Karina Halle - Bold Tricks

The daughter of a Norwegian Viking and a Finnish Moomin, Karina Halle grew up in Vancouver, Canada with trolls and eternal darkness on the brain. This soon turned into a love of all things that go bump in the night and a rather sadistic appreciation for freaking people out. Like many of the flawed characters she writes about, Karina never knew where to find herself and has dabbled in acting, make-up artistry, film production, screenwriting, photography, travel writing and music journalism. She eventually found herself in the pages of the very novels she wrote (if only she had looked there to begin with).

Karina holds a screenwriting degree from Vancouver Film School and a Bachelor of Journalism from TRU. Her travel writing, music reviews/interviews and photography has appeared in publications such as Consequence of Sound, Mxdwn and Go Nomad Travel Guides. She currently lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her fiancé and her rescue pup, preparing for the zombie apocalypse.

To find out more about Karina Halle, visit http://khalle.wordpress.com. Find her author Facebook page by searching “Karina Halle” or follow her on Twitter @MetalBlonde. 

Typing “The End” on Bold Tricks was a surreal experience for me. It was the first series I’ve written to be completed in its entirety and by the time the epilogue came rolling around, I was a complete and utter mess. I’ve loved these characters like no other and to say goodbye … well, that was extremely hard. So, I have to thank Ellie, Camden and Javier (and Gus!) for being so complicated and fun to work with. I know, these people are creations from the dark recesses of my head, but honestly, I feel like they’re out there somewhere, living their lives. I hope I did your stories justice – you certainly made 2013 such a wonderful rush and you changed my life in a big way.

Scott MacKenzie, your unfailing support and belief in me is the reason I could even complete these books to begin with. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you.

Brucey Poo … You’re one tough puppy. Thank you for somewhat understanding when mommy had to go write and didn’t have time to play with you. Your ability to lie on the couch for hours has been very helpful. Also, big thanks to Dana Hicks!

My family – Tuuli, Sven, Kris … Thank you. You’ve all helped in your own ways, my mother especially for taking care of the dog and the house when I was too busy under deadline to even bathe myself. Though, next time, please leave less notes. And to the MacKenzies, particularly Wendy and Jill for your tireless purchasing of my books, thank you for being awesome!

Kelly St-Laurent – Your help in brainstorming for Bold Tricks gave me the right framework to lay down the beams. Thank you for believing in me.

My beta readers – Megan “Po Po” Simpson, Nina “Cries for Camden” Decker, Laura “Soulless” Moore, Claire “Mrs. Gus” Contreras, Kayla “Team Jumper” Veres, Lucia “Javi Hater” Valov íková, Barbie “Art Vandelay” Bohrman, Chelsea “Not married to Kirk” Cameron, Kara “Partner-in-Crime” Malinczak, Emily “Skulls” Franke, Amanda “Vegas Princess” Polito, Robin “Ticket Ripper” Prete, Shawna “Boom” Vitale, Jamie “Pusher” Sager Hall, Boobie Snickle Tush, Kirsten “Camden Lover” Papi, Brenna “Team Psycho” Weidner, Fluffy Dippen Face, Stephanie Sandra “Happy Valentine’s Day” Brown, Megan “Take No Prisoner” Ward O’Connell.

So many authors to thank, all for their support and belief in my work: S.L. Jennings, Madeline Sheehan, M.J. Abraham, Courtney Cole, K.T. Grant, E.L. Montes, Gail McHugh, C.C. Brown, J.A. Huss, J.D. Salsbury, Ashley Wilcox, Joanna Wylde, Janine Olsson, Kenya Wright, R.L. Griffin, S.L. Scott, K.A. Tucker, Jenn Cooksey, Carey Heywood, Jesse Lane, Misty Provencher, Rachel “Team Camden” Wade, Lori Otto, Melissa Brown, Kimberly Stedronsky, Venessa Kimble, Ella Fox, L.H. Cosway, Rebecca Espinoza, Stephanie Lawton, Trevi Truitt, Elle Chardou, Jasinda Wilder, Michelle Valentine and many, many others.

Bloggers make the writing world go round – Maryse’s Book Blog, Autumn Review, Reading in Winter, Ginger Reads, Book Hookers, Angie’s Dreamy Reads, Aestas, Natasha Book Junkie, My Secret Romance, The Demon Librarian, True Story Book Blog, Books Babes and Cheap Cabernet, Flirt and Dirty Girls, Under the Covers, Group Therapy Book Club, The Romance Cover, Xpresso Reads, The Book Bellas, The Reading Vixens, Hook Me Up Book Blog, A Love Affair with Books, the list goes on …

Then there’s the team at Grand Central Publishing/Forever Romance – my lovely editor Latoya Smith, the enthusiastic Julie Paulauski for all her PR work, plus everyone else who has come on board TAT train. And of course, my favorite Naj Qamber for her wonderful covers.

Can’t go without showing my gratitude to my superhero agent Scott Waxman and his team at Waxman Leavell, plus Samantha Howard and Mary Cummings. Farley Chase and Kate Abnerstein, you also rock my socks.

Last but not least, the readers, the fans and everyone in Halle’s Harlots. I would not be HERE writing this right now if it weren’t for YOU. Love you all long time. 

The girl woke up screaming.

The pain that had engulfed her the night before hadn’t subsided while she lay unconscious, lulled to sleep by the drugs the doctors had given her. The pain wrapped around her legs, defying the morphine that seeped through her young veins.

She tried to sit up in her hospital bed and look around the dark room. There was no one there, not even her parents. She started to shake and cry, not understanding what had happened to her, not able to deal with the agony that had taken over.

She was alone and forever damaged.

Finally one of the night-shift nurses appeared at the door and came running over to her.

“What is it, Ellie?” the nurse asked but the girl couldn’t speak. Her sobs were too powerful. She could only shake her head and moan pitifully, tears streaming down her face.

The nurse knew. She quickly administered more drugs through the IV drip that went into the girl’s arm. The girl had been horribly burned on her leg, one of the worst instances the nurse had ever seen. The doctors had done what they could but without insurance, her parents were unable to pay for any reconstructive surgery. A skin graft could have saved the girl from having horrible scars in the future.

Her parents weren’t even around. They had been sitting in the waiting room for most of the day, but at night they’d gone elsewhere, leaving the girl alone in the hospital. The nurse was extremely suspicious of them – everything from the furtive way they kept leaving the building to the way they explained what had happened to the girl.

Though it was believable that the girl came from the type of low-income family that would allow her to search for car parts on a nearby trash heap, the whole story about accidently spilling battery acid on her leg didn’t ring true. The nurse thought it sounded like her parents were probably running a meth lab instead. Even worse, they could have been neglecting or abusing the girl. There was definitely something wrong with the story but the girl had been in so much pain that neither the doctors or the nurses could find out what her version of events were.

Except now. The girl’s sobs were subsiding as the morphine began to take effect, working quickly in her eleven-year-old system. The nurse watched her carefully, debating whether or not she should try and ask her. This was a job for Child Services, not her, but there was something about the girl she wanted to protect. It was like she could see the child was already damaged before the burns on her leg happened.

“Ellie,” she said gently, smoothing back the girl’s fine blonde hair. She was going to grow up to be a stunning woman, already showing promise in the usually awkward pre-teen phase. That made the nurse feel even more sickened for her, knowing her beauty would be marred by the scars that would come.

The girl opened her wide brown eyes and looked up at the nurse. Her face was wet from tears and she looked scared despite the subsiding pain.

“Ellie,” the nurse went on, “are you able to tell me what happened to you?”

The girl blinked, unsure of what to do or say. She could barely remember what happened herself but knew that what had happened was wrong. And even though her parents hadn’t told her yet to keep quiet about Travis Raines, the bad man whose house her mother made her break into, she knew all too well to keep her mouth shut. She was the daughter of con artists, after all, and truth was never an option.

Still, there was a part of her that wanted to tell the nurse what happened. She wanted to get the Travis man in trouble. She wanted him to be put away for what he did to her.

“I … I don’t remember,” the girl said, so terribly afraid she’d tell the truth.

The nurse studied her. “Do you remember looking for car parts?”

Car parts? The girl had no idea what her parents had told the doctors. The confusion came across her face, just long enough for the nurse to pick up on it.

“Ellie, what was the last thing you remember?” the nurse asked quickly. “How did you burn your leg, did your parents do this to you?”

The girl’s face fell as she tried to figure out what to do.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Amelie Watt yelled, appearing at the doorway.

The girl cringed at the sound of her mother’s voice. In her increasingly delirious state, she was worried that she may have done something to anger her.

Amelie marched into the hospital room, her eyes blazing at the nurse.

“Why are you questioning my daughter?” she yelled, furious, her arms waving. “That isn’t your right.”

The nurse stepped back from the girl but refused to apologize. “I’m concerned about her.”

“Your only concern is to make my daughter better.” Amelie crossed her arms, head held high. She was a striking woman with exotic Eastern European features – high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and dark sloe-eyes. She gave off the impression that she wasn’t afraid but she couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice. “Why are you waking her up in the middle of the night anyway? Let my poor baby sleep.”

The nurse raised her brows. “Your baby was crying in the middle of the night, screaming from the pain. I was the only one around.” She let those last words sink in like daggers.

Amelie sucked in her breath and shook her head. “Don’t you dare question my parenting skills. We had to leave to get some sleep at home. It’s the only way we can be there for her.”

The nurse stared back at her, wondering if she should push it further. She glanced at the girl who was staring at her mother with a mix of admiration and fear. Perhaps there was no use digging around here. If the girl really was being abused or neglected, Child Services would find out about it. They’d already been notified anyway. The Watts could deal with them in the morning.

Finally the nurse sighed and said, “You’ve got five minutes before I’ll need you to leave the room. She’ll need to sleep and the drugs will keep the pain at bay.”

Amelie narrowed her eyes and then looked to her daughter. The nurse left the room, closing the door behind her.

Amelie relaxed visibly once she heard the door shut. She came closer to her daughter and placed a hand on Ellie’s thin, tanned arm, wincing at the sight of the IV going into it.

“Baby,” she whispered. “What did you tell them?’

By now the girl was slowly losing consciousness, eased into a comfortable state by the morphine. She licked her lips and said what she knew her mother wanted her to hear. “I didn’t tell them anything, mama.”

Amelie gave her painful smile. “That’s my baby girl. When you’re feeling better, we’ll let you know what to say. For now, tell them that you were looking for car parts at the dump and that was the last thing you remember. You got it? The last thing you remember.”

“But …” the girl started. “But the man. Travis.” Amelie shuddered at the sound of his name. “He needs to be punished. He needs to go to jail.”

“He will be punished one day, baby,” her mother said. “One day, he will pay. But that’s not your job. We’ll take care of it. I promise.”

Her mother stayed with her, holding her hand.