and Dominant training programs, tonight I will focus solely on the submissive aspect. Our training consists of an intensive six-week course that tests and refines the men and women chosen to attend our classes. Each night, they begin with a formal lesson, then move on to a practice session critiqued by a panel of Dominants, and finish with a personalized practicum centered on the individual’s interests and talents.”