Ray Hoy - Jack Frost 01 - The Vegas Factor (15 page)

“She was conscious in the ambulance, Mr. Frost … during the delivery.”

I heard myself moan.
Did that sound come from me?
Finally I managed to say, “Did she see the baby?”

Doctor Morris nodded and swallowed. “Uh, yes, she held him for a few moments.”
 

He put a hand on my shoulder, then turned away.

I was only vaguely aware of Jane’s arm around me. I allowed her to lead me to the elevator. She supported me as you would a very old, very frail person, looking up at me as she fought back the tears. “What will you do now, Jack?”

““I’m going to get my dog and take him home.”

Chapter 25

I carried Ripper into the gloomy interior of the cabin, and placed him gently on the rug in front of the fireplace. Though still groggy, he managed to paw feebly at the bandage on his head.

I started a fire to keep him warm, then walked into the kitchen, filled a tumbler with Scotch and choked half of it down. The cabin swayed in the blustery wind of a gathering storm.
 

I stood in the kitchen, both hands on the countertop, and looked up, perhaps searching for God, I don’t know. “Why her?” I said aloud. “All the rotten bastards in the world and You let this happen to her? Why?
She never hurt anyone in her life
!”

I slammed my fist on the counter, rattling dishes in the cupboards. I took a deep shuddering breath and wiped my eyes, then walked to Felicia’s bedroom. As I stopped in the doorway, my eyes fell on the dim outline of the bassinet, standing mutely in the corner.
 

Suddenly, I found myself gasping for air. I turned away so abruptly that I slammed into the door frame. I stood there for a moment, dazed, fists clenched, fighting back hot tears.

I looked down at a deflated Ripper. He stared up at me for a few moments, then painfully lifted his head and gazed around the room. I knew who he was looking for. With a sad crooning sound, he slowly lowered his head to the rug.

I got down on my knees next to Ripper and cradled his bandaged head in my arms. I hugged him close for a moment, then gently lowered his head to the rug. The cabin shook violently in the gathering wind, sending a shiver through me. I clutched my arrowhead necklace in one fist as I stroked his ears, listening to the low crying in his throat.

I’ll take the baby to Vi. She’ll know what to do.

– THE END –

What’s next for

Jack Frost?

A Proper Time to Die

Jack Frost is not one to turn the other cheek. He heads for Las Vegas to deal with Varchetta, but waiting for him there is one James Red Sleeves, a full-blooded Apache Syndicate enforcer, perhaps the most dangerous man Frost has ever faced.

A Proper Time to Die
, Book #2 in the

Jack Frost thrillers by Ray Hoy.

Available now

Available now

PREVIEW

A Proper Time to Die

(Originally titled
Bitter Frost
)

Chapter 1

Las Vegas, 5:30 a.m.

I came thrashing out of a sound sleep and found myself staring into J.T. Ripper’s ugly black face, just inches from my nose. I groaned and stretched, then glanced at my watch. Five-thirty. God, how I hated morning. If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as a bat, or with a little luck, a vampire.

I got out of bed and padded naked into my rented RV’s kitchen. I rummaged through the cupboards until I found the tin of coffee. I popped the plastic lid and groaned. Empty. McDonald’s again.
 

I brushed my teeth, then pulled on an old pair of sweats. I shuddered at the thought of putting in five miles of roadwork. When I opened the door, I cowered for a few moments in the bright sunlight, my hands over my eyes. When the little sparklers finally went away, I said, “Okay Ripper, let’s go.”

Unlike me, Ripper loves to get out and run. A big, evil-tempered dog needs a lot of exercise. A bored Ripper is a pissed Ripper, so I work him every chance I get.

We went down the RV steps together. Ripper trotted on ahead, while I began a slow shuffle, a shuffle that gradually began to resemble jogging. As I plodded along, I looked around at the scrub desert and realized how much I missed my Lake Tahoe A-frame, and running on the beach in that clean, cool mountain air.
 

Summer temperatures make running in Vegas a real bitch. A lot of people love to run. I hate it, even though I’ve been running for twenty years. I run to stay in shape, nothing more. The first mile is the hardest, and this one was no exception. Then, as any runner will tell you, something magical happens. You feel the first wave of energy surge through your body, and all of a sudden you can run forever.

Three miles later I was still waiting for this magical state of euphoria to make its appearance. I chugged along in agony, cursing the sun, Ripper, the aging process, Nevada, jogging, and anything else that came to mind. Ripper, on the other hand, trotted beside me, in front of me, behind me, and between my feet, making a general nuisance of himself. So I cursed him for the remaining mile while he smiled up at me, content that he was succeeding in making me miserable.

I squinted at a cloudless sky and a blazing sun that was doing its best to beat me into submission. My mind drifted back to Virginia City, four months earlier, back to where Felicia Martinez had lost her life and given the world Jonathan Flynn’s baby in exchange. Back to where she’d been murdered by a creep sent by Harry Varchetta, the CEO of one of the oldest, most respected casinos in Las Vegas.

Varchetta was a man who needed killing.

The trial had been short enough to embarrass anyone who believed in due process. Varchetta appeared in court before the best judge money could buy, maintaining that Benny Florentine—the man who murdered Felicia Martinez—had worked for him for many years, but had quit several weeks prior to her death. Benny had always lusted after Felicia, Varchetta testified, and whatever he had done, he had most assuredly done on his own.

So here I was in Vegas, Varchetta’s town, with little going for me except a desire for revenge that burned deep in my gut.

– End of Preview –

Ray Hoy has been a professional writer, editor, and publisher for over 50 years. Somewhere in his five-decade media career he also managed to spend 15 years as a casino marketing consultant for some of Nevada’s top gaming properties. Ray’s real-life experiences in the “Casino Wars” provide him with a wealth of authentic material for his Jack Frost thriller series.

“J.T. Ripper lives only in the pages of my Frost novels, so it’s fine that he helps himself to an occasional Scotch. However, I have a soft spot in my heart for dogs, and they should be kept away from alcohol of any kind. Since Ripper is not of this world, he can do whatever he damn well pleases, and believe me
,
he
does
.”
—Ray Hoy

AVAILABLE NOW IN THE

JACK FROST THRILLER SERIES

The Vegas Factor

A Proper Time to Die

Nightmare in Neon

COMING SOON

Hard Edges

The Jilly Solution

The Vegas Factor

Cover image by
Kraevski

A Proper Time to Die

Cover image by
Spvvk

Nightmare in Neon

Cover image by
ViewApart

J.T. Ripper image by
jurra8

Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud

“Is there fishing in Heaven, Dad? There must be …”

Genre: A True Story by Ray Hoy

Available in
Kindle
and
large print paperback

Two months after Ray Hoy entered the service in 1956, his father died.
Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud
is a collection of letters Ray wrote to his deceased father while stationed at Camp Desert Rock, Nevada as a member of the 232nd Signal Corps. Ray’s unit, based out of Ft. Huachuca, Arizona (General Custer’s old 7th Cavalry post) was there to provide communications support for the above ground atomic bomb tests.

While at Camp Desert Rock, Ray witnessed numerous above ground nuclear detonations and, unlike thousands of his fellow soldiers, has lived to tell about it. Now seventy-eight years old, Ray belongs to an exclusive club—he is one of the dwindling number of living “Atomic Soldiers.” Ray still writes letters to his father. He says he always will.

Truly Awe-inspiring .
. .

“The power of a nuclear explosion is truly awe-inspiring.
Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud
is a collection of letters from Ray Hoy addressed to his late father as he reflected on his time in the military and his viewing of one of the first nuclear detonations in the 1950s.
Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud
is a poignant look at the military and the early days of the nuclear era.”
 

— Midwest Book Review

An Unforgettable Moment in Time …
 

“Ray Hoy’s
Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud
captures an unforgettable moment in time during a military stint on a nuclear test site, but more than that his book is a testament to the endurance of respect and love that keep alive people we have lost. You will be moved in ways you can’t anticipate.”

— Laura Belgrave,
The Claudia Hershey Mysteries

Eye-witness History …

“Thought-provoking, eye-witness history. Every American should read this. The book is a collection of letters to a deceased father about the life of a soldier who served and experienced, first hand, atomic bomb testing back in the fifties …
Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud
is a worthy read and will become a catalyst to reflect on what is meaningful about life.”

— Bob Weinstein, Lt. Colonel, USAR-ret.

The Early Years of the Atomic Age …

“
Letters from Under the Mushroom Cloud
by Ray Hoy is a poignant representation of the early years of the atomic age as seen through the eyes of a young soldier at Camp Desert Rock, Nevada’s above-ground nuclear test site. Dubbed “The Mushroom Garden” by soldiers in Hoy’s unit, bright mushroom clouds often blossomed from the desert floor.