I am delighted toĀ share an extract today ~ thanks to Rachel’s Random Resources for organizing.
Follow my fellow bloggers on the tour ā¤µ
Genre: Crime
Publication Date: March 6, 2025
Publisher: Head of Zeus ā Aries Fiction
Estimated Page Count: 368
Standalone Book #25 in the Joe Pickett series
Grab your copy on Amazon ~ https://amzn.to/3DpGUQw
Extract:
Nate entered the close- packed pines upstream from the enclave and slowly advanced toward the lodge. He tried to step on patches of snow that had seen the most shade during the day, so the surface would be hard and he wouldnāt break through. As he moved to-ward the compound, he sized it up through gaps in the tree trunks.
In addition to the lodge, there was a line of small outbuildings
extending to the side. Each was signed in frontier lettering: SALOON, LIVERY STABLE , MARSHALLāS OFFICE, JAIL. They all looked empty and forlorn.
A great horned owl watched his progress from its perch on top
of a hitching- post rail. Its eyes were unblinking. Nate stared back, and for a second a connection was made. A beat after, the owl shuffled its talons on the rail, extended its wings, and flapped away. Nate nodded his approval. His message had been received: Trouble was on the way.
Nate went still when the front door of the lodge swung open and a man stepped outside.
Concealing himself behind a tree, Nate leaned to the right and
peered around it. The figure was bearded and hugging himself against the cold. Tight black jeans, sneakers, a light leather jacket. It was not serious clothing for the location and the conditions. Where had Soledad picked him up?
The man walked across the hard- packed snow to what appeared
to be an outhouse. Before going inside, he propped a semi-automatic rifle with an extended magazine next to the door.
The fact that the man had a weapon with him even for a trip to the outhouse made Nate smile. He was in the right place.
Nate was on the move the second the outhouse door closed. He jogged to a space between the parked car and the side of the lodge, keeping his eyes open for movement behind any of the windows. There was none, and when he reached his destination he leaned his back against the siding of the house and removed his waders. Then he unzipped his parka. The grip of his revolver was warm from his body heat.
He bent over and looked inside the Honda through the side windows. There were fast- food wrappers on the floors and some-one had left a coat on the back seat. He tried the driverās- side door and found it unlocked.
Nate leaned into the vehicle and opened the glove compart-ment and the console. The console revealed two cheap burner phones and a half- empty box of .410 shotgun shells. Then he backed out of the Honda and reached under the driverās seat. As he suspected, he found a gun and pulled it out.
It was a bruiser of a weapon: a Taurus Judge Public Defender, with a two- inch barrel and five .410 shotgun shells in the cylinder. They could be replaced with .45 rounds, but Nate was pleased with them. Unlike the rounds from his own .454 that could exit a body and punch through walls like they werenāt even there, the Judge would be perfect for close- in work. Shotgun pellets couldnāt be matched to a particular weapon like slugs could, they were devas-tating at close range, and the weapon wasnāt tied to him in any way.
With the .454 in his right hand and the Judge in his left, Nate shouldered the front door of the lodge open and swung inside.
The lobby was dark and jammed with overstuffed chairs and
couches. Buckaroo prints hung on the pine- paneled walls, and an unlit wagon- wheel chandelier was suspended from the ceiling.
Past the lobby in the dimly lit kitchen, a doughy ginger- haired
man with a growth of stubble looked up from a breakfast table in the kitchen. His eyes were red and unfocused, and he had a quiz-zical expression on his face that quickly morphed into anger.
āWho the fuck are you?ā he asked in a phlegmy voice that sug-
gested either illness or the effects of a hangover. He glanced down at a semiautomatic handgun on the tabletop next to his coffee mug. So did Nate.
āWhereās Axel?ā Nate said in a tense whisper. Then: āDonāt
do it.ā
But he did it and lunged for the gun.
Nate shot the man in the heart with the Judge. The impact of
the blast flung him tumbling backward in his chair, and the sound of the shot was deafening.
But surprisingly, he wasnāt dead. The ginger man scrambled on
all fours on the floor out of Nateās line of vision, and his crablike hand reached up and appeared on the table, searching for the gun.
āReally?ā Nate said as he blew a hole in the table with his new
weapon, and the ginger man sprawled out and went still.
Nate strode across the room into an adjoining bedroom where the door was open. He peered inside at an unmade bed. There was meth paraphernalia on the bedside stand next to a half- full bottle of Fireball whiskey.
The window above the bed gave a clear view of the outhouse in the yard, where the occupant inside suddenly kicked the door open while buckling up his black jeans at the same time. When he reached around the opening for his rifle, Nate raised his .454 and aimed it through the glass. His revolver bucked hard and the window shattered and the man was hit center mass. He dropped like a stone. Illuminated by morning sunlight, Nate could see a round hole in the back of the outhouse wall where the bullet had passed through.
He backed out of the room and glanced through the open door of a second bedroom off the lobby. Like the first, the bed was un-made. Clothes were strewn across the floor.
Between the two bedrooms was a small bathroom. It was empty. Nate twisted the faucet and no water came out. That ex-plained why the man had gone to the outhouse: The water pipes were frozen in the lodge.
There were no more rooms on the first level, and Nate eyed the staircase.
Two down, Nate said to himself as he ran up the stairs. Go, go, go.
Since the lodge had been built for guests, Nate expected to find several bedrooms on the top floor. In fact, there were four. Two closed doors on either side of the hallway were marked by hand- lettered signage inspired by historical Wyoming figures: The Jim
Bridger Room, The Buffalo Bill Room, The Chief Washakie Room, The
John Colter Suite.
Nate paused for a second at the top of the landing with both weapons outstretched before him. It was quiet down the hallway with no sign of activity from any of the rooms. He had no doubt that Axel had heard the gunshots and was ready for the intruder. Since the last door on the left was a suite, Nate made a calculated guess that Axel had chosen the grandest for himself. He bypassed the first three rooms and launched himself at the door of the John Colter Suite, hitting it low with his shoulder, just below the door-knob latch.
Book blurb:
Can Joe Pickett stop an old friend throwing his life away in order to gain revenge? The gripping new novel from #1 New York Times bestseller C.J. Box.
The campaign of hate and vengeance that a pair of violent criminals wreaked on Wyoming Game Warden Joe Pickett and his friend, falconer Nate Romanowski, left both men in tatters, but it was Nate who came closest to losing everything.
Facing his lowest ebb, Nate decided the only option was to drop out of society. Taking only his birds, he went off-grid to rediscover his true selfā¦ and prepare for his own revenge.
When Joe is called on to help the governor, whose son-in-law is missing in the Sierra Madre mountains, the investigation takes a darker turn when Joe and Nateās very different journeys unexpectedly converge.
All will come to a head at Battle Mountain, but in a struggle neither of them would ever have seen coming, can both Joe and Nate survive?
Purchase Link – https://geni.us/BattleMountRRBlogTour
Author Bio ā
C. J. Box is the author of over 30 novels including the Joe Pickett and Cassie Dewell series. He has won Edgar, Anthony, Macavity, Gumshoe and Barry Awards, as well as numerous other US and international awards for literature. Two television series based on his novels have been produced (Big Sky on ABC/Disney+ and Joe Pickett on Paramount+) with him serving as Executive Producer for both series. He and his wife Laurie live on their ranch in Wyoming.
Social Media Links ā
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X: @cjboxauthor
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Website: Author C.J. Box (cjbox.net)
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Facebook: Aries Fiction
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