Ends 06-19 – Break My Bones by Rachael Tamayo Book Blitz + $10 Amazon Giveaway

EXCERPT 1 
After dropping off my daughter and parking my car, I walk into the empty, closed club, pulling the ringing cell out of my purse to answer. 

“Hello.” 

“Is this Brooklyn James?”

“Who is this?” 

I can’t make out the noise in the background on the line, wondering if it’s just a bad connection or if she’s really somewhere that loud. “My name is Mary, and I’m with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. I’m calling to advise you that your husband has been released from custody.”

The world sways around me, and I wonder if I heard her correctly. I swallow even though my mouth is dry and grip the rail on the bar next to me, steadying myself as I choke out, “What?”

“He was released three days ago.” She says it as if it’s nothing. As if she might not have just destroyed my life. 

He’s been out for three days? 

But why is she calling? It doesn’t even make sense. 

“Why are you notifying me? He wasn’t arrested for assaulting me. You guys don’t do that for DWI, do you?”

“Yes, I understand that, and no ma’am, we don’t. When his file was being processed, there was a request that you be notified. I apologize for the delay, but we’ve been short-staffed here due to budget cuts.”

I sit on a barstool, glancing around to make sure no one else is here. What if a vendor is walking around? Or the bartender came in early, and I didn’t notice his car in the parking lot? I’ve worked hard to keep this part of my life in the shadows, away from almost everyone. “Can you tell me who made the request?”

“I’m afraid not. We can’t release that information. I’m sorry.”

I blow out a breath, having figured as much. But you never know when you’ll get that one person who will bend the rules, or simply doesn’t know the rules. “Um, okay then. Thanks, Mary.” What else do I say? Thanks for destroying my life? 

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Have a nice evening.” 

The conversation ends, and I put the phone back in my purse without thinking. I’ve told myself that I would know what to do when this happened. I’ve had a mental checklist for close to two years now. 

Call Ashley and let her know. 

Call the school.

Consider changing my name, my daughter’s name. Why didn’t I leave Dallas? Why did I stay here and make it so simple to find me? 

I should take the money, turn around now, and go. Fetch my child, pack, and never look back. His mother knows how to find me. My heart beats too fast in my chest. I close my eyes, considering every choice I’ve made in all these years, making no move to hide from him. No move to run once I had the means to get away. 

What was I thinking? Fuck. 

No, scratch that. I won’t run. I won’t hide. I’ve been training, and I’ve been shooting; I know how to handle the gun, and myself. I’m strong now. I can do this. I have to. Because he will show up. He will find me. 

I have no doubt. 

EXCERPT 2
I’d kill him. I’d pull the trigger and watch the brains and bone blow out of his head, his face fall apart, the last look of shock and fear just as his soul departs. I’d do it again and again and feel nothing but relief. If I had the gun back, or knew where he stashed it, I’d do it. I’d get out of this shower and do it right fucking now. 

But I don’t know, and I’m in hell. How can you hate a man so much that you once loved with all your soul? I think sometimes that’s the only way. You can’t really hate someone unless you once loved them. Two sides of the same coin. 

I run my hands over my hair, cut crooked and blunt just above the shoulder. It feels strange in my hands when I touch it, washing it. He told me he’d take me in the morning for a proper haircut—one he approves, I’m sure. 

Will he? Will I want to go? 

No, I won’t. 

I consider shaving my head bald to teach him a lesson, staring at the razor in the corner of the shower. Then I consider the beating, the blood, the missing teeth, and I let the thought wash down the drain. 

Brandon. I close my eyes to remember him, to find a piece of his memory to calm the hate that is turning me black and putrid from the inside out. Did Brandon get my note? Did he go to the police? Will they come through this door soon, saving me from this insanity? 

God, I don’t know what to do. The need to fix this, to come up with some idea to get us out of this, is smothering, but I know that there’s nothing I can do. He’d find me, maybe kill me this time. But I do know one thing for certain: if he wakes and I’m not beside him, I’m in trouble. I turn off the water, dry off and dress how I know he wants, and climb back into bed in just his shirt and my panties. 

Losing my dignity to keep my blood inside my body and my teeth in my mouth. It’s nothing I’m not used to.