Category: Uncategorised

Welcome to November. God, that means Christmas is right around the corner. It also means days are getting shorter and it’s raining like the biblical flood out here on the island. While I don’t need the sunshine as much as I used to, a day here and there would be nice, Mother Nature. Just saying.

Anyway, it’s time for Promptly Penned again, and, as per usual, I’m sitting here staring at the computer thinking… I got nothing. And I’m actually a bit surprised as this is up my alley. It’s the kind of dialogue I love… but. Yeah. Anyway, here is what I’ve managed to bleed onto the virtual paper for this prompt…which I might change every so slightly as my first person isn’t female. But I’ll keep the dialogue the same. And no, it’s not cheating… not really. Okay, maybe but I’m a rebel!!!! And it’s another little bit with Casey from the last music flash fiction in September which you can read here.

Person A: She smiled a little. “You’re a manipulator.”

Person B: “I like to think of myself as an outcome engineer.”

Casey O’Toole clenched his jaw, staring at the woman sitting in front of him. Dr. Felicity Granger. A contract psychiatrist and the woman he’d spent his teenage years lusting after. Though, she’d been his best friend’s girlfriend back then. And just as untouchable as she was now.

He gave her a long slow sweep. Her dark brown hair had been piled on top of her head in some kind of intricate knot, and her legs were crossed at the knees. Deep blue eyes watched him from behind a pair of stylish glasses, a hint of a smile creasing the fine lines around her mouth.

He glanced at the blue folder sitting in her lap beneath her clasped hands, his name in black marker along one edge. He crossed his arms on his chest, reminding himself not to yell. “You’re a manipulator.”

He cringed at the noticeable harshness in his voice, the tone conveying far more than he’d wanted to. He was supposed to be impassive. Fake his way through like he had before, except… Fuck. Their personal history aside, he could tell by the way she arched one perfectly sculpted brow that she wasn’t going to be as easy to fool as the others he’d seen.

Felicity smiled. “I like to think of myself as an outcome engineer.”

“I see. And what outcome are you hoping to engineer? Other than putting a witness in jeopardy.”

The smile faded, but she didn’t look upset. In fact, she seemed more determined than angry. “Let’s start with keeping you alive, and we’ll go from there.”

“Me? That’s where you’re wrong. I’m fine, Doc. But the man who just agreed to testify against the Black Tigers…” Casey shrugged. “He’s going to be dead inside of twenty-four hours if I don’t get his ass to a safe house before Kim Leu discovers the guy’s ratting him out.” He pointed at the file. “I already cleared more than my share of psych evals. As you’re undoubtedly aware of, so…”

She laughed, the rich tone making him shift uncomfortably on his feet. A fluttery feeling trembled in his stomach, and he hoped it was simply the shitty cup of coffee he’d drank and not something else. Something familiar and far more dangerous.

She held up the folder. “You mean this?” Another laugh that dropped his damn stomach this time. “Please tell me you lie so much better than what you did in here because this…my five-year-old niece could spin a better tale than what’s in these pages.” She motioned to the chair opposite her. “Sit.”

He glanced at his watch, then back to her. “I’m on the clock in thirty minutes. And regardless of what you think I ‘spun’ in those pages, I already got my clearance.”

“I know. Which is why I had to practically blackmail your boss to get your ass in here.” She leaned forward. “He was quite happy to sweep this all under the proverbial rug. So sit.” She snorted when he merely stood there. “Seriously, Casey? Overlooking the fact that you’ve been ordered to talk to me, I’d like to think having grown up together, you’d show me some professional courtesy. I’m not here to get you suspended or put on medical leave.”

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But I’ll sure as shit pull rank if you push me. So sit your ass down before I decide it needs another six weeks to heal.”

Casey chuckled. “Christ, when did you get all alpha male?”

“I grew up with four brothers. I can hold my own against any man.” She motioned to the chair again.

He sighed, then sank into it. “Fine. You’ve got twenty-eight minutes.”

“Were you always this annoying growing up?”

He winked at her. “Pretty sure that was your super power, Felicity, not mine.”

She arched her brow again, offering him a glass of water. He accepted, taking a sip.

Felicity leaned back in her chair. “And to think I had a massive crush on you way back when.”

Casey coughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried not to spit the water across at her. “Excuse me?”

A light blush coloured her cheeks, but the gleam in her eyes suggested she was anything but embarrassed. “I said…I was head over heels for you when I was seventeen. And I’m wondering why I never noticed your stubborn side. Though, I suppose the fact you became a U.S. Marshal is all the proof I needed that it was always there.”

“But…you were dating Jack. He practically lived at your house.”

She made a weird face. “Actually, it was all a cover. Jack was dating one of my brothers, but…they weren’t ready to come out, and it made him being at our house all the time easy, so…” She sighed. “Looking back, it was probably a colossal mistake. But seeing as they’re still together, I’m thinking it was worth it.”

He furrowed his brow, then shook his head. “And this all ties in to why I’m here, how?”

“It’s called honesty. Coming clean. Something you could benefit from because these evaluations… Sweetie, you’ve got denial shoved so far up your ass it’s no surprise you’re choking on it.” She waved at him when he thought about rising. “I already told you. I’m not here to stand in your way of doing your job.”

“Then why am I here?”

“I was hoping that, because of our history, you might agree to come here. Talk to me.”

He pushed to his feet this time. “I already talked to a whole room full of shrinks. I’m fine.”

He turned, heading purposefully toward the door. The floor creaked behind him as he fisted the handle.

“I still have twenty-five minutes left.”

He paused but didn’t look at her. “I think we’re done. Say hi to Jack for me.”

“I know you didn’t get those scars on your shoulder the way you say you did. That it wasn’t a suspect that shot you.”

He froze, a cold sweat beading along his forehead. He forced himself to swallow, then glanced at Felicity over his shoulder. She stood a few feet away, the nervous twitch of her hands betraying the calm expression she’d plastered on her face.

He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know—”

“Your partner Greg Cavenaugh was the one who shot you. With the gun you planted on the suspect before you passed out. You didn’t want his name tarnished, seeing as he was already dead.”

He pursed his lips. “Felicity…”

“If you’re going to lie to my face, Casey, you’d better do a damn good job of it.”

He glanced away, knowing he wasn’t nearly pulled together enough to lie. Memories flickered through his head and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. Her hand landed on his arm, drawing him back.

He looked at her again. “How?”

“If you want to know that, then you’ll agree to see me. Otherwise…” She shrugged, then turned, returning to her chair. “It’s your play, Casey. But it you want to unearth what Greg was really up to—solve the case you’ve secretly been working on since you regained consciousness—you’ll meet me back here on Friday. After hours. Your protective services should be wrapped up by then.”

He frowned, then opened the door, leaning against it once he’d shut the damn thing. He glanced at the slab over his shoulder, picturing her reclaiming her seat. He reran her words, wishing he could just walk away. But if Felicity had any information on what Greg had been involved in—what he’d died over—Casey couldn’t simply let it go.

He cursed, walking back along the hallway. Felicity had better be ready because the woman had just gotten far more than she’d bargained for. And the truth was only a small part of it.

 

And that’s it for me. I know, but… damn it these things are hard. Go check out the other ladies…

Bronwyn Green  |  Deelylah Mullin  |  Paige Prince

So, I’ve been MIA for a bit, but with good reason. I just completed my first 50 mile Ultrathon in Polegridge, Montana on October 8th. Which also involved two days of driving each way to access the small, remote Montana town of Hungry Horse—where the hotel was located. Just a short (lol) hour drive from the start/finish line. And thanks to my gal pal’s need to ‘see the roads less travelled’ I think we added on more than a few extra hours. But…I can’t say enough how beautiful the scenery is between Vancouver Island and Montana. We varied the route…went via WA20 on the way there, and mostly Hwy 3 through Canada on the way back. By then, I needed my Timmy’s fix.

But I digress. It’s song flash fiction time again. Now, I’ll be honest. My brain, much like my legs, is fried. But, it’s Sarah McLachlan. She’s Canadian and so freaking talented. I had to find something to post. It might be short. It might not seem to make sense, but…here it is. I went with the theme of this song about having someone take you in, no questions asked. It’s a short insight into how Kei, my fire mage from FROM GRACE:GABRIEL, and Greyson, also from Gabriel but who plays a starring role in my upcoming release, FROM GRACE: MICHAEL, meet.

Now, if you’re unfamiliar with the song, here’s the video. She’s so amazing. That voice…

“Hey, asshole, that’s my seat.”

Kei groaned inwardly, the obnoxious tone from the jerk hovering just inside his peripheral vision grating on the one damn nerve he had left. He made a point of slowly lowering his beer before glancing at the guy across his shoulder. Oil-smeared jeans, a ratty tee with boots and a torn leather jacket filled Kei’s field of view, light from the bar reflecting off the man’s smooth head.

Kei sighed, looking back at his drink as his magic strummed just beneath the surface, threatening to surge forward. Now wasn’t the time to erupt into a fury of flames, not with a couple of dozen patrons milling about. He’d somehow managed to restrain from using his fire since he’d returned to the human realm six weeks prior. Surely he could keep it together long enough to have a beer then leave. Not that he had anywhere to go. He’d pretty much burned every bridge he’d ever made—literally.

He took another swig, clanking the bottle onto the bar. “Fuck off.”

A hand landed on his shoulder before he was punched off the barstool. Kei’s head snapped to the left, but he managed to catch himself on the counter before he followed the toppled chair to the ground. The resulting crash plunged the room into silence, only the lilting melody of the jukebox still playing in the background. Footsteps scuffed next to him as the guy grabbed his arms.

“I said, that’s my seat!”

Kei pushed into the man’s hold, knocking him off-balance before twisting free of the asshole’s grip. The momentum flung Kei back against the counter, scattering a few more chairs across the floor before he was able to, once again, bridge his weight. He turned, wiping at the smear of blood by the corner of his mouth. God, he hated the human realm sometimes.

“And I said, fuck off. Free world, chum. That means I can sit anywhere I damn well please.”

The guy laughed, glancing at a group of similarly dressed men gathered around a pool table. “Do you hear that, boys? Our friend, here, thinks he can sit wherever he wants. In our bar.”

Another man huffed. “Sounds like he’s looking for trouble, Gary.”

Kei arched his brow. “Gary? Shouldn’t your name be Cat? You said this was your bar, and the sign outside says this is Cat’s Calling.”

Color rose on the Gary’s cheeks. “A smartass. Looks like you’re right, Steve. Our friend definitely needs someone to put him in his place.”

The other men moved in around the guy, forming a wall of large, sweaty bodies. A couple of the jerks slapped pool cues in their hands, their lopsided grins revealing missing teeth.

Kei tipped back his head. “Bloody hell. Are you bastards really foolish enough to fight over a barstool?”

Gary shrugged. “I asked you to leave.”

“No, you talked out of your ass then punched me. That’s not asking.”

“Is it here. But now you’ve gone and insulted us, so…” He chuckled again. “Guess this is going to have to end the hard way.”

Kei held up his hands. “I suggest you all go back to your game of pool. This isn’t going to end well, otherwise. And after the week I’ve had, I’m not in the mood to play nice. So…go on. Bugger off and we’ll consider this settled.”

Gary practically growled, then lunged at Kei, beefy arms swinging, a string of curse words shadowing his every move. Kei deflected the first few blows, catching the idiot in the jaw when he overshot his uppercut. The table behind Gary tipped over as the man’s body hit the edge. Glasses shattered on the floor, spilling beer and whiskey across the hard wood. Gary shook off the impact, then charged again, ending up on his ass this time when Kei levelled him with a quick hook.

“Stay down.” Kei rolled his shoulders, shaking out his hand. He’d forgotten how much punching someone actually hurt. He much preferred to send a wall of flames at potential targets. But he got the feeling facing a few drunken bikers would be the least of his worries if he suddenly started setting the tables on fire.

Kei reached into his pocket and tossed some money on the counter. “I’m finished, anyway. No need for this to escalate any further. I’ll leave.”

Steve stepped in front of his friend. “Oh, you’ll leave. But not in one piece.”

The guy flicked his wrist, brandishing a shiny silver blade in his hand. The rest of the group raced at Kei, grabbing whatever they could curl their fingers around. Kei knocked four of them off before two of the larger men managed to wrap their arms around his, holding him still long enough for Steve to shove the knife in his shoulder.

Pain exploded through his chest and down his arm, stealing his breath. Kei blinked, trying to focus when another punch sent him to the floor. A couple of men pinned him down, the crushing weight sparking his defences. His magic burst free from his control, sending everything within a few feet of him crashing against the far walls. Fire erupted along his torso, instantly raising the temperature of the room as Kei staggered to his feet. He grabbed the switchblade, yanking it free from his shoulder before letting it fall to the floor with a dull thud, barely discernible above the roar of his magic. Blood dripped down his skin, but the feel of it on his chest faded into the background as he stared at the shocked expressions of the people crowded around the door.

Fatigue gnawed at Kei’s resolve. “Well, shit.”

He took a step forward only to recoil as bottles and plates flew toward him. His power surged forward, disintegrating the objects before they reached him. The table next to him ignited, sending the last of the patrons screaming from the bar. Even Steve managed to pick Gary off the ground and shoulder his weight out. An alarm sounded around him, followed by the sudden spray of water.

“Just bloody terrific.”

Kei tilted his head back, allowing the flames along his torso to dance higher when a bemused laugh startled him. He spun, staring at the man sitting off to one side, his long dark hair framing his face. Hazel eyes crinkled at the edges as he stood, slowly picking his way over to Kei.

The guy held one hand face up, watching the water collect in his palm. “Call me crazy, but I didn’t see that coming.”

Kei frowned. “Excuse me?”

The guy waved at him. “The flames. The way you propelled them all across the room. When you openly challenged them, I pegged you as some martial arts nut, not a mage.” He leaned in close. “You are a mage, right? Because if you’re a demon…” He whistled. “I might just have to switch sides.”

Kei brushed back the wet strands of hair from his face, cursing when they simply flopped in front of his eyes again. “Do I know you? And why aren’t you running away like the rest of them?”

“Nope. Haven’t met before. I never forget a face…or an ability. And you…” He chuckled this time. “You have quite the power balled up inside you, don’t you?”

Sirens sounded in the background, stopping Kei from answering. He glanced at the door with the stranger tsked.

“Might be best if you’re not standing in the middle of the bar—on fire—when the law shows up. Come on.”

He headed for a door near the back, seemingly oblivious to the debris scattered around the room. The metal hinges creaked as he held the door for Kei, dulling the harsh shrill of the alarm as it closed behind them. Then he walked toward the trees lining the rear of the property.

He stopped once he’d reached them, looking back. “Are you coming or what?”

Kei jogged up to where the man stood braced against a trunk. “Who the hell are you?” He leaned in, getting a closer look at the perfect symmetry of the guy’s face, the graceful shape of his silhouette. “You’re…beautiful.” He grunted. “Fuck. You’re a faery, aren’t you?”

A wide smile brightened the guy’s face before he performed a sweeping bow. “The name’s Greyson. And you’re…”

“Kei. Since when do faeries hang out with humans?”

“Says the man whose arms are still on fire. You don’t exactly seem suited for this realm, either.” He grinned. “You might want to put that out before you set the forest alight, too.”

Kei huffed, forcefully pulling his magic back inside, not that it was easy. The pain from his wounds scratched at his control, but he managed to restrain all but a slight red hue beneath his skin.

Greyson chuckled. “Fire’s a hard element to tame. It likes to breathe. Consume. Something tells me you haven’t had much training.”

“Enough to keep me alive.”

“Is that what you’re doing here? Living? Because it looked like you’d rather face a room full of demons than mingle with more humans.”

Kei speared his fingers through his hair. How the hell was this guy reading him? “Let’s just say…I don’t have many options at the moment.”

Greyson nodded, glancing at the road. Flashing lights lit up the winding street leading to the bar, as emergency vehicles raced toward them. “Well, Kei…if you need a place to stay…”

Kei coughed. “The faery realm? Seriously? Isn’t that forbidden or something?”

Greyson shrugged. “Forbidden’s a strong word. As long as you promise not to set the entire glen  on fire, I’m sure it’ll be fine. And my sister, Sirena, is pretty skilled at healing. She can fix your shoulder. Maybe between us, we can help you get a bit more control over those flames.”

“You’d take me in? Just like that?”

“If you can swallow your pride long enough to accept my invitation.”

Kei snorted. “I just burned down a bar. Injured half a dozen people in the process. Granted, they weren’t exactly innocent, but… Aren’t you the least be nervous I’m not the sort of man you want to get involved with?”

Greyson smiled as a blue glow slowly illuminated his body. “On the contrary. Something tells me you’re exactly the kind of man I’d like to have as a friend.” He placed a hand on Ken’s shoulder. “Well? Are you up for an adventure?”

“Please don’t let this be one of those mistakes that comes back to bite me in the ass. Fine. You’re on. But no phase shifting…shit!”

 

And that’s it for me. Go have a gander at the other ladies jumping in today.

Bronwyn Green  |  Deelylah Mullin

September is already here. How did that happen? And it seems summer is well on its way out, sigh. I love summer. Not the heat, but the long days, the no school, and dollar drink days at McDonalds, lol. But fall means cozy sweaters and no bugs. (I’m trying to be positive here, folks, because short days, rain and school… not my fave.)

Anyway, it’s Promptly Penned time. This month—I don’t even know. I’ve been staring at it and I have no idea what to do with it. Are they getting harder on purpose? I think so…here’s the prompt…and the resulting story.

In school, tests started with a class bell and ended with a “pencils down”, outside of school things weren’t so well defined.

U.S. Marshal Casey O’Toole leaned against the wall, waiting to hear his name called to enter the room—complete the last part of his practical weapon’s training before being deemed ready for active duty again. Just one dark space with a dozen random targets was all that stood between him and reclaiming his badge.

He nearly laughed at the thought. As if one test could erase what had happened. Stop the nightmares from drenching his body in sweat every night. Bring his partner back to life or fade the puckered scars on Casey’s shoulder. Make him forget.

Casey closed his eyes as the inklings of a flashback gnawed at his senses. He’d managed to fake his way through half a dozen psych evals and two other exams. Surely he could hold it together long enough to walk through one stupid room. Reclaim the one aspect of his life that hadn’t walked away in the aftermath of the incident.

His ex’s voice rattled inside his head. They’d been in a bad place before he’d gotten shot. Having to go through physical therapy to regain full use of his shoulder had obviously been too much for her to deal with. Of course, the fact she’d been sleeping with a buddy might have been part of the reason she’d moved out before he’d even gotten home from the hospital. But knowing she would have left regardless didn’t lessen the sting much.

A blast of static broke the relative silence, a scratchy version of his name echoing through the room. Casey drew a deep breath, then made his way to the door. He’d done this walk-through a dozen times. He didn’t know why if felt different this time. Cared even less. He only had one job—pass.

He nodded at the handler as the other man motioned to the door, visually beginning the test. Back in school, tests had started with a class bell and ended with a “pencils down”. But outside…outside of school, things weren’t so well defined. More of a long, never-ending test that summed up more than just passes and failures. It shaped who he was. Who he’d become. Casey only hoped that the darkness he’d pushed deep down inside him wasn’t the part that would walk out of this exam. That something of the man he’d once been still existed.

 

Sorry this was late. But run off and read the other ladies if you haven’t already.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa

It’s that time again. And wow… I’m not sure where the image came from but damn… I have no idea what to write for this one. But… I shall do my best to pull something out of my preverbal arse… so. Here is the image, and the resulting words 😉 Not going to be all that long.

“Are you sure this is a wise idea?”

Grace Porter glanced over her shoulder as her brother’s voice broke the relative silence. Patrick had been antsy since she’d first proposed the idea. Now that they’d reached the abandoned warehouse, his restlessness had escalated. Hell, she couldn’t miss the way his hands shook as he scanned the area, no doubt looking for anything out of the ordinary.

She grinned at the thought. They were in the midst of demon territory about to summon a far great power and Patrick was worried a mugger might happen along. She’d be happy if they lived long enough to recite the summoning spell.

Grace gave his shoulder a light punch. “I thought you agreed this was our only option.”

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did, but that was before I realized we’d have to come here. Why can’t we just perform the summoning somewhere safe? Like the barn behind the house?”

“I told you. The kind of power he has…” She sighed. “We’re liable to level the area as much as get it right. And if I’m going to die trying something this desperate the last thing I want is to take out the rest of the coven with us. That’s if they don’t decide to kill us once they discover what we’ve done.”

Patrick’s expression softened. “You’re stronger than all of them put together. Between the two of us…they’d be lucky to mess up your hair let alone hurt you.”

“A wise person doesn’t take anything for granted. You know better than anyone there’s safety in numbers. And they outnumber us eleven to one, brother dear.”

He gave her a light shove. “I’ll side with you any day.”

She grinned, hoping she wasn’t sentencing them both to an early grave, as she followed the fencing around to the back. Despite being empty, the main entrance fronted a fairly busy street and Grace didn’t want to risk being seen entering the building. Having a couple of cops show up in the middle of their spell wouldn’t do them any favours.

She picked her way through the thick grass to a spot near the rear. Layers of barbed wire blocked her way, the sharp ends gleaming in the rising moonlight. Patrick cupped her shoulder, motioning her to stand back as he grabbed a few lines of the wire, fisting them tightly in his hand. He muttered a short incantation, and she watched as the metal glowed red then simply melted into a puddle on the ground. Her brother repeated the procedure with the rest of the wire, grinning as he waved her through the narrow opening. She sidestepped through, careful not to cut herself on the broken ends before heading for a door next to a loading ramp.

She flicked her hand at the single lamp burning overhead, breaking the glass and casting the area into deep shadows. Patrick darted ahead of her, using another spell to break the lock and open the door. A hushed squeak was the only hint of noise that followed before he waved her inside, closing the heavy metal door behind them.

He scanned the area, moving in close to her. “Pretty sure any security they had in here is long gone, but just in case…”

She nodded, removing a few supplies from her bag . She placed the objects on the floor, chanting the spell before tossing the final ingredient on top of the others. A flash of light filled the room then winked out.

Grace smiled at Patrick. “That should disable any cameras or alarms for about thirty minutes. With any luck we’ll be gone before then.”

“If we’re not dead.”

She swatted his arm, shaking her head as she headed for a doorway on the other side of the open space. Uncertainty gnawed at her resolve as she wove her way to a small room on the lowest level, her brother using another spell to light their way. She stopped in the centre, spinning around before grinning. “This is it.”

Patrick didn’t speak, just bent low and set to work inscribing a sigil across the floor. The scent of paint infused the air, increasing the jumpy feeling in her stomach. God, she hoped this wasn’t a one-way trip. That she really was as strong an everyone claimed. That she wasn’t about to sentence her brother to death.

He straightened a few minutes later. “Ancient summoning circle, check. Now all we need is some blood and the right spell cast by…” He pointed at her. “Yours truly.”

“I’m not sure what’s scarier. That the blood is the easy part or that I’m starting to wonder if this was a bad idea.”

“If anyone can pull this off…” He raised his chin, confidence shaping his features. “I believe in you, sis.”

“Let’s hope I don’t let you down.”

“It’s not like the alternative is any better. If we don’t try this…”

She nodded. “Like the saying goes… Damned if we do…”

“Considering who you’re planning on summoning, I think the ‘damned’ part is more than fitting.” He grabbed her shoulders. “You sure you’re ready? I know we’re desperate but—”

“No buts. He’s our only hope.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road before I change my mind and take us both as far away from this place as I can.”

Grace glanced at the sigil as Patrick removed a silver knife from the bag. “Guess it’s time to see if I can live up to all the hype. If I’m as good as they say and if he really does exist.”

 

And that’s it for me. Go check out Bronwyn Green and Jessica Jarman for their amazing tales.

 

Okay, I’m not sure whether this is a sign of encroaching madness or just that I have too many stories I want to write, because I probably have close to eight different books started. And for some I have a significant amount written. More likely, it’s a sign of my inability to focus…is that a boat out on the water? Did someone call my name?

I would have loved to have picked From Grace book 2, Michael’s story, but…. dear god I actually finished it. I know… no one is more surprised than I. Look for it this coming January from ARe.

Anyway, back to my current WIP. I’m going to chose the next Threshold Book. Sadly, I don’t even have a damn title yet. (Of course I do should I have picked any other WIP) Titles are hard, people. I sometimes have to make crossroad deals so they don’t totally suck…

So… Threshold book 2. I plan to release it this October. One of my few self-published books, though I’m looking forward to expanding next year…more on that later. I wish I had a cover, as I’ll be making it, but alas, I can’t even ply you with pretty offerings. But…I can tell you a bit about the book.

Threshold is an organization within Homeland Security that deals with threats of the paranormal nature. There are different departments, each specializing in their own oddity. Book 1 saw Daniel and Arrynn battle a really nasty ghost with the help of Tanner and Garret, the werewolf division guys. Book 2… you guessed it, is Garret and Tanner’s book.

What can I say about Garret and Tanner? They’ve been known to be a bit arrogant. Other more colourful words might be used to describe their personalities, but underneath it all, they’re loyal, determined, dedicated hunters, who would sacrifice their lives without hesitation. They’re also partners in their personal lives. But they recognize that there’s a piece missing.

In walks Piper Collins. She’s an analyst and dispatcher for Threshold who stumbles upon a grisly attack. She’s the kind of person who prefers to stay behind the scenes. But it’s not because she can’t handle herself. Piper’s harbouring a secret—one that might put her on the wrong side of Tanner and Garret’s silver bullets. Of course, things get complicated when emotions enter the equation.

I’d share a visual board, but… I don’t really make them. I tend to have images inside my head, but they usually aren’t tied to actors. But I can share a snippet… FYI, this book was started as a couple of Flash Fictions. I’ve added to them but, the general gist was there.

 

Garret Weston stared into Piper’s blue eyes, a tinge of guilt souring his gut as the white in them increased, her gaze darting to Tanner then back. Her chest heaved against his as she seemed to force herself to swallow, the action grazing the edge of the knife harder against her skin.

She froze for a moment, fear clouding her eyes before a hint of color rose amidst the light blue hue on her cheeks, the muscle in her jaw clenching. “Seriously? You’re holding me at knife point after I just saved your and Tanner’s sorry asses?”

Garret inched closer, pressing more of his body against hers. “That assessment’s a bit premature. For all we know, you just want the privilege of killing us, yourself.”

Genuine shock rounded her eyes, an audible inhale accentuating her confusion. Her gaze once again flicked to Tanner, a new emotion shaping her features. “Tanner’s bleeding. He needs help.”

“Just as soon as I’m sure it’s safe for us to head to the hospital. That we’ll make it there alive.”

“Why the hell would I save you—expose myself in the process, I might add—if I really wanted you dead? Running away and letting that…that…thing bleed you dry would have been much easier.” She placed her hands on his chest, giving him a shove. “So either kill me, or back the hell off.”

“You haven’t answered my questions.”

“I don’t know what it is. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Fine. Then what the fuck are you?”

Her chin quivered a bit before she clenched it again. “Not your enemy.” She huffed. “For god’s sake, Garret. I work for Threshold. Do you really think I’d do that if I were a threat?”

He cocked half his mouth into a grin. “What better place for a monster to hide, than in plain sight.”

Hurt misted her eyes a moment before he was flung backwards, landing on his ass several feet away. The blue glow on her skin increased, the sheer beauty of it stealing his breath. Christ, it felt…warm. Peaceful.

Piper took a step forward, hair lifting off her shoulders despite the lack of a breeze. “I swear by all that’s holy, if you ever touch me again, I’ll show you just how much of a monster I can be.” She waved at him a second time when he tried to stand, knocking him back again. “I suggest you stay down until I’m finished.”

 

And that’s it for me. Now go check out the other ladies, including our newest member….

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Kayleigh Jones  |  Gwendolyn Cease

Jessica De La Rosa  |  Paige Prince  |  Torrance Sené

Woot, it’s time for my other pick this year. And while it’s, sadly, not another Nickelback, it is another band I love. And this is one of my favourite songs of there. Angel, by Theory of a Deadman. This song is a regular on my running playlist.

Anyway, if you’re not familiar with the song, you can watch the video below. As for the story…I’m sharing chapter two of Michael’s book, because, honestly, this song is perfect for this one. I just finished the rest of the book, and fingers crossed, it’ll be out within the next few months.

“I know you’re there, Michael.”

Greyson poked at the bonfire he’d built next to the shoreline, watching as the flames flickered higher into the darkness. A bluish hue colored the fire where it kissed the wood, gradually shifting into a deep orange. Heat waves rose into the air, distorting the outlines of the trees in the background. The scent of cottonwood filled the glen, the heady fragrance easing some of the tension bunching his muscles.

He clenched his jaw, wondering how long it’d be before the archangel finally removed his glamor and materialized behind him. Or if his mate would choose to vanish—fly away without even acknowledging his presence.

Mate.

Christ, when had Greyson accepted the fact Michael, archangel and God’s Warrior, was his true soul? That the sudden racing of Greyson’s heart, the unrelenting urge to wrap his fingers around the other man’s hair and taste his perfectly sculpted lips, meant anything more than uncontrolled lust? That Grey was worthy of someone so…pure?

The word settled uncomfortably in his gut. He was a playboy at best, and one good deed didn’t erase a lifetime of ditching his responsibilities. Of allowing his sister to become one of Abaddon’s victims. If he’d been the kind of man his people had needed, if he’d taken anything remotely serious, he knew in his heart she’d still be alive.

A soft fluttering noise sounded behind, followed by a rustle of wind across his back. The air thickened, the telltale strum of energy prickling Greyson’s skin as Michael’s glamor slowly diminished until Grey felt the angel’s grace envelope him.

Grey inhaled, closing his eyes against the rush of power that rippled through the air. It swirled across his skin, bathing it in a yellowish glow before slowly fading. While he’d experienced his fair share of powerful beings, including his father and Kei’s mate, Gabriel, nothing compared to the pure energy of Michael’s grace.

Hushed footsteps padded the soft grass behind him, stopping a few feet away. “How did you know I was there?”

Greyson shrugged. He didn’t need his inherent abilities as a prince of the faery realm to know Michael already knew the answer. Or that it was the truth that scared the angel more than anything else. “Please, angels aren’t bad with glamours, but faeries pretty much invented them.”

“I’m no ordinary angel. Only a few of my brothers should be able to sense my presence.”

Greyson fisted his hands in order to stop from spinning around—from grabbing Michael and shaking some sense into him. “We both know I’m not your brother.”

He turned, wanting to see Michael’s reaction when he finally stated what he’d felt since the first time he’d met the angelic man. “I’m the other possibility you don’t want to admit exists.”

Michael’s lips twitched, his expression faltering as he stared at Greyson. The angel closed his eyes, drawing several long, slow breaths, before finally gazing at him again, only there was no mistaking the sadness in Michael’s eyes. The restless shift of his feet as he stood there, his feathers rustling in the breeze, the iridescent pearl color reflecting the different shades of orange from the flickering flames of the bonfire. Indecision creased the lines around his mouth before he sighed and turned, walking a few paces away.

The angel’s shoulders slumped as his head bowed toward his chest. “Greyson.”

“Stop. Just…stop.”

Michael tensed, his wings snapping with what looked like impatience before he spun, all semblance of indecision gone. He drew himself up, making Greyson’s stomach clench and roll. This was the man Grey had fallen for. The archangel of lore whose courage and honor were legendary. The man who’d fought to save the world, even though he’d had to shove aside his personal feelings for his brother Lucifer to do it. Though Grey wondered if Michael saw himself the way Grey did? Majestic. Unwavering. Pure.

Christ, just staring at the way his grace shimmered like an exploding star around him made Grey want to stay in the man’s presence and never leave. Forever feel the warmth of Michael’s power. His love.

Greyson shook away the sentimental thoughts. Despite Michael’s stance, there was no mistaking the look on the other man’s face. The one that said he’d never willingly admit what Grey was to him. That he’d rather suffer alone than give himself to someone who obviously wasn’t worthy of an archangel’s soul.

Michael frowned, tilting his head to the side as if he thought Grey was crazy. “Is that what you think? That I see you as unworthy of my soul?”

Grey’s heart skipped, then raced, making it hard to breathe. “Did you just read my thoughts?”

Michael glanced away, but there was no mistaking the flash of guilt Grey had seen in his eyes.

Greyson crossed his arms over his chest. “Still going to deny what we both know? Feel?”

Michael’s gaze snapped to his. “There’s nothing to deny. We’re…friends, if I’m capable of having such a thing.”

“Friends? That’s your explanation? So can all your friends sense you when you’re hiding behind your glamour? Can you read their thoughts, too?” He shook his head. “It’s one thing to hide behind duty and honor, and another to lie to me to my face. All you have to do is tell me this…” He waved his hand back and forth. “Thing between us is one-sided. That you don’t care, and I’ll walk away. But don’t stand there and pretend that what I’m experiencing isn’t real. I think I deserve better than that.”

The muscle in Michael’s temple jumped as the angel clenched his jaw. “I never said it wasn’t real.”

“You’re just not interested. Not affected the way I am.”

Michael pursed his lips, the fine lines around his mouth tightening. “It’s…complicated.”

“Why? Because I’m not an angel?”

Michael furrowed his brow. “Why would that matter?”

“How the hell should I know? But there’s got to be a reason you’re shunning me, unless we’re back to the simple explanation of you not being interested.”

“Nothing with you is simple.”

“That’s not an answer.” Greyson arched a brow. “Is it because I’m not female? I thought with Gabe and Kei being mates that wasn’t a thing, but—”

“I’m free to love however I see fit.”

“So it’s just…me.”

Michael groaned, carding his hand through his hair—poking it up in every direction. “Why are you pushing this?”

“You know why.” Greyson threw up his hands when Michael merely stared at him. “You think I like this? That I enjoy being drawn to someone who probably won’t ever return my feelings? Who is so bound by duty that he’ll most likely never say what I need to hear?”

“I’m God’s Warrior. I have…obligations.”

“And I’m heir to the throne. True, Oberon will hopefully choose to rule for another five hundred years or so, but that doesn’t negate the fact you’re not the only one whose heritage affects their life.”

“Then you understand why I have to remain distant.”

“What I understand is that you’re scared and hiding behind your legacy so you don’t have to face the truth.” Grey sighed. Arguing with an archangel was like arguing with his father. Stubborn didn’t begin to describe them.

He drew a calming breath. The last thing he needed was to get angry. In the end, Michael had to choose to be with him. Grey couldn’t force the man any more than he could push aside the unrelenting voice in his head that demanded he lay his claim. Recite the ancient binding rite and join their souls. A union only death could sever.

Crickets chirped around them as Grey relaxed his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an effort to stop himself from closing the distance and running his fingers along Michael’s arms until he’d reached the angel’s shoulders. Not that Grey would be able to stop there. He’d been longing to sink his hands in the other man’s hair—wrap the golden strands around his fingers—finally discover if the locks were as soft as they looked.

“Greyson.”

Grey cursed under his breath, focusing on Michael’s face. “I’m trying, so cut me some slack.” He rolled his shoulders a bit. “Just tell me this—if you’re so damn determined to remain distant, why come here at all? And before you answer, you should know that I sense it when you travel through one of my wards.”

Michael arched his brow. “You sense it when people pass through your wards?”

“I said you. That I sense you. Like I’m always telling Kei…words have meaning. And in this case, I was very specific, but that’s not an answer.” He took a step closer. “Why visit when you have no intentions of seeing this go any further? Do you enjoy taunting me?”

“I’d never knowingly hurt you. You know that.”

“Do I? Because from where I’m standing you’re a big blank slate. And try as I may, I can’t figure you out. You come to my realm, then hide from me. You say what we have is complicated, yet you never say why.” Grey shook his head. “You can’t have it both ways, Michael.”

His lips quirked a moment before the color rose on his cheeks. “Believe me, if I could stay away, I would. But…” He slammed his fists against his thighs, fluttering his wings in the process. “I care. More than I know I should. But if I cross that line—take you as my lover…”

Grey sighed as Michael closed his eyes, his mouth pursed into a slight grimace. While a part of Grey wanted to shake some sense into the other man, another understood the angel’s turmoil. Felt his pain as if it were his own.

He closed the distance between them, palming Michael’s chest. The angel’s tunic bunched beneath his grip, the soft fabric gathering between his fingers. Michael’s eyelids flew open, his gaze clashing with Grey’s.

Grey took a moment to study the guy. To memorize the deep blue of Michael’s eyes, the hint of pink in his lips. How the skin over his nose creased as he furrowed his brow. The flash of arousal that colored his cheeks. And his hair—golden like his aura and far deeper than the pearl shade of his wings, it made Grey want to sink his fingers into the thick mass as he claimed the angel’s mouth.

Michael gripped Grey’s wrists, holding his hands tight against his chest. Grey waited for the other man to shove him away, but Michael merely stood there, his heart pounding beneath Grey’s touch, his harsh breath sounding around them.

Grey gave him an easy smile when Michael’s hold tightened. “Surely, you’ve taken lovers before.”

The muscle in his jaw tensed. “I have, but…” He averted his gaze. “You’re different.”

Grey’s stomach clenched, and he knew those two words might be the closest Michael ever got to admitting they were mates. That there was so much more than mere attraction between them.

He forced himself to shrug, despite the frantic beating of his heart. “I don’t have to be different.”

Michael slid his focus back to Grey’s face. “What do you mean?”

“What if it didn’t have to be about anything more than one night?”

Michael frowned. “One night?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

“Only when you’re not making any sense because we both know neither of us would settle for one night.”

“Are you offering more?”

His muscle jumped again. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just—”

“Complicated.”

He muttered under his breath. “You make it sound as if I want to hurt you. Deny us, both.”

“All I’m asking for is one night.” He eased free of Michael’s hold then took a single step back. “I’ll make this simple. Gabe mentioned that every angel has a sanctuary on Earth. A place no one else knows about. If you accept my offer, and grant me one night with you, all you have to do is picture that sanctuary, and I’ll meet you there tomorrow night. Sunset.”

Michael frowned.

Grey smiled. “Trust me. I’ll know where to go.”

“How did you know I was questioning that?”

“Same way I’ll know the location of your sanctuary.” He held up one hand. “I won’t say it. Won’t claim to be anything other than what you need me to be.” He backed away. “One night, Michael, then I’ll never ask again. Think about it.”

He turned, striding purposefully away from the pond. He didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know Michael had taken to the air. Grey felt it. Felt the other man pass through his ward as he used the closest portal, not that leaving the faery realm would sever their connection. An echoed strum of Michael’s heartbeat sounded in Grey’s head, the firm press of Michael’s chest still a ghosted memory on his palms.

Grey hung his head. What had he been thinking? Michael was right. Greyson would never be satisfied with only one night. But under the circumstances, he’d take whatever he could get. Even if it meant he’d spend the next millennium alone.

 

That’s it for me. Go read the great stories from Bronwyn Green and Jessica Jarman.

I can’t believe the summer is half over. I’m not ready to think about school and cool autumn days. I want to stay in this season. Where the sun stays awake until ten PM. Where the only schedule is the one you make for yourself. Plus, I’m running a race in October, which means once fall is here, that race is intimately real.

Anyway, it’s time for picture flash fiction. An interesting image (so very un-summerish). It feels like a conspiracy to hurry this time along. I won’t play along, damn it. But, I do have a story. It’s actually going to be the opener for my next Threshold book, which, if the stars are in alignment and I make the appropriate sacrifices, will be out sometime in October. I know… trust me, I know.

Okay… here’s the image and here’s the story….

 

“This can’t actually be happening to me.”

Piper Collins carded her hand through her hair as she stared at the bus schedule posted beside the solitary bench, half of the information lost to weather and graffiti. But one section was crystal clear—nothing ran on Sunday.

She groaned as she looked skyward, sinking down onto the worn wooden slats. A few birds chirped in a nearby tree, the distant drone of cars on the interstate drifting along the breeze. She looked up the street, not surprised to find the road as deserted as it had been for the past twenty minutes it’d taken her to walk to the damn stop in the first place.

“Way to go, Piper. You just got played by your ex, girl.”

She should’ve known the jackass didn’t want to meet with her to return the last few items she’d been trying to get back for six months. But, she’d chosen to give the bastard the benefit of the doubt. They’d met at an old coffee shop they’d once frequented together. He’d seemed sincere, at first, offering her a box of some of her belongings. Of course, he’d forgotten a few. The ones that really mattered, so he’d offered to drive her to his loft in the warehouse district.

She’d gone along, never considering that he was merely trying to get back in her pants. That she’d have to toss his ass across the room and bolt before he resorted to a more violent form of persuasion. But worst of all, she’d nearly exposed herself. Revealed her true nature to a guy who couldn’t be trusted. And all because she was naive. Chose to see the best in people. The fact he’d cheated on her—and flaunted the fact when she’d caught his ass in bed with her supposed best friend—should have been a pretty clear warning that trust wasn’t high on his priority list. Yet, here she was, in a derelict part of town, wearing her favourite boots, with the heels that were far too high to be sensible. At least for hiking it the distance she’d have to.

She glanced at her hands. Her skin still held a faint blue tinge to it, though most folks would probably just chalk it up to the cool autumn weather. She needed to rein it in. Push it deep beneath the surface before someone got curious. Hell, she worked for an organization that hunted creatures it didn’t understand. And she was pretty damn sure she wasn’t something most people understood.

She sighed and leaned back against the bench. Releasing control of her power was easy. Regaining that control—it wasn’t always as simple as she hoped, especially when her heart was still racing inside her chest. Her adrenaline making her hyperaware. Even now, she sensed the restless spirits gathering in the abandoned hospital across the street, the otherworldly energy glowing like a beacon beyond the broken glass and boarded up windows.

She pulled out her cell, cursing at the red bar up in the corner and the intermittent signal. Just her luck the damn thing would die in the middle of her call. Better she walk a bit farther and wait until she knew the line wouldn’t simply get dropped.

The old bench creaked as she pushed to her feet. A gust of wind swirled around her, lifting her hair off her shoulders. Maybe she needed to take some time off. Spend some time in the country, surrounded by nature. Revitalize her soul. She smiled at the thought, crossing to the other side of the street, when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

She paused, taking a moment to scan the area. Nothing moved around her other than the odd eddy of dust that whirled along the edge of the road before settling. She glanced to her left. A shadow crossed one of the broken windows, the distant echo of footsteps just reaching her.

Piper frowned. Who would be wandering around a deserted hospital? Especially one occupied by as many restless spirits as she sensed inhabited this one did? She sighed. Just another amateur who thought hunting spirits involved nothing more than a Ouija board and a video camera. God, if they only knew the kind of power the human soul contained. The damage they could do…

She pushed down the uneasy feeling, taking another step when a wall of dark energy slammed into her, leaving a wake of goose bumps along her flesh. She turned toward the hospital, inhaling roughly at the sense of evil radiating from the structure. It stained the air, slowly spreading outwards—not stopping until it reached the edge of the property. Piper took an involuntary step back, still staring at one of the doors sitting slightly ajar, when a scream echoed in the space between this plane and the veil. As if the dark energy had simply swallowed the sound.

Dread soured her stomach. Something was wrong.

Fear gnawed at her conscience as she moved toward the rusted gate leading to the back section of the hospital. The hinges squeaked as she shoved it open, the bottom rail dragging across the stone. She drew a deep breath then crossed the threshold, fisting her hands in an effort to stop from trying to wipe the feel of the evil off her skin. It lingered, like an oily film slowly covering her flesh.

Another scream echoed inside her mind, and she raced toward the doorway, no longer worrying about how the energy made her feel. She slipped through the small space, searching the room before heading for a hallway on the far side. Grunts and snarls resonated around her, the metallic scent of blood slowly saturating the air. She followed the noise, weaving her way through a maze of rooms and paths before stopping at a doorway. Bile crested her throat as she stared at the creature feeding on a woman.

The creature turned, exposing a set of jagged teeth as it snarled at her, its greyish form covered in blood. It turned, part of its body shifting into a fine mist before solidifying again. Long claws clicked on the floor as it took a few steps toward her.

She held her ground, allowing her power to cover her skin, lighting up the shadows with its blue glow. The creature stopped, shrieking in seeming pain before coiling in on itself and disappearing through one of the walls.

Piper darted over to the woman, crouching beside her. Long gashes marred her torso, a pool of blood collection beneath her. Piper reached for her neck, detecting a slight pulse beneath her fingertips. She palmed the woman’s chest, channeling her energy, but even as she increased her power, the woman’s soul slowly slipped away until nothing but an empty shell remained.

Pain ricocheted through her heart, the loss roiling her stomach. She looked at where the entity had disappeared, wondering what the hell she’d actually seen. Were there more of the creatures roaming about, or had her heightened senses played tricks on her? Made her see more than what had really been there?

Uncertainty welled in her chest. One thing was certain. She needed to report the incident which meant her troubles were just beginning.

 

That’s it for me. Please check out the other ladies joining in this week. If you’d like to read the bit that comes after, you can go here… otherwise…

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman

So I haven’t done a regular post in a bit. Just the flash fiction, but I’m jumping in this week, since it’s wordless Wednesday. This month… things that make me turn into the hulk.

When you haven’t driven your car for days and it was full when you parked it.

Sometimes, even when they smile it doesn’t change their status.

These posts… please stop, just stop…

Everyone says: ” if you need anything, don’t hesitate, I’ll be there for you”… So I’m going to make this bet, without being pessimistic, I wish “my friends” would put this on their wall. I want to know who I can count on… And I’m sure it will be less than 5. Copy and paste on your wall..that is all. Type “done” on this comment when you do it!

This one needs no explanation…

And this: IT’S NEVER HAPPY!

There are lots more, but not all translate into photos. Now hop on over and see what makes the rest of the gang turn green.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Kayleigh Jones

Paige Prince  |  Gwendolyn Cease

How is it time for another song fiction already? Has it really been a month since the cabin retreat already? No wonder I’m sad. I need another one. Now. Like, right now. How am I going to be able to wait another year?

Anyway, the song this month is SKY HIGH HONEY, by Matt Nathanson. I quite like Matt as a singer, though I wasn’t familiar with this song. I’ll like to it below. It’s the acoustic version. I honestly don’t know if there are other versions. Either way, it’s a great song. I only wish I knew what to write, lol. As always, I’m stumped. Which means…it’s going to be a chunk from one of my ongoing stories. In fact, I’m in the process of trying to finish the next angel book. Michael has been waiting for some time to get his story written, so…

Here’s the song should you want to listen and the resulting story. As it turns out, it’s not Michael or Greyson… The snippet would have jumped into the middle of their story and well… I just couldn’t do it. So, it’s a continuation of the last Promptly Penned with Devlyn and Ryker. If you want to read that, go HERE, or just jump right in. Never hurts to go with the flow.

“This has got to be some kind of cosmic joke. One I don’t find at all funny.”

Ryker Monroe sighed as he watched Devlyn trip her way across the room, finally bracing her weight against the far wall. He hadn’t missed the pain laced through her voice, he just wasn’t sure if it was because of her injuries, or his presence. He cursed under his breath. Of all the outcomes he’d considered when he’d walked back through Smither’s door, getting partnered with Devlyn hadn’t even crossed his mind. Hell, he’d double checked that she’d been sent off on some lame-ass babysitting detail for the night, if not the next twenty-four hours. The chances of her stumbling across him for the few hours he was going to be at the facility had been damn near zero.

Except for the part where she’d run into Slader and damn near got herself killed—again—before making a hasty retreat back. And the fucking stars had aligned, and she’d ended up assigned to his case. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Karma was finally getting her bitch slap back at him.

A tight feeling squeezed his chest when she swayed, connecting with the wall before drawing herself up. A new patch of blood stained her shirt, the increasing ragged edges roiling his stomach.

He marched over to her, stopping an arm’s length away. “You’re going to give yourself a damn concussion if you don’t sit your ass down. Unless, of course, you already have one.”

She gave him a mocking smile. “Don’t worry, Ryker, even seeing double I’ll be sure not to miss.”

“How comforting.” He nodded at her ribs. “You’re bleeding through.”

“I had to dive through the window to stop Slader from popping poor Ms. Evergreen in the head. Broken glass has a way of leaving a mark.” She grimaced, leaning her back against the wall. “The few rounds I went with Slader didn’t help much. Bastard hits hard.”

Ryker arched a brow, doing his best to ignore the tumbling sensation in his gut at the thought of the mother fucker touching his girl. Not that she was his anymore, but…

He palmed the wall beside her, leaning in slightly. “You let him land some punches? Sounds like you’re slipping, sweetheart.”

The glare she flashed him made him smile. There was something inherently hot about sparring with her. Hell, a good part of their relationship had involved one form of confrontation or another, though it’s also usually ended with one of them pinned to the wall, the loser using every trick to make them climax. And god knows, the woman could get him off faster than any other lover he’d ever had.

She crossed her arms over her chest, nearly tumbling sideways in the process. “My attention was somewhat divided seeing as Ms. Scaredy Pants kept trying to hit me with a damn frying pan from the kitchenette.” She locked her gaze on his. “And I assure you. Slader didn’t get out of there without leaving a fair amount of his DNA at the scene, too. Clipped him in shoulder, though I still owe him a few more rounds before I even things out.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go for the head shot, once he was injured.”

“I wanted to, but the damn chick wouldn’t stop trying to cold-cock me. By the time I knocked her out, the situation had worsened, and I chose to get her out of there, while I still had a chance. Didn’t stop Slader from emptying a mag into my car as I drove off.” She glanced at her boss over Ryker’s shoulder. “I’m expensing the repairs.”

Ryker tipped back his head, praying for divine intervention. Christ, the girl was more reckless than ever. “I’d hoped you’d gained a bit of…restraint after your last encounter with the man. You should have laid down some cover fire, grabbed the woman and high tailed it out of there without engaging him. How much blood did you lose?”

“I’m still standing, aren’t I? And if I hadn’t gone after the creep, Ms. Evergreen would be dead.”

“You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

“Didn’t think that mattered to you.”

He huffed. “Are we going to keep dancing around this or are you going to let me explain?”

“I can two-step all night.” She tried to push past him but only succeeded in tripping onto one knee.

Ryker lunged at her, catching her before she continued all the way to the floor.

She sagged against him, hissing out her next breath when he tried to help her up. “Don’t. Just…give me a minute.”

“I doubt twenty minutes would be enough.” He shuffled her, gently lifting her in his arms.

She stiffened, blinking a few times as she tried to scramble out of his hold. “Damn it, Ryker, put me down. I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not.” He tsked, tightening his grip. “Would you stop fighting me for one second? I promise you can ignore me all you want once you get some rest. Hell, I’ll wear my Kevlar vest, just to be sure, but for now…relax. You look like shit and the last thing we need is a trip to the hospital. Slader would be certain to capitalize on that, and I don’t need a damn shootout over at Mercy General.”

“How inconsiderate of me to bleed at a time like this.”

“Dev.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them away, finally settling. “Fine. Give me twelve hours. And I can walk.”

“Forty-eight and you won’t make it two two feet down the damn hallway before you pass out for good, this time.” He cut her off with a shake of his head as he headed for the door. “My car’s waiting. I’m taking you to a secure location until you don’t look like fucking Casper. Once you’re up to par, we’ll figure out how to stop this before every damn operative has a bullseye on their head and there aren’t any more safe havens.”

“Don’t think this changes anything. I’m gone the second this joint venture is over.”

He sighed, ignoring the stab of pain that followed her vow. “As you wish. But for now, we’re partners. Which means you don’t shoot me in the back the first chance you get.”

She flashed him a devilish smile. “Oh, baby, I’d use a knife, and I’d want to look you in the eyes when I stuck it through your cold, withered heart.”

“Now that’s the old Devlyn.”

He headed down the hallway, not surprised when she passed out before he’d even reached his car. He popped open the door, careful not to jostle her as he placed her on the seat. He reached around, holding back a moan when his arm brushed across her chest as he buckled her in. Now wasn’t the time to think about anything other than getting her somewhere safe.

He glanced at her shirt. The spot had gotten larger since Smither’s office. He cursed, taking a quick peek at the wound. Her ragged flesh peeked out between the line of Sterie Strips, blood still oozing down her flesh.

“Fuck!”

The woman never did take the time to properly bandage a wound. Damn lucky she hadn’t simply bled out on one of her assignments. He rounded the car, opening the trunk. He rummaged through his first aid kit, snagging some QuickClot, wrap and some gauze. She flinched when he poured the powder along the laceration, mumbling something he couldn’t make out before drifting off again. He shook his head, watching as the powder clumped the length of the wound, stopping the worst of the bleeding. Then he plastered on some gauze pads, wrapping them in place before taping the whole thing together. He stepped back, judging his handiwork before closing her door and sliding in the driver’s side. At least, she wouldn’t lose any more blood before he got her home.

A safehouse. Not home.

He didn’t have one of those, anymore. And he sure as hell didn’t share anything with her. He’d definitely burned that bridge. Hell, he’d blown the whole damn structure up. Conflicting emotions warred in his head as he started the car and drove off, heading steadily south. He flicked on the radio, cursing at the soft strum of the guitar as the singer’s voice echoed through the cabin. Great, just what he needed. A ‘leaving’ song. Like he needed a vocal reminder of how he’d screwed up. All the things he should have done differently.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, checking for lights. He wasn’t about to compromise with Devlyn’s safety, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to let her get hurt again. Not on his watch. She groaned in the seat beside him, frowning before she settled again. He reached for her, brushing her hair back from her face. Pale, soft skin skimmed across his knuckles as he tucked the locks behind her ear, giving him a view of her face. Christ, she was just as beautiful as he remembered. High cheekbones. Even features. Though her eyes had looked more green than the blue he remembered.

He drew his hand back, shifting gears as he hopped on the Interstate. Beautiful or not, there was no mistaking the toll her previous injuries had taken on her. On how her left shoulder didn’t move quite as smoothly as it had before she’d been shot. Or the obvious weight she’d lost, not that she’d ever been big, but…she’d been training. Hard.

Memories played in his head, all the reasons he’d decided not to see her once the agency had gotten him back fading into the soft sound of her snuffling beside him. He’d known she’d be angry, but this… Looks like she wasn’t the only one who’d paid a heavy price that night. And it all circled back to Slader. Bastard needed to be put down, and Ryker was more than happy to do the job, personally.

 

And that’s it for me. Please trot on off to the lovely Bronwyn Green and Jessica Jarman to see what they cooked up this week.

It’s time for another Promptly Penned. If you haven’t joined us before, everyone participating is given the same prompt, either a line to use or a situation, and we go from there. See all the different ways we can spin it. This month, it could sort of go either way. And I’ve been trying to come up with something—anything—to write. In the end, I have to continue a previous post. And this one will be pretty much a continuation, so you might want to check the first bit out HERE…. or if you’re adventurous, just jump right in.

The prompt…

Going the distance normally involved doing things that were either a) hard or b) dangerous, and at the moment she wasn’t really in the mood for either.

The story…

Partner.

Devlyn stared at Smithers—her damn boss and apparently the next man on her hit list—and felt the blood drain from her face. The scenery swam slightly, the pulse in her head thrumming loudly. She tried to inhale, but nothing made it past the way her throat had seemingly clenched shut, dimming her vision at the edges. Warmth spread up from her core and for a moment, she actually feared she’d pass out.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, the irritating sound pulling her back to her senses. She blinked, finally sucking in a quick breath as Ryker leaned in close, a frown marring the bastard’s handsome face. God, how many times had she stared at him, knowing she could spend the rest of her life studying the fine lines around his mouth or the unique shade of blue of his eyes? Wanting to tell him that somewhere between shadowing his ass and saving it, she’d fallen in love with him? That she’d willingly leave her old life behind if he’d agree to run with her. Find a way to have just a hint of a normal life.

But that had all ended when they’d unexpectedly gotten separated on their last mission together. She’d managed to draw the other operatives away from him and their mark but had gotten waylaid on a train platform—where she’d paid the price with half a dozen rounds to her shoulder and torso. If she hadn’t gotten insanely lucky and had three of the bullets ricochet off her ribs instead of continuing through…

And that’s the last she’d seen of him. She still didn’t know what had happened. Why he hadn’t rendezvoused with her on the platform, or at least at the hospital. She’d been in the same damn room for two weeks. But it wasn’t just the mission he’d disappeared from. It was everything. His job, their life together. Almost as if he’d simply stopped existing.

She’d called in every marker she’d had in an effort to find him, but all she’d unearthed were endless warnings to stop searching. That he was alive and well—but gone. Buggered off to another branch of Homeland Security known only as ‘the Agency’. An organization that apparently made her little undercover squad look like a bunch of kindergarteners out for recess.

And now, after an additional five months of working to put the pieces of her life back together—salvaging just a sliver of her heart from the shattered remnants he’d left along with his damn sweaters—the bastard had seemingly walked back into her life, with the full support of her boss.

Devlyn stood as she pushed a hand through her hair, wincing when the motion tugged against the strips holding her ragged flesh together. Just another reason to be pissed. Slader had been one of the bastards on the platform that night, and she’d sworn she’d take the creep down the next time she saw him. Kick his traitorous ass so hard there wouldn’t be enough of him left to identify. But instead of celebrating her victory, she’d been lucky to make it out of the hotel alive. Even now, her head throbbed in protest as every scrape and bruise seemed to come to life at the same time. Stealing her breath nearly as much as Ryker had.

She groaned. This had to be the most fucked up situation she’d encountered in a long time. And if what Smithers had said was right, the circumstances weren’t getting any better for the foreseeable future.

She huffed, motioning to Ryker. “Excuse me, but did you say partners? As in work with the one man I want dead more than Slader?”

Smithers sighed. “Sorry, Devlyn, but this is out of my hands. Ryker has a letter from the damn Secretary Chief, himself, instructing me to partner Ryker with whichever agent makes first contact with Slader. I honestly thought it was a damn prank until you told me about your run it. Looks like you drew the short straw on this one.”

“Short straw? This asshole leaves me for dead and you think working with him, again, is going to be a matter of inconvenience?”

Ryker cursed under his breath, stepping into her personal space. “Afraid it’s not so black and white, sweetheart.”

“I already told you to save it. There was a time I would have listened to what you had to say, but that ended about four months ago.” She waved off his attempted reply. “I don’t care what happened. If you got fucking abducted by aliens… You could have contacted me. Hell, sent me a damn text with a cliché lie attached to it. After everything we’d shared, you owed me far more than that.”

Smithers gave her a light pat on the shoulder. “While I’m sympathetic to your feelings, I’m afraid they aren’t part of the equation. Which means you’ll have to suck it up and go the distance, one way or another.”

She glared at the man. Going the distance normally involved doing things that were either a) hard or b) dangerous, and at the moment she wasn’t really in the mood for either. Not if they involved Ryker.

She gave them both a sweet smile as she took a few steps then turned. “Fine. Then I quit.” She headed for the door only to be stopped with a firm grip on her elbow.

Ryker spun her around, stopping her from falling with a hand around her hip. “You can’t quit.”

“Really? Pretty damn sure I just did.”

“That wasn’t you quitting. That was you throwing a tantrum.”

“A tantrum? You vanish from my life and you think this is a tantrum?” She leaned in close. “Trust me, baby…you haven’t seen anything close to that, yet. But if you’d like to have me kick your ass as compensation, just say the word.”

“Will that ass kicking happen before or after you pass out? Because I’d say you’re about two minutes away from kissing the floor.” He narrowed his gaze. “Just how bad did you get hurt?”

“Not nearly as bad as the last time I was in your company.”

His expression fell and he released her on a soft sigh. “If you think I wanted this…”

“Then find yourself someone else. Anyone else.”

“I would if I could but…now that Slader knows you’re on to him, you’ll be a target.”

“Knows I’m on to what?” She threw up one hand, nearly tripping onto her ass before catching her balance on the chair. “Would someone please just tell me what the hell is going on?”

Ryker released a weary breath. “The short answer? Armageddon. Turns out that thumb drive you brought back has absolutely nothing to do with money laundering. It’s just a ghost drive for the encrypted files underneath.”

“Files regarding what, exactly?”

“Every hidden strong hold, safe house—undercover operative we have—domestic and abroad all served up with a bow. And from what we’ve heard, that was only the first copy. Not the only one. And sure as shit not the last.”

 

And that’s it for me. Only Bronwyn Green is playing today, but hurry over and give her amazing story a read if you haven’t already.