Expert in the fine art of eliminating trouble before it finds his clients.
Parker appears in the novels Controlled Descent and Flight Plan and the novella Turning the Work. He plays a small but critical role in Joining In the Round.
From Flight Plan:
“Not alone,” Parker said from the other side of the door. He was sitting with his back to Naomi, separated only by the thin sheet of wood. His head rested against the panel, and his eyes were closed. Emotions sifted through: remorse and worry and anguish. Let me stay.
Naomi closed her eyes too. “I asked you to stop.”
“Can’t.” He would leave if Naomi insisted, but he could not stop the rest of it. She might as well ask him to cut off a foot or stop breathing.
A different kind of heat crept along Naomi’s skin. “Why? Why do you care? Why me?”
Parker stood up. Equipment rattled, and his boots scuffed over the bare floor. He didn’t have an answer, didn’t need one. He was satisfied with because or even why not?
“Let me in,” he said with his forehead resting against the door and his heart in his voice. Want echoed beneath the raw words: a reverberation of needs and fears that spiraled around an empty, lonely core. Please.
From Turning the Work:
Parker brought over a selection of tools and spilled them onto the table, then crouched down and arranged them for Carl’s review. Carl considered and rejected several lines of inquiry before settling on, “Are you planning to knit something or assassinate someone?”
A warm, husky voice nearby said, “I was wondering that myself.”
The edges of the book in Carl’s hands crumpled slightly before he controlled the startle reaction. Parker shot to his feet, but his face remained a polite mask. The strain across his shoulders was the only thing that betrayed the internal shift from standby to red alert.
Almost the only thing. Carl reached over and removed the knitting needle from his brother’s grasp. Just in case.
From Joining In The Round:
Carl said, “Get your hands off her, Eddie.”
“It isn’t what you think—” Parker stopped mid-explanation when Naomi peeked through the gap between Carl’s raised arm and his body. She looked even more ethereal than usual in a long white sleep shirt.
“Parker?” Her voice was a drowsy purr. “What are you doing here?”
He growled.
“Parker, no, they weren’t—crap.” Felicity grabbed him, but her efforts were as effective as trying to stop a retreating ocean wave. He charged straight into Carl. They hit the floor with a crash.
Background: ex-military, specializing in commando operations and demolitions, now a contractor doing private investigations and personal security.
Personality: Hyperactive, paranoid, treats speech as a non-renewable resource, has a soft spot for animals, children, and anything unable to defend itself. Long fuse with a homicidal temper at the end.
Another sketch, this one by an artist named “Mikey.”
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