Defying gravity
Book 3 of The Shattered Cove Series
A. M. Kusi
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, organizations, events, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Any trademarks, product names, service marks, and named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are only used for references
Copyright © 2020 by A. M. Kusi.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book or any of its contents may be reproduced, copied, modified, distributed, stored, transmitted in any form or by any means, or adapted without the prior written consent of the authors and publisher.
Published by A. M. Kusi 2020
amkusinovels@gmail.com
Visit our website at www.amkusi.com
Editor: Anna Bishop of CREATING ink
Sensitivity Edit: Renita McKinney of A Book A Day
Proofreader: Judy’s Proofreading
Cover Design: Regina Wamba of ReginaWamba.com
Formatting: Archangel Ink
Sign Up to Get New Releases
The best way to get updates about new releases, pre-orders, giveaways, and more is by joining our newsletter. You will also receive a FREE book after you join.
Visit the website below to join:
www.amkusi.com/newsletter
Other Books by A. M. Kusi
A Fallen Star
(Book 1 in The Shattered Cove Series)
Glass Secrets
(Book 2 in The Shattered Cove Series)
The Lighthouse Inn
(Book 4 in The Shattered Cove Series)
His True North
(Book 5 in The Shattered Cove Series)
The Orchard Inn
(Book 1 in The Orchard Inn Romance Series)
Conflict of Interest
(Book 2 in The Orchard Inn Romance Series)
Her Perfect Storm
(Book 3 in The Orchard Inn Romance Series)
For a complete list of all our books, visit:
www.amkusi.com/books
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.
– Desmond Tutu
It just takes one conscious individual to recognize their wounds, recognize ancestral patterns, see dysfunction and trauma and think ‘maybe I can stop it here.’.
– Unknown
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 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of The Lighthouse Inn
Thank You
Acknowledgements
About A. M. Kusi
Also by A. M. Kusi
This book is dedicated to all those out there who’ve been through trauma and decided to not let it define you. To those who do the hard work to break the patterns.
A note to readers: This book has sensitive subject matter that deals with abuse, mentions rape, but does not go into detail. This story takes on the subject of racism and police brutality. It was a very emotionally challenging story to write, but we feel the story needs to be told to help shine light onto the injustices, and micro-aggressions, that happen every day in America. We hope you fall in love with Bently and Belle just as much as we did. Their love story is real and raw and it just had to be told. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Bently
Bently winced at the bitter aftertaste coating his mouth. He lifted his cup of coffee and swallowed again. Nope. Still terrible. “Should have stopped by Remy’s,” he said aloud to the empty truck cab as he set the brown sludge passing for java in the cupholder.
The radio crackled. “Squad one, what’s your twenty and status?”
Bently picked up the radio as he turned into a side street and pressed the speaker to his mouth. “This is squad one. I’m on Everton Street. Status ten-eight.”
“Unit one, take the suspicious person walking with a bike on Shell Ave.”
He pressed the button once more. “Ten-four.”
Bently put his blinker on and went left at the stop sign, scanning the sides of the road. After making a series of turns, he ended up on Shell Avenue. Slowing, his gaze focused on a kid pushing a bike on the side of the road. His blue school backpack was nearly bursting at the seams. Bently scanned the upscale neighborhood for any signs of a threat.
“He’s just a kid walking home from school.” He shook his head and notified dispatch that he was on the scene before pulling up beside the kid.
He hopped out. Squinting at the sun, he grabbed his aviators from his pocket and slipped them on as he greeted the kid. “Good afternoon.”
The teen kept walking with his head down, swaying slightly. The flapping of deflated rubber slapping against the cement sidewalk brought Bently’s attention to the tires of his bike.
Bently stepped next to the boy. White earbuds stuck out of his ears, contrasting with his light brown skin. He moved into the young man’s periphery to get his attention. “He—”
Wide frightened brown eyes stared up at him as the boy’s trembling hands flew towards the sky. The bike crashed to the ground. Bently swiveled around searching for the danger that had the guy so riled up, but they were alone on the street.
“Sir, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just walking home from school.” The young boy’s voice was steady. His eye was swollen and bruised.
Bently furrowed his brow. He’s scared of me? Smiling in hopes to set the boy at ease, Bently motioned to his headphones. “Can you take those out for a minute?”
Slowly, the boy plucked the headphones from his ears, the steady thump of hip-hop pouring from the tiny speakers.
“Nice tunes.” Smooth, Bently.
The young man remained silent. His eyes were glued on Bently. His shoulders nearly touched his ears with tension.
“I’m Sheriff Evans. What’s your name?”
“TJ . . . uh, Thomas Jones, sir.”
Bently nodded, looking over his bike. “What happened to your ride?”
TJ looked down for a moment before he shrugged. “Flat tire.”
“May I?” Bently asked, reaching towards one of the wheels.
“Okay?” TJ’s answer was more like a question.
“I know a thing or two about bikes. This is a nice one.”
“I didn’t steal it if that’s what you’re thinking,” TJ said, his jaw tense.
“I never assumed you did. You can put your
