Love Lonely Read online

  Love Lonely

  Book 1

  By William C. Cole

  Love Lonely

  Copyright © 2014 by William C. Cole. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: December 2014

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-011-2

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-011-6

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  Diane

  My wife of 34 years, there is zero chance of me being the person I am today without you by my side.

  Lee & Aaron

  My two amazing sons who I spend far too little time with, I do care. Unless I am kicking your butt on the golf course.

  Deb & Robin

  My Sisters who have always so graciously and unconditionally welcomed my family with open arms.

  Thank you

  Never, ever, let someone tell you, you can’t run after your dreams

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 1

  David sat on a fence that separated the family’s stables from the remainder of the race track. It was his favorite spot to sit and contemplate all that life had tossed his way. Today he’d been dealt some bad cards.

  Dressed in faded jeans, denim shirt, and cowboy boots or as he referred to them his ass kicking boots, he looked good. Six foot two, strong legs and a butt developed from his professional hockey career. A true fan could pick a hockey player out of a crowd by his physique. David always thought of himself as a pretty cool guy, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get person for the most part, one the guys wanted to hang with and the ladies wanted to sleep with.

  But today it was best for all to stay clear.

  “David,” she paused, “David,” Renée repeated. Her words jolted him from his reverie. The trance had been brought on by the exhaustion of the previous twenty-four hours. “David, detective Slocum needs to go over a few things with you. Are you good to go here?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Where is he?”

  David followed her around the stable. Or what was left of it.

  Even though he was dead tired, awake for well over a full day dealing with this horrific situation, he was still aware of Renée’s body as she led the way. When she arrived from France, speaking broken English and with few employment opportunities, David took a chance and hired her. It paid off big time as she was quickly becoming one of the most respected horse handlers in the country. She wasn’t the head of his team yet, but someday she'd be calling the shots.

  As Renée walked in front of him he couldn’t help but take a fleeting look at her backside. Actually, he found himself becoming more and more mindful of her. His thoughts, he knew, would remain just that—thoughts. He had no intentions of acting on them, because he loved his wife, Sandy. David had had numerous female companions throughout his life. Single professional athletes had no lack of attention from the opposite sex. Some of the married ones also had their fair share of little social gatherings. But he was totally committed to his marriage. One of his life survival guidelines was, “what goes on in this head, stays in this head.”

  “David, this is Detective Slocum from the Louisville Police Department. He's handling the investigation of the fire.”

  “Please to meet you Mr. Watson,” the detective said.

  “Please, call me David.”

  “As your assistant mentioned, I am here to investigate the fire. However, I’ve just been informed that I’m no longer the lead on the case. I’ve been ordered to gather as much information as possible and turn it over to the FBI. It seems a bit odd, but you get used to odd in this business. I am sorry for your loss. We will do everything we can to assist the Bureau.”

  David knew it wasn’t that unusual to learn of the FBI involvement. His father-in-law probably put a call into the Director of the FBI or maybe even the President. He knew them both. He seemed to know them all. They weren’t golfing buddies, but they did see each other when frequenting the same cities. His father-in-law’s substantial campaign donations and support came with a “when I call you, you call back receipt.”

  “Thank you for your help detective. We appreciate your and the fire department’s swiftness. You first responders saved the lives of a lot of horses. We lost two, but if it wasn’t for their quick actions,” he paused. “Well you know what I mean,” he choked up.

  Growing up on a farm he had endured the ending of the livestock’s lives quite often. It never got easier. He had a hard time discussing the two horses that perished in the fire.

  “With regards to the FBI, don’t take it personally. Jacob McGinnis, my father-in-law has an uncanny way of becoming the one in charge. I’m sure you would have resolved this without outside assistance.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, David. I’m sure they will determine the cause in a timely manner. I have a few questions for you but since we expect an FBI agent on site in the near future, I won’t take up anymore of your time right now.”

  “Detective, I won’t be far if you need me.”

  “Thank you, we will keep you abreast of the investigation.”

  David and Renée made their way back to the other side of the stables. They settled at the spot on the fence he referred to as his office. A lot of decisions were made there. Each of them rested a leg on the first cross pole then leaned their arms on the top. Nothing was said. They stared at the full moon surrounded by glistening stars. They spent a great deal of their time at this exact location alone and together. Here many conversations took place about pretty much everything. Some of those talks maybe should have been reserved for people in personal relationships, not employer-employee dialogue. Tonight there would be little bantering.

  He could feel her forearm ever so slightly touching his. This wasn’t the first time it happened. It was a warm night with the smoldering of the fire making it feel even hotter. Renée wore a short sleeve top and the arms of his denim shirt were rolled up. It wasn’t that their skin actually touched, but rather the hair on their arms rubbed against each other. He liked it. It felt nice. The contact was so gentle he wondered if she noticed. She must feel it. What was she thinking? Although it had been a trying day, he felt comforted by the touch.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Really, Renée, you don’t want to know.”

  His reply not only referred to the frustration brought on by the day’s events, but his thoughts about the solace he found in her subtle touch.

  The more he reflected on the senseless loss of the two animals, the more enraged he became. No matter what caused th
e fire, he should have been able to foresee and prevent it. That was his job.

  “Oui, David I do. I’m not sure what to do here. I need to know my next step, s’ils vous plait,” she said, substituting French into her response.

  Renée also experienced serenity when they shared these get-togethers. She had grown fond of David. It was an attraction she kept closely guarded, with no plans on revealing, at least for now. But tonight her mind was not on the allure. She was visibly upset by the tragedy and seeking some direction to assist her with navigating her way through the remainder of the evening.

  David understood her French excerpts. Spending a couple of years playing in the NHL with the Montreal Canadiens, it went without saying that the fans and press expected to converse in their mother tongue. So he learned enough to stay on the good side of them. After all, ultimately they paid his wage and he never took that for granted.

  “We need to get some rest and let the authorities deal with this. They know what they’re doing and will get to the bottom of it soon. It’s best we don’t get in their way,” he answered her.

  “You’ve never handed over the reins to anyone nor been worried about getting in someone’s way since I’ve known you.”

  “This time I think it would be best to let the proper people investigate without my interference,” he said knowing full well that he couldn’t keep his nose out of any problem that directly affected his family. Renée knew this, he knew she knew, but nothing more needed to be said.

  “Can you leave our numbers with—” his cell started to ring, “—the detective so he can reach us if need be?”

  The phone kept ringing.

  Renée turned to leave then hesitated, turned back, “David.”

  “What?”

  The cell was still ringing. A sound he could live without the rest of his life and not miss it for one second.

  “Your phone. You might want to answer it. It’s probably Sandy.” She left to track down the police officer.

  He looked down at his iPhone screen then up again and she was gone. He pressed talk.

  “Wattsy, are you okay?”

  It was Sandy his wife of seven years. From time to time she called him by his hockey nickname. It was a title bestowed by teammates, who had most likely been checked into the boards a few too many times.

  He was surprised by the call. She was supposed to be in Paris for the remainder of the week on one of her fund-raising excursions. But the call display indicated she was on her aircraft.

  “Hey babe,” he answered.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Wattsy, I can’t believe this happened, I’m on my way home. They told me we lost West Coast Breeze and Overtime.”

  She started to weep. Not break down I’m dying tears, but more reserved, controlled but still real tears. She was referring to the two thoroughbred horses that perished in the stable fire. These were world class racehorses, worth millions of dollars. Her sorrow was not related to the financial loss but rather her love for the animals. Sandy had an authentic passion for them.

  “We did lose them. We'll figure out what caused the fire shortly.”

  “Is my father there?”

  “No, not personally, but you can feel his presence everywhere, no matter which way you look,” David answered sounding slightly exasperated.

  Sandy picked up on it but let it slide. Her father was rich, very rich and powerful. She knew that he would be directing the event from his office at their ranch. He’d be on his telephone speaking to someone that not too many people had access to. His tone would be low key, relaxed, and soft spoken. The person on the other end of the line would be meticulously zoned into the conversation not wanting to miss a directive that may be coming their way. They would be agreeing and assuring Mr. Jacob McGinnis that all was being taken care of and he shouldn’t worry as the proper people were being put in place. The situation would be resolved as expeditiously as humanly possible.

  “I thought you were going to stay in Europe until the end of the week. Babe you didn’t have to come home early, I can handle this.”

  “I know you can. That’s why I married you. You kind of remind me of my father,” she said jokingly.

  But it was true. David would never back down from a challenge. He’d face adversity head on. Life didn’t have a lot in its arsenal that could throw him off his game.

  Sandy admired this trait knowing it was instilled in him at an early age and reinforced throughout his professional hockey career. The dedication and discipline was similar, although not as intense as the preparation she had subjected herself to over the years.

  “As soon as our plane lands, I’m coming to the track.”

  The plane she was speaking of was her father’s private jet. She used it more than he did. Some kids get cars as a gift. Sandy got a luxury aircraft.

  “When do you land?”

  She told him they expected to touch down within the hour.

  “There’s nothing you can do here and I was just preparing to head back to the ranch. I’ll meet you there. Thanks for coming home. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s almost been a week now.”

  “Woo, a week without sex with your hot wife, you poor boy.”

  “And that would be one of the reasons I love you so much,” they hung up. No arguments from either side.

  David arrived at the ranch within a couple of hours of speaking to his wife. Sandy wasn’t home yet. He took a quick look for his father-in-law but he was nowhere to be found. This wasn’t all that surprising. The ranch was so big he suspected someone could live there for days without being noticed.

  He then made his way to their private quarters. Sandy and David lived in a residence attached to the west wing of the estate. It was theirs and their privacy was respected by her father and his staff. The suite measured in at about four thousand square feet. They were adamant about doing all the chores themselves, the cleaning, cooking, and laundry. David insisted on this if they were going to make the ranch their home—although he knew he really didn’t have much of a choice about where they lived. It came with an unspoken segment of their wedding vows. He felt a bit like a sellout, but regained some pride knowing he could still clean up after himself. Sandy, who was not raised in this style of living had become accustom to it. David liked to believe she respected it.

  A long, hot shower was foremost on his mind. It took lathering a few times to rid himself of the smell of smoke. Once clean, he let the steaming water pound on the back of his neck. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to fall asleep right there. He stayed for what seemed to be an hour but it was only fifteen or twenty minutes. David dried off, threw on his pajama bottoms, and made his way to the bedroom. He looked around for Sandy in hopes she had arrived, knowing full well it was still too early.

  After attaching his iPhone to the docking station, he tapped an app and instantly a Toby Keith song began to play. There were hundreds of songs from all genres of music downloaded on it. Tim McGraw, Kenny Chesney, Toby, Blake Shelton, along with a number of up and coming country artists received the majority of airplay. Growing up on a farm in northern Alberta, Canada, you listened to country music. He loved it. The songs told a story. There were a couple of guitars sitting around which he attempted to play every once in a while, whenever time permitted. It was always a country tune.

  David folded the sheets back and stretched out on the bed while awaiting the arrival of his wife. She would be home soon. He was excited about having this beautiful woman beside him tonight. He thanked his lucky stars each and every day that he was the person she chose to share her life and bed with. Sandy was very open-minded when it came to their bedroom activities. Although he was aware she had a number of relationships before theirs, he felt privileged to be the one she now comes home to. Her healthy sexual appetite made him wonder if she ever slept with anyone else since they’d been together. After all, she did spend a great deal of time traveling.

  Sandy was
an only child, born into money. She always lived with her father and continued to do so, albeit in a separate suite. Her mother passed away from cancer when she was young. This was a woman who turned heads when entering a room. She had shoulder length blonde hair, was thin, not skinny, but in great physical shape. David was captivated by her physical fitness. He couldn’t get over how she sculpted such a perfect washboard stomach. She jogged, biked, and worked out in the gym as much as her demanding schedule permitted. David often complimented her on the results. He’d say, “Babe, if I was asked to create the perfect female body, hands down you would be the mold.”

  This young lady oversaw the philanthropy division of her father’s business. She excelled at it, dining with the President of the United States and the First Lady. She’d been greeted by the Queen of England. Socializing with movie stars, heads of states and many other influential people was a regular part of the profession. Waiting in line at a grocery store checkout, David would see her on the cover of magazines, standing next to some celebrity or other public figure. It didn’t bother him. Actually he was proud of her accomplishments. Sandy would have achieved great success no matter what upbringing she was exposed to. She was all that, yet the most grounded and down to earth person he had ever met. To meet her and not know her background, you would think of her as the girl next door. Tonight that girl was all his.

  As he was beginning to drift off, the phone rang. It was Renée.

  “Hello Renée, is something wrong?” he answered, not all that surprised by the late night call. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it had happened more than once.

  “Are you okay? Everything is wrapping up here. They want to continue at sunrise.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still there. Go home, get yourself some rest. You have to keep focused. We have important races to prepare for. I can’t have you falling asleep riding a training session. Now pack it in, go home.”