Saving Isla

Green Beret Series, Book 6, WIP Excerpt

Hello, Readers!

We’ve hit the summer skids where favorite shows are finished for the season, and here at my substack, all current stories have concluded. So, I figured I’d share with you an excerpt from my current work in progress, Saving Isla, from my Green Beret series, book number six.

This story focuses on Nick Perrillo, aka Jersey, an army Chief Warrant Officer previously stationed at Black Site Alpha, Kuwait. He and Lieutenant Shane McCall (Badger) worked together there specializing in interrogations before joining Outlaw’s Special Operations Group.

We last heard from Jersey at the end of book 5, Loving Freddie, in the set up to this next story:

“That you, Ghost?” came the reply.

“Affirmative.”

A dry, humorless chuckle sounded over the line. “I was expecting Rio. Didn’t know you’d been let off your training wheels yet.”

Ghost sighed. “He’s here and listening in. And yes, I’m still in training. What’s up?”

“Glad to have you both. I need help. Got a situation here.”

Ghost tracked the call as per Rio’s training and saw the coordinates triangulating Jersey’s location.

“Aren’t you home on vacation?” Ghost already knew the answer.

“I am. Guess you already knew that. But something’s happened.”

Rio leaned in. “What’s going on, Jersey?”

“I need you guys to help me track down a stalker.”

“A stalker? Who’s stalking you, Perrillo?” Rio’s expression registered alarm.

“Not me, brother. But there’s a woman…”

Ghost and Rio exchanged curious looks.

“A civilian?” Ghost asked.

“Yeah. She needs help.”

“Sounds like the jurisdiction of the local police, Perrillo,” said Rio.

A long pause echoed down the line.

Then, “Maybe. But I’m already knee-deep in this shit. Some sonofabitch has been terrorizing her. She’s in real danger, Rio.”

Ghost glanced at Rio. Both had heard the raw emotion in Jersey’s voice. The cold, calculating smartass of a man was borderline panicked.

Ghost made the decision. “What do you need?” If Rio tried to stop him, he’d fight him tooth and nail. Jersey was his teammate. At least, he had been. He was still part of Outlaw’s SOG, and anything any one of his brothers needed, he’d do. A quick glance at Rio told him the man wasn’t going to interfere. He’d already sat back letting Ghost take the helm on this one.

A sigh of relief sounded before Jersey spoke again. “Thanks, Ghost. Her name is Isla Stevens. She lives here in Jersey City, and she’s been receiving some damned demented emails over the last few months. And then someone slashed her car tires, and now…”

Ghost waited, already typing in the woman’s name in the database. “Now what?”

Jersey growled, pain and anger in his tone. “She’s disappeared!”

---

Excerpt:

Nick Perrillo turned off the main road onto a side street. He made his way past familiar storefronts enjoying the ride despite the dreary weather. His helmet kept his head dry, and the leather jacket blocked the wind and rain, but his jeans were getting soaked. He eyed the stores and took the next right, his Harley rolling over the wet gravel as he pulled around to the side of the building. It was a quaint looking café with wide windows decorated with fall foliage and purple and orange twinkling lights. If the food matched the atmosphere, he’d be happy to escape the rain for a bit inside.

He turned wide and then backed into the parking space. He edged as close to the overhang as possible, but he’d still need to pull the cover out of his saddlebag to protect his motorcycle from the precipitation. The Heritage Classic bike was his baby. He’d even had a custom paint job showcasing electric blue flames on the body and his nickname written in a combination of deep purple and orange. Jersey. Of course, only himself and his teammates knew the meaning behind the name. Anyone looking at it would just think New Jersey, where he was from, where he was right now. He was lucky to be granted leave for ten days. Hell, he deserved it after all he and the team had been through the past year.

Still, his leave was contingent upon the fact that he was still on standby. If anything happened, he’d be on the next flight out back to Fort Carson, Colorado, and back under the command of Captain Nathan James Oliver, aka, Outlaw, his CO. And he wouldn’t be alone. Across the George Washington Bridge in New York City, his teammate and best buddy, Badger, was home visiting his mom and his woman, Chris. He smiled, thinking about the changes to the Shane McCall he’d known for so many years to the man he was now. Having a woman in his life had tamed the Lieutenant into more of a pussycat than a badger, at least, when he wasn’t in the field.

Nick slid off the bike and reached into the saddlebag to pull out the weather-proof cover. He chuckled to himself as he slid it over the windshield and tightened it around the back wheel. No way was any woman going to bring him to heel. He was a free spirit and a wild man, now and forever. He stepped under the overhang and pulled his helmet off. Usually, he’d stick it in the saddlebag, but he needed to clean off the visor.

He made his way toward the front of the building, thankfully out of the rain. It seemed to be coming down heavier now. He swiped a hand over his chin feeling the thick growth of beard. Now that he was home, he needed to do a little manscaping. He’d been out in the field too long and had gone native. He glanced at the row of cars parked along the side and then stopped.

A woman sat inside a dark blue SUV, crying.

He hesitated, ready to continue inside. It wasn’t his business, after all. But then their eyes locked, and hers widened to the size of saucers.

She looked terrified.

Nick glanced behind him expecting to find some sinister character, but there was no one there. He cocked his head and looked at her again.

The woman appeared to be in her thirties, with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. A beauty, for sure. But she was looking at him like he was the devil himself.

He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why she’d be scared of him. He’d never seen her before and hadn’t approached, was only walking from his bike to the café. Something was definitely wrong, and he couldn’t ignore that. The woman looked like she needed help, and he’d always been one to help those in need.

He detoured and stepped back out onto the gravel and into the rain, approaching the dark Lincoln Navigator and the wide-eyed woman. He kept his expression open and concerned, hoping she would see he meant no harm.

Nick stopped a safe distance from her door and called out.

“Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need help?”

She stared at him, frozen like a deer in headlights.

This was getting them nowhere. He tried again.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but you appear in distress. Can I call someone for you?” He pointed inside the café.

She glanced at the corner leading around to the café’s front door.

Nick watched her. He could see her thinking, assessing the situation and the threat level.

She bit her lip and then checked her sideview mirror, her expression less terrified than before, but still panicked.

He followed her line of sight, and then he saw it. The flat tire at the rear. He sighed. Now he understood. Most women he met had no clue how to change a flat tire.

He stepped closer. “Can I help you with that? Won’t take long. You got a spare in the back?”

She flinched, sinking deeper into the seat.

Nick noticed and stepped back again. He didn’t want to spook her further, as she was clearly afraid him. Damn, he really needed to trim his beard.

“How about I go inside and see if they can call someone for you? Just hold on, ma’am.” Nick stepped back under the overhang and made his way inside.

It was warm in the café, and everything smelled good. Exactly what he’d hoped for when he first spied the place from the road. But that would have to wait. Nick looked around and located an older woman standing behind the counter. She eyed him as he approached.

“How can I help you?”

Nick smiled, attempting to be less intimidating. After the encounter outside, he was conscious that his appearance might put the woman on edge.

“Hi, there’s a lady outside with a flat tire. I think she needs help.”

The woman looked over his shoulder and out the window.

“She’s parked around the side,” he added. “A dark blue Lincoln Navigator. The woman has long, dark hair. She seems upset.”

“Isla?” the woman asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

“I have no idea. I tried talking to her, but I think it just scared her. Guess I’ve been deployed too long,” he said, rubbing his beard again.

The woman sized him up, then nodded.

“Soldier, huh?”

Nick nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Green Beret.”

She smiled, nonplussed by his size and appearance, then stepped from behind the counter. “Let’s go help Isla. She’s one of our regulars, you know.” The woman moved quickly to the front door, then glanced over her shoulder. “I’m Carla, by the way. This is my place.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Nick Perrillo.”

Carla paused, eyeing him. “Donna Perrillo’s kid?”

Nick chuckled. “The one and only.”

Carla grinned. “Saw her just the other day. Still talks about her soldier son to everyone. Well, soldier boy, let’s go help Isla. Don’t know why she didn’t come inside right away. I could’ve called my Anthony.”

“And who’s that?” Nick asked, following her out the door.

“My husband. He would’ve grumbled, sure, but we coulda got her tire changed.”

Nick chuckled. “I could change her tire in no time, but I got the distinct impression she was frightened of me. Stranger danger, and all, I suppose.”

Carla waved her hand at him. “Well, you’re no stranger now. You’re Donna’s kid. I’ll vouch for you. Plus,” she added, looking out at the rain, “I don’t think Anthony would really be that much help.”

They rounded the corner together.

Nick noticed the woman was still inside the SUV, still frightened, but when she saw Carla, the tension left her face.

Carla approached the driver’s side while Nick hung back, waiting patiently.

The window rolled down.

“Isla, what happened?” Carla asked.

The dark eyed woman blinked and wiped her hand over her eyes, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

“I don’t know, Carla. Must’ve driven over a nail or something. I was going to call for help.”

“Got help right here,” said Carla, gesturing behind her. “This is Nick. He’s Donna Perrillo’s son and a soldier. Says he can have that tire changed in no time.”

Isla looked past Carla at Nick. Her cheeks pinkened in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Nick. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He waved off her apology.

“No worries. I get it. My fault for walking around looking like a bear just emerging from hibernation. I don’t mind helping. You have a spare and a jack?”

Isla nodded. “Yes, in the back.”

“Okay,” said Nick. “Just pop it open and I’ll get everything. You might want to go inside though, to wait.”

“Yeah, Isla. Come back inside. Let Nick handle this.”

Isla watched as the big man named Nick walked to the back of her SUV and pulled out the jack, the lug wrench, and the spare tire. In no time, he had the jack placed, and was squatting down to loosen the lug nuts before pumping up the jack. He made it look so easy.

“Come on, Isla. It’s cold out here.” Carla rubbed her arms and then tugged at Isla’s sleeve.

“Okay.” Isla turned to follow Carla, then looked back at Nick. “I’ll just be inside.”

Nick glanced her way and offered a nod. “I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

***

Perrillo watched her go, an appreciative smile on his lips. He’d already noticed she was a pretty lady from the front view, but damned if the back view wasn’t just as nice. She had a little sway to her hips as she walked and a curvaceous bottom. He shook his head and spun off the next lug nut. With those now out of the way, he cranked the jack handle until he could remove the tire. He pulled it off and was about to set it aside when he noticed something. He peered closer at the treads. She definitely had not run over a nail.

Nick poked at the rubber. It was shredded in several spots, not from normal wear and tear, but from a sharp object, like a large knife. Someone had slashed the pretty lady’s tire. The gashes were deep and there were at least five. His brow creased as it often did when he was trying to figure things out. If this were just a random act of vandalism, like some teenagers doing stupid shit, it would be a quick puncture or two. It took a lot of strength to jab a knife through tire rubber. Often, the knife would get stuck, and it took all a person had to pull it out. He knew. He’d slashed a few tires on enemy vehicles to disable them from pursuing his team in the field.

But these were long gashes, and many. Someone took their time here. Someone put a lot of energy into ripping this particular tire. In his experience, that type of single-minded attention to destruction was personal, and usually driven by rage. But who would be that pissed off at the pretty lady?

Perrillo finished the job, getting the new tire in place and all the lug nuts tightened. She would need to stop by a gas station and get the air pressure checked, but as far as he could tell once he released the jack, it would get her home just fine. He put the slashed tire, the jack, and the lug wrench back into trunk and headed inside.

She needed to know what he’d discovered, and in his opinion, she needed to contact the police.

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Coming 2024!

Get caught up on the Green Beret series here.