Kind of…maybe…um, no, I mean YES! I am. For sure. Well, it’s complicated. Let me explain. On July 13th, 2023, we lost Lucy, our renegade Rat Terrier who’d been my constant companion for 14 years. We got her in October 2009 as an eight week old puppy from a breeder going out of business near Pukwana, South Dakota.
We paid $75 for the tiny pup. Lucy became a part of our family and traveled to 17 different states with us. In her 14 years she got to see the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Horseshoe Bend, the Medicine Wheel in the Bighorn Mountains, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons and in Colorado: the UFO Watchtower, the Great Sand Dunes National Park and the hot springs at Pagosa Springs. She made numerous trips to the Black Hills and got to tour the Badlands. And that’s just a sampling.
She was a naughty little shit. If you touched her when she didn’t want you too, she snarled with her full set of teeth exposed. She slept under the covers and if you accidentally touched her she growled. More than once I lay, wide-eyed, wondering if she was going to bite me. If she could have carried a gun, I’m sure she would have. She loved my Glocks. For real!
Anyway…last summer she succumbed to bone cancer. I held her after the vet administered the lethal dose of drugs to put her down. I told her what a good dog she’d been and how much we loved her. And after that, to put it in simple terms, my life unraveled. Period, end of story.
I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I grieved more for that dog, my friend, my constant companion, than I did for my mother. I know, I know…she was “just a dog.” Honestly, I’d like to pile my fist into the face of anyone who says that. Probably more than once. For months I couldn’t manage much more than day drinking and trying to pretend that everything was OK. Yeah…132 proof. I don’t mess around.
It’s taken me quite a while to get to the point where I can focus on life in general and what has been my passion – continuing to write the Rowan Milani Chronicles. A few other things have happened along the way. Over Labor Day Weekend 2023 we traveled to Valley Falls, Kansas to the Jefferson County Humane Society to pick up Bella, a senior rat terrier that my husband found online. A month later I made a deposit on a blue and white rat terrier puppy.
The very next day I found out I needed foot and ankle surgery to correct the debilitation caused by an old injury. I had the surgery in February 2024 after the puppy – Lyle, was house trained. After six weeks of no weight bearing, four weeks in a boot, waiting three more weeks for the shoe inserts I needed, I began the recovery process. Two months of physical therapy, swimming and working out on the recumbent bike, I am getting back to normal. The dogs keep me busy. They are quite the characters, to say the least.
Somehow during the past year I managed to write somewhere around 30,000 words of the next book in the series. A lot of it I’ve discarded. It didn’t feel right. Everything felt forced, like I had to write about certain things. One day, after talking with an avid reader of my series, his comments hit me and I realized I’d been missing something.
Then a familiar thing happened, something I hadn’t experienced in over a year! The plot of the next book, the direction it needed to go in, laid itself out before me in a panoramic view. I don’t know how else to explain it. I put what I’d written in a file and started over. This time, I like what I’ve written and the scenes to come are milling around in my head. It’s a great feeling!
Just for fun and to whet your reading appetite, here’s a sample. Whether it makes it into book number six remains to be seen. Enjoy reading this scene and let me know what you think:
The Estate, Sardinia, Italy
Uneasy, Rowan turned his back on the windows in his office. The view he loved afforded him the only peace he knew. But tonight, obscured by darkness, the lights in the office served only to reflect the turmoil of his reality back at him. An eerie feeling of impending disaster gripped him. Chad’s terse words, the tone in his closest friend’s voice told him he’d have no peace tonight or for the foreseeable future.
Resisting the urge to wipe sweating palms on his pants, he turned to gaze at Chad, standing at the bar with two crystal glasses of single barrel Jack Daniel’s whiskey. “Are you sure about this? I mean, really sure?”
Chad eyed him, mouth set in a straight line, his blue eyes hard. “Tony and Ben triple checked my sources, everything. So yes, I’m one hundred percent sure.”
“Great.” Rowan blew out a gusty sigh and made his way to the grouping of sofa, low table and armchairs. He slouched into one of the armchairs and propped his feet on the table. A shower of sand fell from his shoes and he watched as it scattered across the polished tabletop.
Chad set both glasses of whiskey on the table and retrieved the bottle from the bar. He slid onto the sofa and shot him a grave look. “I know Ralph’s been on your ass about your drinking, but I thought we could both use a pour, considering the circumstances.”
Jolted from his mindless thoughts, Rowan sat up straight, picked up the glass and downed a hefty shot. The whiskey never disappointed, burning its way down, offering immediate relief from the unrelenting tension plaguing him. He took another swallow and grimaced. “Ralph means well. He just doesn’t understand. Both he and Danielle think I have a problem.” He waved his hand. “Never mind. What happened that’s going to ruin my plan for a relaxing evening with my wife and little girl?” He held the glass in both hands and met Chad’s sober gaze. “Fill me in.”
Chad drained his glass of whiskey, poured more and took another drink. “It’s not good brother. It’s…I’m not sure how we’re going to deal with this.”
Rowan stared as gooseflesh rose on his arms. The absence of his best friend’s sunny optimism sent a quick shiver of fear through his body. “C’mon, let’s hear it. Get it over with, for God’s sake, so we can start making some kind of plan.”
Chad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We both know that the Brotherhood has had sleeper cells in the US for quite some time.” He shrugged. “Back in the day, you and I took care of a bunch of them.”
Rowan tilted his head. “Yeah, that’s not exactly news. Are you saying they’re going to activate them? What the hell is going on?”
Chad’s look turned even more grim. “Attacks have taken place in Chicago, DC, Los Angeles and New York. They’ve hit FBI headquarters in each city, plus transportation hubs. They started by bombing Grand Central Terminal and hit the Brooklyn Bridge with bombs. They’ve taken out bridges in each of the other cities as well. In LA they hit churches and synagogues and bombed Union Station. In addition to that, they set off bombs at O’Hare, JFK, Reagan and SEATAC.”
Rowan stared. “Oh hell. That took some expert planning and coordination.” He grimaced. “I guess that’s an understatement.”
Dread filled his colleague’s face. “That’s not all. Brotherhood surrogates in DC are planning to meet with the President and intelligence agencies. They’re going to present proof that you’re behind the attacks. They’ve got their own intel on your financial holdings, your dealings in explosives and weapons.” He waved an arm. “You name it, they’ve dug into it.”
Shock stilled him. Mouth dry, he managed a hoarse whisper. “But how…” His voice trailed off as his mind struggled to absorb the implications. How had their layers of security been breached? How had the ironclad assurances of confidentiality in Dubai been compromised?
His colleague’s face was pale. “We don’t know how they managed to infiltrate the Emirates NBD bank, but I have my suspicions. Your alternate identity being revealed by that Bureau agent Stewart gave them something to go on.”
Rowan gave his colleague a hard stare. “You have always assured me that our security was impenetrable. What happened?”
Chad stared back for a moment, then looked at the glass of whiskey in his hand, swirled the amber liquid and tossed back more. “We have bigger problems at the moment.” He looked up, and Rowan saw the beginnings of desperation on his friend’s face.
Angered by the fear winding its way through his mind, he snapped. “What? What could possibly be worse?”
Chad heaved a sigh. “The thing is, this situation, if you want to call it that, gives the President carte blanch to do whatever it takes to bring you down. US intelligence will garner world support in short order, we know that. The end result is that you, well, all of us, are going to be persona non grata everywhere.”
Rowan blinked, grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel’s with shaking hands and tried to focus on refilling his glass. Pungent whiskey spilled, running in rivulets across the tabletop, through the scattering of sand. He gripped the glass tight and took a fortifying drink. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and afraid he’d spill more, he set the glass down with his suddenly clumsy hand, rattling it onto the table. Absently wiping his hands on his pants, he spoke, voice harsh. “When did this happen? How much time do we have to get out of here?”
You’ll have to wait for the sixth in the series, A MOST WANTED MAN, to find out what happens and how Rowan and his crew deal with their new set of circumstances. It feels good to be back on course and I am looking forward to figuring out what happens as well!
The ROWAN MILANI CHRONICLES 