Excerpt & Giveaway! Stalked, The Slayers #2 by H.C. Brown

Who's more dangerous – a stripper, an assassin, or a serial killer?

The Stripper Ripper is stalking the streets of New York City, preying on male strippers, and the press is making mincemeat of a helpless police force.

In desperation, the police refer the serial killer's case to the Slayers, a team of enhanced, undercover super soldiers. The commander of the Slayers puts his team on the streets to watch over the Ripper's favorite targets.

One of these targets is Micah, a twink stripper and a desirable sub. Micah's baby sitter is one of the newest members of the Slayers, Sorren, as cold-blooded an assassin as they come, and the last person you'd expect to harbor feelings for his charge.

True to form, Sorren is as surprised as anyone at his new infatuation, but Micah is hiding something. Will Micah learn to trust his protector, or is he destined to be the next victim on the Stripper Ripper's list?

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Chapter 1

Club Surrender, New York

As the commander of the Slayers, Delano Briggs had his hands full controlling a unit of nano-enhanced super soldiers in a constant state of pissed. He leaned back in his office chair, glaring at the brooding form of Sorren, and cleared his throat. The six-seven hunk of muscle-bound “don’t fuck with me nasty” stared right back, unblinking.

Although Sorren had accepted his new duties without question and his professionalism was faultless, he couldn’t put a finger on the underlying uneasiness he had for him. The stripper named Snake from the leather club, Pinkies, had been under Sorren’s surveillance for ten days and nothing had occurred. The man standing before him folded thick arms across his broad chest and glared at him with intimidating menace. He would have to come down heavy to keep this alpha with cybernetic enhancements in line. “Report.”

Sorren placed both large hands on the table and pushed a long straight nose one inch from Delano’s face.

“How long do you expect me to remain sane on butterfly duty?”

“I said report, soldier.” Delano pushed to his feet then noticed Rhys, his second in command, move into the room and take a defensive stance.

Sure, Sorren was a loose cannon, but then nobody walked away from capture by Middle Eastern extremists without repercussions. His captors had not been able to brainwash him or retrieve any information by torture. His nanos had kept his secrets safe and his body in peak condition, but Sorren was suffering from three years of pent-up crazy. The nano enhancements did that to a man left alone with only his palm for company. Delano lifted his chin and repeated the order. To his relief, Sorren straightened and narrowed his unusual blue gaze.

“Nothing to report. The butterfly does his act then goes home. Guys hang around him looking for a little action but as far as I can tell, he isn’t interested. Although, he is a nervous little shit. On stage, the club bills him as Snake but his friends call him Micah, which fits him but it’s not the name you gave me. I think he is hiding his past.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder toward Rhys. “Tell your boy to stand down unless he wants me to drag his ass downstairs to my dungeon.” He smirked. “I need a heavy scene, sending me to watch strippers every night makes me overheat – ah, sir.”

“I don’t do switch play and if I did you’re certainly not my type.” Rhys grabbed Sorren’s arm and spun him around to face him. “Why don’t you go and fuck your butterfly, then you won’t be loitering outside his apartment with a hard-on all night.”

Sorren’s wide mouth twitched at one corner then curled into a sadistic smile.

“Have you seen my five-feet-two eyes of blue?” He grasped his package. “I’d break him in half. Nah, you’ll do just fine, but just so you don’t get your panties in a twist later, you should know, I don’t do cool-down cuddles.”

“I’m bonded to Dylan and you fucking know it, but if you wanna fight, I’d be happy to grind your face into the floor anytime. Here we fight by Slayer rules, which, as you are the new kid in town, means no rules, asshole.”

Before Delano blinked, Sorren had locked one hand around Rhys’s throat.

“I like no rules just fine. Do I get to fuck you when I win?”

In a flash, Rhys cupped Sorren’s balls in his bionic hand and the color drained from the new recruit’s face.

“Wanna play?” Rhys grinned in a flash of perfect white teeth.

Delano rounded the table. Both these men could take him apart before taking their next breath and Rhys could crush an Mk.16 in one hand without taking a breath. “Stand down.” He moved closer and, standing shoulders braced and feet apart, dropped his voice to a menacing whisper, a method he employed to get his men’s full attention. “Rhys have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Nah, just teaching pretty boy here how we play in my yard.” Rhys dropped his hand and wiped it on his jeans in a repulsed gesture. “I can’t believe you trust him to guard the strippers, he’s not safe on the outside without a leash.”

“Sit down, both of you.” Delano leaned one hip on his desk and glared at them. “We run a club and the strippers who work here are good for business. These murders are bringing all strip joints under scrutiny and I’m sure you both understand why we don’t want eyes on Club Surrender. It would put the entire unit in danger. The cops have zip on the Stripper Ripper, no DNA, no witnesses, so we’ll have to find him and deal out justice, Slayer style.” He glared at Sorren. “This means surveillance and I’ve assigned a man to every local stripper that fits the victims’ profile.” He glanced at Rhys. “Small, young looking, with dark hair. From the images we were able to intercept from the local PD database it would seem the Stripper Ripper has a taste for twinks.”

Rhys grimaced. “Fuck, that covers fifty percent of the guys who work here and Jay but somehow I don’t think the fucking Stripper Ripper will be a problem for him.” He chuckled. “I guess we could throw him out as bait?”

Delano shook his head. “Not a chance in hell. Jay might be sixty percent cyborg but I’m not risking anyone until I know who we’re dealing with.” He jerked his chin toward Sorren. “The murderer is smart, very smart. It’s possible he could be a kinetic Black Ops rogue, one of Sorren’s old unit or similar. We don’t have numbers on the soldiers the government nano enhanced but we are aware of at least twenty enhanced Marines on the government’s ‘kill on sight’ hit list.”

“If they are from my unit then they’re some nasty SOBs. I can’t imagine anyone capable of catching them. I just hope they linked up and are doing much the same as you are here.” Sorren grinned. “My men are very different from your guys, although Rhys here comes close. Taking into account your unit’s compassion and adherence to the Special Ops code even though they screwed you makes me believe they added something special in the way of crazy to the nanos they shot into my guys.”

“Maybe, your blood work came back pretty fucked up. Kurt is still running tests. We all have anger management and sex-drive problems but they enhanced yours tenfold.” Delano shrugged. “It’s just as well we have Kurt as our doctor. He was on the first nano experimental team. Although, he has no idea why you carry different levels of enhancement. To date you are the only man we know of, apart from Jay, who can use mindspeak over a long distance.”

“Why didn’t Kurt ask me about mindspeak during the debriefing? Fuck! He wanted to know how many times I shit a day.” Sorren’s lips quirked into a smile. “The mindspeak distancing is a technique much the same as the one used to shield personal thoughts and easily taught. I do hope you’ve kept our mindspeak ability ‘need to know’ and the enhanced soldiers’ little weapon against Uncle Sam is still safe?” Sorren gave an exasperated sigh. “FYI, sex is used as a cooling system. Haven’t you worked that out yet?” He rolled his broad shoulders. “They didn’t enhance my anger but they did modify my brain chemistry.” His attention drifted to Rhys then back to him. “You see, I don’t have a conscience. They turned me into a psychopath – in other words when I kill I don’t give a fuck. No flashbacks, no regrets.” He rubbed his chin. “They tossed the Slayers on the trash pile because you fucking care and having feelings puts everyone in the unit in danger. The doc who treated me said it was a weakness in your nanos the government couldn’t afford.” He pointed at his face and grimaced. “The bionic eyes, well they needed soldiers who could switch from daylight to infrared without night vision goggles and with the ability to record missions.” He snorted. “I was beaming a vid straight to Black Ops the entire two fucking years I spent in prison. I had no rights because Uncle Sam didn’t classify me as human. I was one of many information-collecting drones.” He gave a cynical bark of laughter. “I’m surprised you found me, let alone got me out.”

Delano met Rhys’s incredulous stare and connected in secure mindspeak. “Fuck, just how many units are out there?” 

“Sorren has been to hell and back.” Rhys grimaced. “I’m not surprised he’s crazy, but I don’t believe for one minute he has no feelings. The way he cares for the wellbeing of the stripper he’s watching tells me there is a man inside, not a machine. But I don’t like him, he is an arrogant SOB.”

Delano cleared his throat and made a conscious effort to pull back on the interrogation. “Bret, the electronics expert, picked up your transmission and we put boots on the ground. Once we got you out of that hellhole, he took over your video link and faked your execution.” He dropped back into his chair. “Don’t look so surprised. Everything in the Slayers is ‘need to know’ until you gain full clearance.” He met Sorren’s disturbing electric blue gaze. The man’s pupils moved like the lens of a camera, constantly adjusting in a circular motion.

“Need to know?” Sorren snorted. “I’m just like you, man. I’ve been here almost a year. It’s about time you started to trust me.”

“Right now, I don’t know if you’re working undercover and although we’ve destroyed all your military tracking devices, we can’t stop you communicating by mindspeak.” Delano glared at him. “And you will refer to me as ‘sir,’ do you understand, soldier?”

“What you ‘need to know’ is I’m not doing this yes, sir, no sir, three fucking bags full shit any longer. I’m not a Marine or part of some pseudo military service under your command.”

“Yeah, well actually you agreed to join the Slayers and I didn’t force you to wear our mark.” Delano indicated to the tattoo of a dollar sign on Sorren’s wrist. “We gave you a new identity, a job, and a place to stay. Not to mention all the ass you need to keep cool.” He lifted his chin and glared at him. “Right now it looks like I made a big mistake taking you into our confidence. I admire a man’s grit but I sure as hell want to keep control of my unit. Most of us are Black Ops, Green Berets or mercenaries and prefer a degree of leadership from me. I’m not running a fucking Sunday school.” He scowled at the arrogant man. “You do know Bret has devised a program to decommission you? He can take away your special vision, slow your implants, wipe your memory, and make you almost human again. That’s the only way you leave here alive, soldier.”

Delano didn’t miss Sorren’s shudder of disgust. He stared at him, waiting for a reply, and it was like watching the cogs of an old clock grind into gear. Sure, Sorren had been alone for a long time and no doubt his art of conversation had become a little rusty but he’d had long enough to adjust. He would give him time to consider the situation because he wanted to keep this man in his unit. He’d yet to see a better specimen of nano enhancement and the doctors in the complex would learn a great deal from his advanced technology.

Sorren was magnificent and he could see why he carried the handle “The Reaper” during his call of duty. He’d selected the moody Adonis for stripper duty in an effort to calm him down. Sorren was a loner. He’d taken his edge-play domination to extremes with the house subs and sure wasn’t looking for a cozy relationship. Rhys had nicknamed him “Shadow Man” because they rarely saw him in daylight. Sorren stalked the gloom like a phantom of menace. In fact, the man might just as well hang a sign around his neck with the message, “I hate everybody” printed in bright red letters. The only time he’d seen him crack any semblance of a smile was after winning an arm wrestle with Adryck.

He rolled his shoulders. “Well?”

A crack of thunder rolled in the distance as if it had come straight from the flash of disgust on Sorren’s face.

“Your decommission threats won’t work on me. I have a failsafe reboot on my system. You’ll have to decapitate me to take me down.” Sorren straightened and his menacing look flicked over him dismissively. “I understand you integrated the Fury boys into the unit without making them jump through hoops and yet, I am one of you, military – not the fucking enemy. I agreed to do butterfly duty because I want to catch a murderer not because I plan to inform on the Slayers. If I’d wanted to betray our kind I would have contacted my commander the fucking day I arrived and neither you nor your cybernetic boy would have been able to stop me.” Sorren pushed to his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late. The stripper you assigned me to protect is due to walk home alone in twenty minutes and it is twenty-two minutes to his gig.”

Delano stood and waved him toward the door. “Sure, we’ll talk again in the morning. Do you have a med kit in the car – just in case?”

Sorren gave him a curt nod and slipped out the door. He moved like a ghost, not one sound from his boots echoed on the tiled floor.

“What new intel do we have on the murders to date?” Rhys drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I know they’re bloody but there must be something the cops haven’t disclosed. What has Bret dug up?”

“Nothing, the murderer is a phantom, he drops out of nowhere, strikes and vanishes. You mentioned bloody, yeah, but how does a man rip someone apart and not leave one footprint or one drop of blood?” Delano moved around his desk and sat down.

“Maybe he’s a vampire.” Rhys gave him a speculative look. “Hey, crazy scientists made us didn’t they? How do we know they didn’t experiment on cross-species DNA as well and now some guys can change into bats and fly away?”

“Scent.” Delano placed the heel of one shit kicker on his desk and tipped back his chair. “I’ve visited all the crime scenes. I would have smelled a giant bat and picked up the pheromones of anyone remotely like us. No, I’m pretty sure the Stripper Ripper is one sick human.”

H.C. Brown is a multi-published, bestselling, award-winning author of Historical, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, BDSM, Time Travel, Action Adventure, Suspense, and Contemporary Romance.

In 2015, she was delighted to be named Luminosity Publishing’s Bestselling Author of 2014.

In 2015, Highlander in the Mist was placed 3rd in Historical and Rock ‘n’ Leather was placed 3rd GLBT in the Easychair Bookshop Competition.

In 2011, she was delighted to receive nominations in three categories in the 2011 CAPA Awards: Favorite Author, Best GLBT Romance, and Best Science Fiction Romance.

She was nominated for Best Historical M/M in the 2013, Goodreads Book of Year Awards.

H.C writes about strong alpha male heroes and girl next door heroines in complex settings, and all her stories have happy endings.

H.C. welcomes feedback from her readers.

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Book Blitz: Excerpt & Giveaway! Poison, Wind Dancer #1 by Lan Chan

Since the night her mother was murdered, sixteen-year-old Rory Gray has known one truth: There are no good Seeders. 

In post-apocalyptic Australia, the scientists known as Seeders have built a Citadel surrounded by food-producing regions and populated with refugees from the wars and famine. To maintain their control, the Seeders poisoned the land and outlawed the saving of seeds.

It’s been six years since Rory graced the Seeders’ circus stage as the Wind Dancer and still the scars on her body haven’t healed. Even worse are the scars on her heart, left by a Seeder boy who promised to protect her.

Now the Seeders are withholding supplies from Rory’s region for perceived disobedience. Utilising the Wanderer knowledge she received from her mother, Rory must journey to the Citadel through uninhabitable terrain to plead for mercy.

However, the Citadel isn’t as Rory remembered. The chief plant geneticist is dying and rumours fly that the store of viable seed is dwindling. The Seeders are desperate to find a seed bank they believe Rory can locate, and they will stop at nothing to get it. 

To defy the Seeders means death. But Rory has been close to death before--this time she’s learned the value of poison.

Recommended for fans of The Hunger Games, strong protagonists, circuses and nature!

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As part of their mandate to ensure a healthy populace, the Seeders implement a rigorous physical education program in all elementary schools. It’s the only time the Farmer and Merchant children are allowed to have contact at school. When I was five, one of the Farmers pushed me off a rope climb and I managed to land on my feet. I was taken to the nurse, who did what I had thought had been a routine check up. The Seeders assessed my height, my weight, my eyesight, my reflexes, and a dozen other things I can’t name. They took my parents into an office and spoke to them in hushed, clipped voices. 

Six months later, the Seeders dropped four other girls and me out of an aircraft. They wanted to see which of us could brave the dizzying heights enough to join their beloved Earth and Sky Circus. I was the only one who remembered to pull the cord on the parachute. The Seeders nicknamed me Wind Dancer and promised to teach me how to fly. 

For a little while, I actually believed them. 

It was in the circus’ animal pens that Aiden found me late one night after lights out, huddled in a corner, nursing a fresh cut across my palm from the ringmaster’s whip. I hadn’t realised then, but Aiden must have already been there when I arrived. I slid to my knees in front of the sabrewolf pen and curled my fingers around the metal bars, crying silent tears.

Then out of the corner of the pens came a voice. “Aren’t you afraid of them?” Aiden had said. 

I backed away immediately, knowing my presence in the pens was forbidden. Through the blur of tears, I could only make out a faint shadow amidst the darkness, but even at eight, Aiden was taller than me by at least a head. I sat frozen as he came to kneel beside me, his interest captured by the pair of sabrewolves in the cage. 

“They’re the first of their kind to be successfully tamed, you know?” he said like we were old friends. “Crossed between dingo and frozen tundra wolf DNA.” After I sat in silence too long, Aiden turned to me, and I flinched. Pity filled his eyes, and I remember thinking I must have been just like a frightened animal to him. 

“I won’t tell anyone you were here,” he said. “I promise. What’s your name?” 

“Aurora Gray,” I said, knowing full well he knew who I was. Just as I knew he was Aiden Forrester, son of Gideon Forrester, the Warden of my home in Gideon’s Landing.

“Pleased to meet you, Aurora.” He took my hand in his to shake it, and that’s when he noticed the wound. A shadow fell across his face. “The ringmaster?” he said, and there was such cold fury in his voice that all I could do was nod. 

The circus trainers never touched me again, and every night afterwards, Aiden came to watch me soar above the crowds. He showed me the secrets of the Citadel and promised to protect me. That’s how I know Seeders are liars.

Lan Chan is a writer, gardener and professional procrastinator based in Melbourne, Australia. She is still waiting for her super powers to manifest but until then she writes young adult novels featuring strong female protagonists, minority characters and has a particular interest in dystopias and urban fantasy. Lan’s debut novel POISON, the first in her WIND DANCER series is due for release in September 2015.

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Book Blitz & Giveaway! Lumière (The Illumination Paradox #1) by Jacqueline Garlick

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Even in a land of eternal twilight, secrets can’t stay hidden forever.

Seventeen-year-old Eyelet Elsworth is no stranger to living in the dark. She’s hidden her secret affliction all of her life—a life that would be in danger if superstitious townspeople ever guessed the truth. After her mother is accused and executed for a crime that she didn’t commit, the now-orphaned Eyelet has no choice but to track down the machine—her last hope for a cure. But Eyelet’s late father’s most prized invention, the Illuminator, has been missing since the day of the mysterious flash—a day that saw the sun wiped out over Brethren forever.

Alone and on the run, she finds the Illuminator—only to witness a young man hauling it away. Determined to follow the thief and recover the machine, she ventures into the deepest, darkest, most dangerous part of her twisted world.

I'm Jacqueline Garlick, author of young adult and new adult fiction. I love strong heroines, despise whiny sidekicks, and adore a good story about a triumphant underdog. (Don't you?) 

I love to read, write, paint (walls and paper). I have a love/hate relationship with chocolate, grammar, and technology and would rather hang out with a dog, than a cat. I prefer creating things to cleaning things, and believe laughter is a one-stop-shop solution to all that ails you. You will always find a purple wall (or two) in my house (currently in my writing room), and there may or may not be a hidden passageway that leads to a mystery room. (Okay, so you won't find a hidden passageway, but a girl can dream, can't she?) Oh, and tea. There will always be tea. 

My writing style has been described as edgy and rule-breaking, and by some--a touch Tim Burton-esque. Because of this, I am often referred to as the Quentin Tarantino of YA among writing friends. 

In my former life, I was a teacher (both grade school and college-don't ask), but more recently I've been a graduate of Ellen Hopkin's Nevada Mentor Program and a student of James Scott Bell, Christopher Vogler and Don Maass. An excerpt from Lumière earned me the 2012 Don Maass Break Out Novel Intensive Scholarship. 

Lumière--A Romantic Steampunk Fantasy--my debut novel, is the recipient of an indieBRAG Medallion!!! B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree October 15, 2014) I am so proud! (LUMIERE by Jacqueline E. Garlick is a B.R.A.G.Medallion Honoree. This tells a reader that this book is well worth their time and money!) Book II of the ILLUMINATION PARADOX SERIES, is out January 26th, now on pre-order.

Also, check out my young adult contemporary romantic/mystery serial, IF ONLY, where reluctant telepathic sleuth Kyla Cooper must embrace her powers and risks all to solve the mystery of what happened to her boyfriend Denver Munro, becoming his voice of truth, before he has no voice at all...

I love hearing from READERS! Please contact me, either at my website:www.jacquelinegarlick.com, or catch up with me on twitter @garlick books, or on facebook: http://bit.ly/jegarlickfb

I'm open to reviews and interview, requests for skype visits, guest blogs, pod casts and book club meetings! I LOVE TO HEAR FROM READERS!

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Release Day Blitz & Giveaway!! Created (Created #1) by Peiri Ann

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After a devastating world war, our government has manufactured genetically altered humans. These ‘creations’ are designed to manage and enforce law and order amongst the citizens. Creations don’t know fear or pain. Their sole function is to fight the enemy and live to battle again.

Orphans Kylie Alexander and her twin brother, Lukahn were born for this purpose. Dedicating their lives to sharpening their deadly skills and forfeiting the chance of love and freedom. They ready themselves for Separation, the deadly rite of passage where the oldest teens are drafted into the final preparation for war.

When Kylie and Luke are shipped off to separation three months early, questions arise. Who is the real enemy? What is really happening beyond the fractured sanctuary of the training compound?

Humans and creations alike have become lethal foes when a plague of the living dead becomes the number one hazard. Strategies change as the twins discover they may not be the saviors of humankind after all.

They may be the real enemy of the people.

A reflector shines in the room and charges forward.

I shoot. Two shots fire. A soft thump comes from something falling lifeless onto the floor.

We cautiously approach it.

“Good job, Ky, you saved us from an attack by a coyote.”

“I didn’t know it was a coyote,” I say mildly. He’s being sarcastic and I don’t like that. “If I did—”

“Shh,” he hushes urgently.

The annoying sound of nails scraping along the wall jerks our heads to the left. I’m not one to panic, but my heart rate spikes, startled by the unexpected sound. We’ve let our guards down.

The coyote must have only been a diversion.

We examine the area, seeking the thing or person that caught us by surprise. Nothing’s here.

“You heard that, right?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Let’s move.” He faces the door and I face the room, with him walking forward and me backward. My left shoulder blade is to his right as we creep quietly out of the shadowed room.

More sun is present in the open area of the house now. The wall has brightened, displaying the floral wallpaper. It depicts flowers falling from an early-bloomed tree. It’s nice but looks old and outdated.

Luke abruptly stops behind me, causing me to almost stumble over him.

He doesn’t breathe or move. He nudges my back, telling me to do the same. But I have to see what has caused him to hesitate. I turn around, shoulder to shoulder with Luke, staring at a man and two children in the shadows near the door.

They are . . . not average for humans. Their grey skin is beaten, scratched, broken, and torn covers their bodies. Some wounds need stitches but they do not bleed. Their hair’s matted with dirt and rubbage I’m assuming they have picked up along their journey. The two little ones growl at us.

My brows hitch, hearing the unanticipated sound. The angry faces suggest we are the weird looking ones, the ones who will cause them damage.

The corner of my mouth twitches upward holding back a grin as I realize, we are the ones who will cause them damage. They’re right to growl.

“I’m going to shoot them,” I say low to Luke but sure, at this distance they can hear me. I just don’t care.

The little boy screams and charges at Luke and me. Teeth bared, canines sharpened into skin-shredding points. Tongue black with white buds. His lips have splits displaying red under his colorless skin.

Luke kicks him back before he can reach us, foot ramming into the boy’s chest. Not killing him but knocking him off-balance.

At least it was supposed to. The boy only takes a step back and charges again, shrilling. Luke kicks him harder and the boy stumbles backward into the legs of one who may be his father.

Jord and the man from the truck rush through the door. The girl disappears into the shadows but the father and son remain, mouths open, teeth bared, drooling growls escaping them. They crouch like animals preparing to attack.

I don’t do well with things I don’t understand.

Raising my gun, I cock it back, aiming at the man. I fire as he jumps for Jord.

Peiri Ann shares a love in the creation of new worlds, different creatures, and unwritten possibilities.

Writing is a passion. I fell in love with it when i was a child and I am privileged to share it with you. I love writing fun/tragic adventurous novels with strong romantic elements from YA to New Adult. (reachme@peiriann.com)

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Dissident, The Bellator Saga #1 by Cecilia London

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She once was important. Now she’s considered dangerous.

In a new America where almost no one can be trusted, Caroline lies unconscious in a government hospital as others decide her fate. She is a political dissident, wanted for questioning by a brutal regime that has come to power in a shockingly easy way. As she recovers from her injuries, all she has are her memories. And once she wakes up, they may not matter anymore. Dissident is a blend of romantic suspense, contemporary romance, political thriller, and speculative fiction. Told mostly in flashback, it details the budding romantic relationship between our heroine, Caroline, and Jack, the silver fox playboy who tries to win her heart. Part One of a Six Part Series. Each part is a full length novel between 60,000-120,000 words and ends in a cliffhanger. For readers 18+. This saga contains adult situations, including non-gratuitous violence, explicit (consensual) sex, psychological and physical trauma, and an oftentimes dark and gritty plot (particularly in part two).

Prologue

They had been dragging themselves through the woods for hours, with him holding the flashlight and leading the way, and her faltering through the ice and snow trying to keep his pace. They moved slowly, their injuries hindering their flight. The forest was thick and foreboding and the biting winter wind whistled through the branches in the trees, cutting them to the core. They listened for the sound of flowing water in the hope that the Allegheny River was no longer frozen over and they could follow it up to New York. 

They knew their odds were long but held out faith that despite the blustering wind and bitter cold, they could somehow find a way to Buffalo. The Canadian border. Their last, best chance at safety.

The flashlight began to flicker and the man knew that the batteries would only last them so much longer. It had been snowing earlier in the night, but the clouds had been carried away by the wind and the flashlight was supplemented by the glow of the winter moon. He turned the flashlight off and his wife tumbled into him.

“Jack, why did you do that?” It was hard for her to stay upright without her momentum to keep her going, and even harder to follow him without the artificial light.

“The flashlight’s getting low and the moon is relatively bright. We should conserve the batteries. Do you need to rest?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes.

“No,” she lied. “Let’s keep going.”

He put the flashlight in his coat pocket, feeling it bump up against the gun he had concealed there. He put his arm around her waist and hoisted her up. 

“Let’s go,” he said, as he kept his arm around her to steady her as she walked.

Their pace continued to slow until they were hardly moving at all. He could see her grimacing with every step, could hear her labored breathing, and he knew that she was much more seriously injured than she was letting on. Although he himself was in pain he did his best to keep them both going. His ankle was sprained and the weight of two people upon it was almost too much for him to bear. But they couldn’t stop.

He saw a clearing up ahead and knew they were nearing a road. But that wasn’t what they wanted. Roads meant people and people meant danger. Almost no one could be trusted. The soldiers who had run their car off the road were biding their time, waiting, until the moment was right to come after them again. 

The two of them weren’t about to make themselves easy prey by following a path trod by others. Their footsteps were not hard to trace because of the snow, but it was better than being out in the open. No, the river was their best bet, their least dangerous path north.

He turned sharply and started to steer them both away from the road, as close to a westerly direction as he could manage. He was a suburban Philly boy and could only depend on his poor instincts to guide him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We need to find the river, Caroline. There’s a road up ahead and we have to avoid it.”

The woods grew hilly and she began to struggle. He was practically carrying her as they made their way up an incline and he knew he wouldn’t be able to support her much longer. Suddenly she broke free of him and lurched into a nearby tree, sinking to the ground.

She pulled off her earmuffs and loosened her scarf with difficulty, her back to the tree. He could tell she was in tremendous pain and knelt down in the snow beside her. 

“Sweetheart, we have to keep going,” he said.

Her face was windswept and her eyes were red. She was sweating in spite of the cold and he could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest. 

“Jack, I can’t do this. I’m too tired. I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can. We can keep going. I’ll help.”

“You can’t help. You can barely walk while you’re lugging me along.” She began to cry.

He wiped away some of her tears with his gloved hand. “We’ll stop for a minute, all right? Then we’ll start again.”

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. The tears coursed silently down her face. He let her rest, hoping that she would then tell him they could move on even though they really had no time to waste. She opened her eyes a few moments later and looked at him. His breath caught in his throat. Her brown eyes, which had once been so warm, confident, and loving, were now laced with a fear he’d never seen before. 

“You have to go,” she said. “Now.”

“We have to go,” he corrected her.

“No. You.”

“No.” He looked at her incredulously. “We.”

“You have to go, Jack. It’s the only way.”

His mind started racing. He couldn’t wrap his head around what she was suggesting. 

“No. I’m not leaving you here.”

She closed her eyes again. The wetness on her face was beginning to freeze in place. Her voice broke. 

“Tell my girls how much I love them.” She stifled a sob. “Tell them I’m sorry.”

Her children. Their children. Who were hopefully already in Canada. 

“This is absurd, Caroline. I’m not leaving you here alone. Are you insane? We’re wasting time.”

“You can move ten times faster without me. You know I’m right.”

Hot, angry tears pricked his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, sweetheart. There has to be another way.”

“This is the only way and you know it.” She took her left glove off and traced his lips with her bare fingers. “My darling. My Monty. I love you so.”

He kissed her fingers and wrapped them in his, trying to warm them. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated.

Her voice was weak, but firm. “This is bigger than us. You have to go. Get to Canada. Share that information. Stop Santos. Don’t let all our sacrifices be for nothing.”

“I love you.” He took off his gloves and began to caress her face with his bare hands. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Listen to me. You are going to go. You are going to get to Canada. You are going to get this flash drive to people who can do something with it. Please, Jack. Please do this for me.”

He was adamant. “I am not leaving you here!”

“You are. You need to go. They will find us soon and they’ll find us even sooner if we’re moving together.” She tried to straighten up, using the tree for support. “If you don’t leave, I swear to God I will never forgive you. I mean it. There is no point in both of us getting captured or worse. Please. Do this for me.”

He kissed her forehead, still cradling her face in his hands, and the tears in his eyes spilled over. “Don’t make me do this. I can’t. I won’t leave you.”

“Go,” she whispered. “Go before they catch up with us.”

She removed the glove from her right hand and began to slip her wedding rings off her left ring finger. Her large diamond and sapphire engagement ring glistened in the moonlight. She’d thought it was gaudy when he’d first given it to her, and the media had loved speculating about how much it must have cost. But she’d grown accustomed to it. Aside from its sentimental value, it was now almost worthless in the fragile American economy. 

She fumbled through the simple task, her hands numbed by the cold. She placed the rings in Jack’s hand and wiped the tears from his face. He searched her eyes for an explanation. 

“They’re no good to me out here,” she said. “Take them. They belong to you. I don’t want those bastards to have them.” She closed her eyes and began to nod off.

Jack grabbed her chin, desperate to keep her awake. “Stay with me, Caroline. We can do this.”

“Go now.” Her voice was fading. “Be safe. Be strong.”

Jack brought his lips to hers and kissed her hard, wanting it to last, wanting to breathe life into her, to give her the strength to keep going. He gripped her rings tightly in his fist. The prongs from the engagement ring were prodding into his ice cold palm, but he was oblivious to the pain they caused. He didn’t want to break the connection between them. Caroline brought her hands up to his stocking cap, drew it off, and ran her fingers through his hair. He pulled back, his lips close to hers.

They heard a rustling in the distance and Jack turned his head, not sure of what he would find. He half hoped that a deer would come gliding through the trees but he knew that would be too good to be true. Their luck had run out too many times. Caroline squeezed his hand, the one with the rings in it. 

“Go, Jack. They’re coming. Go.”

He pressed his lips to hers again, a long, frantic kiss. She pushed him away and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her Glock and an extra magazine. “Take these. You might need them.”

Jack dropped the rings into one of the interior pockets of his coat, and heard them clink against the box containing the flash drive he was hiding. He put the gun and magazine in his outer coat pocket and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She very clumsily put his stocking cap back on his head and stroked his face, wiping away the wetness there.

“I will always be with you,” she whispered, so softly he could barely hear her.

He took in a sharp, painful breath and put his gloves back on. The night air was freezing. “I will come back for you, Caroline. Understand? I promise I will come back. I’m not giving up. I will find someone we can trust and I will come back.”

She smiled and closed her eyes.

He heard the rustling getting closer. There was almost no way that noise was an animal. And he knew he had only one choice. 

He ran.

Cecilia is my pen name. I may or may not live in San Antonio, Texas. I've been known to apply quotes from 'The Simpsons' to everyday life. I live for baseball season.

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