Today we have an Exclusive Cover Reveal for Rodd Clark’s second book in his Gabriel Church Tales, Torn and Frayed. Yes, our sexy serial killer is back!!!
If you don’t believe a serial killer can be so hot then you need to start reading this series. Check out Mark’s Review of the first book, Rubble and the Wreckage to find out how such a guy can be so charismatic and don’t forget to enter the giveaway for your chance to win a copy of books one and two!
Torn and Frayed
Gabriel Church is a portrait in contrast. It would be easy to get lost in his pale-blue eyes, ache with the need to feel the strength of his masculine frame. He appears to be nothing but animal and instinct. The only people who know the full depth of that truth are dead, murdered, or two thousand miles away.
Gabe is a serial killer. For the first time in his life, he has more on his mind than his own survival. This time he is running from Seattle to protect the only person he thinks innocent in his laundry list of crime and murder: Christian Maxwell, his biographer and unexpected lover.
Drawn to a place he never thought to return, Gabe finds new and different realities. Realities that insist he let go of his tragic past, those incredible perceptions of God, and his own divinity. He must open his eyes to what the love of a good man can do to heal a broken soul.
But when the killer is confronted by his own willingness to love and sacrifice, he is forced to ultimately ask the question: Just how far will he go to save a life . . . when all he’s ever done is take them?
Torn and Frayed will be available soon for pre-order. To be notified of its release (and a member discount) sign up to become a member at Driven Press here: http ://www.drivenpress.net
I wanted to offer an excerpt of the upcoming book as a glimpse into my mind, so here goes: Here we find Gabriel entering a Catholic church to seek atonement or answers where he encounters the kindly, empathetic Father Albert Kait.
Some words you hear during your lifetime can seem too unreal to be authentic, like a phone call in the night from someone informing you of a recent or unexpected death. A single long-distance conversation standing apart from all the others because it’s the one you know instantly that you’ll never fully shake from memory. It’s that awful sensation of standing inside a vacuum as every remaining molecule of oxygen is yanked from your lungs like a desperate thief. And that strain of your ears as you try to analyze every word or break down every syllable just to grasp the gravity and comprehend all of what you’re hearing.
It becomes a simple and yet inelegant reminder screaming decisively over the din; it tells you that you have lost a thing once held precious and while you hadn’t been paying attention close enough it had slipped away from the living like a vapor escaping through open cracks in the ceiling. The words might sound genuine enough as they ricochet inside your skull hitting one wall only to bounce to another, but they linger and reverberate there. Like an echo working through the hollows of your brain as each tiny pause between words becomes its own unbearable existence. You try to break down the information, to chew each word into smaller and more manageable bites, one that your intellect can ultimately consume…but it’s difficult.
Such was the case with Albert when at twenty-eight he received such a phone call from his sister back in the States. She’d called to say their beloved mother Carlotta had passed without a warning sometime in the previous night. And as he stood alone in the rectory hall frozen and silent, gripping that heavy black receiver in his viselike hands, he remembered picturing his mother’s face as she must’ve exited one life for the next. She would have been smiling because Albert knew how closely his mother guarded her own faith, and he suspected she would be at her happiest after finally being able to stand face-to-face with her maker.
Albert felt a wave of both compassion and sadness hit him hard as he recalled his sister sobbing hysterically in the background. She’d been crying for hours, he imagined, but her wailing made it appear as if she’d just heard the tragic news herself. But that was just Gisela’s way, he thought. Even from childhood she’d been a small and twitchy type of girl, one who learned to utilize those overly dramatic histrionics of hers. It was just her personality, Albert surmised, and the only way such a tiny girl might garner the attention she desperately craved while living in such a boisterous, large Italian household as theirs.
Although that conversation had been burned into his recollection, he could no longer visualize himself standing there in the rectory with his fog of disbelief plastered on his face and the first indication of a fraying around his edges like a worn out cotton shirt that had seen too many launderings. What he did recognize that day, just as he did the day Gabriel Church visited him, was that no matter how earthshattering the news might be, it was still nothing but a Polaroid reminder of someone’s past in the making. Whatever pain his visitor was carrying around his neck like a millstone, it wasn’t small enough that any of Albert’s platitudes might grant him the peace he needed or the penitence he might’ve been hoping for. Whatever guilt the man possessed was surely a heavy burden, and yet Father Kait was a believer in his faith. And just as he’d tell his congregation each and every Ash Wednesday, “Remember we are all born of dust, and it’s dust that we’re all returned to in the end.”
Behind the tiny screen in Gabe’s booth the air then was pregnant with new and unfamiliar emotions. He’d been unburdening himself in ways he’d never done before. Not even with Chris back in Seattle. They’d just assumed everything would be laid bare over time. But Church still had secrets he hadn’t disclosed yet, and having the opportunity of releasing and freeing them into the ether was giving him an autonomy he’d never felt before. Not in any of the interviews back in the hotel or any of the discussions they’d shared over dinner or drinks in a bar. This priest was becoming more important than any father confessor he’d ever known before.
“I’m here to ask a question,” he began in a slow methodical way, showing he’d played out this scenario somewhere previously in his mind. “I wanted to know if it’s possible that if you’d done some terrible things, even though you’d done them all in the name of God, you’d still be offered mercy, or any sanctuary and forgiveness, after the fact?”
A long pause dragged by while Kait considered what the man was asking.
“Any life…whatever life you desire anyway, will only happen after complete absolution. If you don’t ask for it, then you won’t get it. And whatever sins you think you’ve committed can only be forgiven after your honest confession before the Lord. If you don’t ask for help from anyone above, you just risk that those sins will scar over the soul and damage it in ways you couldn’t have fathomed.”
Seconds turned into minutes until the silence became a vast forge until finally whispered through the blackness, “Does that help young man? Does it offer you any guidance?”
The next sound he heard was a scraping of the confessional door as it opened abruptly, then a burst of daylight invaded Father Kait’s side of the partition. He realized his confessor had slipped out without responding, and as the priest stood up quickly in an effort to stop the man’s departure, he could only see the chapel doors behind drawn closed as the man left the church without a word. Alone in the cathedral he felt himself unnerved, like staring into a black void and expecting it to be God’s face looking back then surprised when you only felt a cold chill and dark emptiness staring back. Frightened without completely understanding the reason, he then noticed how his legs were trembling more than usual. It was getting difficult to stand, so Albert reached for the nearest pew for support. He knew if he hadn’t grabbed quickly enough his knees would’ve buckled under his own weight and sent him crashing to the polished hard floor of the chapel.”
Rubble and the Wreckage
(book one in the Gabriel Church Tales) is available now
::: MARK’S REVIEW :::
Meet Rodd Clark
Rodd lives in Dallas, TX at the moment but hails from the sticks of Oklahoma. Check out his web presence at RODDCLARK.COM. Rodd is interested in the M/M Mystery, Romance and Thriller genres but has a varied interest in many books. It has been written that his writing has a very dark and distinctive voice with a need for deep exploration and analysis. His latest work is the romantic thriller “Rubble and the Wreckage” with the sequel releasing in November of 2015 titled “Torn and Frayed”.
Enter the giveaway for your chance to win an eBook copy of Rubble and the Wreckage and Torn and Frayed (Rubble immediately and Torn on release)