by Radclyffe
Synopsis
No matter how much we plan, life—and people—have a way of surprising us.
For Doctor KT O’Bannon, a near-fatal tragedy derails a career and disrupts everything she thought she knew about herself and her future. Battered and nearly broken, she turns for solace to the one woman who knows her best, her ex-lover Doctor Tory King. Their unexpected reunion in Provincetown uncovers old wounds, forges new bonds, and awakens long-buried passions. While Tory’s lover Sheriff Reese Conlon struggles to uncover a deadly drug ring and Officer Bri Parker navigates the torturous path between friendship and desire, Tory and KT—and those who love them—are forced to examine the boundaries of love, friendship, and the ties that transcend time.
Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
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Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
© 2005 By Radclyffe. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-244-3
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.,
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
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
Executive Editor: Stacia Seaman
Editor: Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: J. Barre Greystone
Cover Photo: Lee Ligon
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Romances
Innocent Hearts
Love’s Melody Lost
Love’s Tender Warriors
Tomorrow’s Promise
Love’s Masquerade
shadowland
Fated Love
Turn Back Time
Promising Hearts
When Dreams Tremble
The Lonely Hearts Club
Night Call
Secrets in the Stone
The Provincetown Tales
Safe Harbor
Beyond the Breakwater
Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
Storms of Change
Winds of Fortune
Honor Series
Above All, Honor
Honor Bound
Love & Honor
Honor Guards
Honor Reclaimed
Honor Under Siege
Word of Honor
Justice Series
A Matter of Trust (prequel)
Shield of Justice
In Pursuit of Justice
Justice in the Shadows
Justice Served
Justice For All
Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace
(A Short Story Collection)
Radical Encounters
(A Erotic Short Story Collection)
Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.
Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments
Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love
Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions
Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games
Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery
Acknowledgments
In many ways, this book, the third in what has evolved into the Provincetown Tales, represents a milestone in my writing career. Safe Harbor, the first book in the series, was also the first book I published. Distant Shores, Silent Thunder is the twentieth. In the interim I have moved through several phases of publishing, finally forming Bold Strokes Books, Inc. in 2004.
Writing is a singular pleasure made sweeter by sharing it with others. Publishing is a demanding, exhilarating, and humbling experience. Being entrusted to assist others in the achievement of their creative dreams is awe-inspiring and a reward unto itself. I am fortunate to have a fabulous team of talented, dedicated professionals who make not only my writing better but Bold Strokes’ publications exceptional.
Thanks go to Stacia Seaman, executive editor, and Ruth Sternglantz for their outstanding editorial input; to first readers Athos, Diane, Denise, Eva, Jane, JB, Paula, Robyn, and Tomboy; and to the diligent proofreaders, Eva, Denise, Diane, Robyn, and Shelley, for assistance with this book.
Even before the presses roll, the work of “getting out the word” is crucial. Many individuals have supported me over the years by bringing my work to the attention of readers and booksellers, and I will never be able to thank everyone. Every member of the Radlist has been an emissary at one time, and I am in your collective debt forever. As I embark on this new stage of creating the fiction I love so much, I especially want to thank Linda Hill and Bella Distribution for broadening the horizons and extending the reach of Bold Strokes Books.
Now, with so many books and so little time—when every moment is spoken for—Lee continues to be my champion. Amo te
Radclyffe, 2005
Dedication
For Lee
For Whom No Horizon is Too Far
Prologue
Early August, 2002, Boston, Massachusetts
Trauma alert STAT...trauma admitting. Trauma alert STAT...trauma admitting. Trauma alert STAT...
Dr. KT O’Bannon sprinted down the crowded hall toward the trauma bay at Boston Hospital, dodging stretchers, visitors, and hospital personnel with the agility that had made her an All-American hurdler in college, one hand pressing the stethoscope draped around her neck against her chest to prevent it from flying off. The emergency call being broadcast through the overhead speakers was the sixth trauma alert of the day. That often happened on weekends in the summer, especially when the weather was as hot as it was this particular Saturday evening. Drivers were short-tempered and drove too quickly on roads that were too congested for even the normal speed limit. People partied too hard and too often in backyards and bars, becoming victims of accidents and assaults. And of course, there were always those individuals who chose to settle their disputes with knives and guns rather than fists. Regardless of the mechanism of injury—vehicular, blunt, or penetrating—KT handled them all. And she loved it. Loved the excitement of never knowing what challenge the next crisis might present, the rush of being on the firing line—of being the one making the life-and-death calls—and the incredible high of beating the odds one more time and snatching another life from the jaws of death.
Security STAT...trauma admitting. Security STAT...trauma admitting. Security STAT...trauma admitting.
KT hesitated for only a second, wondering at the unusual request, before she shouldered through the double doors of the trauma admitting area. Unlike the emergency room proper, which was partitioned into multiple curtained cubicles for the treatment of patients with minor injuries or medical problems of all types, the trauma area was designed as a fully functioning operating room. As such, it consisted of a single forty-by-forty-foot room with several adjustable padded operating tables aligned in the middle of the space beneath huge circular overhead halogen lights. Every available inch along the walls was occupied by bins of supplies, including full surgical packs containing all the instruments required to perform any type of invasive surgery. There was even a power drill to perform a craniotomy—the removal of a section of the skull in the event that it was necessary to relieve acute pressure on the brain.
Even though KT did not know what li
fe-threatening problem awaited her, the basic routine, repeated thousands of times over the past fifteen years, was so familiar that the natural surge of anxiety evoked by the disembodied voice over the hospital intercom system was softened to a distant thunder in the background of her consciousness. She did know with absolute certainty that the nurses, residents, EMTs, and trauma techs would already have the resuscitation well underway, functioning efficiently without her direction. Establishing the ABCs of resuscitation—airway, breathing, and circulation—was second nature to even rank beginners after a few days in the trauma unit. In all likelihood, an endotracheal tube would already have been placed into the trachea to deliver oxygen, IVs started to augment blood volume and support circulation, and drainage tubes inserted into the bladder and stomach to monitor output and control secretions. Her greatest contribution was going to be organizing and prioritizing treatment, including managing the often complicated drug therapy, and performing whatever urgent surgical intervention might be needed to control hemorrhage or maintain an airway.
Mentally gearing herself for battle, KT swept the room with a confident gaze and a split second later realized that something was terribly wrong. A patient did lie on the table in the center of the room—a middle-aged Asian male whose short-sleeved, checked shirt was soaked with blood—but the usual milling mass of individuals who made up the trauma team and who should have been surrounding him was absent. Instead, three women and two men huddled in a semicircle on the far side of the room facing the door that KT had just barreled through, and they all appeared to be staring at another man, who jittered from foot to foot at the base of the patient’s bed, his back to KT.
“What’s going on?” KT said abruptly as she started forward. She didn’t even have time to flinch away when the man pivoted sharply and slashed her right cheek with a long, thin-bladed knife. Shocked more by the absurdity of the act than the pain, KT jerked to a halt. “What—”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the knife arcing back—a glinting slice of deadly silver, and this time it was headed for her throat. She did the only thing she could. She blocked the weapon with her open hand. The blade, honed to a razor’s edge, sliced with terrible efficiency across her palm. Someone screamed in the distance.
KT’s vision wavered as blood splattered her face and chest. Her legs were suddenly so weak that she dropped to her knees. The sudden change in position probably saved her life, because the next thrust of the knife passed high over her left shoulder without touching her. Then as she hunched forward, cradling her injured hand against her chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding, the room exploded into pandemonium. Three security guards burst through the doors amidst chaotic shouts and the clatter of instrument trays being knocked to the floor. Kneeling in the center of the room, surrounded by the glittering stainless steel instruments and swatches of blood, KT was unaware of her assailant being subdued and dragged away, oblivious to the blood streaming steadily down her face, soaking into her scrub shirt, and pooling on the floor between her legs, unconscious of the frantic voices calling her name. Her attention was riveted to her hand. Her befuddled mind couldn’t make sense of what she saw in the depths of the wound, but in the core of her being, she knew.
“Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh God, oh God...I can’t move my fingers.”
Chapter One
Four Weeks Later, Provincetown, Massachusetts
“Love? Come here and look at this,” Reese Conlon said with a note of wonder. “She’s following my finger.”
Tory King placed a hand on her lover’s back and looked over Reese’s shoulder at the baby cradled in her arms. Reese, seated in a rocking chair in front of the double glass doors that led out to the deck overlooking Provincetown Harbor, was feeding their infant daughter from a plastic bottle filled with the breast milk that Tory had pumped that morning. Regina’s deep blue eyes were open, and occasionally she blinked as she sucked on the soft plastic nipple in her mouth. Intermittently, Reese held her index finger in the air a few inches above the baby’s face and waved it. “See that? Just then.”
The excitement in Reese’s voice was so endearing that Tory had to catch her bottom lip between her teeth to stifle a laugh. “It’s still a little soon for her to be focusing, honey. It’ll probably be another month or so.”
“Well, she does everything early.” Reese’s tone was only slightly aggrieved. “She showed up almost two months early, then she was ready to come home from the hospital three weeks sooner than the pediatricians predicted, and she already sleeps through the night. Well, most nights. At the rate she’s going, she’ll probably be walking by the time she’s six months old.” Reese turned her head and glanced up at Tory, her generous mouth quirked into a grin that deepened the dimple low on her right cheek. “You have to admit she’s amazing.”
It was hard for Tory to decide which of the two was the more beautiful: Reese with her coal black hair, deep blue eyes, and heart-stoppingly handsome features, or the baby whose eyes were as blue as Reese’s, but whose dark brown hair held hints of red and gold like her own. Together, they stilled the breath in her chest. Afraid that Reese would see the tears that quickly rose to tremble dangerously on her lashes, Tory pressed her cheek to the top of Reese’s head and wrapped both arms around her shoulders from behind. “I love you.”
Reese tilted her head back again and kissed the side of Tory’s neck. “You just love me because I got up at four o’clock the last two nights.”
“Mmm, there is that, I suppose.” Tory’s tone was teasing, but she felt a twinge of guilt knowing that she’d been only dimly aware of the baby fussing and of Reese getting up to see to her. It was hard to admit that she was just recently beginning to regain her strength after the tumultuous emergency Cesarean section that had been necessary when she’d gone into labor prematurely. Precipitous labor and emergency surgery took a toll on anyone, but she was nearing forty, and her recovery had been slower than she would have liked. Although Reese would never complain, Tory knew that her lover had been shouldering more than her share of the household chores as well as the child care while still fulfilling her obligations as Provincetown’s deputy sheriff. “Things should get easier next week when the tourist season is over and the activity quiets down in town. Then you won’t be working quite so hard.”
“I’m fine,” Reese said quickly. And she was. She’d never been happier in her life. She had never expected to fall in love or to have a family. Not because she didn’t believe in those things, but because all she had ever envisioned for herself was a career in the Marine Corps. She’d been raised in a military family, had trained from the time she was a teenager to follow in her father’s footsteps, and had become an exemplary career Marine officer. It wasn’t until four years earlier that she had grown restless, plagued by the persistent sensation that something in her life was missing—something that she could not name because she had never thought to seek it. It had taken leaving active duty and traveling across the country to a small fishing village on the very tip of Cape Cod for her to discover that what she longed for was a love of her own. She had that now, with Dr. Victoria King, Provincetown’s resident physician, and their newborn daughter, Regina. “Everything is perfect.”
The words made Tory tremble because she believed them while still fearing, in the deepest recesses of her heart, that happiness might be a transient accident destined to disappear. There was a reason for that fear, but it lay in her past, and she would not allow the past to follow her here. Banishing old disappointments, she tightened her hold on her lover and kissed her neck. “Do you mind watching her while I run over to the clinic?”
“Uh-uh.” Reese turned in the chair and checked the wall clock that hung in the alcove between the large open living room and the adjoining kitchen-dining area. “I have to be at the dojo in two hours. Think you’ll be back by then?”
“Absolutely. I’m sure Dan is swamped. I’ll probably be lucky to catch him free for a few minutes between patients.”
Reese rose, shifting the baby into the crook of her arm, and crossed to the kitchen where she deposited the empty baby bottle on the counter. “Is he definitely leaving next week?”
“I think so.” Tory tried hard to keep the worry from her voice. Dan Riley was a general practitioner from Pennsylvania who had worked for the last few months in the East End Health Clinic, Tory’s medical facility. Tory hadn’t anticipated that Dan would need to shoulder the entire weight of her practice, but Regina’s early arrival had altered those plans. Since the baby’s birth in July, Dan had been doing the work of two doctors. During the summer, when Provincetown’s population swelled to thirty thousand or more, the clinic staff was constantly busy caring for tourists with minor injuries and medical problems in addition to providing routine healthcare to the three thousand year-round residents. Now, an emergency had arisen with Dan’s wife’s family, and he needed to return to Pittsburgh as soon as possible rather than in December, when he had expected to leave. “I managed to get an ad in the Boston papers yesterday, and I’ve got every contact I can think of putting out the word that I’m looking for someone to fill his spot right away.”
“You’ll find someone.”
“Of course.” Tory tried to sound optimistic, but they both knew that Provincetown in the off-season was not the kind of place that people flocked to. The winters were long and cold, and the village was very quiet with almost nothing to offer in the way of entertainment from November to May. Even the cinema and many of the restaurants closed during the off-season. She would be very lucky to find someone to take Dan’s place at this time of year. “I thought I’d talk to Kate later and see if she’d be available to watch Reggie a few more hours every day.”