by TR Kohler
Things left unsaid, watching as Mike nods just slightly.
“There any pictures in that file there?”
“Yes.”
“Does she-”
“Looks just like her mother,” Kari replies.
Grunting softly, he pauses a moment, letting the comment resonate, before asking, “These people that adopted her. They good parents?”
A decent chunk of the information in the file being on the people that took the little girl into their home, Kari opts against sharing too much detail.
Trusts that he’ll be able to dig through it all in his own time.
“Very.”
Moving his gaze back to her, he asks, “Are they rich?”
Of the myriad questions Kari walked in expecting, never did that cross her mind. An inquiry spawning surprise she is only just barely able to keep from her features.
“He is a captain with the Army. His wife stays home with the two little girls.”
Understanding fully what she is getting at, Mike asks, “So I’m guessing they could really use the money you just sent my way?”
His last question making infinitely more sense, Kari nods. “That can be arranged, if you’d like.”
Moving his focus down to the file, Mike fixes his gaze on the top of it. Remaining silent, he stays that way for several moments, seeming to debate something in his head, before at last looking up to her again.
“And what if I was willing to take on a few more assignments with you folks as well? Take down another Firash or two, send a little more money their way.
“Could that be arranged too?”
Turn the page for a sneak peek of Translator, A Translator Novel Book 1.
Sneak Peek
Translator, A Translator Novel Book 1
It isn’t the noises themselves. The shrieks of terror. The cries of agony. Pleas for mercy.
As awful as they are, he has heard worse. Moments for each of the three that verged on incapacitating, the sounds alone enough to bring him to his knees. Make him abandon all hope for humanity forevermore.
It is the fact that never has he heard them all packed in so tight. A symphony of chaos and confusion. Those three and untold others rushing in, filling his head, reverberating against his skull.
No way to differentiate those happening in real time from those that occurred long ago.
Pitched forward onto his hands and knees, his eyes are open wide. His mouth gapes, trying to draw in air. Give himself what he needs to keep going.
Force himself past the pain.
Control what has dictated his every move these past fifteen years.
How much of what fills his head is real, there is no way of knowing. How many of the voices are here now and how many are remnants from years before. Terrors inflicted upon others. Lingering traumas from the first time he crossed paths with the man tucked away somewhere nearby.
What he does know is that at least one of them is close. A young woman that he brought into the fray. Put into harm’s way even without realizing it.
Somebody that he is now responsible for.
Someone that needs his help, no matter how great the pain.
The last faint hint of sunlight is more than three hours past. Far enough in the distance that any residual glow has long since been replaced by the waning halo of the city rising on the horizon.
With the fading of the sun, the temperature has dropped in kind as well. Nestled into the spring season where warmth is tied directly to daylight, the digital thermometer on the dashboard put things just shy of fifty degrees.
Not the worst Fitz has ever seen, though still a far cry from what he’d prefer.
A nuisance he will gladly endure for his purposes here tonight.
One of the few details about the outing he hasn’t already envisioned a thousand times over. An aspect completely inconsequential to what he is about to do.
A moment weeks in coming. A kickoff to the last leg of what he has planned.
The fabled beginning of the end that so many people like to bandy on about.
Standing in the thick grass along the side of the road, Fitz feels the cold air wrap around his body. Touching first on his bare ankles, it travels beneath the hem of his jeans. Pushes up the length of his legs. Under the tail of his t-shirt.
Even picks at the perspiration lining his neck and forehead.
Tiny bits of sensation that leaves his entire body tingling. One more aspect making the moment that much more delicious as he closes his eyes, lifting his face toward the sky.
A pose allowing him to draw in deep breaths. Fill his lungs. Expand his chest.
Take in the smells of the countryside around him. The loamy scents of damp earth and grass. The faint hints of pine from the cluster of trees nearby.
Cleansing aromas, far removed from those he spent more than a decade inhaling. Harsh chemical smells that served as fuel for the plan that began months before.
Is about to take another massive step forward tonight.
Releasing the breath slowly, Fitz allows his eyes to drift open. His chin lowers, dropping his gaze to the vehicle beside him.
The trunk with the faded paint and the pockmarks of rust atop it.
The cargo stowed inside.
The reason for his being here now.
Casting one final gaze in either direction, he is greeted by nothing more than the same natural canvas as a moment before. No piercing glare of headlights approaching. No new spots of light from one of the few farmhouses in the distance.
Nothing to interrupt him or what he has planned. A world that is completely his, anxiously awaiting his next move.
The ring still in his right hand from pulling the keys out of the ignition just a moment before, Fitz takes two steps forward. Strides propelled by the buoyancy of the thick grass underfoot.
A silent nod from the universe that what he is doing is right. Is necessary to correct a wrong inflicted upon him long ago.
Shoving one of only two keys on the ring into the lock on the trunk, Fitz gives it a quick twist. Far enough to hear the metallic release of the latch before slowly raising the hood.
A slow reveal that brings into view the reason he ever found this spot. The reason he is back here now.
The light on the underside of the trunk hood long since detached, there is no bulb to illuminate the young woman stowed away inside. No glow to fully display her features.
Not that Fitz needs such a thing, the pale moonlight more than enough to outline her lithe form folded up on her side. A form that he has seen multiple times a day for weeks now, but cannot deny the added allure of seeing her tucked away like this.
The bare skin of her face and hands. The glint of duct tape enveloping her wrists and ankles.
The matching strip covering her mouth, offset by the whites of her eyes staring up at him. Eyelids opened wide, her entire head twisting rapidly to either side. A movement matched in time by the muffled sounds escaping her.
Cries for help. Pleadings for him to stop.
Sounds that he is counting on, having brought her here for just a thing.
“No, no,” he says, a thin smile rising to his lips. “There’ll be plenty of time for that soon enough, but not just yet.”
Continue Reading Translator: dustinstevens.com/TRwb
Author’s Note
Greetings, y’all!
In the last couple of months, I’ve received a fair number of emails and comments from folks asking me about what prompted my shift back into the T.R. Kohler universe. A gauged transition away from the more traditional thriller-mystery-procedural realm into books that tend to read more like action adventure.
As with most things, the reasons behind that are actually multiple. For quite a while now, I’ve been playing with a lot of different character ideas and sketches. Individuals that still adhere to certain moral strictures, but don’t necessarily present in the traditional mold. People like Kidman, or Mike, or Kari Ma that needed a home. A realm for them
to exist in.
A quandary that at first left me considering multiple independent standalones or series before eventually having the idea to have it all connected. One shared universe, where crossover and interaction isn’t just unusual, but a hallmark.
Something should allow for a lot of different stories and permutations in the months ahead, for which I am quite excited. (To see the next release, scroll on for a sneak peek of The Translator :)
(Oh, and in case you were curious, we will definitely be seeing all of these characters again. A recurring slate that will serve both as independent series and group outings moving forward.)
Per usual, I’m always curious to hear your thoughts, especially on the new line. Until then, thank you so much for continuing to support my work and, as always, happy reading!
Much love,
Dustin, writing as TR Kohler
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Bookshelf
Works Written by TR Kohler:
Hunter Series:
The Hunter
Street Divorce
Coming 2022
Jumper Series:
Into The Jungle
Out To Sea
Coming 2022
Bulletproof Series:
Mike’s Place
Translator Series:
Translator
Coming 2022
Works Written by Dustin Stevens:
Reed & Billie Novels:
The Boat Man
The Good Son
The Kid
The Partnership
Justice
The Scorekeeper
The Bear
The Driver
The Promisor
The Ghost
Coming 2022
Hawk Tate Novels:
Cold Fire
Cover Fire
Fire and Ice
Hellfire
Home Fire
Wild Fire
Friendly Fire
Coming Dec 2021
Zoo Crew Novels:
The Zoo Crew
Dead Peasants
Tracer
The Glue Guy
Moonblink
The Shuffle
Smoked
Coming 2022
Ham Novels:
HAM
EVEN
RULES
My Mira Saga
Spare Change
Office Visit
Fair Trade
Ships Passing
Warning Shot
Battle Cry
Steel Trap
Iron Men
Until Death
Standalone Thrillers:
Four
Ohana
Liberation Day
Twelve
21 Hours
Catastrophic
Scars and Stars
Motive
Going Viral
The Debt
One Last Day
The Subway
The Exchange
Shoot to Wound
Peeping Thoms
The Ring
Decisions
Standalone Dramas:
Just A Game
Be My Eyes
Quarterback
Children’s Books written by
Dustin with Maddie Stevens:
Danny the Daydreamer…Goes to the Grammy’s
Danny the Daydreamer…Visits the Old West
Danny the Daydreamer…Goes to the Moon
(Coming Soon)
About the Author
TR Kohler is the pseudonym for bestselling author Dustin Stevens. A new platform allowing him to create a universe filled with ordinary characters possessing extraordinary abilities. A host of different talents and enhancements, adding a new dimension to the action-adventure thrillers readers have come to love.
Writing under his own name, Stevens is the author of more than sixty novels. Among them are the award-winning Reed & Billie series, Hawk Tate, HAM, My Mira Saga, and a number of standalone novels.
A member of both the International Writers, Inc. and the Mystery Writers of America, he calls a number of different places home, each the setting for at least one of his previous works.
He can be reached at [email protected].