I love this song. It’s epically sad, but it’s such a great song. And we get a taste of new country in the mix. I’m sure some of the other ladies are cringing, but… that’s the beauty of the song fic—you never know what you’re going to get as the motivation.
For this one, I’m diving into a prologue for the book I’m writing for the KW Brotherhood Protector series. Now that I’m into it, I kinda wanted my hero, Sam, to reveal a bit more about his time with the Army Ranger Battalion. So, here goes…
“Hey, jackass, you ready?”
First Lieutenant Samuel “Midnight” Montgomery grunted as his buddy punched him in the shoulder, nearly knocking his compass out of his hand. He fumbled with it, shoving the guy back once he’d clipped the unit onto his vest. “You are such a mother fucking pain in my ass, you know that, Grey?”
Grey laughed. “Fuck off. We both know you love me.”
“Yeah, like a freaking STD.”
He turned but grinned. Lieutenant Rick Samson—or “Grey” as everyone called him because of the white scruff of hair on his head, despite being twenty-nine—was a thorn in Sam’s side. And the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had. They’d been together from the start, and he couldn’t imagine a mission without the other jerk having his back.
“They’re called STIs now, you ass. Speaking of which…” He kicked at Sam’s ruck sack. “Did you pack your spare pair of boxers? We both know you’re gonna shit your pants on this one.”
“Got’em right beside your special cream.” He motioned to his buddy’s crotch. “Doesn’t look like it’s making anything bigger, though, bro.”
“Good.” Grey grabbed his junk. “Because if this gets any bigger, I’ll be splitting the ladies in half.”
Sam chuckled, checking his straps then closing his sack and tossing it over one shoulder. “I swear this shit gets heavier with every jump.”
“Just wait until you get the rest clipped on.” Grey’s smile faded as he pressed his lips together. “So…thirty big ones tonight.”
“Is there even air that high up?”
“That’s why we have oxygen tanks. But yeah, it’s kind of crazy. Can’t the plane avoid detection enough at twenty-five? Do you know how fucking cold it is at thirty-thousand feet?”
Grey rolled his eyes. “I know how cold it is. I was in the same briefings. Been doing the same training. It was a rhetorical question.”
“I just hope the intel’s worth it. The last couple of missions have been a bust.”
“On the plus side…two weeks off after this one. I say, we head to Vegas, grab us some pretty little college babes that think military guys are hot as fuck and do all those things we dream about.”
Sam grinned, moving in beside Grey as they headed for the plane. “You know half of what you want to do is illegal in most states, right?”
“Only if I get caught, brother.”
Sam gave the guy another shove. “Let’s just get through this mission, then you can brag about how you’re a master between the sheets.”
“You know, haters are just gonna hate…”
Grey just kept on talking, ribbing the other guys once they’d taken their seats. The easy banter helped pass the time until they were standing in front of the open door—wind eddying through the space, nothing by inky darkness beyond the doorway. Grey looked back at him, giving him a guarded nod, before moving forward. Just another minute, and they’d be out the door.
Sam steadied his breathing in the mask, frowning when Grey stumbled on his next step forward. He nudged his buddy, motioning to him. “You okay?”
Grey arched his brow. “Are you smoking something? Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s not like you to stumble.”
“These packs don’t exactly make walking easy.”
“Still…” He grabbed Grey this time. “Is your hand shaking?”
Grey tugged his arm free. “I’m fine, Sam. Done this a hundred times before.”
“Doesn’t matter. You know it’s different every time. Any one of us could have adverse effects to the altitude on any given mission.” He held up his hand. “How many fingers.”
“Would you stop it? I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. Now, let’s do this.”
Sam looked over to the PT tech going down the line, nodding at Grey. The man focused on his friend, checking his gear then rattling off some questions. He gave Grey a nod, then shifted over to Sam.
“Lieutenant Samson’s fine.”
Sam narrowed his gaze, watching Grey take another unsteady step. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. If you think…”
His words died beneath a series of shouts as their commander motioned for them to go. Grey shuffled forward as the men in front stepped out, disappearing into the clouds as Sam moved to the door. He clenched his jaw, hoping he’d only been imaging things, then jumped, inhaling at the sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body. There was a few moments of weightlessness then he was jerked upward, the force of the chute opening stealing his breath. Damn things packed a punch, and he knew he’d be sore for days after.
Sam gathered his bearings, using his night vision to pinpoint the rest of his team. He headed toward them as they sounded off, nothing but silence when Grey’s turn came. Same scanned the area, catching a glimpse of movement below him. A chutes billowed upwards, the tangled strings keeping it from properly deploying.
He hit the button on his headset. “Grey! You’re tangled. Release the main chute and deploy your backup. We’ll adjust our descent rate to meet up with you.” He waited, but Grey didn’t answer him. “Grey!”
A beep sounded in his ear. “I don’t see any movement, Midnight.”
“Shit. Okay, I’m releasing my main chute. I’ll head for Grey and we’ll tandem down. We’ll adjust the plan once I’ve got him.”
Sam muttered a curse then released his chute, dropping into free fall. He fanned his body out, then drew his arms together, increasing his speed as he angled toward his friend. He did his best to slow his descent as he neared the other man, hoping he didn’t hurt Grey when he grabbed him. Grey’s head was bowed to his chest, his body limp.
Sam opened his arms, catching the other man around the waist and propelling them forward. He grunted as the impact knocked their heads together, blurring his vision for a bit before he managed to shake it off. He released his friends chute, clipping them together before pulling his reserve. The material fluttered out behind him, once again jerking him up. Grey moaned, squirming against Sam’s hold.
“Easy. You’re suffering from hypoxia. Just…hold still.”
Grey mumbled something Sam couldn’t make out but relaxed. Sam talked to the others, doing his best to follow behind them. But the added weight altered their path enough he knew they wouldn’t make it to the landing zone.
The land rushed past, every minute drawing them closer to the ground. Sam cursed under his breath, doing his best to calculate their new arrival zone, when lights flashed from the ground.
His radio buzzed a second before one of his teammates sounded in his headset. “Incoming. Defensive manoeuvres.”
Sam angled them to the right, hoping to get clear, when bullets ripped through the canopy above him, dropping them toward the ground. He pulled on the ropes, slowing them as best he could. Jagged rocks rushed up toward him, the rocky landscape filling his view. He made one last attempt to veer clear before parts of the chute caught on an out jut, halting their descent and slamming them against the cliff. Pain ricocheted through his head, then the straps gave way and they fell.”
Sam jolted back, blinking against the wash of scenery until it stabilized. A young woman stood beside the booth, coffee pot in one hand, a slice of pie in the other. Lines creased her forehead as she stared at him, her fingers white-knuckled around the plate.
He glanced around the diner, the few people still in there looking over at him before turning away. Sam swallowed hard, nodding at the woman. “Sorry. I guess I dozed off.”
She gave him a timid smile. “You were talking. Calling for someone named Grey. I wasn’t sure…”
“It’s fine. I could use some more coffee, though. And is that my pie?”
“Sure.” She placed the plate in front of him as she refilled his mug. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, but it was obvious she didn’t quite believe him, as she wandered off, moving to another table.
Sam stared down at his hands, hating the way they shook as he took a swig of his drink. Six months and the damn dream still haunted him—used every opportunity to chip away at what little sanity he had left. And god knew he didn’t have any to spare.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, catching a hint of movement in the window beside him. He looked out, inhaling at the silhouette wavering by the lamp post next to his truck. A familiar set of eyes stared back at him, the ghosted echo of his name curling around him.
Sam closed his eyes. It wasn’t real. Just a figment of his imagination. A by-product of guilt and pain that manifested as the image of his dead team mate. He’d been told it would go away—fade like his buddy’s voice had faded from Sam’s memory. He just needed to be patient.
Sam stood, tossing some money on table before heading out into the snowy night. Another six hours and he’d be in Montana. The one place he swore he’d never go back to, and the only place that might save what was left of his soul. A new job, a new beginning. He only hoped there was enough of him left to save.
That’s it. I’m sure the other ladies have some amazing stories waiting for you.
Hey all, and welcome to another month of Promptly Penned. This month’s prompt is rather… unique, lol. I can see so many great ideas cropping up from this one. So… here’s the prompt and the resulting story… note, this month won’t have the actual prompt appear as a line in the story. It’s more of a setup.
While cleaning up the attic, he/she finds a box of glass balls with names on them. One drops and, as it shatters, a person appears.
“Call me crazy, Barry, but when you asked me out on a date, I pictured something more exciting.”
Barry Jamieson released a weary breath, glancing back at Michael, wondering if he’d just blown his only chance at a possible relationship with the one guy who’d had him tied in knots since the semester started. That after three months of awkward gatherings amidst friends, and one poorly executed invitation, Barry had given Michael the excuse he needed to walk out the door before Barry had done more than try not to trip over his tongue.
He shook his head, turning to face the dusty room. “I know, I know. This sucks ass, but… What was I supposed to do? My mom’s having a hard time dealing with…” He waved around the stuffy attic. “This. I know my grandma was old, but… I don’t think any of us ever truly pictured her dying. She just seemed so…” He exhaled again. “When she asked me to clean this out…”
A hand landed on shoulder before he was tugged against Michael’s chest, his other hand sliding around Barry’s waist to rest on his hip. “I’d have kicked your ass if you’d said no just so we could go watch a bunch of redneck boys smash cars with their monster trucks. Besides, maybe we’ll find some priceless antique in here, and then I can date you for your money instead of your body and the amazing sex we’re going to have…” He leaned in and breathed against Barry’s neck. “As soon as we’re done here.”
Barry’s breath lodged in his chest, making the room feel overly hot before he finally managed to drag in a lungful of air. He wet his lips, cursing under his breath when Michael released him, winking at him before walking over to one of the walls lined with boxes. Had the man really just said he not only wanted to date him, but that there would be sex? After Barry had cleaned out the attic?
Michael whistled, tapping on one of the boxes. “Wow. Your grandma sure did love odd things. Are those crystals hanging by the window?”
Barry laughed. “Crystals. Orbs. Little jars of eye of newt or something. If I believed in witches, I would have sworn she was one.”
“You don’t believe in the supernatural?”
Barry stopped a few feet away. “Do you?”
Michael shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve witnessed a few…odd things in my life. So, I consider myself open minded.”
Barry grinned, closing the distance between them. “Odd things?” He skimmed his fingers down the front of Michael’s shirt, toying with the fabric. “Like what?”
Michael glanced down at where Barry’s hands fisted his shirt, a hint of a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Just…things. Like having stuff move around. Hearing noises. Nothing earth shattering just odd—”
Barry tugged Michael against him, slanting his mouth over the other man’s and swallowing whatever else he was going to say. Spicy male mixed with coffee filled Barry’s senses, and he couldn’t stop from taking another step toward Michael, crushing the man’s hands against his chest when Michael grabbed Barry’s shirt.
Warm breath caressed Barry’s cheek, Michael’s heart strumming against Barry’s palm as he held Michael close, reluctant to release him. One touch, one fucking kiss, and it felt as if Michael had flipped a switch inside him.
Michael arched a brow. “I thought we had to clean the attic?”
Barry leaned in, brushing his lips across Michael’s. “We’ve got all day. Pretty damn sure we can make out for a bit, first, and still get it all done.” He smiled. “Unless you weren’t serious about dating me or having mind-blowing sex.”
“Mind blowing, huh? You’d just better hope you can live up to your hype because I’ve been imagining this for months.”
“Months? Then why didn’t you ask me out instead of waiting for me? Surely you knew I was interested?”
“Right, because you were all over me.”
“I was trying to determine if you even knew I existed. To be honest, no one was more surprised than I was when you said yes.”
Michael pulled Barry closer. “Then let’s make up for lost time.”
Michael crushed his lips to Barry’s, backing him against the row of boxes as he ate at Barry’s mouth, sliding one hand up to fist Barry’s hair as the other settled on the small of his back. Barry moaned into the kiss, trying to smooth his hands down Michael’s chest to grab the hem of the man’s shirt, when one of the boxes shifted behind him.
The movement threw off his balance, and he took a stumbling step toward the wall in an effort to remain upright, dragging Michael with him. The other man palmed the boxes, obviously trying not to fall onto the entire row, knocking the top one onto the floor. The impact billowed up a cloud of dust as the top flew open, scattering a number of glass balls across the floor.
Michael pulled back, cursing under his breath as he released Barry and turned, freezing when one of the balls hit a chair leg, stopping amidst the sound of breaking glass. “Shit, Barry, I’m≥”
The man’s voice trailed into a gasp as the ball broke, releasing a blinding flash of light. Barry grabbed his buddy, tugging him back then behind him as Barry took a step forward, squinting against the glare. The light seemed to gather strength, melding into a bright blue before finally winking out, leaving the room dimmer than before.
Barry waved his hand to disperse the lingering bits of dust, blinking in an attempt to focus before his breath lodged tight in his chest. Michael mumbled something that sounded like, “holy shit,” but it got lost to the frantic pounding of Barry’s pulse in his head. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if this whole interaction was nothing more than a vivid dream when Michael slapped him on the chest.
“For the love of God, Barry, tell me you see the guy standing on the other side of the attic. Because if it’s just me…”
Barry shook his head, still trying to find his voice. “I…I…”
“Yeah. That.” Michael bent over, retrieving another glass ball off the floor. He held it out in front of them, a series of black letters stamped across the surface. “This one says Derek. What the hell does that mean?”
“I… Christ.” He took a step forward, stopping when the man turned, their gazes clashing. Barry inhaled, trying to keep his mouth from gaping open. “You. I know you. You’re in the photo albums. You’re…”
Michael slapped him, again. “Finish the damn sentence. Who the fuck is he?”
Barry looked at his buddy, wishing they could go back to kissing because this… He shook his head. “His name’s Jason. And I think he’s my father.”
And that’s it for me. At least this week wasn’t 4000 words 🙂 Please check out the other tales this week…
Time for another music-inspired story. This month the song is Criminals, by Ms. Mr. I’ve never heard of this band or this song, so… it’s a new one for me. The song video, if you’d like to give the song a listen, is right below. I’ll admit. It’s an odd video, but… she has a nice voice. Though I do kind of feel as if I’m back in the 70s, lol. They had some weird ones back then, too.
For this one, I’m going to jump a bit into a story that’s in my head, but some of the important details are missing, lol. But… the recurring lyrics from the song… “do you want a way out” seems to fit perfectly. You can read the very rough beginning I wrote as another flash fiction, here… but this is jumping to the present and what’s looking like a potential joint case between my estranged couple.
Now… some preamble. First… this is a long, long one. I couldn’t help it. It’s a full chapter length, but it just kept coming. I looked for a place to cut it off, but… I decided, you can decide if you want to read it or not. It’s about 4000 words. I know. I really know.. so, your choice.
Having said that, I’m really looking forward to writing Maddison’s and Rhett’s story.
Rhett Grier pulled into the gravel parking lot, glancing at the neon sign blinking on the post—The Red Pony. He sighed. It was the fifth pub he’d checked tonight, and the last bar he’d pictured her in. It had always been his place, full of cowboys and country bands, with couples two-stepping on the worn wooden floor. She’d always made a point of rolling her eyes whenever he’d taken her there. Why she’d come here of all places…
The voice in his head laughed at him. Rhett knew exactly why she’d chosen his bar as her escape. She’d figured it would be the last place he’d ever suspect her to go, and the one spot where she might be safe from another encounter. Of course, she had no idea how desperate he was. He just wasn’t sure if it was the case or them that he wanted to talk about. Not that she’d talk to him about either.
He rubbed his cheek. His jaw still ached where she’d punched him, and he knew he’d have a bruise on his hip from impacting the floor in her boss’ office. While he knew their impromptu meeting wouldn’t go over well, he really hadn’t thought she’d hit him. Not like that. Damn, she packed a hell of a wallop for someone her size. And he hadn’t missed how much weight she’d lost.
He grunted under his breath. She’d always been stunning in his eyes, and had been athletic and fit before they’d separated. But having not seen her in nearly six months, he’d had to force himself not to stare at her with his mouth hanging open as he’d taken in her new look—one he wasn’t sure he was happy with. While she still have enough curves to prove she was all woman, there was a leanness about her he found unnerving. As if she’d gone to extreme lengths to become someone else. Someone who looked every inch the hardcore federal agent he’d been told she’d become—only more.
He’d been keeping tabs on her through friends, and he’d been more than concerned regarding her apparent lack of self preservation—taking high risk missions at every turn. Which explained the hours she’d obviously been spending running and in the gym. Though she’d been fully dressed, he had no doubt about the firm line of muscles that lurked beneath her clothes, and he’d bet his ass she had more of a six-pack than he did.
He chuckled. Not more than him. He’d been working out hard, too. But in an effort to keep his mind off of losing her. But he wasn’t sure her motivations had been the same, and it killed a part of him to think that she hadn’t seen herself as good enough, before. That maybe her obsession had stemmed from the anxiety of having to find another guy to take Rhett’s place. That no one else could have loved her the way she’d been. Which was insane, seeing as she’d always been the most beautiful woman in the room. Hell, the state. Now…now she seemed as if she didn’t even care whether anyone ever gave her a second look. And he knew men did. They’d have to be blind, not to.
A hand connected with his shoulder, and he turned to look at his partner. Carole frowned, glancing at the seedy looking bar.
“Really, Rhett? You think Maddison came here?”
“What’s wrong with this place?”
“Do you want the list numerically or alphabetically?” She snorted. “It’s just…it looks more like a place you’d go. Your ex seems far more…sophisticated.”
“Maddy’s not my ex. We’re not divorced, yet.”
Carole held up her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“And besides, that’s her Jeep.”
Carole glanced at the red Wrangler parked off to their left. “Funny, I didn’t picture as the Wrangler type, either. She’s definitely got BMW or Mercedes written all over her.” She grabbed his wrist as he opened his door. “We don’t have to do this tonight. Don’t you think it might be better to give her some more time to cool off? I’m not sure we want a repeat of her display in the office. Not here.”
“If time was a luxury we had, I’d agree. But that race starts in a few days, and if we aren’t on the docket as an official team, we’re finished. And it’ll be another full year before we get a chance to stop this before it goes too far. God only knows what might happen as a result of the information that will be passed during that week.” He shook his head. “We need to stop this. Now.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. I’m just not sure your ex—Maddison is going to agree. She seemed pretty upset.”
Of course, she’d been upset. Rhett hadn’t realized until she’d dumped him on his ass then stormed out that she thought he was the father of Carole’s unborn child. That he’d been having an affair during their last few months together. A fact which pissed him off more than anything else. How she thought he could ever hurt her that way—that he hadn’t loved her—burned hotter than having her walk out.
“It’s my job to make her listen. Maddy’s a lot of things, but she’s also dedicated to her job. To the oath she made to serve and protect. Once she realizes how many lives are on the line—how bad this could turn out if we don’t stop it—she’ll come on board.”
“If you say so. I guess it’s your jaw on the line.”
Rhett glared at her smug smile. The woman seemed to be enjoying his humiliation a bit too much. “Just, don’t get in the way of her fists. Or her legs. She’s got a hell of a reach.”
Rhett ignored the jib, taking a deep breath as he got out of the car and shut the door. The heady whine of a steel guitar carried across the parking lot, accompanied by echoed shouts and whistles. He smiled, the familiar sounds comforting as he headed for the door. He didn’t waste time searching for her, confident he’d find her at their old table near the window off to the left.
Carole tugged on his sleeve before he had a chance to move. “I’ll meet up with you in a minute. I have to use the ladies’ room.”
“Remind me never to get pregnant. I swear you’re in the washroom more time than you’re out of it.”
“I hardly think that’s something you have to worry about. Just remember to be nice to the woman who agrees to have your kids.”
He nodded, unable to reply. He’d always thought Maddison would be the mother of his children—had pictured her pregnant more times than he wanted to admit to—but those dreams had walked out the door with her. And he couldn’t see himself ever trusting another woman enough to get that serious. He’d known from the start that Maddison was the other half of his soul. If he couldn’t make marriage work with her, he knew he’d be doomed to spend his life alone, with only occasional one-night stand to curb the itch.
Pain tightened his chest as he wove through the throng of cowboys and country girls, catching sight of Maddy’s partner, Tyler, in Rhett’s usual seat. The guy was nursing a bottle of beer, absenting picking at the label when his gaze locked with Rhett’s.
Tyler’s eyes widened a moment before he huffed, palming the table as he rose to his feet. “Jesus Christ, Rhett. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Great to see you, too, Ty. What’s it been, six months?”
“Eight, you dick, and you know what I mean. Maddy’ll be back any minute, and the last thing we need is a scene.”
“I didn’t come here to fight. But since she wouldn’t listen to me in Bart’s office this afternoon, I had no other choice but to track her down.”
“You know what she’s like. And I can assure you she hasn’t come close to cooling off where you’re concerned. Fuck, this is the first time she’s asked me to go drinking since she came back after you two…” He sighed. “Why don’t you just let it go and try again tomorrow?”
“Because I don’t have any tomorrow’s left. Do you really think I’d be here if it wasn’t life or death? I know how she feels. She made it painfully obvious when she walked out.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed as a light flush colored his cheeks. “She walked out? You’re blaming her for your fucked up situation? That’s rich, buddy, even for you.”
Rhett frowned, stepping closer when footsteps sounded behind him. He turned, his gaze clashing with Maddison’s as she sauntered back from the bar, two beers clasped in her hands. She stopped a few feet away, mouth half open as is she’d been about to say something, eyes impossibly wide. Some of the color drained from her face before she drew herself up and closed the last bit of distance between her and the table.
She placed one beer in front of Tyler, taking a long pull of the other before facing Rhett. “And here I thought our awkward meetings were over.”
Rhett steeled his resolve, doing his best not to focus on how her jeans hung low on her hips or that he could see a hint of her ribs beneath the hem of her crop top. He didn’t know if he was upset by how lean she’d gotten, or aroused by the flex of muscles beneath her skin. “If you’d behaved like an adult earlier, I wouldn’t have had to track you down.”
She snorted, taking another long drink. “If you don’t like my work ethics, feel free to bugger off.”
“That wasn’t you doing your job. That was you throwing a tantrum.”
Maddison’s eyes rounded, then narrowed, as a flush raced along her cheeks, down her neck and across her upper chest. “A tantrum? You bring your pregnant partner to my boss’ office, flaunt her in front of my face, then ask me to be part of a joint investigation, and you think me dumping you on your ass was a tantrum?” She slammed the bottle on the table then palmed the surface. “Trust me, baby. You haven’t seen anything close to a tantrum, yet.”
A gasp lit the air behind them, and Maddison turned to stare at Carole. Damn, Rhett had forgotten she’d been using the washroom, and he didn’t want her to get caught in the crossfire. Not that he thought Maddy would intentionally hurt her, he just wasn’t sure Carole would know when to back down.
Carole glanced at him, then back at Maddison. “Oh my god. You think Rhett’s the father, don’t you?”
The muscle in Maddison’s jaw jumped before she took a step to the side. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I already told you I wasn’t interested. So you can both leave, now.”
“He’s not.” Carole reached into her purse and removed her wallet. She pulled out a photo then held it in front of Maddison. “This is Rick. He’s a flight service specialist close to the ranger station we’ve been stationed at. We’ve been dating for about a year, now.” She smiled as she rubbed her slightly rounded belly with her other hand, though Rhett didn’t think she was even conscious of it. “We hadn’t planned on starting a family just, yet, but…” She giggled. “We’re happy.”
Carole extended her hand. “See? We’re engaged.”
Maddison glanced at the diamond sparkling in the bright lights. “I don’t recall seeing that on your finger this afternoon.”
“I’ve been having some issues—retaining water, and some other problems. I don’t often wear it in case I can’t get it off. But, I missed the comforting weight of it, so…” She met Maddison’s gaze. “Rhett and I are just partners. That’s all we’ve ever been. I swear.”
Maddison slid him a quick look, then motioned to the chair beside Tyler. “You should sit down.”
Carole focused on Rhett, slowly making her way to the chair when he nodded.
He waited until she was seated before continuing. “Like I was saying…we need to talk.”
“Talk?” Maddison thumbed her beer. “Funny, but I’m not really in the mood. I came here to drink, so unless you’re buying the next round…”
He watched her down half of the bottle in her next gulp. “I didn’t know you drank that much.”
Maddy arched her brow, finishing off the last of the beer. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Heat burned beneath his skin as he inched closer to her. “All this time and you want to have it out in a bar? Fine. Let’s have it out.”
Maddison glared at him, looking as if she was going to start a fight, after all, when some redneck cowboy shouldered up beside her, smoothing one hand down her waist to settle on the curve of her ass.
He leaned in close. “Hey there, pretty mama. How about you and I take a twirl on the dance floor? Then maybe we can go somewhere and get to know each other better.”
Maddison’s mouth pinched tight as she turned to face him, glancing at where his fingers rested on her butt, then up to his face. She arched a brow, knocking his hand off her body. “What part of my persona suggests I’m the least bit interested in getting hit on, let alone going home with you for some lousy sex?”
He chuckled, palming her ass, again. “Feisty. I like that. Bet you’ll be just as wild in the sack.”
The pink hue on her cheeks deepened. “Get. Lost.”
“Just as soon as you give me a dance.”
Rhett lunged forward, fisting the guy’s shirt and lifting his feet off the floor before shoving him roughly back. He waited until the jerk caught his balance on the table before grabbing him, again, and drawing him in close. Rhett’s breath ruffled the guy’s shirt collar as he glared down at him. “You touch my wife’s ass one more time and I’ll break your arm then shove it up your ass.” He exhaled, leaning in even closer. “And then I’ll get nasty.”
The guy tripped backward when Rhett pushed him away, looking from Maddison back to Rhett. “Wife?” He took another hurried step back at Rhett’s grunt. “Hey, she’s not worth getting arrested over. You can have her.”
He stumbled his way through the crowd, disappearing out the door.
Maddison groaned, swatting him in the shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
Rhett arched a brow. “That, sweetheart, was me keeping you from getting pawed, again. Jesus, you toss me on the floor just for showing up, but you let some drunk cowboy grab your ass? Twice? And you do nothing?”
She moved closer, getting up into his personal space. “I’m a federal agent. I can’t go around punching every jerk who thinks he can manhandle me. But I had it completely under control.”
He did his best not to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume, but it wove through his senses until he knew he’d still smell it long after they’d parted ways. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d never stopped smelling it.
Tyler appeared beside them, gently pushing them apart. “Easy, you two. The last thing we need is more of a scene. So…neutral corners.”
Maddison stared at her partner, chest heaving, hands twitching at her sides before she backed away. She kicked out her chair then sank into it, thumbing her empty bottle. “What do you want, Rhett?”
Rhett nodded his thanks to Tyler, taking the seat across from her as Tyler returned to his on the other side of Carole. “I need your help.”
She laughed, still tracing the outline of the label with her fingers. “Six months we’ve been apart and suddenly, now, you need my help?”
“I wasn’t the one who left. And it’s not like I didn’t try to get in touch with you. I called. I texted. Every damn day until after three months of trying, I got your message. So don’t put this on all me, sweetheart. You could have at least had the decency to answer one of them. Told me to fuck off to my face. I think I deserved that.”
“You deserved?” Tears gathered in her eyes, a few slipping free before she sprang to her feet, blinking the rest away. “I think I deserved to have you show up!”
She looked away, visibly drawing in three shuddering breaths before facing him again. She shoved her hand into her pocket and tossed a twenty on the table. “Turns out I’m not thirsty, anymore.”
She spun, gasping when Rhett reached for her, circling her wrist and twisting her to face him.
He moved in close, torn between wanting to shake some sense into her and needing to hold her. Seeing her fighting back tears had hit him hard in the gut. She’d never been one to cry, and knowing his presence at pushed her that far…
He tried to gentle his grip, reminding himself to speak softly. “I didn’t come here to fight. I really just need you to listen. Please, Maddison. I think you know that I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t upset you like this, if it wasn’t important. Life and death, important. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
She stared at where he held her arm, looking more lost than before. More tears pooled in her eyes, making the blue seem lighter than usual. Her other hand shook as she reached for him, brushing against his arm before using her fingers to loosen his grip enough to slip her hand free. She stayed poised like that for another few moments then pulled her hands back as she retreated a couple of steps. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
Maddison turned, taking two hurried steps away before stopping. Her back stiffened then shook as she turned, looking directly into his eyes. “Do you want to know why I never returned any of your texts? Why I never answered the damn phone calls?” She took a single step back toward him, wincing when a few more tears slipped free. “Because I thought that if you really cared—if you were at all serious about getting me to change my mind. If you thought I was worth a minute of your fucking time, you’d pay me a visit…in person. Beg. Shout. Demand I take you back. Something to show me I’d been wrong. That I’d acted impulsively. That maybe, just maybe, we still had a chance.” She snorted, wiping at the next wash down her cheeks. “How poetic that it took a case to get you to knock on my door.”
She grimaced, wrapping her arms around her as if they were a shield then nodded at Tyler. “Thanks for the beers.” She glanced at Rhett over her shoulder once she’d turned, again. “Good luck with the case.”
Rhett watched her escape, colliding with a few patrons as she raced for the door, quickly vanishing into the night. He took a moment to process what she’d said then fisted his hands. If she thought this was over…
Tyler cupped his shoulder as he took a step forward, stopping Rhett from getting more than a foot toward the exit. “Rhett. Don’t.”
Rhett turned, glaring at his friend. “Don’t? Maddison’s the one who keeps running. And if she thinks this is close to being finished…”
“She’s hurt. And angry. And embarrassed. You know better than anyone, she’s not going to listen to anything you have to say. Not right now. Let her calm down. Gather back some of her dignity. She’s already pissed at you. Crying in front of you like that…fuck, she’s going to be seeing red for hours.”
“I don’t have time for her to calm down, Ty. I wish I did.”
Tyler raked his hand through his hair, glancing over at Carole, who looked more than a bit pale. “If you go after her, you’ll only make it worse.”
“Story of my life where she’s concerned.”
Tyler cursed behind him as Rhett made for the door. He turned right, heading for her Jeep. Maddison was bent over beside the driver’s side, looking as if she was trying not to puke. The sight made him stumble a step, kicking up a boot full of dust. He must have grunted because she snapped her head up, staring at him with panic-stricken eyes.
She straightened, yanking open the door then sliding in behind the wheel. The engine growled as she turned it over, nearly taking off before he had a chance to grab ahold of her arm through the open window.
He leaned in. “I need to talk to you.”
Her chin quivered. “I already told you. I’m not interested.”
“I know you’re upset. I get that, but… Damn it Maddison, this is important.”
She took a deep breath then looked at him. “I thought our marriage was important, but apparently, I was wrong.”
Guilt punched him in the gut, but he did his best not to show it. “You can yell all you want. I’ll take it. Just, please…don’t walk away without hearing me out.”
She pursed her lips, obviously trying not to cry, again. “I’m sorry, I…”
She looked away, hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel.
He sighed, shoving his hand in his pocket until he felt the thumb drive beneath his fingers. He held it out to her. “If you won’t talk to me, then at least have a look. If after reading through all this, you still think it’s not worth your time—that the lives at stake aren’t worth you having to work with me—I’ll leave. No arguments. No trying to convince you otherwise. Just please look at the file.”
Her shoulders hunched, and for a moment, he thought she’d simply rev the engine and take off, until her head bowed forward, a hushed sob barely reaching him. She closed her eyes, holding out one hand. He placed the small unit in her palm, wishing she’d look at him.
Maddison closed her fist around the drive, finally glancing sideways at him. “I won’t make any promises.”
Rhett nodded, releasing his hold then backing up. “I’ll be in Bart’s office tomorrow morning—ten o’clock. If you want to discuss anything on there, you know where to find me.”
She stared down at her closed hand then popped the clutch and took off, leaving him in a cloud of choking dust. He watched the taillights slowly fade into the distance until they eventually winked out. Another shot of guilt soured his stomach, the soft sound of her anguished sob replaying in his mind. He’d never seen her that upset. Had assumed she’d been happy since leaving him. Thinking that it might have hurt her as much as it had gutted him had never crossed his mind. Not when she’d refused to answer his calls.
If you thought I was worth a minute of your fucking time, you’d pay me a visit…in person.
Had she really been waiting for him to knock on her door? After everything that had happened, he’d just assumed… He cursed under his breath, heading back to the bar. He’d obviously assumed wrong, and that one final mistake might be the one reason he failed the most important mission he’d ever stumbled across. And the reason he’d lost the only woman he’d ever love.
If you hung around and made it to the end, you can go check out the other two ladies jumping in today. And thanks for going the distance.
Looks like it’s time for another promptly penned. Warning, Will Robinson… I might change this one to third person, though I can probably make it work as dialogue. Anyway, here’s the prompt and the story…and it’s actually a short one. Woot woot.
They say I’m a traitor. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do.
“We’re gathered here today to pay our respects to Daniel Holt.”
The preacher’s words droned on, the monotone voice blending into the steady patter of rain against the umbrellas, as the crowd stood in silence around the closed casket. Grey fog swirled amidst the headstones, small tendrils creeping through the rows of people like ghostly fingers. Isabel stood several feet back from the last row, wanting to venture closer, but aware she wouldn’t be welcomed.
The thought made her sigh. Of course, she wouldn’t be welcomed. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she’d even agreed to come. To say it was a colossal mistake was an understatement. She’d half expected the others to protest the moment she stepped out of her car, but all she’d gotten were sullen glances—whispered voices as family, friends, and co-workers walked past her.
Not that she blamed them. Parker Stevens had been her partner. Had been the closest thing she’d had to family for the past seven years. Knowing he was the one who’d pulled the trigger—had killed his fellow agent in what appeared to be cold blood—had put her on the wrong side of the investigation. Standing there… It was an open invitation for Holt’s family—hell, for the entire Bureau—to question her loyalty. To question her honour.
She wrapped one arm around her chest, shivering when a gust of wind whipped icy drops across her face. This had to be a mistake. A nightmare she needed to wake up from. She’d examined it from every direction. Had spent endless nights going over every piece of evidence, including the video from the interrogation room—she’d watched it frame-by-frame so many times it played on in her mind when she closed her eyes. But despite the overwhelming proof, Izzy just couldn’t shake that things weren’t what they seemed. That Parker hadn’t killed Daniel because he’d been bought. That there were deeper motivations at work—ones where the man she’d fallen for wasn’t a spy and a murderer.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Izzy turned, staring at the man beside her, the collar from his black trench coat hiding his face. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t turn, his attention fixed on the casket. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think Agent Stevens betrayed his people. His country. Would have thought you’d sit the funeral out.”
“An agent is dead. Regardless of the circumstances, that’s cause to pay one’s respects.”
“Is that why you’re packing?”
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she slid her hand beneath her coat, grazing it across his gun. She hadn’t planned on bringing it but she’d felt naked without it. Or had she been worried she’d have to defend herself? She drew herself up. She’d checked her appearance in the mirror a dozen times to make sure no one could tell.”Do I know you?”
The man chuckled, drawing a deep breath before turning to stare at her. Dark eyes held her gaze, the familiar curve of his chin nearly taking her to her knees. His hair had been dyed nearly black, and his thick beard hid the scar along the left side of his cheek. “Better than anyone else ever has. And I know you.”
She took a step back, one hand instinctively covering her mouth as she willed herself not to scream. Panic cooled her skin, dropping her stomach into her boots. She scanned the grounds, but everyone’s gaze seemed focused on the preacher, his voice still blending with the rain. Words collided inside her head, but all she managed to do was whisper Parker’s name.
Parker smiled as he closed the distance between them, pressing his body against hers as he slipped his hand into her pocket. His mouth grazed the shell of her ear, sending another round of shivers coursing down her spine. “You’re the only one I trust. If you care for me half as much as I love you, you’ll have my back.”
She looked up at him, but he walked away, quickly disappearing into the dense fog. She wet her lip as she pulled the folded note out of her pocket, scanning the crowd, again, before slowly opening it. Parker’s distinctive scrawl glared up at her, the black ink smudging beneath the raindrops.
They say I’m a traitor. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do. But not for myself. Your life’s in danger. Trust no one. I need you, Izzy. If you have even a hint of love left for me, you’ll meet me where it all started. Tonight. Midnight.
Isabel glanced over her shoulder, searching the fog, but nothing moved. She folded the paper and shoved it down her back pant pocket, then gradually distanced herself until she’d reached her car. Her heart thundered in her chest as she slid behind the wheel, wondering what move to make next. Parker’s face wavered inside her mind, refusing to vanish.
The engine growled as she started the vehicle then pulled into the lane. Danger or not, she needed to know what the hell was going on. And there was only one person who had the answers.
And that’s it for me. Go and enjoy the other ladies participating this week…
NO!!!!! How is summer break over already? I can’t believe it. The days are getting shorter and soon…rain, rain and more rain. While I don’t mind the cooler temperatures it’s the darkness. I love having it stay light until damn near midnight, lol.
Oh, well, moving on. It’s picture flash fiction. This isn’t directly tied to any other story, but a fave character is going to pop in at the end. So here’s the photo and the story…
17241577 – color shot of a vintage car in a forest
Sunlight streamed through the trees as Trina wove her way along the trail, listening to the trees rustle from the light breeze. Flecks of colour dotted the landscape as brittle leaves fell to the ground, turning the lush green into a sea of reds and yellows. She smiled, stopping to pick up a perfectly formed maple leaf before taking the next branch. It turned back on itself, gently sloping down to the road where she’d parked her car.
It was later than she’d thought, the weave of trees and bushes hiding the low dip of the sun as it kissed the horizon. Though, hadn’t the sun just been overhead? She looked up the road, frowning when the scenery flickered—making the area look like the image on an old television as the signal stopped and started randomly. It hung for a moment, half her car fading into black. And was her headlight on?
She rubbed her eyes, relaxing when the surroundings took shape, nothing remotely unusual about the reflection of the trees on her windshield or the way the road stretched out in both directions, boarded by and endless forest. The gold leaves shone in the waning light as she opened the door and climbed in. The engine purred to life, calming any residual nervousness as she pulled out from the side and headed north.
Music played in the background—an old rock tune from the eighties—as she followed the twisting road toward her grandparent’s cottage. God she loved this place. Had since her parents had brought her here as a child. She only wished she had more time—that this mini vacation would stretch on forever.
Static cut through the song, the loud blast making her jump. Trina cursed as she drifted too close to the side, kicking up a billow of dust and leaves. Another few inches and she could have lost control if the tire had caught in the soft shoulder.
Trina tightened her grip on the steering wheel, squinting when the next corner filled her windshield with sunlight, instantly blinding her. She reached for the shade, yanking on it in an attempt to shove it off to one side.
“Damn it, move!”
It snapped free just as movement flashed through the light. She stared back at the street, screaming when she hit the woman riding her bike along the edge of the road, knocking her into the ditch. The bike flipped over her limp body, gathering in a mangled heap on the edge of a small embankment.
Panic dropped her stomach and quickened her breath as she pulled her Volkswagen over, leaving it running before running back to the injured woman. Blood matted her hair, a small pool already collecting on the dirt and gravel beneath her. Trina lightly touched the woman’s shoulder, pulling her hand back when the body twitched.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
She reached into her pocket, slipping her phone into her hand. She unlocked the screen the clicked on the phone, staring at the keypad—the numbers overly bright in the dull light. She needed to call 911, even if the woman looked dead. But then she’d have to tell them what happened—the part where she’d basically murdered the woman.
Trina shook her head. It had been an accident. The sun blinding her—she hadn’t seen the woman until it was too late. Trina glanced up the road, noting the rut from her tire in the dirt long before she’d collided with the biker. Had she driven off the road again when she’d been trying to move the shade?
Fear roiled through her. No. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t go to jail. She had her whole life ahead of her. It wasn’t fair that she was supposed to toss it away because of an incident that wasn’t even her fault?
She shoved her phone back in her pocket, then stood, quickly moving over to the bike. The back tire spun at a crocked angle as she lifted the twisted metal and tossed it over the embankment. Branches snapped as it hit the trees, disappearing beneath the leaves and brush. She returned to the woman, testing her responsiveness with a poke of her finger.
Trina scooted to the woman’s feet and grabbed her shoes, dragging her toward the edge before dropping her legs. They fell over the lip, one shoe slipping off and tumbling into the brush. Trina wiped off her hands, grabbing one of the woman’s arms. A mumbled groan drifted along the breeze, but Trina ignored it. She deserved a future. She’d always done everything right. Why should she have to lose everything for one, tiny mistake?
She tugged the body to the edge, giving it a shove once she’d reached the embankment. The woman slid over the lip, sliding into the greenery at the bottom, then vanishing. A numbing haze settled over Trina as she kicked dirt over the pool of blood, leaving nothing but a collection of footprints behind. Then she jumped back in her car and drove off.
Sweat beaded along her brow, slicking her hand on the steering wheel. She tried to calm the pounding of her heart as she continued along the road, refusing to look in her rear-view. After hiking around in the hot sun all day, she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d imagined the whole thing. Just a brief daydream as she drove along the deserted highway. In fact, she felt fairly certain none of it had been real.
The sun blinded her, again, as she took the next corner, turning the view beyond the windshield into pure white light. She tried to cover her eyes, finally blinking through the glare in time to see the railing looming in front of her. She twisted the wheel, but her tires caught in the dirt and she careened over the edge, nothing but the roar of the engine sounding in the darkness.
Trina gasped, opening her eyes as she stood on the sunlight path, the speckled shadows of the leaves making funny patterns on the trail. She ran her hands over her chest as she scanned the area, the memory of the crash slowly fading until she wasn’t quite sure if it had even happened. Squirrels chirped as she made her way back to her car, staring at it parked up the road. Had she left the head lights on?
She shook her head, walking toward it when she noticed a tall, dark-haired man leaning against one of the trees on the far side. He smiled as she stopped at the driver’s side, opening the door then twisting back to face him. Whiskey coloured eyes assessed her every move, the man’s even features accentuating his beauty.
She tilted her head to the side, admiring the way his muscles bunched beneath his clothes. “I’m sorry, but…do I know you?”
The man smiled, and her stomach fluttered. God he was breath-taking. “I don’t believe we’ve ever formally met.”
“You just looked…familiar.”
“I get that a lot. Some people say I look a lot like my older brother, Michael. That I’m the darker version of him.”
“Oh.” She frowned, not sure how to respond. “Do you live around here?”
“I…oversee the area. Ensure things run smoothly.”
“So, you’re a ranger?”
“Something like that. I’m definitely the law.”
“I see.” She shivered as a flash of red gleamed in his eyes before fading. “Well, have a good day.” She gave him a nod then turned, fiddling with her keys as she tried to unlock the door.
“Thank you. Drive safe. It’d be a shame to crash on such a nice day.”
She froze at the words, spinning around, again, but he’d disappeared. Snippets of memory played in her head, each frame more ghostly than the last until nothing remained but the remembered image of his eyes. Unease prickled along her skin, but she shoved it away, finally slipping behind the wheel again. He was probably another nutcase.
Why are all the handsome ones crazy?
She laughed, starting the engine then driving away. She’d take the long way home—the road that wound through the hills. One last trip before heading back. If only this day could last…forever.
And that’s it for me. Sorry this one turned out to be pretty long. In my head it was super short. now go visit the others playing along today…
Please tell me at least a few of you continued on with the song from Tangled. Because I love love love that movie. So, for those of you who are a bit obsessive like me, here it is…
Okay back to the post. This week’s topic is Writing dreams and aspirations.
And I assume we’re talking beyond the obvious… be incredibly famous, make millions of dollars and win endless awards dream…
Okay, so what would I like to accomplish? I’d really love to have a series or a book go bigger than they do. I’m not talking millions of copies, but… I guess I sometimes don’t feel like I’ve ‘made it’, ya know? As if there’s a certain minimum level of recognition or distribution that has to be met before people stop considering what I do a ‘hobby’. Yes, I’m rolling my eyes. You know the type… because you work from home it’s not REAL WORK. Despite the fact I spend hours upon hours doing this NON WORK.
Unfortunately, I’m not sure I know what this magical level is that would make me feel as if I’d truly made it as an author. Maybe it’s a traditional publishing contract. Maybe it’s hitting a list. Maybe it’s just finally feeling completely in control of my career—a path I’m taking steps on. I recently regained the rights to the majority of my books, so getting them back out there under my own terms feels like a step in the right direction. But I still feel as if I have a long way to go. Like understanding marketing. I keep trying but then epically fail. Every. Time. And it’s hard to get your book in front of new readers if you’re not getting the word out. I just wish I knew how to do this…
As for other dreams… I sometimes dream about having my own actual publishing company. Something far beyond self-publishing and one that authors could trust and actually want to publish with. Though, in these days of questionable companies, I think convincing folks you’re honest might be the ultimate challenge. We’ve all been burned… I waffle on this a lot. Not just because of what it would take to get it going but because I know it would end up being so much work. Far more than I’m probably aware of… and I’d end up just wanting to write, again.
And if I’m going to be perfectly honest here, I’d love to have a book be turned into a movie. (maybe more than one, lol) Of course, I’d probably have issues with who was picked to star in them, because I know we authors are very particular about our leading men and women. And wouldn’t it just be dumb luck that someone you truly disliked got picked, lol.
So, I feel as if I didn’t do this topic justice. I think it’s because my dreams are quite simple—make a living to sustain myself completely on writing and graphic art. I’ve had some success with this but I’m not really where I need to be. And I think that would be enough for me. Maybe that’s the elusive… made it… level.
Anyway, go check out the other ladies. I’m sure they have far more in-depth ideas.
OMG… everyone sit down. I actually wrote this ahead of time. I know… no one is more shocked than me, but… once I saw the lyrics, the story just popped into my head. And it’s great, because I’m actually camping with my daughter as we speak. We decided to do a last minute mom-daughter adventure. Hopefully, it’s as awesome as I think it’ll be…
Anyway, the song is GHOST by Halsey. I’ve never heard it before, but I enjoyed it. You can listen to it below…
For the story, I have jumped into Lucifer’s head. It’s sort of an outtake between him and Michael and a bit of a setup for Lucifer’s book… not sure when that will be but most likely next year. Anyway, here’s the resulting story…
Lucifer groaned inwardly, closing his eyes as Michael’s voice echoed inside his mind. While he generally enjoyed being a thorn in Michael’s psyche, now wasn’t the time for the other angel to turn the tables and tap into Lucifer’s. “Christ, Mikey, if I’d known you’d use this connection to check up on me every fucking time I ventured to my sanctuary, I never would have made it in the first place. It’s bad enough you ‘sense’ me traveling through the wards.”
A hesitant sigh sounded from his brother, followed by a long, slow breath. “I’m not checking up on you. Not, really.”
Lucifer laughed. “So, you’re inside my head because you wanted to chat? And to think I was still planning on kicking your ass the next time we met.”
“Must you make it so hard? Every time?”
“Try telling me the truth, and maybe I’ll be more reasonable.”
“I’m not lying. I didn’t call out to you as a means of spying on you. I just wanted…”
Lucifer stilled at the desperate quality in Michael’s voice. He hadn’t heard that tone since his big brother had pleaded with him to bow before humanity—that last peaceful moment before he’d been cast out.
Lucifer straightened, ignoring the indignant huff of the woman sleeping beside him. He didn’t often bring humans to his sanctuary, but tonight was different. He’d wanted to escape—to pretend for a few precious hours that he wasn’t an outcast. That somewhere, someone missed him—felt the same empty hollow in the pit of their stomach, as if a piece was missing.
He glanced at the woman. She resembled Grace—same golden shade of hair, with delicate features and pale skin. But that’s where the similarities ended. And he knew, he could parade an endless number of women through his door, each one a better replica than the one before, but none of them would be her—that her soul was forever lost to him.
He released a weary breath. “I’m still here. Can’t really go anywhere, can I?” He chuckled. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. Why did you ring me up if you’re not trying pinpoint my exact location?”
Silence stretched between them until Michael grunted. “I told Grey this was a bad idea. That there was just too much…shit between us. But you know how Fae are—forever optimistic, especially where family is concerned.”
“You’ve lost me, brother. What has your mate got to do with you chattering away inside my head?”
“Grey thinks we should…talk more. About regular stuff. Try to bridge this gap between us.”
Lucifer chuckled. “Your faery prince thinks we should be besties? How quaint.”
“He didn’t…seriously, Lucifer? Must you mock everything and everyone?”
“Need I remind you that until Gabriel’s fire mage decided to summon my ass from the fiery depths of Hell, in a desperate attempt to stop Abbadon from torching all of humanity, I hadn’t seen any of you since… Well, since the night Dad tossed me out. Which was on this very night, a few thousand years ago, if you’re keeping track.”
“Fuck… Tonight’s the anniversary?” He sighed. “I didn’t…”
“Whatever. Though I’m glad that bit of grace I left inside you has loosened that stick you used to have shoved up your ass. Or maybe Greyson did that. Tell me, how is mated life treating you?”
Lucifer’s stomach clenched as the words rolled off his tongue. What the Hell was he doing? The last thing he needed was to be reminded of what he’d really lost that night so long ago—who’d he’d lost.
Michael’s sharp intake of breath drew his attention. “Are you…okay?”
“I thought you wanted to talk about regular things?”
“I do, it’s just…even for you, you sound…off.” Michael murmured something Lucifer couldn’t make out. “It’s the anniversary, isn’t it? I should have realized…”
“It’s been a couple of millennia. I think the initial shock is over.”
But the pain of losing Grace—the part of his soul he knew he’d never find again, even if his father ever forgave him. If Lucifer was ever welcomed back home—that never lessened. Never stop poking at him. It was the one festering wound he couldn’t heal.
“You say that, but…all those echoed thoughts in your head I’m picking up on… I don’t believe you. I think it’s still as fresh as it always was. And I think it will be until you get back what you lost.”
“No one can give me back what I lost, Michael. Not even Father.”
“That’s not true. There’s always a way back home.”
“Is that why you think I’m upset? Because I can’t go home? Christ, I don’t think any of you ever truly knew me.”
“But…what else is there?”
“As if you don’t know.”
There was no mistaking the tightness in Michael’s voice. The edge of fear that hadn’t been there before.
Lucifer huffed. “You really don’t know?”
“I’ll say it again. Know what? Dad cast you into Hell. What else is there to know?”
“How about the part where I wasn’t alone?” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed then pushed to his feet. “Why did she have to pay for my choice? Explain that to me, big brother!”
“She?” His breathing kicked up. “I don’t understand. Who are you talking about?”
Lucifer groaned. He needed to derail this conversation. Now. “It doesn’t matter. No one can change what happened, and I have to spend eternity knowing she died because I wasn’t strong enough to save her.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m tired. And I’d rather spend the rest of this cursed night with the lovely lady sleeping in my bed, so… if we’re done here.”
“Lucifer. Please. Talk to me. Who died? Who fell with you?”
He chuckled. “If you really want to know, why don’t you go ask dear-ole Dad. I’m sure he’d love to chat. Say hi to Greyson for me. We’ll talk again.”
Lucifer cut off the connection, building a barrier even his father wouldn’t be able to break. Then he leaned against the wall, staring out the window at the starlit sky. Grace would have loved it here—the rocks. The moonlight. The endless silence. But he hadn’t gotten the chance to bring her. Just another regret to add to the list.
He raked his hand through his hair, watching a shooting star light up the sky, as a ghostly image of her wavered in the distance. His mind playing tricks on him as it did every year on this night. And if she seemed just a bit more real this time, it was only his imagination. She was lost, and despite her parting words, he’d never find her again.
Now please go and visit the other ladies. My apologies if I don’t have everyone listed who joined in. Camping means no wi-fi, lol. But I’m sure they will be listed.
The summer is half over… at least by school standards. I don’t want it to end! Sigh. It’s also time for another promptly penned. I’ve missed a couple of flash fictions, so… jumping in for this one. This month the prompt is…
S/he gripped the rim of the porcelin sink and tried to steady his/her hands.
“One last time,” s/he whispered to her/himself. One. Last. Time.
Once again it’s super late… I know. One day I shall be prepared, just like the goat/ram/sheep? in Hoodwinked. Promise. Today is NOT that day.
“Christ, Shane, what’s taking so long? Everyone’s expecting an encore. You can’t just blow it off.”
Shane Driscoll glanced at his manager’s reflection in the mirror, instantly wanting to slap the judgmental look off the man’s face. Tom had no idea the toll simply performing had taken on Shane. Just thinking about having to walk back out on stage…
He suppressed the shiver that threatened to shake through him, splashing more cold water on his face. “I need another five minutes.”
Tom’s left eye twitched before he plastered on a fake smile. “I realize you’re probably tired—”
“Tired? I haven’t slept in the same crappy hotel room for two nights in a row since we left Montana four months ago. I told you I didn’t want to be gone that long, and you promised me you wouldn’t let it get out of control. Yet, here we are, balls deep in concert dates with no damn end in sight.”
“You can’t stay on the top of the charts if you don’t give your fans what they want, buddy.”
Shane glanced at the man. They weren’t buddies. Never had been.
Tom continued, apparently obvious to Shane’s glare. “And they want you strutting on stage—tight pair of jeans, that cocky smile of yours breaking hearts. Do you have any idea how crazy women are over you?”
Shane shook his head. “This isn’t what I wanted my music to become. It’s not supposed to be about whether or not my ass looks good in some denim, or if I’m sporting a six-pack. It’s about the melody, the lyrics. About making songs that matter.”
“The songs can matter once you’ve been at number one long enough no one will forget your name. Ever.” Tom moved a few steps closer. “You’re poised to be the next Johnny Cash. But that won’t happen if you hide away. So, drink, smoke, pray. Your choice, but get your ass back out for one more round. You’ve got a few days off after this one. You can hide all you want on the bus.”
Shane didn’t answer, watching the other man disappear out the door. Right. A few days off. On his way to another town. Another stage where his music got lost behind strobing lights and artificial fog. He’d told Tom he wanted to keep it simple. Him. His guitar. A backup band. Nothing fancy or fake. He just wanted to be…him. Shane Driscoll. Real. Unplugged. But Tom got caught up in the ugly side of the industry. The one ruled by money and fame. Shane just didn’t know if Tom had forgotten his roots, or simply never had any.
Shane took a calming breath, staring at his reflection again. Ten years. That’s how long he’d been chasing the neon lights, trying to make it big. He’d been thrilled when Tom had offered to take him on—make him a star. Not for the money or the fame, but for the chance to share his message. Hopefully inspire people to change for the better. But somewhere along the road, he’d taken a wrong turn, and his dream of using his music to make a difference had gotten lost.
Or maybe it was just him who’d gotten lost. Who’d forgotten what it was like growing up in a three bedroom shack with four other siblings all vying for a spot. How he’d had to work three part time jobs just to earn enough to help out his mom and still buy the guitar Mr. Wilson had set aside for him. It’d taken him six months, but he’d never regretted it. Hell, he still played it.
Another round of pounding sounded on his door, followed by the hollow echo of cheering voices. And he knew he couldn’t stall much longer. Not without going another ’round with Tom. And Shane wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t simply sock the other man in the eye before storming out. After all, this is what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?
He gripped the rim of the porcelin sink and tried to steady his hands. He’d figure out how to switch gears—get back to his roots. Find a way to make his music matter, again.
He glanced at the door, smiling as Tom’s voice boomed through. Hell, yeah. He was going to make some drastic changes, and he’d start by getting himself a new manager. One who understood what his music truly meant to him. Who didn’t try to commercialize it for a heftier profit. Who had earned the right to call him buddy because they were.
He just had to make it through one more song.
“One last time,” he whispered to himself. One. Last. Time.
And that’s it for me. Now jump on over to Bronwyn and Jessica to see their stories.
Hi All. I’ve been AWAL for a bit…summer is just so busy. But I’m popping in for the monthly top 10. This month, it’s the Top 10 Character Traits I Like Writing… I’m sure there won’t be any shocking surprises here, lol, but let’s see. There’s no particular order to these, just what sprang to mind…
1 — Intelligent. I thoroughly enjoy writing characters who could be considered ‘gifted’ in this area, mostly because I find intelligence sexy. Just look at Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds… who doesn’t want to climb that man like a tree 🙂 Or Charlie Epps from Numbers…
2 — Brave. I think we all want to believe we’d have the courage to put our own lives in danger if needed. I enjoy carrying this over to my characters. Men and women who are willing to conquer their own fears and put it all on the line to save those in need.
3 — Adventurous. It’s no secret that all of my books involve action/adventure. Regardless of the genre, it’s in there, somewhere. And I think that’s because I enjoy activities that make your heart pound and your pulse race.
4 —Independant. Maybe it’s because I sometimes question my own, that it’s so important for my characters to have this. Sometimes, almost to a fault and they have to learn how to let others in. To get help…but that’s all part of the journey.
5 — Stubborn. But not because I’m stubborn. I’m not. No, seriously, I’m not.
6 — Funny. Who doesn’t find a sense of humour sexy as Hell? I think it’s one of the most important traits in a partner. Because being able to laugh when you really want to cry is a gift. It has a way of making everything better.
7 — Romantic. While I love my alpha men, well, alpha. I also think it’s important that they have a sense of romance. That they’re willing to dig into their softer side for their partner, male or female. Sometimes you have to make a fool of yourself to show just how much you care…
8 — Possessive. Okay… not always a great trait, but I do sometimes enjoy writing (usually guys, I know, I know. I’ll work on that) That are completely focused on their mate. I try not to have it cross the line into being jerks, but… there’s something innately hot about a guy who wants you all to himself… in theory. And not in every aspect of your life. There’s a fine line between being charmingly possessive and being an abusive stalker dude.
9 — Athletic. I think because it’s such a big and important part of my life, I have it cross over into my characters. They don’t all have to be martial arts specialists, or SEALs. But, most of them love to go for a run, lol… no one is surprised.
10 — Confident. Like intelligence, confidence is sexy. But I try to make sure my characters aren’t overly so… we all have situations that make us feel less than confident, and I think it’s important to show all sides of our characters.
And that’s all for me. Visit the other ladies and see what’s on their list.