Title: Haven's War
Series: Safe Haven #2
Author: Parker Williams
Genre: M/M Dark Romantic Elements
Wow - what a follow on book to Haven's War. I should warn you that once you start this book, you will not want to stop reading until you have finished - so I would suggest you find a place to hide to read in peace!! This book is even better than the first book.
Haven and Sammy are just the same, well Sammy may now be a little bit more bossy these days, and Haven absolutely adores this side of him. Haven makes all the decisions necessary, but Sammy rules in the bedroom, and you can see how much Haven needs Sammy to ground him, gives him a chance to totally clear his mind.
You also find out a lot more about Kelly, who seems like he is there just to tend house for Haven, but there is definitely more to him than meets the eye. Sammy at times is still not sure about Kelly, but slowly over time this changes.
When some of Haven's fellow agents are killed, Haven calls on one person who he trusts totally to watch over his family - namely Sammy and Kelly. Now enter Oscar, and I love this character. Mind you, he has yet to admit what he feels for Max back home is love, but to me I think this is a defence mechanism so he can do his job. Also his way of keeping Max safe. There were a few sub characters that we meet in this book, but they all most definitely added value to the story.
I am not going to spoil the story and give anything away, but you will be pulled right into this story, and will be laughing at times, but you will also be crying at one point of the book, so keep the tissues nearby. To me, this book shows how much Haven himself has changed since we first met him, but for the better. Sammy took has changed, with the help of both Haven and Kelly.
I hope that this is not the end of this series, as I believe that Oscar deserves his own chance to realise what it is he feels for Max, but then again does Max love him?? You don't know, and unless we get another book we will never know!!
Haven and Sammy are just the same, well Sammy may now be a little bit more bossy these days, and Haven absolutely adores this side of him. Haven makes all the decisions necessary, but Sammy rules in the bedroom, and you can see how much Haven needs Sammy to ground him, gives him a chance to totally clear his mind.
You also find out a lot more about Kelly, who seems like he is there just to tend house for Haven, but there is definitely more to him than meets the eye. Sammy at times is still not sure about Kelly, but slowly over time this changes.
When some of Haven's fellow agents are killed, Haven calls on one person who he trusts totally to watch over his family - namely Sammy and Kelly. Now enter Oscar, and I love this character. Mind you, he has yet to admit what he feels for Max back home is love, but to me I think this is a defence mechanism so he can do his job. Also his way of keeping Max safe. There were a few sub characters that we meet in this book, but they all most definitely added value to the story.
I am not going to spoil the story and give anything away, but you will be pulled right into this story, and will be laughing at times, but you will also be crying at one point of the book, so keep the tissues nearby. To me, this book shows how much Haven himself has changed since we first met him, but for the better. Sammy took has changed, with the help of both Haven and Kelly.
I hope that this is not the end of this series, as I believe that Oscar deserves his own chance to realise what it is he feels for Max, but then again does Max love him?? You don't know, and unless we get another book we will never know!!
PROLOGUE
He glanced up at the evening sky. A haze enveloped the quarter moon, giving everything an ethereal glow. Though the night would be considered sultry, it lent itself to romance, walking hand in hand with someone you cared for, sharing whispered words, promises that might last an evening or be the foundation for a lifetime commitment. These people had no idea how quickly something like love could be ripped away, how those things said to one another would be worth less than the air you spent on saying them.
He shook his head. Now he needed to focus, not lose himself in memories of what might have been if things had been different. God, how he wished things could have been different.
The street could only be described as quaint. Small houses, each nearly identical to the next, but with a few tweaks that marked them as individual. The place he focused on had a small flowerbed, bursting with a variety of a flower he knew, but couldn’t recall the name. Tulips, maybe?
The slate gray siding, the maroon shutters on the windows, and the solar-powered pathway to the door that lit up in beautiful colors at night. The overall effect could only be described as charming. A lot of love went into making the house something special. It reminded him of what he’d lost.
He’d taken refuge in a house across from the home for six days, getting the lay of the land, taking note of the occupants’ arrival and departure schedule. Then every night, he drifted off, thinking about the place. It had been a dream of theirs, to own a little farm of their own, where no one would send them off to the corners of the world to handle problems. And for one very brief instant, they’d achieved it. But that dream had died in more ways than one. One day it was there, the next it was gone, as ephemeral as if it had never existed.
He tugged the collar of his black jacket and wished for a cool breeze. The earlier rain had sent the humidity soaring, and sweat was building up under his bulletproof vest, matting the sparse hairs. What he wouldn’t give for a tall glass of iced tea about now. He tried again, lifting the bottom of the vest up, hoping to let a little air in to cool him down, but nothing helped. He glanced at his watch. He’d need to make his move tonight. No way could he stand to be in this place any longer. The memories and wistful dreams alone threatened to drown him, but this heat had him sweating to the point where even he could smell himself. When he grabbed a coffee at the convenience store down the street while his target was out, the man behind the counter had a hand on the phone. Probably thought he was a vagrant. He sure as hell looked like one. He hadn’t showered in days, and his dark blond hair felt greasy to the touch. The beard he’d grown over the last year hadn’t seen a razor either. He looked like shit.
When he heard the hum of an engine on the quiet street, he crouched down. Though his patience had long ago come to an end, he needed to see this through. He would wait as he’d been trained, even if every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea. Still, he was an assassin, and he had a job to do.
The woman—Sarah, according facts he’d assembled—slid from the driver’s seat, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She laughed at something the other occupant shouted, then opened the rear door of the van. It took several minutes for her to get set, then she stepped away as a ramp slid down to allow the man in the back to wheel out and be lowered to the ground. She bent over and kissed him, then walked to the passenger side where she took a baby from the car seat. She held the child up, and then blew a raspberry on his belly, which caused the kid to laugh and wiggle. Regret tore through him. He wished there could be another way, but two months ago he’d approached the man—Daniel Tollifson—there had been angry words exchanged, as well as the threat of police involvement. He couldn’t allow that, because there would be no one else to take down his ultimate target.
He forced himself to focus on the here and now. He needed to remain detached. Better to not let facts like these intrude on his mission—a few weeks ago, he’d gone to Daniel, begging for information. He’d been rebuffed. That wouldn’t be the case today.
If the man wouldn’t help him when he asked, then he’d have to find another way to get his message across. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo of a man whose smile had never wavered. Terry had been his whole world, and then had been ripped away from him in a matter of moments. All he wanted had been the name of the person responsible. Why couldn’t Daniel see he wasn’t asking for much? How would he feel if it had been his wife? Or his child?
Daniel disengaged himself from the ramp, and Sarah started to come around to the other side. It had to be now.
He’d run out of tears a lifetime ago, but again he wished he had another alternative. He didn’t. He raised the rifle and peered through the sights. The woman and baby had gotten too near the man, and he refused to hurt the innocent. Not like Terry had been. He lowered his weapon.
He waited while the two were engaged in conversation. She touched her husband’s face, then bent down to blow a raspberry on his cheek, which had them both laughing. She held out the baby to him and gestured to the chair. He frowned, shook his head, and waved her off. She laughed and stuck out her tongue, dodging the swat he attempted to lay on her ass, then strode to the house, singing something loud and only slightly off-key. Her husband yelled something about the neighbors, and she merely laughed. He could see the obvious love the two of them shared, and that made what he had to do even more difficult.
Regret tore through him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, no longer sure who the sympathy was for.
She opened the front door, and her husband began to roll toward the house. Now would be his chance. Despite his misgivings, he had to take it. He again raised the rifle, closed one eye, and locked in on his target. The wheelchair stopped at the curb, and the man tried unsuccessfully to move it. He called out to Sarah, an edge of frustration in his voice. She laughed and took eight steps toward him when the trigger of the M24 he held in slightly trembling hands depressed, and a loud bang split the quiet suburban street. Less than a second passed before Daniel’s head exploded, blood and other materials spattering his wife and child. For a moment, she stood there, eyes wide. She gripped the baby close to her chest, and then screamed.
Before the echo died away, he had already scurried off into the night.
It wasn’t a perfect shot. He could hear Terry cursing at him, making him do it again and again until he got it right. But Terry had died, and though two years had passed, he would finally be avenged.
Daniel Tollifson had been the first, but there was no doubt he wouldn’t be the last. Though he didn’t want to kill anyone, there had to be a penalty for those who refused to help him get justice for Terry. He needed to track down and eliminate the person who’d been responsible.
No matter who had to die in the process.
He glanced up at the evening sky. A haze enveloped the quarter moon, giving everything an ethereal glow. Though the night would be considered sultry, it lent itself to romance, walking hand in hand with someone you cared for, sharing whispered words, promises that might last an evening or be the foundation for a lifetime commitment. These people had no idea how quickly something like love could be ripped away, how those things said to one another would be worth less than the air you spent on saying them.
He shook his head. Now he needed to focus, not lose himself in memories of what might have been if things had been different. God, how he wished things could have been different.
The street could only be described as quaint. Small houses, each nearly identical to the next, but with a few tweaks that marked them as individual. The place he focused on had a small flowerbed, bursting with a variety of a flower he knew, but couldn’t recall the name. Tulips, maybe?
The slate gray siding, the maroon shutters on the windows, and the solar-powered pathway to the door that lit up in beautiful colors at night. The overall effect could only be described as charming. A lot of love went into making the house something special. It reminded him of what he’d lost.
He’d taken refuge in a house across from the home for six days, getting the lay of the land, taking note of the occupants’ arrival and departure schedule. Then every night, he drifted off, thinking about the place. It had been a dream of theirs, to own a little farm of their own, where no one would send them off to the corners of the world to handle problems. And for one very brief instant, they’d achieved it. But that dream had died in more ways than one. One day it was there, the next it was gone, as ephemeral as if it had never existed.
He tugged the collar of his black jacket and wished for a cool breeze. The earlier rain had sent the humidity soaring, and sweat was building up under his bulletproof vest, matting the sparse hairs. What he wouldn’t give for a tall glass of iced tea about now. He tried again, lifting the bottom of the vest up, hoping to let a little air in to cool him down, but nothing helped. He glanced at his watch. He’d need to make his move tonight. No way could he stand to be in this place any longer. The memories and wistful dreams alone threatened to drown him, but this heat had him sweating to the point where even he could smell himself. When he grabbed a coffee at the convenience store down the street while his target was out, the man behind the counter had a hand on the phone. Probably thought he was a vagrant. He sure as hell looked like one. He hadn’t showered in days, and his dark blond hair felt greasy to the touch. The beard he’d grown over the last year hadn’t seen a razor either. He looked like shit.
When he heard the hum of an engine on the quiet street, he crouched down. Though his patience had long ago come to an end, he needed to see this through. He would wait as he’d been trained, even if every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea. Still, he was an assassin, and he had a job to do.
The woman—Sarah, according facts he’d assembled—slid from the driver’s seat, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She laughed at something the other occupant shouted, then opened the rear door of the van. It took several minutes for her to get set, then she stepped away as a ramp slid down to allow the man in the back to wheel out and be lowered to the ground. She bent over and kissed him, then walked to the passenger side where she took a baby from the car seat. She held the child up, and then blew a raspberry on his belly, which caused the kid to laugh and wiggle. Regret tore through him. He wished there could be another way, but two months ago he’d approached the man—Daniel Tollifson—there had been angry words exchanged, as well as the threat of police involvement. He couldn’t allow that, because there would be no one else to take down his ultimate target.
He forced himself to focus on the here and now. He needed to remain detached. Better to not let facts like these intrude on his mission—a few weeks ago, he’d gone to Daniel, begging for information. He’d been rebuffed. That wouldn’t be the case today.
If the man wouldn’t help him when he asked, then he’d have to find another way to get his message across. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo of a man whose smile had never wavered. Terry had been his whole world, and then had been ripped away from him in a matter of moments. All he wanted had been the name of the person responsible. Why couldn’t Daniel see he wasn’t asking for much? How would he feel if it had been his wife? Or his child?
Daniel disengaged himself from the ramp, and Sarah started to come around to the other side. It had to be now.
He’d run out of tears a lifetime ago, but again he wished he had another alternative. He didn’t. He raised the rifle and peered through the sights. The woman and baby had gotten too near the man, and he refused to hurt the innocent. Not like Terry had been. He lowered his weapon.
He waited while the two were engaged in conversation. She touched her husband’s face, then bent down to blow a raspberry on his cheek, which had them both laughing. She held out the baby to him and gestured to the chair. He frowned, shook his head, and waved her off. She laughed and stuck out her tongue, dodging the swat he attempted to lay on her ass, then strode to the house, singing something loud and only slightly off-key. Her husband yelled something about the neighbors, and she merely laughed. He could see the obvious love the two of them shared, and that made what he had to do even more difficult.
Regret tore through him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, no longer sure who the sympathy was for.
She opened the front door, and her husband began to roll toward the house. Now would be his chance. Despite his misgivings, he had to take it. He again raised the rifle, closed one eye, and locked in on his target. The wheelchair stopped at the curb, and the man tried unsuccessfully to move it. He called out to Sarah, an edge of frustration in his voice. She laughed and took eight steps toward him when the trigger of the M24 he held in slightly trembling hands depressed, and a loud bang split the quiet suburban street. Less than a second passed before Daniel’s head exploded, blood and other materials spattering his wife and child. For a moment, she stood there, eyes wide. She gripped the baby close to her chest, and then screamed.
Before the echo died away, he had already scurried off into the night.
It wasn’t a perfect shot. He could hear Terry cursing at him, making him do it again and again until he got it right. But Terry had died, and though two years had passed, he would finally be avenged.
Daniel Tollifson had been the first, but there was no doubt he wouldn’t be the last. Though he didn’t want to kill anyone, there had to be a penalty for those who refused to help him get justice for Terry. He needed to track down and eliminate the person who’d been responsible.
No matter who had to die in the process.
(Warning: This may be considered a trigger for some people. The images used in the video are stock photos and not real pictures of violence against children.)
You co-write books with K.C. Wells, do you prefer writing this way or on your own?
I’m not sure this can be an either/or kind of thing. Each has something that I wouldn’t give up. I adore writing with K.C. She’s funny, witty, charming (AND she didn’t pay me to say this!) When we work together the ideas flow so well.
When I work alone, it’s still just as much fun, but it requires a different kind of mindset to it. I need to focus on my own stuff, rather than what we are doing. Still, it’s nice to have her around for when I have questions. J
Do you find that if you co-write with someone, that you are able to take your writing to new levels that you haven’t done before?
YES! I have learned SO much from writing with other people. I would like to think that my writing has grown by my interactions not only with coauthors, but also from reading the works of people I admire.
What is your favourite book you have written (and yes I have written the british way of favourite!)
My favourite (see, I can do that, too!)? Right now it’s Haven. It took me in a totally different direction than I expected. I never thought I’d be writing something blood-drenched and enjoying it. (Though there is a moment in Haven’s War that I truly wish I could take back. The story won’t flow without it, though. It shook me up so bad, I couldn’t continue the story for a few weeks until I got over it.)
If you could have any book you have either written or read made into a movie, which one would you choose and why.
Definitely Haven. I think he could have a screen presence. Especially with book two introducing Oscar (who, by the way, is telling me he wants a book. I just don’t know what to do with him…)
Did you enjoy writing Haven’s War, or were you just pleased to have it finished??
I did enjoy it, but like I said, that one part hurt my heart. I wanted to not write it. I tried to come up with ways to change it. But the characters insisted it was the only way to get the book in the direction they wanted.
Where is the weirdest place that has given you inspiration for a book?
At my old job, oddly. A coworker became my impetus for writing Haven in the first place. I did my best to come up with ways to do her in, and used a lot of them in Haven. I’m grateful to her for being an egocentric so and so.
Is writing your own books full time as fulfilling as you hoped it would be?
YES! YES YES YES! I used to love my old job, but once I got started writing, I couldn’t stand it anymore. (Actually the car accident I was involved in changed my job, so I started hating it then. Writing became a lot more fulfilling.) I really can’t see myself doing anything else. Especially since I get to write more of the Secrets world with KC!
Is there a author that you have read that you would love to co-write a book with??
An author I've read that I would love to write with? It took a lot for me to decide to write with KC. Honestly, I'm not sure I could write with another author, though I might consider trying it. I'm just not that comfortable on how strong my writing is to be able to do an entire book with someone else. Maybe one day!
I’m not sure this can be an either/or kind of thing. Each has something that I wouldn’t give up. I adore writing with K.C. She’s funny, witty, charming (AND she didn’t pay me to say this!) When we work together the ideas flow so well.
When I work alone, it’s still just as much fun, but it requires a different kind of mindset to it. I need to focus on my own stuff, rather than what we are doing. Still, it’s nice to have her around for when I have questions. J
Do you find that if you co-write with someone, that you are able to take your writing to new levels that you haven’t done before?
YES! I have learned SO much from writing with other people. I would like to think that my writing has grown by my interactions not only with coauthors, but also from reading the works of people I admire.
What is your favourite book you have written (and yes I have written the british way of favourite!)
My favourite (see, I can do that, too!)? Right now it’s Haven. It took me in a totally different direction than I expected. I never thought I’d be writing something blood-drenched and enjoying it. (Though there is a moment in Haven’s War that I truly wish I could take back. The story won’t flow without it, though. It shook me up so bad, I couldn’t continue the story for a few weeks until I got over it.)
If you could have any book you have either written or read made into a movie, which one would you choose and why.
Definitely Haven. I think he could have a screen presence. Especially with book two introducing Oscar (who, by the way, is telling me he wants a book. I just don’t know what to do with him…)
Did you enjoy writing Haven’s War, or were you just pleased to have it finished??
I did enjoy it, but like I said, that one part hurt my heart. I wanted to not write it. I tried to come up with ways to change it. But the characters insisted it was the only way to get the book in the direction they wanted.
Where is the weirdest place that has given you inspiration for a book?
At my old job, oddly. A coworker became my impetus for writing Haven in the first place. I did my best to come up with ways to do her in, and used a lot of them in Haven. I’m grateful to her for being an egocentric so and so.
Is writing your own books full time as fulfilling as you hoped it would be?
YES! YES YES YES! I used to love my old job, but once I got started writing, I couldn’t stand it anymore. (Actually the car accident I was involved in changed my job, so I started hating it then. Writing became a lot more fulfilling.) I really can’t see myself doing anything else. Especially since I get to write more of the Secrets world with KC!
Is there a author that you have read that you would love to co-write a book with??
An author I've read that I would love to write with? It took a lot for me to decide to write with KC. Honestly, I'm not sure I could write with another author, though I might consider trying it. I'm just not that comfortable on how strong my writing is to be able to do an entire book with someone else. Maybe one day!
Parker Williams believes that true love exists, but it always comes with a price. No happily ever after can ever be had without work, sweat, and tears that come with melding lives together.
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