Razing Kayne - By Julieanne Reeves

Dedication Page

To the brave men and women who choose to walk the thin blue line: Thank you for your unwavering service. You are our every-day hometown heroes.

In Loving Memory of:

Pamela Rea Reeves: You handed me my first romance book and said read. I did. You encouraged me to chase rainbows, and taught me to dream, to love, to hope; to fly. I've never stopped. Thanks, Mom.

Marcy Rogers: The founder of Marcy's Kids (Now Payson Community Kids) A non-profit outreach program for “at risk” youth. They say one person can't make a difference. Well whoever the hell “they” are, were wrong. They hadn't met you.

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To my family – the cool ones who actually know I write – thank you for your support and encouragement. Tracy, that includes you and Shannon, you've been my sisters since the very beginning.

To my children, Puddleduck and Werewolf: You are not of my body, but of my heart. No mother has ever loved her children more than I love you. You are my light and my strength; you make my world whole.

Last, and certainly not least, to my posse: The irreverent, crazy, funny as hell, keep me up way too late laughing until I cry, women of “Wisteria Lane.” You are quite simply the best. Thanks for celebrating the good, lamenting the bad, talking me down from the ledges, and helping me bury the bodies.

Acknowledgments Page

Payson Fire Chief Marty Demasi and Hellsgate Fire Captain John Wisner: Thanks for answering all my strange random technical questions about procedures and fire apparatus.

Arizona State Trooper (Ret.) Roger Cain, Payson PD Sgt. Dean Faust (Ret.) US Border Patrol Senior Agent Paul Reece (Ret.) and a few active duty who I won’t name here (you know who you are): Thanks for letting me tap into your collective knowledge and experience.

Any liberties I took, or mistakes I made were entirely mine, because you guys rock!

To all the Dispatchers, Officers, Firefighters, EMS and ED personnel of Northern Gila County: None of you made it into these stores. I promise. It was an incredible honor to work with you over the years. Thanks for the laughs, the friendship, and the great memories.

Sharon “Shay” Cox and Author Hayden Braeburn: Thanks for letting me use your first names.

To Ondrej Kasl: You make an awesome undercover InterPol Agent. Thanks for the use of your name. I had no idea you'd become such an important character in this series. It should be an interesting journey.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.”

~ Washington Irving

PROLOGUE

Santa Barbara California,

Two years ago.

Officer Kayne Dobrescu pulled into his designated parking space, shut off his Titan Sidewinder Softail motorcycle—a holdover from his bachelor days—and let out a heavy sigh, staring at the apartment building his family called home.

God, he was tired. No, exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. He'd just finished the second of back-to-back double shifts, and it had been ten days since he'd had a day off. Officers were discouraged from working so many hours for safety reasons, but the department had been seriously short-staffed lately, and Kayne desperately needed the money. He had a wife and three precious children who depended on him for everything.

He hated how little time he got to spend with them these days. It seemed like he only ever saw them anymore when they were sleeping, and he missed them with every fiber of his being. But he was the sole provider, and they depended on him to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, and ensure they were cared for while he worked.

Resigning himself to the inevitable argument that he was sure would ensue sometime tonight between him and his wife, he unstrapped his helmet and climbed off his bike, thinking of the three bright spots in his dreary world. As tired as he was, he wanted to spend time with his kids. So, he'd lock up his gun and dump his duffel bag full of duty gear in his closet, pack up two toddlers and a baby, and head to the park. There he’d spend the afternoon pushing swings, rolling around in the grass, chasing them through the sand, and racing them down the slide; all the while listening to their sweet little voices say, “Again, Papa, do it again!” followed by uncontrollable giggles of delight.

Kayne was grinning by the time he reached the door. He made a big procession