by Cari Hunter
Jemima Pardon, a paramedic with a daft name and chronic asthma, has never had much in the way of good luck. The only things she attracts are traumatic jobs, and no one wants to work with her for long.
But when Jem bumps into devil-may-care police officer Rosie Jones, her fortunes seem to be changing. Rosie is bright and funny, and she doesn’t mind that Jem can’t go far without her inhaler.
Things are looking up, until a suspicious death draws Jem and Rosie into an investigation that spirals beyond their control. As torrential rain floods the city, they face a battle to survive if they’re ever going to have a chance at finding love.
What Reviewers Say About Cari Hunter’s Work
Alias
“The storyline, following the main character as she tries to work out who she is and why she came to in a crashed car on a mountain road, is incredibly engaging. …As the main character is suffering from amnesia, she learns about herself at the same pace as the reader, which adds another interesting aspect to the story. …This book has a great storyline with an excellent mystery to solve, and is well worth a read.”—Books at the End of the Alphabet
“Alias is written in first person from the point of view of the amnesiac woman which gives us perfect access to her headspace. …Along with the characters, the reader slowly brings the pieces of the puzzle together. We suffer and get frustrated with the slow progress in reconstructing the events, the plot teasing us with incomplete memory flashbacks. Even though we know all that the character learns about herself, and without playing tricks on us, Ms. Hunter manages to deliver a twist at the end.”—Lez Review Books
“[O]ne thing you can count on is that when you pick up a book by Hunter it is going to be awesome.”—The Romantic Reader Blog
The Dark Peak Series
“Gruesome and compelling, mostly snowing and refreshingly English. They don’t drink ‘tea,’ they ‘make a brew’ in this book. Sometimes they have ‘a chippy’ for supper. When it gets bad, they have a kebab. Use caution when reading the first 20% of any of the Dark Peak books right before bed, they start with a bang. Not a literal bang, but a pretty gruesome murder. You have been warned.”—She Sighed Blog
A Quiet Death—Lammy Finalist
“This cracking good mystery also has a thorough respect for the various ethnic subcultures it explores. I learned things, which is never bad for a reader. Moreover, it has a distinctly British flavour, not pandering to American tastes. Of the three of Hunter’s books I’ve read and reviewed for this blog, this has got to be my favorite. Interesting plot, great characters, muscular prose—I’m more than chuffed. I’m potty about it. And that’s no bollocks.”—Out in Print
“[A]n awesome book, not to mention a kick butt thriller and mystery.”—Danielle Kimerer, Librarian, Nevins Memorial Public Library (MA)
“Cari Hunter is a master of writing credible suspense laden crime detective stories that feel realistic. Sanne and Meg are extremely ordinary, two women trying to live quiet lives on their beloved Peaks, caught up in a dreadful ring of crime and, as always, doing their ordinary best to help those who need them. …Once again I cannot recommend this series enough. If you like crime, thriller, and suspense with a cast of real life everyday folk and unassuming heroes, written with excellent if unpretentious style, you really cannot do any better than this.”—Lesbian Reading Room
Cold to the Touch
“Cari Hunter did a great job of keeping me 100% invested in the lives of Sanne, Meg and company. The mystery, (Sanne’s current case), surrounding a rash of stabbing related deaths was intriguing, and had me in suspense till the end. …This book is intelligently written, and gives you an action packed adventure, with great characters. It is by far a fantastic way to spend your time.”—Romantic Reader Blog
“The mystery was well told and the gradual build up of tension was ideal. …The romantic side story was subtle but just right. The murder case took precedence as it should in a police procedural.”—Inked Rainbow Reads
No Good Reason—Lammy Finalist
“Cari Hunter is a master of crime suspense stories. No Good Reason brings tension and drama to strong medical and police procedural knowledge. The plot keeps us on the edge of our metaphorical seat, turning the pages long into the night. The setting of the English Peak District adds ambiance and a drama of its own without excluding anybody. And through it all a glimmer of humour and a large dose of humanity keep us engaged and enthralled.”—Curve Magazine
“A new Cari Hunter novel? What mayhem will engulf her characters this time? The answer: Truly terrible things, as well as truly lovely things, abound in the mystery-thriller No Good Reason. ‘She hurt’ are the opening words, and this is a bodily hurt. The plot takes off immediately as a captive woman makes her bloody escape and then—Well, this is not a romance, dear reader, so brace yourself. …Our heroines are Detective Sanne Jensen and Dr. Meg Fielding, best mates forever and sometimes something more. Their relationship is undefinable and complicated, but not in a hot mess of drama way. Rather, they share unspoken depths, comfortably silly moments, rock-solid friendship, and an intimacy that will make your heart ache just a wee bit.”—C-Spot Reviews
Tumbledown
“Once again Ms. Hunter outdoes herself in the tension and pace of the plot. We literally know from the first 2 pages that the evil is hunting them, but we are held on the edge of our seats for the whole book to see what will unfold, how they will cope, whether they will survive—and at what cost this time. I literally couldn’t put it down. Tumbledown is a wonderful read.”—Lesbian Reading Room
“Even though this is a continuation of the Desolation Point plot, this is an entirely different sort of thriller with elements of a police procedural. Other thriller authors (yes, I’m looking at you Patterson and Grisham) could take lessons from Hunter when it comes to writing these babies. Twists and turns and forgotten or unconventional weaponry along with pluck and spirit keep me breathless and reading way past my bedtime.”—Out In Print
Desolation Point
“[Desolation Point] is the second of Cari Hunter’s novels and is another great example of a romance action adventure. The story is fast paced and thrilling. A real page turner from beginning to end. Ms. Hunter is a master at an adventure plot and comes up with more twists and turns than the mountain trails they are hiking. Well written, edited and crafted this is an excellent book and I can’t wait to read the sequel.”—Lesbian Reading Room
“Cari Hunter provides thrills galore in her adventure/romance Desolation Point. In the hands of a lesser writer and scenarist, this could be pretty rote and by-the-book, but Cari Hunter breathes a great deal of life into the characters and the situation. Her descriptions of the scenery are sumptuous, and she has a keen sense of pacing. The action sequences never drag, and she takes full advantage of the valleys between the peaks by deepening her characters, working their relationship, and setting up the next hurdle.”—Out In Print
Snowbound
“[Snowbound] grabbed me from the first page and kept me on the edge of my seat until nearly the end. I love the British feel of it and enjoyed the writer’s style tremendously. So if you’re looking for a very well written, fast paced, lesbian romance—heavy on the action and blood and light on the romance—this is one for your ereader or bookshelf.”—C-Spot Reviews
Breathe
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Breathe
© 2019 By Cari Hunter. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-524-0
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: September 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Snowbound
Desolation Point
Tumbledown
Alias
Breathe
The Dark Peak Series
No Good Reason
Cold to the Touch
A Quiet Death
Acknowledgments
Thanks and an Uncle Joe’s Mint Ball to the whole gang at BSB, especially my editor, Cindy, for her feedback and support, and for knowing which veggies float and which sink. To Sheri for getting the cover absolutely right. To Kel for her “Crock Om Boosh”—I can’t believe I managed to sneak that in! To all the folks who read my books, send feedback, bake their own bara briths, and happily chat about daft stuff online. To my funny, permanently knackered, and loving family in green, both present and past. And to Cat, who spends hours working on these books with me, helps me chase through fields after lost lambs, and loves me no matter what.
Dedication
For Cat
Always
Chapter One
“Oh God, don’t let me die. Help! Please help me!”
The wind tore at the man’s thin wail, breaking it into pieces, half of his entreaty heading south to the Manchester Ship Canal and the other half whipping across Barton Bridge. Lying flat on her front, her boots hooked over the rim of the hard shoulder and her elbows in a puddle, Jem trained her torch on the hapless bloke and tried not to look at the water swirling a hundred feet below.
“Bloody hell,” she said. Trevor, her crewmate for this latest run of weekend nights, stalked toward their ambulance, his curt request for assistance drowned out as the rope suddenly slipped and the man shrieked.
“I’m falling! Tell Bella I love her!”
Jem rechecked his position: he wasn’t falling. He was dangling in midair a few inches lower than he had been, but he wasn’t falling.
“Try to keep still,” she shouted.
He gave her an incredulous look as the wind spun him in a slow three-sixty. “Fucking brilliant advice! Any other bright ideas?”
“No, not really,” she muttered and then jumped as a hand clapped her on the shoulder and a policewoman in a scarlet beanie hat and a high-vis jacket squirmed into a prone position beside her.
“What’ve we got?” the officer asked, apparently oblivious to the puddle she was now sharing with Jem. She peeked over the ledge and snorted. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m guessing he’s the groom?”
“The L-plate would certainly imply that,” Jem said.
The “Learner” tag, and the loincloth to which it was attached, were the man’s sole items of clothing. His friends had stripped him before tethering him to the stanchion and leaving him to it, and although they probably hadn’t intended his current predicament, a combination of slip knots, high winds, greasy metal, and a shitload of alcohol had been a recipe for disaster.
“My mate’s requesting Fire and Hazardous Response,” Jem said.
The officer shook her head. “We’re stuffed there. A warehouse went up in Ardwick about an hour ago, and every man and his dog are otherwise engaged.” She eyeballed Jem. “How are you at abseiling?”
“What?” The question squeaked out, and Jem felt her palms begin to sweat. “No, no, we can’t! You don’t understand. This kind of thing, it doesn’t—not for me…” She couldn’t explain. She could barely raise her voice above the traffic on the motorway and the rain that had started to batter the tarmac. “We need to wait for backup,” she said, but the officer brushed off her feeble plea.
“It’ll be fine. Trust me.” She shuffled forward and called down to the man. “Hang in there, pal. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Stop taking the piss!” he yelled, twirling again, the L-plate flapping to reveal exactly how cold he was. He was still ranting as the officer tugged Jem’s hand, encouraging her to her feet.
“I’ve got a tow rope in my car,” she said. “Do you have anything we can make a harness out of? For him, not for us. I was joking about the abseiling.”
Jem’s instinct for career preservation made her falter, but she was already thinking, imagining a rough design fashioned from lifting belts and stretcher straps. “Possibly,” she conceded, dragging the word out. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
“Fab.”
They parted at the kerbside, the officer rummaging in her car boot while Jem headed to the ambulance. She found Trevor hastily crushing a fag beneath his boot.
“HART gave an ETA of ninety minutes, and control reckon that’s optimistic at best,” he told her, none too subtly blocking the rear doors.
“Right.”
When she went to step around him, he parried her move.
“No,” he said. “Whatever you’re planning, just—no.”
He was older than her but less experienced, and in terms of qualifications she outranked him. Given her reputation, though, she understood his reticence.
“We can’t leave him there for ninety minutes,” she said. “He’s already panicking. He’ll do something stupid and end up in the canal.”
“Or you’ll do something stupid, and then it’ll be our fault.” Trevor seemed to ponder this for a moment and then smiled sweetly. He reached for his radio with one hand and unlocked the ambulance with the other. “Okay, okay, go ahead. I’ll have a word with our dispatcher.”
With no time to worry about ulterior motives, Jem scrambled into the back and started to pull equipment from the cupboards. Trailing luminous strips of plastic, she met the officer on the hard shoulder and sat with her on the kerb to clip and tie and rearrange their kit until they had something resembling a scaffolder’s harness, if they squinted at it and used a lot of imagination.
“Think it’s big enough?” the officer asked, holding the rig in front of her to check its size. She only had an inch or so on Jem height-wise, but she was slimmer around the waist and backside, and two of her would have comfortably fitted into it.
“Try it against me instead,” Jem said, and felt a flush of heat in her cheeks as the officer’s gaze wandered over her.
“Yeah, as if you’re a fair comparison.” The officer widened the left leg, seemingly on a whim, and slung everything across her shoulder. “Your mate going to lend us his muscles?” she asked as they walked to the side of the bridge, careful not to trip on the rope they’d secured around a lamppost.
Jem glanced back at the ambulance. She could see the puff of smoke marking Trevor’s position on the far side of the vehicle. Out of sight, out of mind. She had literally taken the rope, and he was hoping she’d hang herself with it. Ignoring a renewed bout of fear, she coughed through the wheeze that had started to accompany her every breath.
“I think we’re on our own,” she said.
The officer shrugged, unfazed. “We’ll manage. I bet you’re stronger than you look.”
Jem smothered another cough. Nothing could be further from the truth. On a good day she could dead lift the defib and the response bag, but not when she was scared shitless and needed her inhaler. She wanted to run to the ambulance, lock herself in the cab, and wait for the experts. Instead, she concentrated on breathing through her nose and knelt by the officer at the side of the bridge.
“You still with us, pal?” the officer shouted, directing her torch at the man. Jem realised
how young he was: twenty-five at most, and sober enough now to appreciate his predicament.
“Hey, what’s your name?” she called. “I’m Jem, and this is…” She looked at the officer.
“Rosie.” The officer raised a hand to underscore her introduction.
“Sean. My name’s Sean.”
“Okay, Sean.” Jem took the strap attached to the harness and began to feed it down. “Without loosening anything that’s holding you, we need you to grab this and get into it.”
He watched the multicoloured contraption descend, his eyes so wide that they flashed like twin moons against the darkness surrounding him.
“Don’t be fucking stupid. How am I supposed to get into that?”
“One leg at a time,” Rosie suggested helpfully. She pulled on a pair of leather gloves and gathered the lamppost rope.
“He’s giving it a go,” Jem told her. Despite his protest, Sean had wriggled a foot through the first loop, and she was manoeuvring the guide strap to inch the second loop into position. He caught it with a toe and yanked it up his leg. Jem saw Rosie’s stance widen as she took the strain, and she sprinted across to help her, grasping the section in front of Rosie and hauling on it.