Excerpt: 'Atonement' by Winter Austin

Winter Austin joins us to share an excerpt from her new release, Atonement.

First, here's the blurb about the book (courtesy of Crimson Romance):

Atone for your sins…

A rash of unexplained suicides in the sleepy town of Eider, Iowa, draws McIntire County deputy Nicolette Rivers into a devious killer's twisted plot. A former marine sniper suffering from PTSD, Nic hides her own deadly secrets, and The Priest will do anything to expose it and her.

For redemption is at hand…

Eider police detective Con O'Hanlon is assigned to help Nic uncover the truth behind the suicides. She rebuffs his help at every turn, but the stubborn Irishman holds on. When tragedy strikes, Con helps cover up the fallout, but is he too late to prevent Nic's dark, downward spiral? Or is Con the one man stronger than her demons?

Winter sets the scene for us …

Winter: In my latest novel, Atonement, the opening scene is an intense stand-off that leads heroine Deputy Nic Rivers to do what she was trained to do — kill — after she swore she was through with it. The excerpt you're about to read is part of the post-shooting, where Nic has to face Detective Con O'Hanlon, a man she's been trying to avoid contact with for a while. My take on their story leans more toward good guy loves the bad girl, which is a new trend starting to pop up in romance and other genres. Departing from my previous four books, Nic — the female — is the broken character with a tragic past. In this short excerpt, you get just a glimpse into her past.

EXCERPT

Now O'Hanlon's blue eyes darted to something behind her, then back to her. Nic caught the flicker and a riot broke out in her chest. Was he investigating her shooting?

Her throat constricted as she turned to the sheriff. "What's going on here?" she whispered.

"When there's a deputy-involved shooting, an investigator from the city police comes in. That way there's no inconsistencies or cover-ups from our department. That's the way the state wants it."

How convenient that the person to do the investigation was the one man Nic had spent the better part of three years rebuffing his attempts at companionship. She scowled. "And has there ever been a deputy-involved shooting before?"

The lack of a response and Hamilton's somber expression told her the answer.

Hoorah. I'm the first idiot to pull the trigger.

"You know the drill," Hamilton said.

Yeah, she'd done plenty of these debriefings over the years. It still didn't get any easier.

"No regrets," he whispered.

Right, no regrets. Explain that one to The General.

Leaving the sheriff behind, Nic proceeded toward the office. O'Hanlon stepped aside to allow her entry.

"Deputy," he said with a nod.

Averting her eyes, Nic returned the nod. "Detective."

Sheriff Hamilton's office was the only room in the entire building that could be used for privacy. The structure had originally been designed as a general store. It changed hands and functions until fifty years ago, when the county decided it needed a new place to house the growing sheriff's department but didn't want to spend money on a new building. They gutted and remodeled the interior to accommodate four jail cells, an open space for the deputies' desks, and the sheriff's office. Modern technology mingled with the '60s décor in a clash of god-awful orange and puke green with sleek silver and black furnishings.

Positioning herself at attention in front of the desk, Nic waited for O'Hanlon and the county attorney to take their seats. She didn't dare make eye contact with either man for fear of giving away her thoughts. The last time she'd looked through the scope before today, the lens wasn't able to shield her from the horror of watching someone die.

And for a marine sniper, that was a clear sign to cut her loose from the job.

"Deputy Rivers, you can take a seat," the county attorney said.

"Sir, I'd prefer to stand."

O'Hanlon's chair squeaked. "At ease, Deputy."

She met his piercing stare. He'd kicked back in his seat with an ankle resting on the top of his knee and his hands cradling his head. The pose was both a mix of sexy and nonchalant. What an odd position for an investigator to take when questioning someone about a shooting. Like he wanted her to be comfortable around him—open up. That Irish charm oozed from him. They hadn't talked much since that fated night. Had O'Hanlon given up on pursuing her attentions? Nic relaxed her stance, clasping her hands behind her back and tipping her chin down to better look at the men.

The attorney shuffled through his legal pad, came upon a clean sheet, and then with a click of his pen he posed, ready to write. "Deputy Rivers, we're recording this as we go. You're well aware of your rights to have legal representation, and at any time you feel the need to ask for someone to come in, we'll stop and wait."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay"—the attorney scribbled something on his pad—"take us through what happened out there today at the Walker residence."

O'Hanlon studied her as she retold her side, probably looking for the hiccups in her story or maybe a particular facial expression she might have when she came to a particular part. But she knew all the signs of someone poised to rip apart her words. The three NCIS investigators had done it to her after her last mission, and they'd shredded her to bits, leaving her nothing but a liability and a burden. She pushed those dark days aside and focused on the present. O'Hanlon didn't seem to pick up that her mind wandered while her story didn't.

When she finished, she focused on the attorney.

"Deputy, why did the sheriff choose you to take the shooting position? Especially when there were other deputies on hand?" the attorney asked.

A muscle in Nic's lower back twitched. "Excuse me, sir, but have you seen my dossier?"

The attorney picked up a sheaf of papers, then set them down on the desk. "Right here."

"Then you know that I was a sniper in the Marine Corps, correct?"

"So it says."

Find out more about Winter and her books at www.winteraustin.com.