We’re a little over a month away from the official release of my new novel, Grave Mistake — book 5 in the Don’t Call Me Hero series. I’m so excited for you to read Cassidy & Julia’s latest adventures! I really appreciate everyone’s patience as I slowly worked on this fifth installment. As a Thank You, here’s a preview of the first few pages!

Prologue

William Desjardin was dead. I’d said the statement over and over again in my head. I was familiar with death, but that didn’t mean I was at ease with it. The sudden permanency of it would be forever startling. You would never see that person again, never get to talk to them or ask them questions. They’d never tell you another joke or share another secret. They were just gone. One minute my buddies were laughing and celebrating after a successful directive, the next, they’d been obliterated by an undetected IED as if they’d never existed in the first place.

My parents hadn’t raised me to be religious, and the concept of an afterlife had never caught on during any of my tours abroad. Plenty of Marines carried religious paraphernalia with them—a holy book, a rosary, a picture of their god—but just as many carried a lucky rabbit’s foot or some other good-luck charm. I considered them all the same.

Julia’s suitcase was packed in the trunk of her Mercedes. I’d watched her fill the luggage with meticulously folded blouses and pencil skirts. The more outfits she packed, the more I wondered if she planned on coming back. The postal mail had been put on hold. She’d asked a neighbor to keep an eye on the apartment and to water her houseplants in her absence.

I’d been surprised she hadn’t put up more of a fight when I insisted that I come along with her to Embarrass. I didn’t own proper luggage, so she’d let me borrow one of her suitcases.

I’d informed Captain Forrester that there’d been a family emergency. Stanley and Sarah would hold down the fort while I was away. I kept the details sparse.

Julia’s Mercedes idled at a stoplight. Embarrass, Minnesota was just over three hours away, a straight shot north on I-35. Talk radio played quietly in the background. Julia’s hand rested lightly on the automatic shifter in the center console. I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed.

I was in it. I was there for her. She may not have been ready for marriage or babies or whatever that next step looked like for us, but I wanted her to know that I was there for her—for better or for worse. And I hoped that for the time being, that would be enough.

CHAPTER ONE

“How did Embarrass get its name?”

“Hmm?” hummed the woman in the driver’s seat.

I twisted slightly in the leather upholstered passenger seat to face her. The oversized sunglasses obscured the upper half of her face, hiding her expressive caramel-colored eyes and her dark, manicured eyebrows. She’d chewed off most of her bright red lipstick over the nearly three and a half hour drive from the Twin Cities. When she wasn’t engaged in banal conversation with me, either her top or bottom lip had been trapped between her upper and lower rows of teeth.

“Embarrass,” I repeated myself. “Where did the name come from? Was there a Mr. Embarrass?”

Julia shook her head with barely a glance in my direction. Her eyes were trained on the stretch of open highway in front of us. “It’s French. French fur traders named it after the Embarrass River. Riviere d’Embarras.”

Her tongue didn’t stumble on the accent, which made me wonder if she knew the language. It wouldn’t have surprised me; she was just about the most accomplished person I knew.

“Riviere d’Embarras.” I tried to make my words sound like hers, but with less success. It sounded more like river duh bare ass out of my untrained mouth.

“It translates to River of Obstacles,” she told me. “The river is narrow and shallow, which made it hard to navigate in their birchbark canoes.”

“River of Obstacles,” I quietly contemplated.

When Julia didn’t continue her history lesson, I returned to staring out the passenger window.

When we’d left Minneapolis, the fall colors had been past their peak. But two hundred miles due north, the season was just starting to hit its stride. Deep reds, rich oranges, and vibrant yellows painted the horizon along the interstate highway. I wasn’t one of those people who went wild about fall—apple picking, flannel shirts, and pumpkin spice everything—but even I could admit how pretty the season could be, especially in northern Minnesota.

It was the kind of road trip I’d rather be taking for recreational reasons though. I imagined convincing Julia to get on the back of my Harley Sportster and we’d ride at our own pace, on our own schedule, stopping now and again to stretch our legs or grab a meal at a rural, roadside diner. Julia would look devastating in skinny jeans or maybe even leather pants. And I’d make her wear a helmet no matter how much she complained about it messing up her hair.

We’d take that trip someday, I told myself. But for the moment, I shelved the imagery of Julia on a motorcycle to pay better attention to the real thing beside me.

The faded wooden sign was in need of a fresh layer of paint, but I could still make out the words that had welcomed me the first time I’d driven my motorcycle into town only a handful of months ago. Embarrass, Minnesota. The Cold Spot.

I couldn’t help but recall the chilly reception I’d originally received from the people of Embarrass. I’d arrived in the small, northern town as an unproven stranger, knowing no one beyond Larry Hart, chief of police, and his wife, Marilyn. My dad had been friends with Chief Hart since childhood, the two having grown up together in my hometown of St. Cloud, Minnesota.

A strange feeling of nostalgia swept over me as we passed familiar Embarrass landmarks. The stately Victorian home that served as a bed and breakfast where I’d spent a night when I’d first arrived in town; Stan’s diner—where the restaurant’s namesake held court at a u-shaped countertop and locals occupied red vinyl stools; City Hall—the cream-brick building that housed the city’s various municipalities and police department; the local grocery store that made me realize I didn’t know how to cook; the church where Grace Kelly Donovan went to mass every Sunday with her parents; the laundromat and the second-floor apartment that had been my home for two months.

We continued past the concentrated main street businesses and turned right at a four-way stop. Another five miles out of town brought us to the red brick home with the blue door and stately white columns where Julia’s grandparents had once lived. The house—a mansion, really—had become Julia’s own home once she’d returned to Embarrass after her brother Jonathan’s death.

Among the dense forestry and sprawling farm lands, the columned mansion just didn’t fit in. A farm house or a log cabin wouldn’t have earned a second glance, but Julia’s home looked architecturally out of place. The home seemed to have that in common with its owner. After attending college and law school in Minneapolis, Julia had had a hard time assimilating back into small-town life, although I wasn’t convinced she’d ever felt like she’d belonged. Her discomfort had earned her a reputation among the town as standoffish and unapproachable—the antithesis of Midwesterners who were typically known for their friendly and earnest openness. Luckily, I hadn’t originally met Julia in Embarrass, or she might never have given me a second glance.

I stared out my car window at the sprawling home. “It looks bigger than I remember,” I spoke aloud.

I typically had visited Julia’s mansion at night when I was on duty. The imposing home looked even larger in the daylight.

“That’s what she said.”

Julia’s retort was routine instead of playful. Her mind must have been too full to make room for the juvenile joke.

Julia parked in the half-circle driveway in front of the stately home. I climbed out of the passenger side and stretched from the road trip. I was only twenty-eight years old, but the combination of cooler weather, sustained inactivity, and my military injuries made my body feel at least a decade older.

I retrieved our suitcases from the rear trunk and dragged them up the short front stoop while Julia unlocked the front door. She had packed one of her larger suitcases for the trip, which had produced an uneasily joke from myself about if she was planning on coming back to the Twin Cities after her father’s funeral.

We hadn’t been together long enough to go on an actual vacation. We’d gone out of town together, but it had been for another funeral—Geoff Reilly’s funeral in Fargo, North Dakota. I had been witness to too much death for a lifetime, and I’d attended two funeral services in as many months. The first, the funeral service of another former Marine who’d I’d been in the same squad as, and the other, a young woman who had taken her own life from shame, guilt, depression, and a misguided scheme that her toddler daughter would benefit more from a life insurance policy payout than actually having her be in her life.

I rolled the suitcases over the small bump in the entryway and paused in the front foyer to remove my boots.

“You don’t need to do that,” Julia stopped me. “Your shoes are probably cleaner than the floors.”

The floors looked immaculate as ever to me, but the house had been closed up for several months.

I retied the laces on my boots and straightened. My gaze swept around the familiar interior of Julia’s home. The grand foyer with its lofted cathedral ceiling and impressive crystal chandelier. The white marble floors and inlay medallion. I instinctively knew the closed door to my right led to Julia’s den where I’d find stiff, yet cozy furniture, an oversized fireplace, and two crystal tumblers inside an ornate built-in cabinet.

I let Julia take the lead. I followed her deeper into the home with our suitcases rolling behind me. Julia’s heels click-clacked against the tiled floor, and yet the house was still eerily silent, a fact exacerbated by the drop cloth covering most of the furniture. The detail produced a haunted effect throughout the home.

We passed the grand staircase that led to the second floor master bedroom with its oversized, dark wooden furniture. Mixed memories flooded my mind of the various encounters that had taken place in the luxurious house. The central hallway opened up to the kitchen and a high vaulted ceiling. An impressive L-shaped island dominated the space, second only to the back wall that was nothing but windows.

I whistled under my breath. “Yep. Still intimidating.”

Julia smiled warmly at my reaction. “I miss this kitchen every day.”

I planted a fake scowl on my face. “Well now you’re making me jealous. How can I compete with a farm sink and pot filler?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, dear.”

I lifted the suitcases that flanked me. “Want me to bring these upstairs and we can unpack?”

Julia glanced at her watch. “That can wait. I know we just got here, but I’d really like to see my mother.”

“Has anyone told her what’s going on yet?” I asked.

Julia shook her head. “No. The staff at the assisted living facility have been waiting for me to get here. Her nurse thinks it’s best if I’m the one who tells her about my father.”

Julia pinched the bridge of her nose and her dark eyes shuttered. It was the body language of a woman accustomed to being in control, trying not to feel overwhelmed. This trip was so much more than planning a funeral. Julia wasn’t just burying her father; she was gaining custody of her mother as well. Either one of those things could have been overwhelming on their own, let alone having to deal with them simultaneously. And I knew how her brain worked. Julia was obsessively organized. She would never be satisfied unless both duties were handled with the utmost care and with attention to every small detail.

“How do you eat an elephant?” I offered.

Julia’s hand stayed in place, but she opened one eye and trained it in my direction. “What?”

“How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time,” I explained. “I know your To Do list is only growing, and it feels like you can’t possibly do it all, but the good news is, you don’t have to do it all at once, and you don’t have to do it alone.”

Julia opened her mouth. I knew it was her habit to not ask for help, not even from me. She was proud and stubborn and self-sufficient. I was all-too familiar with the combination of qualities because I was the same way.

“What are the most urgent things on your list?” I cut her off before she could get started on the excuses.

“I need to see my mom,” she said. “She’s been temporarily placed in a nursing home at the outskirts of town. There’s not really another option for her right now, but I want to make sure she’s comfortable.”

I nodded gravely. “And then what?”

Julia released a long, loud breath. “And then I need to meet up with the funeral director to make arrangements for the wake and the burial.”

“Okay. And what else?”

Julia gestured to the stainless steel appliance in the corner of the room. “The refrigerator is empty.”

I immediately perked up. “Great. It sounds like we’ve got a plan. Go visit your mom and visit with the funeral director. I’ll take care of the groceries.”

I grabbed onto Julia’s hand to stall what I was sure was another list of excuses. “Let me do this one small thing. You’ll actually be doing me a favor. Otherwise I’ll go crazy with not being able to help.”

The framing of my statement coaxed a small, knowing smile from Julia’s lips. It was a small thing—a small victory, that smile—but it was something. “Okay,” she allowed. “I’ll let you go grocery shopping.”

I tugged on the hand I held and pulled her closer. “I mean it, Julia. You don’t have to do this alone. I know you’re used to it, but we’re a team.”

Her eyes shifted low and she toyed with the bottom hem of my Henley shirt. “I know,” she reluctantly capitulated. “But I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

“You’re right. You’re not,” I readily agreed. “But that’s what I’m here for. Let me lighten your load,” I urged. “I can do more than be good in the bedroom.”

Julia’s nostrils visibly flared. “Miss Miller.”

+++

There was an exaggerated bounce in my step as we left Julia’s house for her parked Mercedes. The feeling was fleeting, however. My hand paused on the passenger door handle as a realization sank in: “We only have one vehicle.”

My shoulders slumped forward. I instantly deflated. I’d been so excited about the prospect of being able to help Julia, but because we’d driven to Embarrass together, there wasn’t a second car for myself to run errands.

“I’ll grab my father’s car from his house and you can take the Mercedes,” Julia offered.

I cocked my head. “Are you sure? I bet I could call Grace Kelly for a ride.”

“You’ve driven my car before,” Julia pointed out.

It wasn’t what I had meant, but if she didn’t object to driving her deceased dad’s car around town, I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it either.

It was a short drive from Julia’s rural mansion to the Embarrass home where she’d grown up. The two-story home was set back on a little hill with concrete steps carved into the earth. The red brick home with blue shutters was far more modest than Julia’s countryside estate, but it was still one of the larger homes within the city limits.

Julia parked her car in the center of the two-car wide driveway. Yellow police caution tape still sealed the front door of her parents’ home. I hadn’t considered that the house might still be an active crime scene.

I reached across the center console and lightly touched her arm. “Do you want me to call Chief Hart or David? You shouldn’t go in there without a police escort.”

Julia continued on as if she hadn’t heard me. “Isn’t that what you are, dear?”

She exited the car, leaving me to scramble after her.

“Julia, you can’t go in there,” I called out.

Instead of walking towards the front entryway, however, she strode toward the attached two-car garage. She pressed a series of numbers into an exterior keypad and the electric garage door began to lift.

“I don’t have to go in the house,” she explained. “My father keeps his keys in his car. Kept,” she corrected herself. “My father kept keys in his car.”

I stood to one side of her car while Julia entered the garage. The two-car storage space was filled with cardboard boxes and storage containers. A set of golf clubs leaned against one wall. I felt torn between my loyalty to her and my dedication to the badge. Technically, we probably shouldn’t have been on the property at all, but no one had thought to barricade the driveway or the garage.

Julia opened the unlocked driver’s side door of a charcoal grey Jaguar. Her upper body disappeared as she leaned inside. I continued to wait outside, nervously crossing and uncrossing my arms. My attention vacillated between Julia and the street out front as if I expected David Addams to drive by at any moment in the police department’s dark brown squad car.

Julia reappeared, jingling a slim ring of keys in one hand. “My mother always hated that he kept a spare set under the driver’s side visor,” she said. “His inflated ego thought no one would be bold enough to steal the Mayor’s car.”

My elevated heart rate started to return to normal, but the open garage door still felt like a giant target.

Julia’s heels clicked on the black pavement as she returned to me. “Do you need money for groceries?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “No, I don’t need money. I’m not your kid.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”

“Nervous? About what?”

“Seeing my mother.” Julia wrung her hands in front of her body. “I don’t know what she’s going to be like. Does she understand what’s going on and why she’s not in her regular house?”

I clasped onto her worrying hands and held them steady. “She’s going to be so happy to see you.” I held her uncertain gaze and said the words with as much conviction as I could muster.

Julia wet her lips. “How do you always know exactly what I need to hear?”

I had no answer, so I shrugged. So much for being good with words.

Julia let out a shaky breath. “Okay. I’ve been delaying for long enough. Time to do this.”

“I could go with you,” I offered again.

Julia shook her head. “No. I appreciate the offer, but your presence would probably just confuse my mother more, and my meeting with the funeral director should be brief enough.”

I nodded, admittedly relieved. I didn’t do well in hospitals, and I was even less comfortable in assisted living facilities. Plus, I would only sit awkwardly at the funeral home. Would Julia really want my input on picking out her father’s casket? I felt far more confident with my grocery store task.

“I’ll see you back at the house,” she told me. The words seemed to be for her own benefit, reassuring herself that the challenging day would soon be over.

She pressed her lips to mine in a deep, yet chaste kiss. When we parted, she ran the pad of her thumb over my mouth to remove any lipstick she’d left behind.

“Call me if you need me,” I urged. “Really.”

Her lips ticked up in a small smile. “Thank you, dear.”

After exchanging keys, Julia began the slow walk back towards the open garage door. I opened the driver’s side door of her Mercedes and paused to watch. Her arms hugged at her thin frame, her head tilted towards the ground, and her forehead furrowed in thought.

“You’ve got this, babe,” I called out in encouragement.

Julia stopped and turned back to me. “Cassidy, promise me you’ll buy at least a few vegetables?”

“Kinky,” I shrugged, a playful grin on my features, “but okay.”

+++