Darin Nilsson rappelled down the wall in the rock-climbing gym as Fleur was climbing up to his left. It wasn’t a bad view. Although he’d say that Fleur Dupont didn’t really have any bad views. And he should know; he’d been watching her since his mid-teens.
He hit the ground, unbuckled, and looked around for a run with more challenge. He spied Oliver, stopped halfway to the top, pondering his next hand placement, and moved that direction, even though it would take him out of sight of Fleur— his main reason for being there. He’d never gotten any signals from her, though, that she felt anything for him, so he didn’t want to creep her out by hanging around too close.
Darin and Oliver Nilsson were brothers, although without the shared red hair, you might not guess they were related. Oliver was tall, broad and muscular while Darin was tall and wiry. Oliver wore his hair short, while Darin’s was longer on top. Oliver was capable in a number of different areas while Darin focused on one thing at a time. And right now, his focus was on the accelerated time agent program. His goal was to do so well that he’d be in the running for the next mission.
It probably wasn’t wise to eat anything right before getting
onto a roller coaster, but he’d be damned if he’d throw away delicious pie. He
continued to eat it as they moved forward, and Lynisa quizzed him about jumping
with real lightning.
“It’s a crazy sensation, to be sure,” he said as they were
loaded into the seats that felt far too insubstantial. “And we both had a
pretty powerful headache for a day.” He looked around, and when nothing clamped
over them or around them at all, he started to panic. “What the hell is going
to keep us on this thing?”
“A gravity bubble.” She put a hand to his leg. “Don’t worry,
it’s completely safe.”
Cory wasn’t so sure, but he had witnessed people exiting the
ride hale and whole, so he supposed he could trust it.
Maybe.
He was grateful he wasn’t in the front where it would have to
feel like you had no protection at all. His heart started racing anyway, and as
the line of seats moved forward, he felt a twinge of panic. “They should make
the bubble blue or something so you can see it,” he muttered.
Lynisa laughed and
slipped her arm around his. “Does this help?”
He looked over at her. “No. If I fly off, so will you.” He faced forward, knowing his heart had taken on an even more rapid rate. It doesn’t help one iota. If there was one thing he was certain wasn’t safe, it was the woman beside him.
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Rescued trafficking victim, although she escapes her rescuers
Dealing with trauma, paranoia, and other issues
Sneak peek
Tiffany closed her
eyes against the onslaught of thoughts swirling like a tornado in her brain as
her hands slid over a strand of hair. The feel of it grounded her, even though
she recognized that the gesture she couldn’t seem to stop meant she wasn’t as
well as she was before.
She had thought she
only imagined the demon horse with glowing red eyes at the airport, since it
looked like so many of the demon creatures that had haunted her in the past,
but there was no mistaking the mountain view she had seen out the window this
morning. She was really and truly in Denver.
She was home. The
nightmare of the jungle was over.
She had vague
memories of the in-between. Men and women in white. Being tied down. The
bearded man and the blond woman who had brought her here. She’d been trippin’
hard for days, so most of that was like a fever dream that had frightened even
her. And she wasn’t frightened by much anymore.
She still didn’t feel
normal—the noise of the bus was clawing into her head—but she was much improved
over… before. She really didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d
been carried out of that vile cabin in the Amazon. She did remember that—waking
for a moment or two in the arms of someone strong—a red dragon. Whispered words
she couldn’t recall. Words that had struck her as kind.
So why did you run
from them? God, you do the stupidest things.
The voices that had been
nearly eliminated before she had awakened in a Brazilian hell had been her
almost constant companion without the meds whose job it was to hush them to a
whisper.
She knew it would do no good to answer the voices. They never listened to her. But she did know why she was running from those who had helped her. Aaron McCain had spoken with kind and beautiful words. Justin Miranda had too. Kind words were often a trap. Who’s to say that those two weren’t taking her from one hell to another?
TA in computer science at the University of Denver
Tiffany Morrow’s tutor before her kidnapping
She now wants him to help her prove that someone is embezzling
money from her family’s corporation
Sneak Peek
A slap on Steve’s shoulder had him turning to find Prof. Thomson, a professor in the computer department. “What’s this? Steve Elway is actually dressed for the weather?”
Steve laughed and pulled his scarf down to speak. “It’s still not Lake Michigan cold, but I hate to flaunt my ability to withstand the single digits in front of the older set.”
This time Thomson
laughed. “Be careful, Elway, or I’ll give your classes to Amal.”
If Steve didn’t need
the money, he’d let Amal have them. It would give him more time to work on
Tiffany’s Pragnalysis embezzlement claims. He had a comeback on his lips that
froze with the remembrance of her offer of half a mil to help her break through
Pragnalysis security. “You know what?” he shifted. “I really
could use next week off if he wants to step in. I’ve had some… family business
come up that I should take care of.”
Thomson looked
suddenly sober. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
He shrugged.
“Serious, but not deadly.” At least he hoped that was the case.
Embezzlers were probably not Sunday School teachers.
“I’ll give him a
call this afternoon and let you know. Just the week?”
Steve nodded, hoping
that would do. “Yeah, I think so. I really appreciate it.”
Thomson nodded, and
the two walked together out of the conference room and the building, chatting
about some of their more challenging students. “Hey,” Thomson said as
they both headed toward the parking lot, “weren’t you a tutor for that
Morrow girl?”
Steve swallowed and
pulled his scarf back up. “Yeah, she was struggling, but she had quizzed
out of the lower-level classes.”
“Hell of a deal
to be sold to a Brazilian brothel.”
Steve blinked.
“A what? A brothel?”
Thomson hit the
button on his key fob, and the lights blinked on the man’s car. “That’s
what I heard, although it could just be a rumor.”
Thomson said a final
goodbye before getting in his vehicle, and Steve walked to his car, feeling
sucker punched. He sat a moment in the cold car, Thomson’s words going around
again. He shook his head, suddenly angry with himself. What did you think
happened to beautiful women who were kidnapped, Steve? They usually end up dead
or trafficked.
Sexually
trafficked.
He ground his teeth
as he started his car. Tiffany hadn’t been the only one pretending she was
okay. He’d been doing it ever since she’d gone missing.
When her friend goes missing, she crosses paths with Will
Yarnel, Private I, and does some undercover work with him to find a missing
college student from the States—Tiffany Morrow.
Will enters her life at a time when her fiancé is behaving badly.
Sneak peek
Dani woke with a
groan. She hadn’t drunk so much since college, and she obviously couldn’t handle
it anymore. She slowly got out of bed in an over-sized nightshirt and made her
way to the bathroom, tripping over her discarded dress and high-heeled pumps on
the way. What was I thinking, anyway?
She’d been freaked
out, that’s what. The nightmare she’d had during her short afternoon nap of
Perigosa pinning her down and tearing at her clothes had sent her fleeing the
feelings of helplessness and desperation her little undercover job had brought
out. The expensive dress, the glam make-up, ordering the champagne had all been
a way to escape the terror—to return to the safe place that Keith had made for
her where women weren’t bought and sold like cattle.
The cold tile
bathroom floor shocked more than her physical senses. It sent that lie right
out of her. Trafficking happened everywhere, and living a high society kind of
life didn’t make you safe; it just made you blind.
Once in front of the
mirror, she groaned again and quickly opened a pack of makeup remover wipes.
She went to work on the mascara she had neglected to remove the night before as
she made her way across the room to start the shower.
She started it
running, then deciding she needed something for her pounding head, turned it
off again and went back out to her purse to find some ibuprofen. One eye
scrubbed, she set the blackened wet wipe on the bureau to use both hands in the
search. There was a light tap on the door, and a soft Aussie-accented,
“Dani, are you awake?”
Dani blinked and
looked around the room for a robe but didn’t see one. “Umm, just a
minute.” Despite her aching head, she scurried to the bathroom, but no
robe could be found there either. I guess a robe isn’t a perk of this place.
She looked down at her big nightshirt and decided she didn’t really care what
Will thought of it.
She undid the lock
and opened the door to find him standing with a glass full of orange, fizzy
liquid, looking concerned. “I thought you might need a Berocca this
morning.”
She hesitantly
reached out a hand. “A what?” She took it and stepped back, allowing
him to come in.
“Berocca.” He
closed the door behind him. “It’s a Down Under cure for what you’re feeling
this morning.”
“Oh?” She
squinted her eyes. “And how do you know what I’m feeling this
morning?”
He lowered his voice
and leaned toward her. “I know what you’re feeling this morning because I
was with you last night.”
The way he said it
started her brain cells firing, although the engine was still slow to start. Did
we… She didn’t remember anything more than talking. But then again, she
didn’t remember getting into bed.
He chuckled, easing
her panic. “Nobody your size can put away that much booze without a
hangover the next day.”
She stared at the
glass he had handed to her, fighting for memories.
“Go on, drink it
down, possum. It really will help.”
She took a tentative
sip. “Mm, wow, that’s strong.”
He shook his head.
“You can’t just sip it, love.” He smirked. “Drink it down like
you chugged that fourth glass of champagne.”
Her eyes went wide,
and his narrowed. “You don’t remember much about last night, do you?”
Her stomach picked
that moment to turn over completely, and she quickly ran into the bathroom.
Abandoning the Burnt Wookie, or whatever he called it, by the sink, she sank to
the floor over the toilet. She tried to swallow the sick feeling down, sensing
Will behind her, but it wouldn’t be tamed, and in another few seconds she was
puking up her stomach’s contents along with her dignity.
Works as a private investigator to find missing persons and
trafficking victims
Based in Brazil
Current assignment: Taking trafficking victim Tiffany Morrow
home to Denver CO
Can’t help a growing attraction to Dani Harper, despite her
engagement ring
Sneak peek
Rod yawned again and
pushed back from the table. “Sorry guys, but I’m done. I’m heading back to
the hotel.”
Will nodded, thinking
Dani would probably want to do the same, but she didn’t move. He smiled.
“You’re not tired, possum?”
She shrugged. “I
got in a short nap after my shower this afternoon.” She tilted her head
toward the champagne on ice. “And it’s not gone yet.”
Will hitched a brow
as he reached for the bottle once again. “I suppose this big ole thing
won’t fit in those little tiny fridges they give us.” He poured out two
more glasses, and she lifted hers to her lips. “So I guess you like
champagne. I suppose that fits.”
“Oh,
really.” She set the glass back on the table. “Fits in what
way?”
Will twigged he’d
probably spit out a clanger with that line. “Oh, just that you’re looking
very schmick tonight.”
“Schmick?”
“Stylish,
classy.”
“And why do I
get the feeling you don’t approve? Either of my clothes or the fact that I like
champagne?” She drank another sip.
God, now he was in
trouble. “No, I didn’t mean anything… You look… lovely.” More
than lovely, but seeing her mussed and sweaty in the jungle had nearly stopped
his heart. Now she seemed… too sophisticated. Unreachable. He quickly grabbed
his own glass and guzzled a third. She should be “unreachable,”
you drongo. She’s engaged.
She drank the rest of
hers as though it were a challenge, then waved down a passing waiter for
another bottle.
Will leaned forward
over the table. “Dani, you’ve had a pretty traumatic day. Maybe you should
go easy—”
She matched his
posture, her eyes radiating her irritation. “You’re damn right I’ve had a
dramatic… traumatic day, and if I want champagne, I’m going to drink
champagne. You are welcome to go to bed without me.” She waved a hand at
her very own clanger. “I mean, go to bed with Rod.”
Will couldn’t help
smiling. She was well on her way to drunk already.
“Don’t laugh at
me!” she insisted crankily as the waiter showed up with their next bottle.
“You know what I mean.”
Will sat back slowly,
running a hand over his beard as he tried to suppress a laugh. He wasn’t sure
where this mood was coming from, but he suspected that the danger she’d put
herself in this morning was finally hitting her, and he wasn’t about to leave
her to drink with the flies.
After the waiter
unwrapped and popped the cork, Will took it and poured two more glasses.
All the men jumped out to assess the situation, shining their
headlamps at the ruined tire. “That’s a goner,” pronounced
Will.
“It sure is,” Rod agreed.
Logan sighed. “Get the spare. I’ll get the jack.”
He started to move, but Will put a hand to his arm. “Why don’t
we pull the jeep off the road, cover it with branches and camp here
for tonight.” He nodded toward their guest who was holding her head
in her hands. “She’s stuffed, and all this bouncing can’t be
good for her ole lemon spread.”
“English, man,” Rod huffed. “What the hell did you just
say?”
Logan looked around the area as he considered Will’s idea.
“She’s tired,
and the bouncing hurts her head.” He looked back to Will. “Is
that right?”
“A course. What else would I be sayin’?”
“So why can’t you just say that?”
“It ain’t the first time ya heard cockney, ya nong.”
“They’re completely nonsensical! How can I possibly remember
them?”
Will shook his head and pointed a little further up the road. “I
thought there was something familiar about that last bend. There’s
the burned spot we cleared last month for our tactical exercises
campie.”
“I thought it smelled different here,” Rod said, but Will
looked at him skeptically.
“It still smells burned after a month?”
Rod shrugged and tapped his nose. “Some of us got it, and some
of us don’t.”
Will got to his feet, but before he could help her up, Logan put
out a hand. She took it and slowly stood. He moved her forward, his
hand on her elbow, but her wobbly gait had him throwing an arm around
her, making her stand still for a moment. She closed her eyes and
leaned into him, and he felt guilty for rushing her. Guilty for other
sensations that fluttered through him as well. He tried to remember
all the unflattering things he’d read about the Diamond Diva, but
it would take a bucket of ice water to douse his body’s reaction to
her. “Maybe you should lie down. We can do this later.”
She shook her head and pushed her hip away from him. “No, I need
to see.”
He started forward again, and this time she seemed steady, so he
walked her out of the room and to the door where Will was waiting. He
opened it, and she pulled away from Logan’s support completely,
shuffling out into the small clearing. After a few moments, she
turned back, a mystified look on her face. “Does America even have
a jungle like this?”
Logan nodded. “South America does. You know you’re in Brazil,
right? You had a meeting with the sex trafficker Justin Miranda and
were nearly killed by someone who thinks you’re the Diva de
Diamante,
the infamous, almost completely anonymous, head of a very lucrative
diamond smuggling organization that milked blood diamonds out of the
native-owned lands of Brazil for a decade.”
She put a hand to her temple and started to sway again, and Will
leapt to her side, putting an arm around her. “Godammit Logan, cut
it out. You’re hitting her with too much too fast.”
Logan’s lips went tight at the scolding. He felt every thread
that had led them so close to finding Tiffany Morrow come
completely unraveled. If this woman was just a lady from Kansas City
with a lousy ex-husband and a cheap phone from a Brazilian lover,
they had nothing. No inside information. No bargaining power. Nada.
And he could be in deep shit for having her here at all.
The next safehouse turned out to be more rustic than the first, and it was obvious the jungle had tried to reclaim it. Rita took one look at all the spiderwebs, and ran back out. She was not spending the night with big ass rainforest spiders. While they cleaned the place out, they put her to work knocking down webs in what looked like some kind of outdoor shower stall. A very long stick got the job done, and she only screamed twice.
She hoped there wasn’t anything living in the large suspended
rubber sheet above it that had a shower head in the middle, as she
was not tall enough to see. And she really didn’t want to know
anyway. She wanted a shower in the worst way, but was she really
going to use this thing? How did it work? There was obviously no
plumbing.
Throwing down her spider stick, she turned in time to see Will and Rod sneaking out with something they obviously didn’t want her to see. Dear God in heaven, are there snakes in there?
She walked the small clearing around the cabin, trying to calm her
beating heart, and stopped in front of what was probably an outhouse.
She scowled and wrinkled her nose at the thought. She continued on to
the front where there was a fire pit. She looked in the door of the
open cabin and saw no sign of a kitchen.
She loved communing with nature on occasion as much as the next person, but she also had no problem professing that at the end of the day, she wanted to use a flush toilet and take a hot shower inside the house before slipping in between her 700 count Egyptian cotton sheets in the middle of very urban Kansas City. C.G. loved camping, but Rita had never been a fan. She sent a desperate prayer heavenward that they wouldn’t be in this particular “safehouse” long.
