DREAM ON (Mark Appleton #2) Read online

  ACCLAIM FOR AARON PATTERSON

  AIREL

  “Move over Twilight! Here comes Aaron Patterson!”

  —Joshua Graham, bestselling author of

  Beyond Justice and Darkroom

  “I was surprised by how much I really, really liked this book. I have not jumped on the whole “fallen angel” bandwagon, just as I didn’t jump on all of the vampire stories that came out after Twilight. This is not your typical fallen angel story. It is one that has left me breathlessly waiting for the next one in the series. Hurry up please!!!”

  —Sandra Stiles

  “It takes rare talent for a man to write a novel from a male POV and have it published to great critical and commercial acclaim. But it takes a miracle for that same male, or in this case males, to write a novel from the POV of a teenage girl and have it turn out as incredibly as did the new StoneHouse YA by Aaron Patterson and Chris White, Airel. From the first sentence, I felt compelled to dive into this young woman’s story and just as importantly, I felt like I personally knew her, which means I laughed, stressed and cried right along with her. A beautifully written and crafted fiction about teenage innocence, faith, loss and love. A must read for teens and adults alike.”

  —Vincent Zandri, International Bestselling Author of

  The Remains, The Innocent, and Concrete Pearl

  I am happy to say that this novel is one of my favorites of its kind. I never thought I could read a novel like this and be so swept away! I am always willing to try new books, but I usually steer clear of this kind of novel. Not anymore! Not when I can be so engrossed into the character’s story, like I was with the beautiful Airel, that before I know, it’s over. I kept turning the pages, wanting to, no-NEEDING, to know what was going to happen next.

  —Molly Edwards, Willow Spring, NC

  “I just finished reading Airel. One of the best books I’ve ever read, if not the best. Of all the books I read, I related to Airel the most. I mean she’s just so REAL. I’m blown away that two guys could write a girl’s character so perfectly, so right. Better than a lot of female writers. I loved this book. It’s so versatile, I was never bored. The story is told from various points of view. Normal girl, check. Epic warrior angel, check. Psycho killer, check. The manifestation of all evil ‘the seer,’ check. Even Kim and Michael had their share. And it’s so great to see how everyone thinks and what really goes on in their mind and how it goes on there. Also, it had different times and places and that was very cool. I mean when I first started reading the part in Stuttgart, Germany, 1897 I was intrigued. I was a little disappointed that it was too short until I got into Airel’s mind. Then out of nowhere visions of 1250 B.C. Arabia, I was blown away. The characters were beautifully written, I related to each of them in a way but Airel is just out of this world! She’s me! Minus the half human, half angel thing lol. And the end was something else.”

  —E.M. Book Review

  SWEET DREAMS

  “Sweet Dreams was a book I read in 2 days. I truly enjoyed the read. It kept me wanting to know more. I’m looking forward to Part 2 of the WJA Trilogy!”

  —Sharon Adams, Novi, MI

  “Suspense, thriller with a perfect ending, leaving me wanting more. An on the edge of your seat, all night read. I most certainly will be reading “Dream On.”

  —Sheri Wilkinson, Sandwich, IL

  “New authors come and go every day. Very few come on the scene with the ability to weave a tale that will make you sad to reach the end, longing for more. At a time when the world needs a real hero, Patterson delivers big with the WJA’s Mark Appleton—an unlikely hero for the 21 century.”

  —The Joe Show

  “Aaron Patterson spins a good tale and does it well.”

  —W.P.

  “SWEET DREAMS is packed with action, suspense, romance, betrayal, death, and mystery.”

  —Drew Maples, author of 28 Yards from Safety

  DREAM ON

  “Once again, Aaron Patterson has made a home run! ‘Dream On’ is a wonderful read from cover to cover! I am now anxiously awaiting his next book ‘In Your Dreams.’ I originally purchased his first book by mistake, and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it... so now I’m hooked! Aaron has got to start writing faster!!! Although his books are definitely worth the wait! Bet’cha can’t read just one! This guy has real talent for writing and keeping the suspense growing... the worst part about the book is the last page... I hated it to stop!”

  —Ruth P. Charlotte, NC

  “After reading Patterson’s first novel, ‘Sweet Dreams,’ I was really looking forward to reading ‘Dream On.’ This book was amazing. I couldn’t put it down. If you’re looking for an exciting read, read this book.”

  —Paul Carson, Boise, ID

  “I read the first book by Aaron Patterson (Sweet Dreams) and was very anxious for this sequel. I was not disappointed. This book kept me guessing with every page turn. It’s very well written and I really enjoyed the technology employed, which makes it just a bit futuristic without being overdone. This was a fantastic suspenseful thriller that kept me guessing throughout the entire book. Mr. Patterson has become my favorite fiction writer.”

  —Donna H. Boise, ID

  “This is the second book of Aaron’s I have read and I have to say he is a very talented writer!!! I read this book in under 12 hrs; it was so good I couldn’t put it down. He managed to surprise me with a twist that I did not expect! It is filled with suspense and keeps you guessing throughout. I will be suggesting this book to everyone I know…”

  —Amanda Garner, Oklahoma

  ALSO BY AARON PATTERSON

  Sweet Dreams (Book 1)

  Dream On (Book 2)

  In your Dreams (Book 3)

  Airel (Book 1)

  Michael (Book 2)

  Uriel (Book 3 Coming Soon)

  19 (Digital Short)

  The Craigslist Killer (Digital Short)

  Breaking Steele

  Twisting Steele (Coming Soon)

  Melting Steele (Coming Soon)

  I want to thank Ellie Ann for breathing new life into this story and for my fans who are not afraid to take a walk on the wild side with me.

  DREAM ON

  -Rise of the Red Dog-

  Two natures beat within my breast,

  One is evil one is blessed,

  The one I love the one I hate,

  The one I feed will dominate.

  -Anonymous

  CHAPTER ONE

  I WATCHED AS MY life slipped away and there was nothing I could do about it. Time is a heartless father, and in its never-ending ticks and tocks time smiles at me as if to say, “I have you, I control your life, and you will do as I bid—or else!” I can feel my own heartbeat, and that too is ruled by time, beating in perfect rhythm as if my own heart conspires against me.

  You cannot take your future and bend it to your own will. If you try, then time, or maybe even your own heart, will throw a banana peel on the ground and you’ll tumble and end up in the same place I am. I was a careful man and tried to keep my eyes on the ground in order not to step on something that would take me down. I was ready for anything. However, nothing could have prepared me for this…this place, and this feeling of finality and judgment.

  Mind-numbing darkness crept around me like another presence. I was trapped in a wooden box that gave me about a foot below my feet and six inches above my head. I felt around and touched the lid, only to find that there was a mere foot of space in front of my nose.

  A stench invaded the area, seeping into my pores. At first I thought I’d been buried alive in someone else’s grave and the smell was the decomposing body I shared a box with. Then, after a few days I figured out that
the stench was me. I was the terrible taste in the stale air that I tried to breathe.

  I am dying! At first I was overcome by panic, kicking and smacking with everything in me to free myself and drink in the sweet morning air. I struggled for so long that I passed out from exhaustion and woke up in the same dark place, but this time my head ached with a pounding that no amount of aspirin could cure. I would have believed I was already dead; however, the pain shooting through my body told me otherwise.

  I understand that you don’t know me and that I’ll never see you or know your name, but I need to tell someone what happened, and how I ended up like this.

  My name is Mark Appleton. I know, it’s not too flashy or heroic sounding. I’m no different from you, the stockbroker working his sixty-plus hours a week or the guy standing on a highway holding a stop sign in a construction zone. I am your everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill American guy. Except that I’m in a casket. And from what I can tell, I’ll not be escaping anytime soon. So, why would someone do that to me, you might ask?

  Well, I have a job kind of like that of your mail carrier. You might say my job is to deliver messages to those in this world who think they can commit any evil they dream up without repercussion. I am their repercussion! I’m an assassin, some might call me a vigilante or a mercenary of sorts. I encounter people every day who would love to see me dead, hung by my neck and swinging in the breeze. Or, in my case…buried alive.

  The voice recorder in my watch is the only way you will ever know my story, so here goes…

  * * *

  THE DAY WAS EVERYTHING a beautiful spring day should be. Birds chased each other through the trees and flowers opened up to drink in the sun’s warmth.

  I was on my way downtown to meet my wife for lunch at our favorite diner on Sixteenth Street. It was a mom-and-pop kind of place, with the best homemade soup you could buy in New York City.

  K was a teacher in a private preschool and most of her classes were finished by noon, so it was easy for her to break free for lunch. We tried to meet at least twice a week when I was working in town. The diner was packed as usual, but I found a table in the back where we liked to sit.

  K was running late but I didn’t mind, it gave me time to think and watch all the people standing in line waiting to order. A tall, older gentleman in a pinstriped suit looked at his watch for the twentieth time and sighed out loud, as if his time was more important than the rest of the people in the diner. The city is no place for dawdlers or for people like me, who like to cruise rather than speed along like a freight train.

  I looked through the menu as if I’d never seen it before. Who knows why I even looked at it. The menu had been the same for the last twenty years, and I was going to order the same thing as always. However, I looked anyway. There might be something new, and it might be wonderful.

  K walked into the small diner and the place hushed as if a movie star had entered. She was a stunning woman with golden hair that curled naturally, and the sunlight always seemed to hit her just right. She had a presence that one couldn’t explain. Everyone looked at her as she walked to the table and sat down in front of me, not even noticing that all eyes were on her.

  “Hi, honey.” She leaned over and kissed me. I would never tire of those gentle pecks on the lips. “You order yet?”

  “No, I was just looking to see what I wanted.”

  K laughed. “You always get orange chicken, what do you mean you were ‘looking’?” Her smile lit up her face and made my heart skip a beat.

  “True, but you never can tell when they’ll come up with a dish that draws me in. I was thinking about the French dip today, and a bowl of clam chowder.” I looked at her with one stern eye as if I really was considering trying something new.

  “I see, well, I’m sure you’d love clam chowder.” She played along.

  The waitress was the owner’s wife. She had a round face and white hair pulled back in a neat bun. Everyone called her Grandma P.

  “Hello, you two, shall I bring out a Dr. Pepper and a Diet Pepsi?” Her voice wavered just a bit, but not enough to show her true age.

  I nodded and smiled at her as she hurried off to get our drinks. “So, how was class?”

  “Really good. We have the cutest little boy, David. He doesn’t care about his colors or numbers, but he loves to draw. He’s good for his age, too, very talented.”

  “He gives you his drawings, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes. He says I’m his ‘favrite teachr.’” K smiled, and her eyes sparkled. K loved kids and her teaching was the one thing in our lives that gave us a sense of normalcy. I never said anything about my work, and she rarely asked, but there was always something in her eyes that told me that she was worried about me.

  Grandma P brought the drinks back. She looked at K and smiled, making more wrinkles on her face but taking years off all at the same time.

  “So, what can I get for you, dear?”

  “I think I’ll have the chicken salad with ranch on the side,” K handed Grandma P the menu.

  “And I’ll have the orange chicken with a bowl of your clam chowder,” I said. Grandma P scribbled our orders on her pad and headed for the kitchen.

  K laughed and kicked me under the table. “You couldn’t choose one?”

  I winked at her. “I’m trying to cushion the risk involved.”

  She laughed and looked away. We sat in companionable silence, watching the people around us.

  “What do you want to do this weekend?” I asked.

  K took a sip from her soda and half closed her eyes as she thought about the question. “I think we should take Sam to the park, and then get a sitter for her and go on a date this evening.”

  “Sounds fun. You have anything in mind? Maybe dinner, a movie, and then find a quiet place to park?” I was aware of the stupid grin on my face, but I didn’t care.

  “What are we, teenagers? I was thinking of going miniature golfing, and then parking!” K giggled, and I rolled my eyes.

  “You know I’ll beat you at golf and then you’ll get mad and the night will be ruined.”

  “Ha, you will bow at my golfing-god feet. I’ll leave you in the dust! You’ll beg for mercy.”

  “I think you’ve been playing with kids too long.”

  She snorted and shook her head.

  I watched K as she ate and talked, noticing her little smiles and the way her nose scrunched up when she found something funny. K didn’t seem to have a care in the world, and that was just the way I wanted it. By the time we were done, the place had all but cleared out. A few people still sat around finishing their meal; everyone else was headed back to the old grindstone.

  Which reminded me where I had to be. “I’d better get going,” I told K. After leaving a generous tip, I walked K to her car. Before she got in, I grabbed her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her. By the time we finished she was flushed and I was longing for the night to come.

  I watched her drive away and then climbed into my car. Before the fun tonight I had an unpleasant job to take care of.

  Today, I was going to Atlanta for a meeting with a man who called himself The Magician. He had escaped from two different prisons and ten jails. He had the habit of disappearing, so the nickname stuck. His ties to the mob ran deep, but even they had begun to fear him and would love to see him fall prey to a premature death. He was a loose cannon and had done enough to get noticed by my boss.

  We knew of twenty-two murders that he had personally committed and countless rapes around the Atlanta area. The FBI and local authorities had a hands-off policy on him. I had a feeling he was an informant for the FBI and got a free pass as far as the law was concerned. Either that, or they were just as scared of him as his crime family was.

  When he kidnapped a sixteen-year-old girl named Hanna Marcella, it was the last straw. She wasn’t someone most people would care about, just an orphan who’d been in and out of foster care from the age of seven. Hanna was found a week later in a ju
nk yard. The Magician had gotten tired of her. However, Solomon, my boss and founder of the WJA, had a heart for kids, especially orphans. I was proof of that, for he’d taken me in when no one else wanted me.

  I couldn’t read the file on The Magician all the way through. Most of the time I wanted to know everything about who I was to meet with, but in this case, it was too much.

  I had to be ready to go to Atlanta in an hour. My meeting was set to go down at seven p.m. and with any luck, The Magician would disappear for good tonight.

  Abracadabra!

  * * *

  A TALL, BEARDED MAN sat in a lounge chair sipping a glass of vodka. The smell filled his lungs and he smiled to himself. It was the smell of victory. He looked out over the warm sand to the ocean. The water washed softly up onto the sand. Bali was warm and inviting. A slight south wind blew, and he smelled salt water and tanning oil in the breeze. He thought of what he planned to do with his day, but shoved the thoughts from his mind with haste as he sipped his drink. He was alone, and he wanted to enjoy the moment.

  His villa was beyond modest, pushing the extreme. It overlooked the ocean and massive, rocky cliffs jutted from the ground behind it. The deck attached to the house could have been another bedroom by itself, and it stuck out high above the ground and clung to the cliff face like a bat. Marble and concrete made up the floors, and all the walls were old wood beams ripped from some long-ago shipwreck and mixed with raw stone that gave a rugged look to his décor.

  Taras Karjanski loved to flaunt his money, and he had plenty to show off. Much of his wealth was stolen or given to him in trade for a life. He loved money, and would do anything for it. He had lots of contacts ready and waiting to give him more…there was always someone who needed a “problem” taken care of. And who wouldn’t want to do business with The General?

  Placing his now-empty glass down on the tiny wooden table next to him, he got up and walked through the white sand and inside on the ground floor where his office was located. Getting an internet connection around here had taken some doing, but it was worth it. His laptop hummed quietly as it booted up. He pulled a fresh bottle of vodka from the bar that stood in the rear of the office. After a few minutes, he was able to get online and onto his family’s website. It was secured with a voice identification command, as well as a fingerprint scan, just to log on. The Russian Mafia was believed to be dead; however, Taras liked being the underdog. It made the surprise of the attack that much sweeter.