The Archer’s Diary – Book Tour and Giveaway

Chapter 1

He hit the brakes but nothing happened.
The car continued to pick up speed.
He stamped down several more times, only to achieve the same outcome.
Nothing.
He could feel his heart racing, the blood pounding in his ears as he fought to regain control of the runaway vehicle.
Donald Daggett, CEO of one of Australia’s top three wine producing companies, was losing a fght for the frst time in his life.
He knew it and his wife,  Elizabeth, knew it.
He saw the knowledge in her terrifed gaze as he glanced sideways at her.
She had her arms out, bracing herself against the dash as he fought to keep the car on the road.
He swiped madly at the sweat trickling into his eyes, burning them, and causing his vision to blur.
Damnit, I can’t save us if I can’t see, he thought.
He fumbled for the emergency brake, yanked it back, and—nothing.
None of the brakes were functioning.
What the hell?
A leisurely day trip in the bucolic English countryside had become an unexpected hellish nightmare ride through the quiet evening streets of Bourton-on-the-Water.
Daggett sensed an aching pressure building and clutched his chest as the tension suddenly turned painful.
A blood red fog clouded his vision. He tried to shake it away but succeeded only in losing his grip on the wheel.
His wife seized her seat belt and turned her face to her window, screaming at the houses fashing past.

Moments later the car careened across the road, with a screech of skidding tires, and tore into the solid stone pillar of an ancient bridge before fipping into the turbulent stream below.
Water rushed in through the shattered windows, swirling around their heads as the Daggetts dangled by their safety belts.
Donald twisted and fought to free himself as water rose past his head.
He reached out frantically for his wife only to encounter her limp body.
The pain in his chest exploded.
Blackness.

* * * * * * *

A dark figure slipped from the nearby shadows.
It eased down the embankment towards the wreckage with one intention in mind.
And it wasn’t to save the Daggetts.
* * * * * * *

Meanwhile, across the globe in Australia, another Daggett faced challenges of his own . . .
Logan Daggett was up to his neck in trouble—again.
He couldn’t risk a backward glance but his heightened senses were keenly aware of the men closing in on him rapidly from behind.
His latest predicament was yet another result of his inherent cockiness.
He tucked his head down and bolted forward like the hounds of the Baskervilles were snapping at his heels.
The ground shuddered with the sound of a dozen sets of heavy feet giving chase.
Two hulking shapes moved to bar his path.
Logan didn’t hesitate.
He tucked his head down and, leading with a solid shoulder, he bored straight into them. He sent one of the human barricades careening backwards.
Logan’s momentum faltered.
A wave of bodies fell on him before he could move.
Beefy arms wrapped themselves around his neck and shoulders, others clawed at his legs. Just as he collapsed under the attack, he caught a glimpse of his Aborigine mate, Gavin Allawa, charging to his aid.
With a deft fick of his wrist, Logan released his death-grip on the object in his hand and sent it fying to Gavin’s outstretched hands.
He felt pure satisfaction to see his friend making a perfect catch and dashing past before Logan disappeared beneath a writhing mass of sweating, grunting, swearing attackers. He laughed as the breath was crushed out of him.
A tumultuous roar went up.
Logan extricated himself from the heap of bodies just in time to witness Gavin’s victory dance and bow of appreciation to the thousands of fans enjoying the regional intrastate football game.
Logan staggered toward the sideline.
Then he spotted them—a couple of stone-faced cops.
Shit. What now? Logan thought as a bystander pointed him out to the police, and they began walking in his direction.
The town coppers and Logan were all well acquainted. On a frst name basis. The young Daggett was the consummate troublemaker. The Law’s frst point-of-call whenever a ‘disturbance of the peace’ was called in. This time, however, Logan was at an utter loss for the ‘blues’ to be wanting him.
It pissed him of.
Gavin spotted his buddy from across the far side of the feld as the two ofcers converged on him and a sudden lump of ice formed in the Aborigine’s stomach. His head rang with warning bells going of.
Thought we’d put all that mess with the girl behind us.
Jostled by his jubilant teammates and supporters, Gavin fought to keep sight of the cops confronting Logan.
He strained against the pull of the crowd, twisting and turning.
Something was defnitely wrong, and he grew more desperate to rush to his friend’s side. One of the coppers laid a hand on Logan’s arm and the young player’s shoulders drooped as he hung his head despondently.
That was the last straw.
Gavin tore free of the raucous celebrations and raced across the feld as Logan dropped to his knees.

Three weeks later

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
The somber voice of the pastor drifted upon the melancholy breeze sweeping the hilltop as the congregation looked on as the two caskets were lowered into the double grave. Logan heard quiet sobbing ripple through the crowd as they dropped from view. A gut-wrenching pain clawed at his insides. Like something reaching up out of the grave trying to pull him in with the caskets. He fought down a choking sob. Bile burned his throat.
The young man could cared less for people seeing him cry. He tried to focus on one casket in particular through a rippling curtain of tears. Anger brimmed over and he swiped at his face with his hand. He felt abandoned.
Strangely betrayed.
He felt alone.
After the ceremony he stood depressed. Withdrawn. Blind to the people fling pass him with their sober condolences, gentle touches, before slowly drifting of to their waiting vehicles.
A short time later Logan shook his head slightly realizing, except for one other, they were alone. Beside him his best mate, Gavin, stared grimly down at the caskets covered with a smattering of dirt.
Logan was of two minds. On one hand, he felt overcome with despair at the loss of his closest friend and confdant—his mother. Together they had faced life flled with endless trials and tribulations melded with moments of elation and promise, with unfinching positivity. His brushes with the law never seemed to faze her. As if being his mother gave her more insight to her son’s nature that Logan, himself, could discern. That she regarded his rambunctious attitude as harmless youthfulness burning excessive energy.
Testing boundaries. Believing with a mother’s blind love that maturity would intervene eventually.