Before Dawn: A Dawn Devon Adventure: Tropical Coast Thriller Series, #1

By Riley Curts

Out at sea, a scrappy ex-boxer's life is threatened by pirates...

 

Dawn Devon is learning the ropes on Joe Black's boat on the Florida coast, fighting to keep her nightmares at bay and stay out of trouble. 

 

But trouble always seems to find her and when a charter trip for a film crew goes horribly wrong, her past comes back to smack her in the face.

 

Dawn has a choice to make. Face her personal demons and fight back... or die.

 

Can she rise to the challenge?

 

Or will she lose everything… again?

 

~ This quick two-hour read is an introduction to the Tropical Coast Thriller Series and sets up the books that follow.  Get started on this action-packed thriller today. ~ 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riley Curts
• Release date: Dec 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781778199790

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The big hand of the grandfather clock in the corner clicked onto the twelve and struck two, the double bongs bouncing off the stark white walls of the sterile reception area. Cinderella, you shall go to the ball. Oh, wait! Not the ball. You shall go to the lawyer’s office. Fewer dancers and more threats of legal action.

Attorney Duncan will see you now. The severely dressed, blue-haired private secretary dropped her gaze to my worn khakis and hiking sandals and pursed her lips. I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb here, I didn’t need her to confirm it.

The woman stood from behind her desk and briskly lead me down a hallway, her incongruously tall red high heels tapping out a staccato against the black marble tiles. She pushed open one side of the large, ornately carved double oak doors, her thin-lipped smile directed at her boss inside, the disapproving look in her cold eyes slanted at me as she nodded me through.

I stepped into an enormous office. It spanned the entire south side of the building, a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows providing a multi-million dollar view of the sparkling waters of the bay beyond. Down there, somewhere, lay my past. I wondered what new hell in the present awaited me in this office.

Faking a confidence I didn’t feel, I strode across the room, my rubber-soled sandals sinking into the plush carpet. It was like walking on a shifting boat.

The man who’d had his minions summon me here rose from behind a large glass desk, glided out in front of it and extended his hand. Not a hair out of place. From the top of his head to his wing tips, everything about him screamed money. Perfectly tailored suit. Meticulously manscaped, stylish silver goatee with temples to match and heavy black brows. Shoes gleaming with a fresh polish, glinting the sunlight streaming in the window.

Dropping my gaze to his hand, I noticed the Cartier watch circling his wrist. Which was odd. Most men wore their watches on the left hand. Also, I didn’t know a Cartier from a Rolex, but I’d seen this particular watch before and knew both its value and its owner.

Ms. Devon, Mr. Duncan said, clasping my hand firmly in his. Thank you so much for coming in.

I forced my eyes to his face. He flashed a perfect set of teeth in a practiced smile, the warmth not extending to his baby blues which looked altered by colored contacts. A vain man with enough money to indulge his vanities.

Mr. Duncan, I said.

Please, call me Thomas. He studied my face. Can I offer you a tea? Coffee?

The smoothness of the cappuccino I’d quaffed down in the outer office still romanced my taste buds, but as tempting as a second one was, I wanted to get down to business so I could get the hell out of this building. The height and openness of the office made me uncomfortable. I felt exposed. Plus, it was pretty clear who was in control of things here. And it wasn’t me. Another reason to get back to the ground.

I’m good, I said.

Water then? Mr. Duncan waved me toward a small gleaming conference table perched before the windows. He poured water from a silver carafe into two crystal tumblers and set one down on a bamboo coaster in front of me. I took a sip and focused on the table.

Being this close to the windows was like being on the edge of an infinity pool. The view down the sixty-four floors made my stomach flip. If I’d been smart, I would have downed another Alka-Seltzer before leaving home. The bile in my belly fought for my attention. I fought to ignore it and calm my nerves.

Mr. Duncan folded himself gracefully into the chair across from me, hiking his trousers and smoothing his jacket then reached for a file, his well-manicured nails sliding it before him. He flipped it open and scanned the top sheet.

I’d always had a hate on for lawyers. Not sure why. Maybe watching so much television as a kid. Maybe never really knowing one personally. Maybe growing up in a blue-collar neighborhood just made me suspicious of the white-collar crowd. One thing I did know, is that it was always better to wait than fill up silence with nervous words that could be thrown back in your face. So I kept my mouth shut and waited.

Across the table from me, Mr. Duncan tapped his nail against the paper, looking for a way to begin.

I appreciate you coming in today, he said.

Your assistant made it sound like I didn’t have a choice. The thought of someone suing me made my blood run cold. I had nothing for them to take, but still. A lawsuit would