Summary:
THIRDS #6
Calvin Summers and Ethan Hobbs have been best friends since childhood, but somewhere along the line, their friendship evolved into something more. With the Therian Youth Center bombing, Calvin realizes just how short life can be and no longer keeps his feelings for his best friend a secret. Unfortunately, change is difficult for Ethan; most days he does well to deal with his selective mutism and social anxiety. Calvin’s confession adds a new struggle for Ethan, one he fears might cost him the friendship that’s been his whole world for as long as he can remember.
As partners and Defense Agents at the THIRDS, being on Destructive Delta is tough at the best of times, but between call-outs and life-threatening situations, Calvin and Ethan not only face traversing the challenges of their job, but also working toward a future as more than friends.
Audiobook Review October 2021:
I won't say I forgot how much I loved Calvin and Ethan's story but I admit it was a delight to relive their journey, a reminder of what they faced. As I mentioned in my original review being concerned how the author would pull off the realities of Ethan's selective mutism with so little dialogue, I must be honest and was wondering just how well it would transfer into narration. I needn't have had any concerns because Mark Westfield gives Ethan a voice, both internal and external, that makes the reader fall even harder for the shifter. Reliving the mens' journey in Catch a Tiger by the Tail shows us that Destructive Delta, THIRDS, and the close knit family they've become wouldn't be complete without Calvin and Ethan.
Once again we get to see inside the heart of a different couple of Destructive Delta, this time around we get to know Calvin Summers and Ethan Hobbs better. From the very beginning I loved the fact that Ethan was diagnosed with selective mutism and severe anxiety. Selective mutism is not something we often see in books, I won't lie I was a little afraid it would be difficult to get to know Hobbs as there isn't much dialogue from him because of his mutism but through Ethan, Charlie Cochet reminds us that we can learn more about people and their heart from their actions than the words they speak.
As with Against the Grain we get to learn more of Calvin and Hobbs' story with them being the focus but all the members of Delta and a few THIRDS agents are also here so it needs to be read in order as well. Catch gives us insight into Calvin and Ethan but it also furthers the journey of all involved. Sometimes when you think you are getting answers what you really are getting is more questions. So having said that, I am off to read #7.
RATING:
Summary:
The Spectral Files #3
Being insatiably curious is a good way to end up dead.
Rain Christiansen, cold case detective and reluctant medium, is very aware of that fact. But when infamous serial killer Thomas Kane wants to meet, there’s no way Rain can say no. He also can’t refuse Kane’s offer—find his missing wife, Delilah, and he’ll reveal the location of his victim’s bodies.
Rain has never turned down a good quid pro quo, and he doesn’t intend to start.
The hunt for Kane’s wife leads to yet another cold case, three copycat murders, and an investigation where nothing is as it seems. Soon, Rain is dealing with a ghost unlike any he’s ever dealt with before…a ghost capable of doing things he shouldn’t be able to do. How can Rain control something he doesn’t even understand? And what will he do when the unknown threatens the safety of the most important person in his life?
Rain is starting to realize that he can only battle the supernatural with the supernatural, and that is spooky business indeed.
Summary:
Bloodlines of Fate #2
“Tell me of your homeworld…”
“Nope. And that’s the last time you watch that movie before bed, baby boy.” Talos cut off Kikoi who pouted.
“Fine. Then tell me about when Uncle Majid finally stopped being so grumpy and murdery all the time.” Kikoi batted his thick eyelashes.
“Okay, I can tell you all about that. Well, I don’t think he’ll ever stop being murdery as you put it.” Talos settled into his customary story telling position.
“Some would say that story begins well over two thousand years ago when I first met my best friend and powerful unicorn shadow. Some others would say it started a little over a thousand years ago when tragedy struck. But I think it starts when my eldest brother, the crazy half-giant vampire that he is, retired and went on a quest for redemption.”
Kikoi draped himself across Talos as he closed his eyes.
“Little did Majid and Odin know that Fate sent a tough, smart, wasn’t going to take lip from them polar bear to cross their path when they needed it most…”
Majid’s best friend, Talos, has found his mate and finally recognized his lover of the past several hundred years as his other mate. The mate Majid had spent the last eleven hundred years trying to forgive was back in his life.
Will Majid rescue one mate only to lose the other? Or will the fierce polar bear, Siku, give him a chance to redeem himself?
Will Odin forgive himself for the actions that tore Majid from his life? And will the not so little bear find him to be a worthy mate? Or is he doomed to die on a quest for redemption?
Will Siku find his place not only within the relationship his mates clearly already have but also the entirely different world that is city life? Or is he just fooling himself that he can get over the wall between him and his mates?
Bloodlines of Fate is an urban fantasy series set in a world destroyed by humans and resurrected by supernatural beings. This book contains depictions of omega polar bears who will eat you in self-defense, sturdy hairbrushes that break naughty butts, timeouts for coloring and painting toes, and a family reunion for the history books.
Majid is part two of a two-part story arch that tells the love story of two triads (MMM). It is necessary to read Talos to fully enjoy this book that does end in a HEA despite bickering chefs who try to burn the estate down.
This is a type of omegaverse with mpreg.
Summary:
Soulbound #5
Remembering the dead will always give them life.
The coveted Morrígan’s staff is up for sale on the black market to the highest bidder, and SOA Special Agent Patrick Collins will do whatever it takes to ensure the Dominion Sect doesn’t get their hands on it. Returning the weapon to its rightful owner is another step on the long road toward clearing Patrick’s soul debt, but he won’t walk it alone. Jonothon de Vere won’t let him.
Obeying the gods means Patrick must travel to London. For Jono, it means facing a past he thought he’d left behind forever. His return to England isn’t welcome, and neither is their pack, but Jono and Patrick will face the antagonism together. Politics aside, their priority must be the mission, but the bone-chilling secret they uncover in the London god pack will have far-reaching repercussions no one can ignore.
A race against time takes Patrick and Jono from the streets of London to the bright lights of Paris, where hospitality is thin on the ground, the air is filled with whispered prayers for the missing, and the Morrígan’s staff will end up in the one place it should never have gone—a graveyard.
For beneath Paris lie the long-forgotten dead, and when they rise to walk again, the living can only hope to die.
On the Wings of War is a 109k word m/m urban fantasy with a gay romantic subplot and a HFN ending. It is a direct sequel to A Vigil in the Mourning. Reading the first book in the series would be helpful in enjoying this one.
Summary:
Magic Emporium
Fox Hollow Zodiak #3
Old secrets, hidden psychics, secret shifters, ghosts, scandals—and true love.
A series of long-ago disappearances leads cold case private detective Austin Williams to investigate a troubled sanitarium. Jamie Miller is new in town, temporarily running the local historical association, and he willingly signs on to help solve Austin’s mystery. Sparks fly between them as they dig into the hospital’s troubled past. But someone wants the past to stay buried—and is willing to bury Austin and Jamie to keep it that way.
Haven is part of the Magic Emporium series. Each book stands alone, but each one features an appearance by Marden’s Magic Emporium, a shop that can appear anywhere, but only once and only when someone’s in dire need. This book contains explicit scenes, action, mystery, hurt/comfort, geeks in love, supernatural secrets, a brave historian and a lovelorn private detective, plus a guaranteed HEA. It is a standalone book, but there are soft ties to Morgan’s Fox Hollow series. Other than the shared elements of the magic emporium, it does not connect to any of the other books in the Magic Emporium series.
Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Charlie Cochet
Which made him wonder what Austin was really hoping to find.
Chapter One
He was being hunted.
The shadows around him swirled and drifted as if he were underwater. If he wasn’t careful he’d drown all right, in his own blood.
Calvin kept a steady grip on his rifle. He breathed in slow through his nose and released it through his mouth, his breath coming up warm against his skin thanks to the face mask shielding him from the bitter cold. Thank God for THIRDS thermal uniforms. He would have frozen his ass off by now without it. Three degrees. What the ever-loving fuck? This was New York City, not Canada. Any day now it would drop below zero; he just knew it. These guys picked the wrong day to fuck up. Felid agents enjoyed a frolic in the snow as much as the next Therian, but not in the middle of the night, and sure as shit not when it was cold enough to freeze their whiskers off. Pissed-off Felids equaled epic hissy fits.
There was a faint cackle in the distance, and he turned with exceptional care, his boots sinking into the blankets of freshly fallen snow. His earpiece came to life, Dex’s quiet voice hushed on the other end.
“Calvin, visuals?”
“Negative,” Calvin replied, continuing onward. It was eerily quiet. As if the city itself was slumbering and hiding from the unrelenting cold. The only sounds around him were the howling wind and the snow compressing underneath his boots. The wind picked up, and the snow fell in earnest. It made finding the gang of hyena Therians in Central Park’s North Woods even harder, especially with their own agents in their Therian forms out there hunting. Maybe his Human teammates were having better luck. He doubted it, considering how quiet his com was. Ethan had caught the scent of one of their suspects several minutes ago and disappeared into the woods. Calvin hadn’t heard from or seen his partner since, meaning Ethan was still stalking. Somewhere in the pitch-black night, Sloane and Ash were doing the same. Cael, the lucky bastard, got to sit in the warmth of their BearCat working surveillance.
A perimeter had been set up down E. Seventy-Ninth Street, cutting through Central Park, up Central Park West, across 110th Street, and down Fifth Avenue. If any of these assholes tried to make a break for the city, they’d be met with a shower of tranqs and Theta Destructive’s Therian agents in their Therian form. It was up to Destructive Delta to make sure they didn’t get that far.
There was another distinct cackle, closer this time. Calvin picked up his pace and spoke into his com. “I heard something. I’m gonna check it out.”
“What’s your position?” Dex asked, his tone void of its usual humor. Sparks had been kicking their asses in training for weeks since the whole mess with Shultzon and the facility went down, but no one was getting it as bad as Dex and Sloane. The two were being groomed. They all knew it. Hell, even Dex and Sloane knew it. They just didn’t know what for. In the meantime, his teammates went along with it. None of them were against strengthening or widening their skill set, especially Dex, who was still trying to figure out what his skill set was. In Calvin’s opinion, Dex was secretly enjoying the grueling regime. Eventually he’d get to the bottom of whatever Sparks was keeping from them. Dex always did.
“I’m coming up behind the Blockhouse.” Calvin slowed as he approached the old military fortification. It had been built in the 1800s to defend against the British. Now it was a deathtrap. Any number of Therians could be hiding in or around its stone walls.
“Watch your back,” Dex said.
“Affirmative.” Calvin crouched down by some dense shrubbery draped in layers of fluffy white and scanned the area. Half a dozen or so feral hyena Therians were hiding somewhere in here, all high as kites. THIRDS agents had been issued a warrant and sent to arrest the gang after receiving a tip-off to their location. Before the team could make the arrest, the gang managed to escape by blowing their meth lab into the next town. Luckily there were no casualties, but the group caused havoc through the city before teams from Unit Alpha cornered them in Central Park. That was over an hour ago.
Spotted hyena Therians were anything but the cowards many Humans pegged them to be. In their feral form they were lethal, skilled at hunting at night, had powerful jaws, moved in packs, and defended themselves fiercely. A low giggle met Calvin’s ear, and a shadow moved behind the Blockhouse. He readied his tranq rifle before moving in.
“THIRDS! Come out slowly!” Calvin held his rifle firm and took aim at the hyena growling at him from the shadows, its glowing eyes following his every move. Slowly it crept forward, the darkness following it as if it were some otherworldly spirit. It laughed, calling to its friends. The hairs on the back of Calvin’s neck stood on end, and he spun just as a hyena Therian lunged at him, knocking him off his feet. His body hit the snow, the Therian’s jaws clamping down on his rifle. Shit! Movement from his left caught his attention, and he swiped his backup tranq gun from his vest to fire at the approaching Therian. The tranq got him in the neck, and he yelped before scurrying off.
Calvin wrestled with the hyena Therian attempting to crunch his rifle like a tasty bone. Saliva dripped onto Calvin’s uniform, and he caught sight of a third hyena Therian circling him, looking for the right angle to pounce. All right, he’d had just about enough of this bullshit. Calvin fired his tranq gun at the Therian chewing on his rifle, and the asshat stumbled off him, the dart sticking out of his neck. He shook his head and laughed that creepy sound of theirs. Multiple sets of glowing eyes and dark shapes popped up in the woods around him. What the hell?
Calvin scrambled to his feet and tapped his com. “Dex, there’s more than six!”
“What?”
“I don’t know where the hell they came from, but I’m looking at seven or eight. Maybe more.”
“Shit. Hang tight. We’re heading your way.”
Calvin fired at the glowing eyes as he backed up slowly. He heard a yelp followed by several cackles, whoops, and laughs. They moved fast as hell. Calvin wasn’t in the habit of missing, but his accuracy depended highly on him being able to actually see his target. Every time he aimed at a set of eyes he assumed was attached to the dark blob surrounding it, it shifted or disappeared. He had to draw them out. Fuck. He hated this part.
Slinging his rifle strap back into place, he broke off into a run in the opposite direction, which was a pain in the ass in the heavy snow, thanks to the weight of his equipment. He moved as fast as he could, the cackles and laughs getting closer as the Therians emerged from the darkness to give chase. There was a small bridge ahead that crossed over the frozen creek. Hauling ass, he headed for the bridge, chancing a swift glance over his shoulder. Please let this work.
A pack of growling hyena Therians were right on his tail, almost close enough to nip at his heels. He pushed himself harder, his brow beaded with sweat and his lungs burning from the frosty air he was gulping down as he raced through the woods. If he stopped, they’d all descend on him like feral beasts, tearing at him until there was nothing left of him but his equipment. They wouldn’t even leave his bones. Fuck that. He wasn’t about to become a meal for these assholes.
“Ethan!” Calvin cried out, knowing his partner would hear him wherever he was. His best friend would never let anything happen to him if he could help it. Ethan would be there to fight for him, to look out for him, and keep him safe. They had each other’s backs, on and off the field. It’s how it had always been. The two of them against the world.
From the corner of his right eye, he caught sight of one of the hyena Therians fast approaching. It launched itself at him, and Calvin fired his rifle, but it didn’t stop the bastard from barreling into him and knocking him over. It clamped its jaws down on Calvin’s shoulder, its teeth sinking through the fabric and hitting his ballistic vest’s integrated shoulder plate, giving Calvin enough time to throw a right hook, catching the bastard on the side of the head. With a yelp it rolled off, only to quickly recover, fangs bared as it snarled at him.
The fierce roar that erupted from somewhere in the woods had a paralyzing effect. The tree branches shook, the snow plopping to the ground. Soon enough the hyena Therians snapped out of it and charged Calvin. He readied himself, grabbing his rifle and taking aim, when Ethan leaped out from the darkness and skidded to a stop in front of Calvin. He roared again, huge sharp fangs bare. The sound was terrifying, bringing everything and everyone to a halt for a slip of a moment. Two of the hyena Therians darted off with yips and whines. Half a dozen or so remained.
“Okay, buddy. Let’s do this.” Calvin got to his feet and cocked his rifle. The Therians scattered, and he took off after them, Ethan at his side. Ethan kept the hyena Therians from disappearing into the woods, roaring and leaping out, driving them out into the open areas of the park. It was exactly what Calvin needed. A nice clear shot.
Calvin anticipated their movements, shooting where he thought they’d be instead of reacting. He plugged one in two places. It dropped into the snow. The remaining gang members did everything they could to stay out of Ethan’s way while still attempting to get close to Calvin. His claws would take them out in one swipe. Snow flew like waves crashing against a shore as Ethan ran, leaped, and swatted his paws. Realizing they didn’t stand a chance against a tiger Therian, they all scattered and took off toward Calvin.
“Where the hell are you guys?” Calvin yelled into his com. Just as he said the words, Ash roared. He emerged from the shrubs, launching himself at two of the hyena Therians. They attacked him, biting at his massive mane and getting nothing but a mouthful of fur. Letty tore through the trees, tranq guns blazing. Sloane was seconds behind with Dex on his tail. Dex aimed his rifle and fired. Another one down. Their Felid teammates corralled the remaining hyena Therians while Dex, Calvin, and Letty approached with rifles at the ready.
“On the ground!” Dex ordered. “Get on the ground now!”
The hyena Therians did as asked, dropping down to their bellies, their ears flattened. Sloane, Ash, and Ethan circled the perps, hissing and growling, their sharp fangs on display as a warning to anyone thinking of doing something stupid. One wrong move, and they’d be kitty chow.
Dex tapped his com. “Sarge, area’s secure. We have the remaining Therians.”
“Copy that,” Maddock replied. “Theta Destructive is backing up their truck.”
“Copy that.” Dex kept his rifle aimed at the perps as he addressed them. “You can either get in the truck on your own or be carried after we tranq you. It’s your choice. Try anything funny, and our Felid agents will be happy to remind you why cooperating is in your best interest.”
The truck arrived, and Theta Destructive’s agents hurried out. They rounded up the unconscious hyena Therians and laid them in the cage. The ones not tranqed begrudgingly trotted up the ramp and into the back of the truck. A couple hesitated in front of the cage, but Ethan’s roar got them moving quick after that. With the remaining perps locked up and secure, the doors closed, and the truck was off.
“Thank God that’s over,” Letty grumbled, giving Ash a scratch behind his ear. He scrunched his nose and shook his head, causing snow to fall from his mane.
Ethan sat beside Calvin and pushed his nose against his leg. With a chuckle, Calvin gave Ethan a nice scratch behind his ear and over his head. Not content with a mere ear scratch, Ethan mewed and bumped his head against Calvin’s leg. “Yeah, all right,” Calvin said with a laugh. He crouched down and scratched Ethan under his chin and the sides of his face, ruffling his thick fur. Ethan shut his eyes in contentment before bumping his head playfully against Calvin’s. He chuffed, then let out a low moan, one Calvin was familiar with. Ethan had been worried. It was evident in the noises he made, and his rubbing his head against Calvin, as if touching him was the only way to reassure himself Calvin was okay. “I’m good, Ethan. Promise.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Letty said, heading in the direction of their BearCat. “I’m fucking starving.” Ash hopped and pounced after her. Clearly he was hungry as well. Sloane bounded after Ash, smacking him on the rump with his paw. Ash growled and chased him, the two frolicking in the snow and pouncing, sending each other tumbling.
“You’d think they’d be tired of the snow by now,” Dex said, shaking his head in amusement.
Calvin motioned toward Dex’s arm, the one with Sloane’s mark. “How did it go? Does it work?” Despite being on callouts for a month now, this had been the first really dangerous call. They’d all been worried about Dex being out among a bunch of feral Therians with his lover’s Therian mark on his arm. Before they left, Sparks had called Dex into her office and given him some kind of scent masking sleeve to wear under his uniform. She’d warned him it only lasted a few hours, so he better get whatever he needed done before it wore off. It was clearly TIN issued, because there was nothing out there in the market that could mask a Therian scent like that.
“So far it’s working great. If they smelled anything on me, it was Sloane’s usual scent. Shame it doesn’t have a longer shelf life. Still, I don’t know why there’s nothing out there like this.”
“I’m not surprised, to be honest,” Calvin admitted. “Marking is serious. I mean, not even marriage is permanent. That”—Calvin pointed to Dex’s arm—“is.”
Dex went pensive, and Calvin wondered if Dex and Sloane were aware of the kind of commitment they’d made to each other. The majority of Therians had no idea how deep those scars ran. Humans knew even less.
For the most part, no one at work had challenged Sloane, but then everyone respected him at the THIRDS, whether they personally liked him or not, and none were stupid enough to challenge him. Jaguar Therians weren’t to be messed with. A good number of them were grumpy at the best of times, without being challenged over their lover. Taylor was a little funny around Dex and appeared to be doing his best to avoid him, but that was seen as more of a blessing in disguise than a great concern. With this new contraption on Dex’s arm, things should go back to normal. Well, as normal as was possible for Dex.
Dex turned to Calvin with a wicked smile. Uh-oh. He should have known Dex wouldn’t remain quiet for long.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably not,” Calvin replied with a laugh. He doubted anyone thought what Dex did.
Dex held his arms out at his sides and fell onto his back, his body compressing the snow under the weight of his equipment. Calvin laughed as Dex moved his arms up and down and his legs open and closed, declaring cheerfully, “Snow angels!”
It was official. His friend was a nutcase. “How old are you again?”
“Old enough to make some awesome snow angels. Come on.”
Calvin arched an eyebrow at him. “You want me to roll around in the snow wearing eighty pounds of tactical gear?”
“Yes! No one’s watching. We have a few minutes before someone comes looking for us.”
Calvin couldn’t believe he was even considering it. What the hell. Why not? He walked close to Dex, turned, and spread his arms before dropping back into the thick layers of snow. The two of them laughed like a couple of schoolboys as they wiped the snow with their limbs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. Actually, he could. It was with Ethan, back when they were a couple of lanky, awkward teens. They’d make snow angels in the empty parking lot near their old apartment building and lie there together laughing, watching the clouds go by. Speaking of his best friend, Ethan pounced into the snow next to Calvin, his tail twitching before he started rolling around in the snow.
“What in the hell are you three doing?”
Shit. Calvin sat up, feeling his cheeks burning. Ethan leaped behind him to hide. Like Maddock wouldn’t be able to spot his huge tiger Therian butt sticking out from behind Calvin. Dex, on the other hand, was unfazed by their sergeant’s scowl. He smiled widely up at Maddock. “Snow angels.”
“Let me rephrase that. Why in the hell are you two making snow angels?”
“Because it’s fun. Remember when you used to do them with me and Cael?” Dex turned his head to Calvin. “We lost my brother in the snow once. I shit you not. Dad had to excavate him.”
Calvin burst out laughing. “What?”
“It’s true,” Maddock grumbled. “The boys jumped into this huge mound of snow in the backyard despite my telling them not to a hundred times. Dex dug his way out the side of it, but Cael got lost. He was so small, wearing this puffy coat onesie.”
“Didn’t help that his onesie was white.” Dex sat up with a chuckle. He shook his head at his dad. “Not the brightest idea.”
Maddock shrugged. “Hey, I told him that, but it’s the one he wanted.”
Dex laughed. “He looked like a marshmallow.”
With a laugh, Calvin got to his feet. He helped Dex up, smiling as Dex and Maddock walked off, reminiscing about the brothers’ childhood shenanigans. Calvin followed, holding onto Ethan’s tail as his partner walked ahead of him. Felids hated having their tails grabbed, but Calvin had been holding onto Ethan’s since childhood. It had been their security blanket back when it was just the two of them.
Inside the BearCat, their team was secured in their seats with Sloane lying serenely at Dex’s feet. Ash sat beside Cael at the surveillance console, his eyes closed and his head on Cael’s lap as Cael went on about some new gadget he’d put together. Letty and Rosa chatted, while Maddock took the wheel. It was far too cold for their Therian teammates to want to shift back to Human form in the truck. Most Felids had little tolerance for the cold. Calvin was strapped in his seat at the end of the bench, and Ethan lay beside him on the floor, his large furry head resting on Calvin’s lap.
Man, he was beat. Another twelve-hour, ten-day rotation coming to an end. He couldn’t wait to get in, have a hot shower, and totally crash. As if sensing his thoughts, Ethan huffed. He rubbed his head against Calvin’s leg, seeking affection. Calvin obliged, absently stroking his head or scratching behind his ears as he listened to his team chatting. At one point Calvin dozed off, woken up only when Ethan nuzzled Calvin’s face. He couldn’t have drifted off long since the truck was still moving.
The near silence around him spoke volumes of how tired everyone was. Even Dex was mostly quiet, murmuring softly at Sloane while nuzzling him. Their Team Leader’s deep chainsaw-like purrs reverberated through the truck. His eyes were closed in contentment, and he didn’t care who heard him purr. The change in Sloane amazed Calvin. A year and a half ago Sloane had been ready and eager to kick Dex’s ass at the drop of a hat. The mere mention of the guy had been enough to draw a feral growl from Sloane.
It had been rough for all of them. Sloane had been miserable and, quite frankly, an asshole. Not that Calvin blamed him. He knew how much Sloane had been hurting. Now Sloane was so at peace, his tail didn’t even twitch. Calvin couldn’t help his smile. His friend was happy again. The team had mourned Gabe’s loss, and like Calvin, they’d begun to mourn the loss of their Team Leader and friend.
Dex lifted his head, and their gazes met. A warm smile came onto his friend’s face, as if he knew what Calvin had been thinking. With a wink, Dex turned his attention back to Sloane, who nudged at his hand until his muzzle was underneath it. Dex chuckled, leaving his hand on Sloane’s muzzle and scratching the top of his head with his free hand.
It had taken Calvin some time to figure Dex out, to see the man behind the big kid persona. Calvin understood why Ethan was able to talk to Dex. The guy was nothing but genuine in everything he did, loyal to a fault, and would go through the very gates of hell itself to protect those he cared about. Yeah, sometimes Dex did stupid things, but he wasn’t stupid. He had his reasons. Like his decision to go after Hogan on his own and keep it from Sloane. Dex’s habit of not following the rules got him into trouble, but everything he did came from a deep-rooted sense of justice, a need to do what was right. He simply needed to learn to have a little more faith in those around him.
Inside HQ, Ethan waited patiently in his Therian form outside the en suite shower of the Therian PSTC room they decided on instead of one of the curtained changing areas. This way Calvin could shower and get rid of his cold, wet clothes. Cael and Rosa brought Calvin, Dex, and Letty their toiletry bags from their lockers along with clean, dry uniforms. Once Calvin had showered and dressed, he administered Postshift Trauma Care.
Like so many other things between them, administering PSTC had changed. Every touch, every look, every breath held a different meaning. It turned into a battle of self-control for Calvin. He made sure Ethan drank a couple of bottles of Gatorade before handing over the power bars. When the dizziness stopped and Ethan was feeling strong enough, he grabbed a towel to slip around his waist, something he’d never done before. Calvin pretended he didn’t notice, and he continued gathering supplies as Ethan stepped into the shower. Afterward, Calvin helped him get dressed.
When he fastened the buttons on Ethan’s uniform shirt for him, he could feel Ethan’s heated gaze on him, his intense green eyes studying Calvin’s every move. Ethan could dress himself by this point, but instead he let Calvin do it. He stood silently before Calvin, his thick biceps, broad shoulders, expansive chest, and tapered waist driving Calvin to distraction. Ethan stood with his legs slightly apart and his hands on his muscular thighs.
Ethan had always been big and strong, but Calvin remembered their teenage years. Even tiger Therians were awkward during that time. Ethan’s limbs had been too long for him to maneuver efficiently. His clothes and his shoes never fit right. It seemed like he grew a couple of inches by the day. Meanwhile Calvin stopped growing when he reached five foot seven. As they got older, Calvin envied the easy way Ethan’s body had filled out, how he built muscle while Calvin had to work out every damn day. Muscle-building came naturally to tiger Therians. They were the biggest of the Felids, the heaviest. When Ethan turned sixteen, he had the body of a guy in his twenties. Eventually Calvin caught up, but he still maintained his boyish looks, making him look younger than Ethan despite being older. Occasionally Calvin would get carded at a bar or club, and Ethan laughed his ass off every time.
Calvin cursed under his breath as he struggled to get a button through one of the wonky holes. Ethan’s larger hand came to rest on Calvin’s, and he brushed his lips over Calvin’s temple to leave a feathery kiss. He took over the task of buttoning up his shirt the rest of the way. Calvin didn’t know what to do with himself when Ethan did things like that, randomly doing something to assure Calvin they were more than friends. Ethan was trying. It showed in his intimate gestures when no one was looking. It wasn’t that Calvin expected Ethan to be all over him, but his best friend was so reserved with his emotions, Calvin often wondered if Ethan wanted him as badly as he wanted Ethan.
Whenever they were alone, all Calvin could think about was kissing Ethan, touching him, feeling him. The need was overwhelming, and he hated how it put him in a pissy mood. He was trying his best to be patient. They’d fooled around since the incident in the surveillance van where they’d gotten each other off after a heated argument, but those moments had been few and far between, and it was always Calvin who initiated it. Why was he doing this to himself? He was too tired for this right now.
“Let’s get some food in you,” Calvin muttered. Ethan nodded, his big dopey grin making Calvin smile. Ethan always found a way to pull Calvin out of his funk.
They headed upstairs to the canteen. While Ethan ate his Therian-sized triple quarter pounder with fries and milkshake, Calvin struggled to stay awake. The end of a ten-day shift was tough enough without Sparks and her damn TIN Associate Training Program. For weeks now Destructive Delta had been pushed to its limits with cardiovascular conditioning, speed drills, strength training, flexibility, and Sparks’s mixed martial arts specialist, who was kicking their asses three times a week at a secure location. The location was so secret it wasn’t even disclosed to their team. Austen drove them there and back in the BearCat, and it was somewhere different each and every time.
Were their regular training schedule and callouts not enough? Between Sparks’s guy and Ash training them in Muay Thai and Close Quarter Combat, they were lucky they got a day off to themselves, and usually those days were spent recovering. Calvin almost passed out on the table but caught himself.
“Man, I think I’m gonna crash in one of the bays. I’m too tired to go home.”
Ethan nodded and finished his milkshake. He made a brushing movement in front of his teeth.
“Yeah, could you grab my stuff from my locker?” Calvin stood with a yawn. Ethan put his thumb up, and Calvin told him he’d leave the door open so Ethan could find him.
Calvin wasn’t the only one too tired to head home. There were a lot more sleeper bay doors closed than usual. From the speed at which Dex and Sloane disappeared, he’d wager a guess they were presently occupying one of those bays, though he doubted there was much sleeping going on. Those two were like a couple of horny teenagers. Calvin found an empty bay toward the end of the hall and walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar. He unfastened his thigh rig and placed it on the desk, followed by his phone and everything else in his pockets. Soon his boots, socks, and shirt were off. He draped his pants over the back of the chair, staying in his black undershirt and blue boxer briefs.
His toiletry bag had a toothbrush and toothpaste, but he just wanted to get that done and over with, so he used one of the newly packaged brushes on offer in one of the bay’s many service cubbyholes on the side wall. He brushed his teeth and rinsed at the small aluminum sink before wiping his mouth on the towel provided. The heating kept the room warm enough to sleep with a blanket and not be uncomfortable. Thank God for the sleeper bays. Home away from home.
Calvin sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what was taking Ethan so long. With a groan, he flopped onto his side and drew his legs up. Screw it. Pajamas were overrated anyway. His head hit the pillow, and next thing he knew he was being pulled back against a hard body. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow from the hall coming in through the tiny slit under the closed door. With a soft sigh, Calvin turned in Ethan’s arms and snuggled up close. It wasn’t the first time Ethan had slept in one of the bays with him, or even in the same bed. Hell, they’d been doing it since they were kids. It was the first time Ethan had held him this close, their bare legs intertwined and Ethan’s warm breath against Calvin’s skin before he planted a kiss on Calvin’s brow. Ethan was in his boxers and T-shirt, his warm skin smelling of soap.
“Good night, Cal.”
It is now that you’re here. “Good night.” Calvin shimmied lower so he could rest his head against Ethan’s chest, the soft beating of his best friend’s heart lulling him. Ethan gave him a squeeze, and Calvin put his hand to Ethan’s chest before he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Calvin was startled awake by Ethan’s screams. Calvin bolted upright, ready for a fight. Remembering where he was, he swiftly switched on the desk lamp and turned to find Ethan in the midst of a terrible fit. Whatever he was dreaming, it was bad, and Calvin quickly got out of bed. He knew from experience not to touch Ethan when he was having a nightmare like this. The first time Ethan slept at his house and went into a fit, Calvin had tried to wake him, and Ethan almost broke Calvin’s arm. That had been before Ethan had grown into his strength. Trying to subdue him now could prove lethal.
“Ethan, wake up,” Calvin called out gently, but loud enough to try and rouse him. Sweat dripped down the side of Ethan’s face, his expression one of terror and pain. It broke Calvin’s heart. “Please wake up, Ethan.”
Ethan arched his back, a horrific cry tearing from his lips, followed by an anguished, “Sloane!”
As if hearing Ethan’s cry for him, Sloane threw the sleeper bay door open and rushed in. As Team Leader, his handprint would override the security locks on any of the sleeper bay doors, and Calvin couldn’t have been more relieved to see him. Dex flipped on the lights, his gaze moving to the bed.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s having a nightmare. A bad one.” Calvin hated feeling helpless, especially where his best friend was concerned, but he was fully aware of his limitations as a Human. In all the years he’d known Ethan, he’d helped his friend through some tough nightmares, but none had ever come close to this.
“Wake him up.” Dex moved to the bed, and Sloane threw his arms around him, hauling him back just as Ethan screamed. His fangs started to elongate, and Calvin backed up near Sloane.
“He’s going to shift!”
Ash thundered into the room with Cael on his heels. “What the fuck is going on?”
Dex put a hand out in front of Cael, stopping him from getting closer. “It’s Hobbs. He’s having some kind of fit, and it looks like he might shift.”
“Shit. We have to do something.” Ash rushed over to the cubbyholes and started rifling through the Therian medical kit. “We need to sedate him. Where’s the fucking injector?”
“What happened?” Cael asked worriedly.
Ethan’s screams filled the room as his nails grew in and his mass began to shift, his muscles pulling and his body changing. They didn’t have much time. If Ethan shifted while he was asleep, who the hell knew what he’d do?
Calvin couldn’t understand. “He’s had plenty of nightmares before, but he’s never shifted through any of them. Whatever he’s dreaming about, it’s scaring the shit out of him. All I know is that he screamed Sloane’s name before he started shifting.”
Ash spun on his heels. “He what?”
“He was having a fit. Then he screamed Sloane’s name.”
“The facility. He’s dreaming about the goddamn facility.”
Sloane ignored the warnings and climbed onto the bed with Ethan. He wrestled him down, pinning him to the bed. Ethan hissed and tried to claw at him, but Sloane kept his arms down, though with Ethan being stronger Sloane wouldn’t be able to hold him down for long. At least it seemed to have stopped Ethan from shifting into his Therian form.
“Ash, help me out here.”
Ash ran over and helped Sloane keep Ethan pinned, the two struggling against Ethan’s determination to free himself at any cost.
“Hobbs, listen to me. It’s Sloane. I’m fine. I’m okay. Wake up, buddy. You’re dreaming. We’re not there anymore. Open your eyes. Listen to my voice. It’s okay.”
“Sloane!” Ethan cried, his eyes flying open. He gasped for air, his body trembling beneath Sloane and Ash’s hold. Slowly, Ash backed off.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Sloane assured him gently. He ran a hand over Ethan’s head and smiled. “It’s okay. Just a bad dream. You’re okay.”
Ethan’s eyes watered, and he threw his arms around Sloane, hugging him tight. Calvin’s pulse steadied, and he gingerly sat at the edge of the bed. At the feel of him, Ethan released Sloane and turned onto his side. He curled up around Calvin, his arm going around Calvin’s stomach and pulling him in close against him with a shuddered sigh.
“It’s okay. No one’s upset with you,” Calvin promised.
Ethan squeezed his arms around Calvin’s middle, and Calvin ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair, comforting him. He knew what his friend was thinking. It always followed a nightmare, or any of the countless things that would make Ethan feel self-conscious. Except, with Ethan’s anxiety, his embarrassment was always triple what anyone else’s would be. Sloane climbed off the bed, his hand going to Calvin’s shoulder and his expression sympathetic.
“Don’t sweat it, big guy,” Dex said, his tone gentle. “That’s what we’re here for. If you need anything else just let us know.”
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
Calvin was lucky to have a family like Destructive Delta. It was difficult for people to understand Ethan’s anxieties, much less have the patience it required on a daily basis. For Ethan it was a way of life, a constant struggle not to get overwhelmed by his fears. No one on his team ever hesitated when it came to Ethan. Sloane gave Calvin’s shoulder a pat and leaned in, his voice quiet in Calvin’s ear.
“He needs to talk about what happened.”
Calvin nodded. He thanked everyone again and waited for them to leave, grateful when Dex turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the desk lamp. When the door closed and the room was silent, Calvin lay down facing Ethan. It had been a month since Shultzon’s goons had taken Ethan, Ash, and Sloane. Ethan refused to talk about what had happened. It was starting to take its toll.
“Ethan, please talk to me. Tell me about the facility.”
Ethan was quiet. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. He could have been asleep, but he wasn’t. Over the years Calvin had gotten to know every little hitch in his partner’s breath and what it meant. He could read Ethan Hobbs like an open book. From Ethan’s breathing alone, Calvin could tell if Ethan was asleep, upset, pissed off, or even having a wet dream. Right now Ethan was thinking. Like most of Ethan’s fears, his hesitation to tell Calvin meant this was about Ethan judging himself. That’s how Ethan’s anxieties ate away at him. His perception of how others saw him was skewed, and as much as Ethan was aware of it, he couldn’t stop it.
Calvin waited, giving Ethan time to put his thoughts into words, and then he waited for Ethan to take those words and find the voice to speak them. The latter was always the most difficult for his friend.
“When we were taken by Shultzon’s men…,” Ethan began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I woke up in a cage.”
Calvin gritted his teeth. He remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt Ethan. What he wanted to do was punch something. That son of a bitch, Shultzon. Wherever TIN had him, Calvin hoped the asshole was rotting away inside his own cage.
“They were supposed to have taken Seb, but Fuller made a mistake. He didn’t know there was more than one Hobbs. Shultzon was angry. He said I was… useless, because my disabilities were psychological and not physical like Seb’s. He called me….” Ethan’s eyes grew glassy, his pupils dilated. “He said I was broken. And then Ash was in a cage next to me trying to get out, and Sloane was strapped down to this horrible chair. They were going to inject the drug into him. I couldn’t help him.”
Ethan shut his eyes tight, and Calvin pulled him close. With a sniff, Ethan wrapped his arms around Calvin and buried his face against Calvin’s T-shirt.
“I dreamed I was back there, and they killed Sloane because I couldn’t help him. Because I was too scared. Broken.”
“Fuck Shultzon. That asshole was out of his fucking mind, Ethan. He wanted to turn Therians into mindless super soldiers. He messed with your head, and he did the same to Sloane and Ash.”
“And yet Ash got out.”
Ethan pulled back enough to look into Calvin’s eyes, the anguish gripping at Calvin’s heart and squeezing.
“Ash got himself out of his cage, and Sloane got out of the chair. I couldn’t get out. Could barely move. I’m stronger, and I couldn’t do anything.” Ethan shook his head, his lips pressed together as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I was trained for those situations. If Ash hadn’t talked me off the ledge….”
Calvin put his hand to Ethan’s cheek. “Shultzon messed with you. He fucked up your meds.”
“And what does that say about me, huh?” Ethan asked, agitated. “I’m so fucked-up I can’t function without them anymore. I can’t…. Without the meds I’m nothing. I can’t do my job. I can’t have fucking dinner with my family. Thanksgiving was a disaster. You got into a fight because of me. Again. My whole life I’ve had someone fighting my battles for me because I’ve been too weak to do it myself.”
“We talked about Thanksgiving. That wasn’t your fault.” Calvin’s heart broke, but he did what he always did. He remained strong for Ethan, doing his best to soothe Ethan’s fears. Calvin wiped the wetness from Ethan’s reddened cheeks. “As for the rest, I will always fight for you. Not because you can’t fight for yourself, but because you’re my best friend. If some asshole has the balls to mess with you, he has to get through me first. I know you’re bigger than me, and stronger, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to lean on me, Ethan. That’s what people do when they care about someone. Your fight becomes mine.”
“I’m going to be on meds for the rest of my life. What if they stop working?”
“Then we’ll find something else to help you.”
Ethan sat up and shook his head. “I hate that I have no control of my own head. That I have to rely on stupid little pills. Everyone thinks I’m a fucking spaz.”
“Hey, no one thinks that.” Calvin sat up with a frown. “Are you telling me our friends, who woke up at four in the fucking morning after a twelve-hour shift and ran in here to make sure you were okay, that they think that?”
Ethan shook his head, and Calvin took hold of his hand.
“No, they don’t. Look at your brother. How many prescriptions does Seb have? He can’t function without those pills either, and he’s the reason you wanted to become a THIRDS agent. You remember what he told you when you said you wanted to become an agent like him but couldn’t because of your mutism?”
Ethan nodded.
“Tell me.”
“He said my disabilities didn’t define me. I define me.”
“That’s right.” Calvin placed Ethan’s hand to his lips for a kiss. “You define you, Ethan. Not your meds, not your mutism, not anyone else. You.”
Ethan went quiet. He dropped his gaze to his hand in Calvin’s before looking up at him, his expression softening. “I got out for you, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the cage, I couldn’t move. I was so scared. Ash told me to do it for you. He said you didn’t think I was broken.”
Ethan searched his gaze, and Calvin made sure Ethan found what he was looking for.
“And he was right,” Calvin replied with all the conviction he possessed. Twenty-four years they’d been inseparable, yet Ethan still needed to be reminded that Calvin was at his side because he wanted to be, needed to be, as much for himself as for Ethan. Calvin took Ethan’s face in his hands. “You’re not broken, Ethan. You’re amazing, and that will never change.” He stroked Ethan’s cheek with his thumb and smiled. “Thank you for getting yourself out of there. I couldn’t stop worrying about you.”
“It scares me sometimes,” Ethan said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“How much I need you.” Ethan pulled Calvin with him as he lay down. He snuggled up close and pressed his lips to Calvin’s.
Calvin closed his eyes and parted his lips, allowing Ethan to slip his tongue in and deepen the kiss. He didn’t question it or overthink it, just went with it. Whatever Ethan needed, Calvin would give.
Ethan’s lips were soft, his mouth warm and tasting faintly of mint. Calvin loved how Ethan tasted, how he smelled, how he felt underneath his touch. He loved the way Ethan’s strong hands caressed his skin.
This was uncharted territory for both of them, and despite knowing everything about each other, Calvin was eager to explore more of this side of Ethan. They’d seen each other naked more times than he could count. They argued and fought but always worked things out. When Ethan pulled back, Calvin missed his breath on him, the feel of his lips, but he smiled at his best friend and cuddled up to him. As long as they were together, they’d make it through anything. Them against the world.
Spooky Business by SE Harmon
Chapter 1
“Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.” -Seneca
As the hand of my watch inched—and I do mean inched—slightly past two, I acknowledged several things. One, talking to a serial killer was not good times. I don’t think many people would argue with me on that, so let’s just change that from a theory to law. Two, even though Thomas Kane requested my presence, he clearly had no intention of ever telling me where he buried his victims. Three, and most important of all, the next time I did a favor for Alford Graycie, my ex-boss at the FBI, he would be very old and gray. Probably on his deathbed.
To be fair, when Graycie told me that a notorious serial killer wanted to meet with me, it hadn’t been a question of whether I’d go, but when. I was a detective and former profiler, which meant I was terminally afflicted with insatiable curiosity, the kind that would probably get me zip-tied to a chair with some maniac pointing a gun at me. Oh, wait, that had already happened.
The ghost standing in the corner didn’t help matters. I wasn’t sure if I brought her with me or she was already there. She stood with her arms crossed, staring a hole in Kane. I cast another glance her way. Now that I really thought about it, she kind of looked like one of Kane’s victims, Bee Williams.
Bee was blonde, willowy and tall, clad in a flowy paisley skirt and lavender blouse, with a stack of thin bracelets on each wrist. Her citrusy smell was pleasant and fresh, strong enough to battle the acrid scent of Kane’s cigarette smoke. I didn’t know what she wanted yet, but I knew she’d make her demands known because sooner or later, they all did.
For the first time in Kane’s life, there was no offer on the table. No deals to be made. His obligatory last-ditch appeal for clemency had been denied. Kane had appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner for his victims, and now it was his turn to die. So, just what the hell did he have to say to me?
I cleared my throat. “I’d like to switch gears a little here and talk about the disappearance of your wife.”
Kane’s eyes glinted dangerously. “What about her?”
“Delilah Rose is an important part of your story, is she not?” I was prepared to step lightly but determined to proceed. “Your first victim went missing six months after you got married. Abby Stockton in 1976.”
He looked at me slyly. “Who?”
I gritted my teeth. “Abigail Stockton. They found her dog’s collar in your valet box.”
The red collar had been torn, a heart-shaped tag dangling from the middle. Abby’s information was printed on one side, the name Buddy on the other. Her mother had identified the collar immediately. A month later, the golden retriever was found in a shelter two towns over.
“I told you before. They don’t have names anymore.” He smiled lazily. “They’re only Roses now.”
He blew a cloud of smoke my way, but I didn’t blink. We’d dispensed with the no smoking in the building rule on hour two. He’d gone through the entire pack of Newports with ruthless efficiency, methodically chucking each of the butts in his empty soda can. I was seriously debating whether anything he could tell me was worth eventual cancer.
He eyed me through a smoky haze. “You think I killed my wife, don’t you?”
Duh probably isn’t the right way to go.
Graycie had left me a file for Kane, but I already knew this case inside and out. His modus operandi had been trolling bus depots and long stretches of remote highway, looking for women in need of a ride. He’d operated under the radar for almost twenty years, until Cindy May Weatherby. Kane offered her a lift but hadn’t known that Cindy had a stalker. Her sleazy, yet concerned, ex had reported Kane’s license plate, and the police connected the rest of the dots.
Cindy May Weatherby was never seen again, but a lock of her hair and her license were found in Kane’s closet. He’d carefully stored the items in a battered valet box. The belongings of seven other missing women were in the box as well—an old business card, two licenses, pieces of jewelry, and pictures. We suspected victim number nine was his wife, Delilah Rose, who’d been missing since the early eighties. A week after each victim disappeared, the family received delivery of a dozen roses, presumably from Kane.
The bodies were never found.
“When the wife of a serial killer goes missing, certain conclusions are drawn.” I mentally issued myself an award for tact. “Are you saying you didn’t?”
“Would it matter?”
“Yes, it would.”
He continued to stare at me, his eyes hooded, unreadable, and green as polished emeralds. His skin was only a little weathered, his salt-and-pepper hair still thick and curly, even in his late sixties. He was a handsome man who was aging well and knew it. He was built like an ox, and he’d added substantial muscle during his imprisonment… because there was nothing smarter than giving men with no options, and nothing except time on their hands, the opportunity to finally achieve that elusive beach body.
I must’ve passed his test because his shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. “I didn’t kill Delilah.”
“What do you know about the other three girls who went missing near Route 10? The FBI thinks they should be added to your body count.”
“Yeah? And what do you think?”
“I think the methodology was impeccable. I think the families of the three women received delivery of a dozen roses, exactly seven days after they disappeared. I think it looks bad for you.”
“I think you’re wrong. As usual.” Another cloud of smoke came my way, and I pressed my lips to keep from coughing. “There are only eight Roses.”
“Twelve is an important number to you, though. And roses come in dozens.” I paused. “Do you deny you were trying to create a human art installation of a dozen roses?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, my math could be a little rusty, but if you add the eight you copped to with the three missing from Route 10, that’s eleven. Delilah makes twelve.”
“Nothing wrong with your math, but there must be something wrong with your fucking ears, boy.” His tone was sharp. “I didn’t kill Delilah Rose.”
“Then where is she?”
“You know what? I think we’re about done here.” Kane tossed the wrinkled cigarette pack across the table and it landed on the screen of my iPad. “No more fucking smokes, no more fucking conversation.”
“You should be more careful. These things could kill you.” I tossed the pack back in his direction, letting him know I wouldn’t be taking his trash—literal or figurative. “First.”
That certainly wiped the smile from his face. Thinking about your pending execution tended to do that. From her corner, Bee let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t let that fake calm fool you,” she said. “That’s going to have him stewing for a while.”
I sent her a little smile and Kane’s watchful gaze sharpened. “You like smiling at empty corners, Doc?”
“I like all sorts of things. Like talking to cooperative prisoners.”
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Her who?”
“I brought you here for two reasons, and she’s one of them.” His face hardened. “I want her to leave me alone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I read the articles. I’ve done my homework. You want me to tell you anything, you get her to stop.”
I didn’t dare look in Bee’s direction, but I heard a snicker.
“Stop what?” “Stop the noises. The moaning. The eerie whistling. Stop tripping me in the hall. The scratches on my body.” As he talked about his problems, he grew increasingly agitated. “I want the haunting to stop.”
“You kill twelve people and one of them has a grudge about it.” My voice was cold. “How unreasonable.”
“Eight,” he snapped. “Have you ever heard of a copycat?”
“Have you ever heard of therapy?” The rejoinder popped out of my mouth despite my better judgment. I suppressed a sigh. Chalk it up to stress from my four-hour playdate with a serial killer.
He stared at me so long I started to feel a little itchy and then he cocked his head. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
Terrified. “Should I be?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
I kept my tone light. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He smiled without humor. “You would’ve made a fascinating addition to my collection.”
Your collecting days are over, Kane. I held his stare, ignoring the goose bumps rising along my flesh. “You said there were two reasons you brought me. What’s the other?”
“I want you to find out what happened to my wife.” At my hesitant expression, he made a frustrated noise. “I didn’t kill her.”
“But you wanted to.”
He didn’t need to speak. The answer was written all over his face. “You tell me what happened to her and stop the haunting, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
“You’ll tell me where they’re buried?”
“Yes.”
“And how and why you chose each victim?”
“If necessary, I can wait while you look up the phrase everything you want to know.” He crossed his massive arms over his chest. “I have to hit the john.”
“Thanks for the update on your bodily functions,” I said dryly. “I’ll get the CO.”
I’d like to say I got up in a dignified manner. The truth was I almost knocked over my chair in relief. I could’ve used a break two hours ago, but I couldn’t be the first to say so. Power was important to inmates because everything in prison was designed to show them that they didn’t have any.
I rapped sharply on the glass. Silence. I forced myself to wait another twenty seconds before knocking again. They were probably just a little slow on the gate today. Maybe they dropped their keys. Sprained a fucking ankle. Fell down an elevator shaft.
What the fuck is taking so long?
My back was tense as a drawn bowstring as I knuckled the window again. I refused to show any fear—that was just what Kane wanted. He liked to keep people off-balance and unsettled. He didn’t like to just turn the tables, he wanted to flip them and set them on fire.
When the chains shackling his legs made a scraping noise against the floor, my shoulders jumped. I turned quickly and the hell with how it looked.
“Relax,” Kane said as he stood and stretched languidly. “It’s Brenda’s birthday today. They probably stopped by the breakroom to help her celebrate.”
I didn’t know who Brenda was, but that was fucking fantastic. Now I was alone and unsupervised in a room with a serial killer, who had fists like Christmas hams. It would certainly make a fitting epitaph on my tombstone: Here lies Rain Christiansen, sacrificed for grocery store sheet cake.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait,” I said calmly. “We should sit down.”
I didn’t sit back down.
Kane tilted his head briefly and damned if it didn’t look as though he was scenting the air, like a lion on one of those nature shows. He chuckled softly, almost to himself. “If I went apeshit in here, you’d be in a lot of trouble, wouldn’t you?”
“Would I?”
“Yeah, I think you would. No gun, no pepper spray. Just us.” He rounded the table and got even closer, but I refused to move an inch. I wanted to tell him to back the fuck off, but with a man like Kane that would only escalate the situation.
I could smell his breath, foul and stale with cigarette smoke. He was a big man, at least eight inches over my own rather modest five-ten. Five-nine-and-a-half, if you cared about accuracy. I swallowed hard. He probably didn’t.
“I could take that pretty blond head right off your shoulders. Put it right on the table to greet the guard when he comes back.” Kane smiled. “Think you could stop me?”
Only if my iPad morphed into a revolver. Was there an app for that?
Keep it together, Christiansen. I knew how Kane’s warped thought process worked, and that gave me the edge. My mind was all the weapon I needed… although I certainly wouldn’t turn down the Glock I’d secured in my glovebox.
“Is this how you liked to intimidate your victims?” I asked. “The need for power probably stemmed from your childhood. Your father was abusive, and your mother wasn’t much better. It probably made you feel good to have absolute control for once in your life.”
He was still crowding my space, but those flat eyes flickered. I continued, my voice steady and matter-of-fact. “But it doesn’t take much of a man to threaten someone smaller with physical superiority, does it?”
A scowl creased his face. “I could handle a guy twice your size without breaking a sweat.”
“Yes, but you didn’t.” I gave him a cool look. “Your average victim was about five-foot-four and a hundred and ten pounds. I’m a lot bigger than that. A lot heavier than that. Whatever you think is going to go down here isn’t going to happen.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” I stepped forward, closing that last inch between us. “So I think you should just sit the fuck down and wait for the guard.”
I hoped that my hunch was right, and I wasn’t about to get a mouthful of bloody Chiclets for teeth. Despite my bluster, I didn’t know how long I could hold him off. If you asked any of the sparring dummies in the precinct gym, I was a beast. But I didn’t think Kane would stand there with his arms extended and let me beat him like a piñata.
He could be kind of ornery that way.
“No one takes my power,” he finally muttered, shuffling backward a few steps. He didn’t sit down, but I allowed myself a tiny breath of relief. “And I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“That’s fine,” I said evenly. “We’ll see how you feel after your bathroom break.”
I kept my back pressed firmly against the door, watching him carefully. I might’ve scored a point or two, but Mama didn’t raise no fool. It was another few minutes before I felt the heavy vibrations on my back as the mechanical lock was activated.
I glared at the two COs as they rushed into the room. I didn’t know their names, but I was comfortable just calling them Officer “Where The Fuck Have You Been?” and Officer “You Almost Got Me Killed,” respectively. And was that a smear of frosting in the corner of one of their mouths?
“Sit,” the blond one barked, pushing a bristly Kane back down in the chair.
They started securing him for proper transport. I stayed to remind him which of us was in control, and which one of us had to be restrained like a dangerous animal. From the color high in his cheeks and the resentment rolling off him like skunk fumes, he got the message. I didn’t let my guard down until they shuffled him out.
The tiny room suddenly seemed cathedral grand without his looming presence and threatening energy. “Christ,” I muttered.
Bee made a sound of displeasure. “Thomas Kane is not a man to be trifled with. He would’ve killed you, you know.”
My legs felt like cooked spaghetti. I leaned against the wall heavily, letting out a long breath like a deflated balloon. “I know.”
* * * * * *
I used my short break to hit the head and then made a beeline for the vending machines. By the time I tossed my trash and went back to the interview room, Kane was already seated again, the two COs standing behind him with matching bored expressions.
I stood there with my arms folded, staring at him through the double-paned glass. Once again, I had to reestablish my dominance by making him wait. I wasn’t a man who enjoyed playing games, and the power struggle between us was abrasive as the tag in a cheap shirt.
A door down the hall buzzed open, and the rhythmic click of hard shoes on the tile sounded as someone approached. I didn’t turn, mostly because I knew exactly who it was. Graycie had been stalking me since Kane requested the interview, excited as a kid with a suitcase full of Skittles. He’d left me three text messages with emojis before I even arrived at the prison—this from a man who thought a smile and a frown used too many muscles.
He stopped beside me, and I turned slightly. He looked dapper and refreshed in a dove-gray suit and pink silk tie. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly clipped, and he smelled good, like something woodsy.
I looked just as fresh and crisp… four hours ago. Now I was a wrinkled mess, the sleeves of my custom-tailored shirt sloppily rolled to my elbows and my tie askew. I’d run my hands through my hair about a zillion times, and the sharp creases my pants sported earlier were but a distant memory.
Graycie didn’t seem to mind. He gave me a once-over so thorough, I was tempted to request sexual harassment forms from HR. I narrowed my eyes at him, which he seemed to find amusing. “Something I can help you with?” I asked tartly.
“Nope.” He smiled. “How’re things going in there?”
“Splendid. We’re thinking about buying a timeshare together.”
“You knew he’d be a tough nut to crack.”
“Tough nut?” I snorted. “Is that what we’re coining that sociopath?”
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to talk to that particular sociopath?” He stabbed a finger at the glass where Kane stared impassively in our general direction. “This is the baseline of our work, Christiansen. We talk to people like Kane to understand what makes them tick. That knowledge helps us interpret and develop data to find the next serial killer, and the next.”
He was preaching to the choir—I’d dedicated most of my career to that concept. I stretched until my neck popped and then dropped my arms with a sigh. “I know we were operating under the impression that he killed his wife, but he denies it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“It’s hard to know what I believe right now.”
“What about the copycat murders? Did he give you anything?”
“Not really.”
Graycie grunted. “I need you to meet with him a few more times.”
I sighed because I’d known that was coming. “Despite my better judgment, that is the plan.”
“Tell me something, and be honest with me here.” Graycie tilted his head slightly. “Do you ever miss any of this?”
“Having a serial killer try my patience in the worst of ways? Then threaten to take off my head and put it on the table as a party favor?”
“This.” He gestured to encompass both of us. “Working with the Bureau and people who respect your talents.”
“Our last interaction was you firing my ass and telling me to get out of your office.”
He folded his arms, his jaw set stubbornly. “That was not our last interaction, Christiansen. We’ve been interacting pleasantly for over a year.”
“That’s certainly putting an interesting spin on our relationship.”
“And I didn’t fire you. I gave you choices, and you made a decision.” He was quiet for a few beats. “How’re things with the PTU?”
“Great.”
“And your Detective? McNally? How is everything there?”
He knew damn well that wasn’t Danny’s last name. He probably knew everything about Danny from his favorite type of cereal to what brand of underwear he wore. “Detective McKenna is just fine. And what’s with all the questions?”
He shrugged. “I like to keep track of my assets.”
“I’m not your asset, Grace,” I snapped. “The PTU is fine. Danny and I are fine, and that’s all you need to know.”
“No need to get defensive. If you’re happy where you are, I’m happy for you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a leather billfold. I knew exactly what it was and to whom it belonged. “Guess that means you wouldn’t have any interest in this.”
I frowned down at the badge. “I already have a job.”
“I know that. But it turns out I have some things at the FBI that could use… your special touch.”
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds pretty filthy,” I said primly. “Step off, Chester the Molester.”
“FBI is in your blood, Christiansen. Tell me that I’m wrong.”
In the interview room, one of the COs said something to Kane, and he said something back. From their expressions, the exchange wasn’t pleasant. The guard kicked the leg of the chair, and Kane jolted as it listed forward. The CO’s hand hovered above the nightstick in his belt.
“Idiots,” I murmured. “I’d better get in there before they rile him up too much.”
“Don’t forget this,” Graycie said as he held out the shield.
Feeling a bit like a proverbial Eve reaching for that taboo apple, I took it from his hand… or tried to. He held on, smoothly readjusting his grip so that his fingers slightly overlapped mine.
Between him and Kane, I’d had enough of playing power games to last me a lifetime. I gritted my teeth and tugged it from his fingers. Then I stuck the shield in my back pocket. It weighed heavier than the detective shield in my other back pocket—one ass cheek betraying the other.
“This doesn’t mean yes,” I informed him.
“I never thought it did.”
I answered his predatory smile with a dark scowl. “And just so you know, it’s customary to offer someone refreshments before you make a deal for their soul.”
His smile grew. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
Majid by DG Carothers
Odin slowed as he approached the shop. Baron slipped out of the shadows along with three other xolos Odin didn't recognize. Odin held his hand out, palm down, and each xolo bumped his head against it in greeting.
“I guess Majid thought you'd get lonely, Baron.” Odin smirked and Baron snorted his amusement and tossed his head back in a way Odin always interpreted as an eye roll. “Yeah, you're right. We need to get moving. Okay, fellas, I hope you had plenty of rest.”
Each one let out a low yip, signaling their readiness. Odin nodded and pressed the button next to the door below the sign that read Ring for Service.
A slender elf in an old band t-shirt and jeans with his brown hair up in a bun made his way to the door. The lock snicked and bells jangled as the door opened. “Good evening, Prince Odin.”
The elf inclined his head as he gestured for Odin to enter. “Good evening, Guardian.” The elves were very protective of their realm, as they should be, and each portal had a powerful mage guarding it. The magic that coursed through the guardian's veins called out to Odin. It promised to be very tasty and Odin knew how good it could be. It had been quite some time since he'd had elven mage, but after having Majid's blood finally, after all this time, nothing could compare. The magic that lay in it was more powerful than Odin had ever imagined. It was also the best thing he had ever tasted. His mouth watered just remembering that night. He'd not been graced with it since. He understood that Majid wanted to wait until their third arrived.
The xolos entered and fanned out before Odin. He ducked his head and had to turn his body sideways to get through the shop door. He sighed heavily. This was why he didn't go to most places anymore.
In the last few hundred years, Odin watched as the world got bigger yet smaller at the same time. He longed for the large open villas and palaces of the past. Buildings now towered into the sky, yet they were very incompatible with creatures such as him. Odin stayed still as the guardian locked the door behind him and then moved out in front again to guide him to the portal.
Odin carefully followed the guardian through the cluttered shop to the back and up a set of stairs. The stairs creaked and Odin gingerly stepped, fearing they wouldn't hold his weight. At the top of the stairs, the guardian pulled out a set of keys. He unlocked the door with one hand and waved his other over it at the same time. The door glowed briefly around the edges and then opened inward.
The guardian entered, followed by the xolos, who came out of the darkness and slinked through the door on high alert. Odin ducked and squeezed through the door once again. He entered a large lavish hall almost as big as Talos' throne room. The ceiling was high and in the middle of the hall was a large metal arch.
Different metals were woven into intricate tree branches and roots to form an arch at least twice as high as Odin was tall and wide enough to fit six horses side by side. Several couches and small tables lined up against the walls, but otherwise, the room was empty.
“If you'd just place your hand here, Prince Odin, for the payment.” The guardian held out a flexipad that, had Odin been smaller, would have been fine, but Odin held out his hand and it only covered half of it. The guardian looked slightly abashed and cleared his throat. “Your thumb will suffice.”
Odin smiled politely. It wasn't the guardian's fault that he didn't fit. He had never fit. Odin placed his thumb on the pad and it flashed with its acceptance. “Is the sun out on the other side?”
“Yes, Prince Odin. There's,” the guardian pulled out a pocket watch and clicked it open, “two hours left before sunset. If you'd like to wait a few minutes, the sun will be down.”
Odin unzipped his pack and took out the hood and goggles. “No, it's okay. The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back.” That was the one thing that would work in his favor on this trip. For every five days in the elven realm, only one passed on Earth. That was why the shorter-lived species had to be careful and why elves lived for so long on Earth. Since they were born of that realm, they aged five times slower on Earth.
Odin braided his beard quickly and pulled on his hood. He tucked his beard into his suit and secured the hood. He put the goggles on and nodded his readiness to the guardian. The guardian took out a small bag attached by a leather thong around his neck and opened it. He pinched his fingers inside it to gather the fairy dust between them.
The guardian tossed the dust into the air through the arch and sung in Elvish, “May the way be open between the stars.”
Magical power surged through the air, and the air in the arch shimmered and wobbled. It rippled like the surface of a lake after a stone's disturbance. The air stilled and became like a mirror reflecting the image of the guardian, Odin, and the xolos in front of it.
The guardian stepped to the side. “Travel with eyes open, Prince Odin.”
Odin bowed slightly at the traditional elven farewell and replied. “As open as a cyclops.”
Odin waited a few seconds while the xolos crossed ahead of him and then walked through the arch. The barrier tensed around him like poking a finger into a balloon and then it popped. Odin stepped into the middle of a lush forest.
On the Wings of War by Hailey Turner
Jono frowned at him. “Why are you angry?”
“You shouldn’t come.”
“To London?”
“Yes.”
Jono shook his head. “I’m not letting you go off on your own. I already told you we’re doing this together.”
Patrick finally pulled away, glaring up at Jono. The anger in his scent was strong, but worry cut deeper. Jono wished he could soothe it all way. “The London god pack exiled you.”
“That doesn’t change the fact I’m going with you.”
“You coming with me is a good way to piss them off and get hurt.”
“None of us are safe anywhere. You know that. Stay, go, it doesn’t matter. Someone is always out to get us these days.”
Whether gods, hunters, mercenary magic users, or rival god packs, they had giant targets painted on their backs. If Patrick couldn’t see they were stronger and safer together, Jono would have to argue with him until he did.
“We risk losing too much if we all leave New York. Even with Emma as a secondary and proxy dire, that doesn’t fix the problem of us not being here,” Patrick said flatly.
“I risk everything I care about by letting you fight alone. We tried that with Chicago, and look how things went pear-shaped.”
The strain put on the soulbond by the distance between them had been hard, but being separated was worse. Not knowing what was happening with Patrick had been stressful. Jono didn’t regret the choices he’d made in Patrick’s absence, but he regretted the hurt it had caused the other man. Jono wasn’t willing to go through that again.
Patrick’s mouth twisted, lips going white from the pressure. Jono reached up and pressed his fingers to the seam of them.
“We’re a pack, remember?” Jono said softly. “I’m not leaving you.”
Haven by Morgan Brice
The handsome stranger looked a bit pole-axed, staring at Jamie in surprised recognition although he didn’t seem familiar.
“We’ll be closing at five, but we open tomorrow at nine,” he offered, wondering if the man was lost.
The newcomer smiled, and Jamie’s heart sped up. Short, dark blond hair, pretty brown eyes, and broad shoulders got his attention right away. So did the toned chest that tapered to narrow hips beneath the man’s sweater and jacket. He definitely caught Jamie’s notice, something that hadn’t happened often since he’d moved to Saranac Lake.
“I realize it’s close to quitting time, but I wondered if I could meet the archivist? Then we can pick up in the morning.”
Jamie chuckled. “That would be me. Temporary archivist Jamie Miller, at your service.”
Hmm…I wouldn’t mind “servicing” him. Guys like that don’t wander in places like this every day.
The newcomer smiled and stepped close enough to shake hands. “Austin Williams. I’m doing some genealogical research, and I’m hoping you can help me. It’s a bit like solving a mystery—I’ve got bits and pieces, but I need to find the glue to hold them together.”
Austin’s hand was warm and the palm more calloused than Jamie had expected. His first guess had been that the man was a professor or researcher, but the callouses suggested a more hands-on vocation. Maybe I can get some answers while I’m helping him with his “bits and pieces.”
Jamie almost felt guilty about lusting after the man, but he’d had a long dry spell, and Austin was the best thing to come along in quite a while.
“We’re still open for twenty minutes. Tell me what you’re looking for, and that way I can think about it overnight so we can get a jumpstart tomorrow.” Jamie waived Austin toward a seat at a study table.
Jamie listened as Austin talked about his great-uncle’s disappearance and his grandmother’s desire for answers. He asked a few questions, most of which Austin said he didn’t know the answers to. When Austin fell silent, Jamie leaned back in his chair, sad to find that they only had a few minutes left before he needed to close up.
“I’m happy to help you, but the kind of records that might help you find your great-uncle would be at the county courthouse or the library,” Jamie said. “Especially if he wasn’t from a local family, I don’t think anything we’d have here will be what you need.”
Austin hesitated like he was trying to decide whether he should confide in Jamie. “I think he might have been a patient at Havenwood,” he said quietly. “I thought the archive might be able to shed some light on the hospital in that period.”
“Oh.” Jamie had only been at the archive for a month, but he’d already heard plenty of whispers about Havenwood, the creepy old abandoned hospital on the edge of town. “That’s a bit of a touchy subject. What are you hoping to find?”
Havenwood had been closed for decades, but plenty of people in town had worked there, and many of those former employees were still alive. Jamie had overheard some heated arguments between long-time residents over the rumors that still circulated about the old mental institution. He had steered clear since he was just filling in until a permanent archivist could be found. Still, he figured that both sides probably had a bit of truth to them. A place that big with such a long history dealing with vulnerable people was bound to have some heroes and villains.
The alarm on Jamie’s phone went off, telling him it was time to lock up. “I have to close on time,” Jamie said, sorry to bring the conversation to an end. “Our insurance company won’t let me stay open beyond the posted times or have anyone inside after we’re closed.”
Austin rose. “I understand. Thanks for listening. I’ll be glad for any help.” He paused. “One more question—where’s a good place to get a bite to eat?” he asked with a slightly shy smile that sent a surge of heat to Jamie’s groin.
“Do you like pizza? Moosehead Inn is a locals’ joint that serves great food. I was going to head over once I lock up—you’re welcome to join me if you don’t have other plans,” Jamie offered, trying to sound nonchalant.
Did I just ask him out? Holy shit. I haven’t done that in…forever.
Austin brightened, and his smile grew broader. “I’d like that. I’ll wait outside. Can we walk there? I didn’t bring my car.”
Jamie nodded, still a little surprised at his own boldness. “Sure. See you in a few minutes.”
He ushered Austin out the door and locked it behind him. Fortunately, Jamie had gotten a head start on the lock-up checklist before the sexy stranger arrived. He powered down the computer and started flipping off light switches as he made his way toward the back door.
This was the part he really disliked. Once he turned on the alarm system, the security lights would come on. But on the way to the back door, the old house got darker, and the shadows stretched longer with every switch he flicked.
I thought I knew what I was getting into when I took the job. But it’s just temporary, and I’m still sending out applications for something better, he reminded himself.
An old house like this was likely to have ghosts, even without being turned into a museum of sorts. Bring together the personal belongings of hundreds of people, bits of local history, journals, and letters, and it didn’t surprise Jamie that the place was haunted. Even if no one else seemed to believe it.
Click, click, click. He turned off the lights in the foyer and the former sitting room and dining room. Jamie had closed up the upstairs rooms early since it was a slow day. It held a storage area, a library of books written by local authors and books about the Saranac Lake area, as well as a conference room and a small classroom for lectures. The attic and basement were storage areas that weren’t open to the public, which made Jamie very happy since both gave him the creeps.
Click. The lights in the old parlor went dark, and Jamie braced himself. On the nights the ghosts felt frisky, this was when the shenanigans started.
A cool breeze out of nowhere made the hair on the back of Jamie’s neck rise. He heard the glissando of crystal pendants gently bumping together, the decorative dangles on a vintage oil lamp in the parlor that shouldn’t have any reason to move.
Jamie resolutely ignored the shadow gliding just at the edge of his peripheral vision as he hurried down the hallway. The kitchen doubled as the staff room and was the least haunted place in the building. Jamie heard footsteps on the stairs and forced himself to breathe. He knew there was no one else in the old house—at least, no one living.
In the room to his left by the back door, the former sewing room for the ladies of the house, he glimpsed a familiar gray figure and heard the swish of crinoline and linen. To his right, in the small office that was once the cook’s room, a rocking chair creaked.
Jamie’s hand shook as he set the alarm. The ghosts didn’t act up every night, and some evenings they were more riled than others. So far, none of them had tried to hurt him. As unsettling as the ghostly manifestations were, Jamie couldn’t object to spirits wanting to stay in a place that meant something to them. He didn’t mess with them, and he really hoped that meant they would return the favor.
The alarm beeped, and the security lights came on, dim but enough to send the shadows scurrying. The sounds stopped, and the house grew quiet. Jamie slipped out the back door and checked the lock, then let out a long breath. The halogen light above the door made the area around the steps almost as bright as day. He shook off the weirdness and smiled, excited about dinner with Austin.
It’s not a date. But I wish it was. Maybe…
This could be a pleasant diversion, Jamie told himself. Austin was just in town to look up some family history, and Jamie’s role with the archive was temporary. Nothing said they couldn’t have a little fun while their paths crossed.
Charlie Cochet is the international bestselling author of the THIRDS series. Born in Cuba and raised in the US, Charlie enjoys the best of both worlds, from her daily Cuban latte to her passion for classic rock.
Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found devouring a book, releasing her creativity through art, or binge watching a new TV series. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
S.E. Harmon has had a lifelong love affair with writing. It’s been both wonderful and rocky (they've divorced several times), but they always manage to come back together. She's a native Floridian with a Bachelor of Arts and a Masters in Fine Arts, and used to spend her time writing educational grants. She now splits her days between voraciously reading romance novels and squirreling away someplace to write them. Her current beta reader is a nosy American Eskimo who begrudgingly accepts payment in the form of dog biscuits.
D. G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they've created with you.
D.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors
D.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn't see gender, race, or sexuality.
Hailey Turner is big city girl who spoils her cats rotten and has a demanding day job that she loves, but not as much as she loves writing. She’s been writing since she was a young child and enjoys reading almost as much as creating a new story. Hailey loves stories with lots of action, gritty relationships, and an eventual HEA that satisfies the heart.
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
Click here to read a Restless Nights: A Badlands Short Story.
SE Harmon
DG Carothers
EMAIL: Info@DGCarothers.com
Hailey Turner
EMAIL: haileyturnerwriter@gmail.com
Morgan Brice
NEWSLETTER / FB GROUP / B&N
Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Charlie Cochet
Spooky Business by SE Harmon
Majid by DG Carothers
On the Wings of War by Hailey Turner
Haven by Morgan Brice
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