Dark Waters

By J.L. Savage

Private investigator Archer Lake earns his keep investigating cheating spouses, and until the beautiful Judge from the palatial cabin on the hill overlooking his moored houseboat invites herself in for coffee, the worse thing he ever faced was a distraught husband or a bounced client check. One event changes everything, and propels Archer into the world of international terrorism and suspense.

What starts as a simple invitation for a cup of coffee turns into a fight for justice when Archer is confronted by an ultimatum—find and stop an international arms dealer, or live with the consequences.

Author J.L. Savage shows us what it takes to survive when the odds are stacked against you. His Archer Lake character is a “take no prisoners” private investigator who enjoys leading a quiet life on a houseboat inherited from a deceased client. But when trouble comes his way, he steps into action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Savage
• Release date: Nov 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311803269

J.L. Savage

Jay Savage lives in California with his wife and two children. Born and raised in the Mojave Desert, and a veteran of both the Persian Gulf and Iraqi Wars, he writes from hands on experience.Jay's books focus on subjects like political suspense, mystery, dystopian fiction, and post-apocalyptic fiction. He may be reached via email at [e-mail].

Book preview

Dark Waters

By J. L. Savage

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 J. L. Savage

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended.

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

I’m Archer Lake.

If you’re looking for me online, or in the papers, you won’t find me.

I’m a loner, and live off the grid. Or at least I did.

In 2006 I had a near death experience, and lost a leg in the process. The doctors and nurses assigned to the Combat Support Hospital in Baghdad, also known as the Cash, called me lucky. I beg to differ. Three of my friends did not make it.

Hobbled and honorably discharged, I made my way north out of Fort Bragg to a small resort town in North Carolina. One thing led to another, and somehow I fell into the less than honorable profession of spying on cheating spouses for a living.

Sure, the state calls me a licensed private investigator, and the guys down at the Veteran’s Administration office proudly point to my life story as a VA success story.

Bullshit.

It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what I do for a living. I destroy lives. I’m a hack with a camera who has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Iraq proves that…as does the events that rocked my world and destroyed any hope I had of leading a quiet life—sans human interaction.

I’m also cursed with a long memory. I can remember what I had for breakfast that morning in November when the blond from the house on the hill came calling, and I can remember the look of fear and outrage on her face when the explosion ripped through my houseboat.

But I’m getting ahead of myself…

Chapter 1

Heavy fog shrouded the lake that November morning, the day life as I knew it came to a screeching halt.

I was hosing down the foredeck on my houseboat, a fifty foot Gibson given to me by a former client who no longer needed it—or anything else on Earth, for that matter, when trouble called. Call it intuition. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that she was trouble, but frankly, I needed the money. Besides, what else does a guy living off a partial veteran’s disability and the increasingly rare private investigation check have to do on a Sunday morning?

Judge Sarah Parkens came down from her three level cabin on the hill overlooking the lake and the marina where the bachelors and broken scraped by. She tossed a stick into the cool water of Lake Burgandi and clapped her hands as her Black Lab heaved himself into the water.

Wish I had his energy, I said and coiled my water hose onto a hook mounted near the side door of my home on the water. The boat rocked to a gentle wake from a bass boat racing to a secret cove, or perhaps the beer joint on the north shore.

Sorry, I didn’t see you, the Judge said and flashed a gorgeous