Grip of Deceit

GRIP OF DECEIT AFTER THE END BOOK ONE SAM J FIRES Fire & Brimstone Press Copyright © 2023 by Sam J Fires — All Rights Reserved This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission from the publisher or author, or copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Cover design by Covers by Christian Free Book To get your FREE copy of Surviving Chaos – the End of Days Prequel, CLICK HERE Click HERE to get the story! Contents 1. Patrick 2. Holly 3. Patrick 4. Holly 5. Holly 6. Patrick 7. Holly 8. Patrick 9. Holly 10. Holly 11. Patrick 12. Holly 13. Patrick 14. Holly 15. Patrick 16. Patrick 17. Holly Free Book VIP Readers Acknowledgements Also by Sam J Fires About the Author 1 Patrick February 13, 3:45pm Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, Patrick Edward Dunn stared out the windshield. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Barely aware of the movement, his focus was on the ranch-style house in front of him. Less than a minute before, his two children had clambered from his ancient truck and trudged up to the house. Neither had bothered to wave goodbye or even mutter a word. He'd just given them the news he wouldn’t be taking them to his cabin in the woods this weekend. Not that they’d shown any signs of disappointment. Since they’d reached their teens, moody silence was their stock response to everything. Tap, tap, tap, tap. He leaned forward and squinted up at the darkening sky. Rain and snow were headed their way. If his leg acting up was any indicator, it might be smart if he stayed in town. Anyhow, he didn’t want to deal with his children’s mother, Kimberly, throwing a fit because he couldn’t get them back in time for school on Monday. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been holed up in the mountains with the kids, as the snow had kept them from town. Still, he'd been looking forward to spending time with the kids in his hideaway. He'd planned to take them fishing. Teach them a thing or two about the great outdoors. Thanks to Kimberly’s determination to keep him from them, he didn’t see them nearly enough. She was always looking for ways to sabotage those father-kid moments. That morning, she’d sent him the weather report, making it clear that should he take them up to the cabin, she’d be revisiting her lawyer. Again. That never ended well for him. He wasn’t willing to risk it. Even if it meant losing this chance to spend quality time with his son and daughter. Tap, tap, tap, tap. With a heavy sigh, Patrick turned the car over. The ancient Chevy pickup that had been his dad’s back on the farm let out a throaty revving noise before lurching to life. It was a familiar sound, one that brought a smile to his lips. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair before glancing once more at the house. A small part of him had expected his children to at least wave or come back to kiss his cheek, like they did when they were little. But the door was shut, and the curtains tightly closed. They’d be glued to their iPhones watching TikTok by now, or whatever social media site was the latest craze. He reversed out of his ex’s driveway just as the first fat snowflakes hit his windshield. At least Kimberly had been right this time. Though that did little to ease the frustration. His shoulders tightened as he navigated through her West Salem neighborhood. Once, he’d called this his home, too. For a good ten years, they’d been the perfect family. But his late hours on patrol with the Salem Police and her growing frustrations at not having another kid finally tore them apart. Familiar streets slipped past him as he neared the exit of the sprawling housing development. For a second, he considered turning back and telling the kids he’d take them up to the cabin after all. But he didn’t. Besides, he still needed to finish packing up his things at his own place. Then it would be done. His lawyer had called him earlier to tell him the papers were through, and he was divorced. For the third time. The thought brought on an inward groan as he slowed at the stoplight. Tap, tap, tap, tap. This light always took an eternity to turn. He reached for the radio, turning the dial once, twice, three times before finally landing on his favorite talk radio. Except all he got was fuzz. It felt like he just couldn’t catch a break. Not that it was anything new to him. He switched off the radio with a grunt. His fingers immediately itched to tap, but he fought the urge as he stared at the stoplight. Finally, the light turned green, and he opened up the throttle. His truck belched out a cloud of black smoke, letting him know he needed to stop at the auto part store. He was overdue for an oil change. Ever since his world collapsed that afternoon two years ago, so many things had piled up. The reminder of his injury had him moving his left hand to his leg, massaging the puckered scar through his jeans. Leaving West Salem behind, he merged onto Highway 22. Sleet hit his windshield as he crossed