Winner of Colorado Book Award for Mystery.

Winner of the Colorado Authors League Award for Mystery.

Winner of the CIPA Evvy Award for Mystery

Finalist in the Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Mystery.

Finalist in the American Fiction Awards for Romantic Suspense.

CAL finalist in Book Cover Design. (Design by Tristan Bowersox)

Sneak peek/Synopsis

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?

Sample

Chapter 1

“Will, I think I found her!” Dani Harper had opened a cabin door at the third brothel they had raided to find a redhead sprawled across the bed, face down and naked, her long hair spilling over the edge to the floor. The room reeked of alcohol from a bottle of something that had tipped over on the small settee on the opposite side of the room, whose opulence clashed with the rustic interior. From the strength of the smell, she’d bet it had happened more than once.

Dani moved swiftly to the side of the bed and pulled a sheet over the young woman she believed to be Tiffany Morrow, then strove to find her face under the hair. The girl was out. Not all the alcohol was wasted on the couch.

Will Yarnel appeared in the open doorway in that beat up Aussie hat of his, his longish, brown hair curling under the edges. “Is it her?”

“I think so,” she said, hooking her own limp blonde hair behind an ear, her blown-in volume a victim of the Amazon’s heat and humidity. “Come see.”

Two long strides put him by her side in the small space. “Well, she is a ranga.” He crouched down to get a better look at the girl’s face.

“A ranga?” Although Dani was starting to be able to interpret Will’s many Aussie-isms, this was one she had never heard.

Will pulled a photo out of the breast pocket of his navy t-shirt—a change for the man who usually wore army green. “Redhead,” he said simply. After comparing the two, he nodded. “It’s Tiffany, all right. That freckle above her lip matches even if the make-up doesn’t.” Then he gently slid his fingers under her wrist, and Dani realized he was checking for a pulse. She hadn’t even considered that she might not be alive.

She held her breath, waiting, and finally Will blew his breath out in obvious relief. “Thank God!” A smile split his red mustache and beard as he pushed up to standing, and in his exuberance, he threw an arm around Dani, giving her a sideways squeeze. “Thank God we found her!”

They were both hot, sweaty, and just plain gross from spending hours in the rainforest, but Dani felt a zing of electricity move through her anyway at his touch. She shook her head, blaming it on the nonstop adrenaline of the day. Now was not the time for self-analysis, and she’d spent too much time lately feeling guilty about her fiance ́ back in Kansas City.

Will scratched at his bushy beard as he assessed the situation, oblivious to the theatrics going on in her head. “Is she. . . ” he began.

“Not a stitch,” Dani provided. She looked around for clothes, but only saw a thin silky robe on a hook.

“No clothes is how these mongrels keep them from running.” He turned for the door. “Well, we’ve got clothes in the van. And I’ll get Vi to help you get her dressed. In her current state, it’s gonna be like shoveling wet concrete into a tube sock.”

The clothes had turned out to be a police uniform that was two sizes too big for her, but she was covered up, and the belt did its job to keep her from exposure, even if Will had to punch a new hole with his pocket knife to make it tight enough.

When he scooped her up to carry out, Tiffany roused enough to lift her head, but nothing changed in her zombie-like expression. “It’s all right, love,” Will whispered to her as he took her out and down two steps where the thick jungle nearly blocked the midday sun. “You’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

Dani certainly hoped so. No woman should have to endure what this young girl had before her twenty-first birthday.

This fun Brazilian vacay had turned out to be the education of a lifetime on the depravity of man and the depths that men would go to subjugate women and men alike for their own
vile and perverted pleasures. They’d freed victims from three

brothels hidden in the Amazon rainforest, but according to Will that was just a tiny corner of the trafficking trade in Brazil.

She knew what she had experienced had changed her forever, and she’d never be able to go back to the posh life she’d settled into with her rich fiance ́ and take up right where they left off as if nothing had happened. And then there was the side of him she’d seen when Rita had disappeared that had given her pause and plenty to think about.

As they reached the van, Vi opened the back and climbed in, ready to receive Tiffany’s upper body as Will gently shifted her in on the floor of the utility vehicle.

Vi, a fifty-something strawberry blond and former employee of Stafford Investigations, had left her Rio cat cafe ́ temporarily to help Logan, Will, and Rod locate Rita after Formosa had driven away with her. She then took on this undercover job with Dani to find Tiffany Morrow, a Denver college student whose boyfriend had drugged her and sold her to Justin Miranda in the States. He had, in turn, sold her to Perez in Rio de Janeiro, and Perez had handed her over to Perigosa, the scum who ran the brothels they had just shut down near Rio Branco.

As soon as Tiffany was settled in the back of the van, Dani climbed in too, adding yet another rip to her favorite summer dress. She thought of Tiffany who had far more than clothes taken from her and counted her blessings. Shifting her gaze

to Will, still outside, she saw Justin Miranda limping their direction.

She couldn’t help noticing how rumpled, bruised, and just plain filthy the man was. His handsome face not only bore
the scars of the evil diamond smuggler Lourenco Formosa on his forehead, but he’d earned some actual battle scars today, helping them take down a small part of the industry that had made him rich. He had been the one to deliver Tiffany to this living nightmare, however—not to mention hundreds more just like her—so in Dani’s opinion, he hadn’t repaid his debt with one afternoon of fighting with the good guys.

“Is she all right?” he called out as he drew near. Was that real concern in the man’s voice?

Will turned. “She’s alive. We won’t know the extent of damage until she’s had a medical exam, some blood work, and a psych eval.”

Miranda nodded solemnly as he looked in the back of the van. “God, she’s probably lost ten pounds.”

Will didn’t say a word, but Dani noted his scowl as he backed up and closed one side of the van doors. Miranda closed the other, then the two were getting in the front, this time with Will in the driver’s seat.

They were at least ten minutes down the rugged narrow trail that almost couldn’t qualify as a road, following the police vehicles out, when Miranda spoke again. “I worked very
hard to never think about what happened to them later. Men like Perigosa—” he paused, and Dani could see his tight jaw working from her spot in the back. “I never hurt them,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.

“Yeah, and Bin Laden didn’t fly the planes,” Will ground out. “He turned to look at Miranda with a fierce look Dani had never seen on his face. “Doesn’t make him any less responsible.”

Miranda turned to look out the side window, and Dani was left to wonder if the man really understood his culpability, or if he was content to still push the evil of his deeds aside to focus on someone worse. And she wondered how someone so good-looking and charismatic had ended up trafficking women anyway. Why didn’t he have a beautiful wife and children? If he’d just been all about money, surely he could have been a Wall Street exec or a hedge fund manager. That was at least a legal way to steal.

Tiffany’s head lolled right and left with the next bump, and she let out a groan. Will put on the brakes and looked over
his shoulder, and before anyone knew what was happening, Miranda was out the door, disappearing into the jungle.

Will’s eyes flew wide, and a string of curses filled the van as he threw it in park, unbuckled, and jumped out himself. Trying to go extra slow for Tiffany’s sake had put Will way behind the police convoy, who wouldn’t have a clue that they had stopped. Dani didn’t have Capt. Artez’s number, but surely Will did. Crawling to the back door, she opened it, ignoring Vi’s admonitions to just stay put.

Not a soul was in sight, but she at least knew Miranda’s starting point. She ventured into the leafy mass of green,

searching for Miranda’s pale melon polo shirt. It was Will’s voice, though, that actually pulled her the right direction.

“Miranda, put it down.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t, Will? Shoot me?” Dani tread carefully in her completely ruined flats, hoping

not to step on a lizard or a snake or some other rainforest creature.

“After your bravery today, don’t tell me you’re a coward after all.” It was Will again, and not too far ahead.

Dani lifted a palm-like frond on front of her and sucked in a breath. Miranda was holding a pistol to his own dark-haired head. His eyes registered her presence, and his scarred brow puckered as his gun hand started to shake. “Go! Go back, Dani! You don’t need to see this!”

Will glanced back, and she noticed he was holding a gun as well. Evidently, Miranda did understand his guilt and planned to perform his own execution. She supposed she should be happy to see him blow his brains out when he had destroyed
so many lives, but she had seen things in his eyes she never expected to see several times over the last few days. Things that made her think that even this “blue-eyed devil” might be able to change.

She stepped through the leaves to stand by Will. “I won’t leave, Mir— Justin,” she amended, hoping to make a more personal connection that could pull him out of this jungle suicide plan. “Now that you understand—now that you’ve let yourself understand, you don’t have to end like this; you can begin again.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “I’m going to prison, beautiful, maybe for the rest of my days!”

Dani supposed that could be true, but he had been a really big help in finding these women. In fact, they never would have been found without him. “Maybe you could cut a deal, Justin. There are more traffickers to bring down, and I’m sure you know connections in the States, the same as Brazil.” She wiped away a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. “You could make amends.”

He seemed to actually consider her words before taking his gaze back to Will. “Is that true? You said helping you here might get me a shorter sentence, but could I actually avoid prison altogether if I agree to help more?”

Will slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. All I can do is put in a good word, but she’s right; it is a possibility.”

Miranda licked his lips and lowered his gun, and Dani blew out a breath, hoping the day had at last lowered the curtain
on drama. She was pretty sure that Rita would have delivered several great headlines over the course of the day, but all her weary brain could come up with was “Case Closed.”

***

“To Tiffany!”
Will and Rod clinked their champagne flutes to Dani’s. “To

Tiffany.”
They all sipped the bubbly stuff that Dani had insisted on

ordering after putting away more food than two men and one petite woman should be able to. It had been a hell of a long day, but with Tiffany safely checked into the hospital, and the news that Lourenco Formosa had been caught and Logan and Rita were safe, Will finally felt as if he could relax.

“So,” Rod began, still picking at the custard he obviously had no room for, “did I hear you tell Capt. Artez that Justin Miranda just stepped out of the van and decided to kill himself?”

With the mention of Miranda, that relaxed feeling fled. He lifted his glass for a bigger gulp.

“Yeah,” Dani said with wide eyes, “he seemed to actually feel bad for Tiffany. I guess he suddenly grew a conscience.” Will didn’t buy it. “He just knows that he’s too pretty for

prison. Even with those new scars.”
Although Will had tried a scar-reducing treatment on the

man’s forehead in exchange for his trafficking contacts in Brazil, the “LFF” that Formosa had carved there was probably never really going away. It was doubtful that the feds would care to continue the treatment.

With all the hubbub and confusion over Rita Miller’s true identity, FBI agents from the States had belatedly shown up to assess the situation for themselves, and Will was all too happy to unload Justin Miranda on them for the return trip. He had

enough to worry about with getting Tiffany home. Dani had agreed to go with him as a female chaperone, which had him feeling both elated and. . . tense.

“So you don’t believe he’s changed even a little bit?”

Will looked to the pretty blonde, more dolled up than he’d ever seen her in what was probably a designer dress paid for by her rich fiance ́. “Defo. Remember, the bloke’s a conman. That’s what he does for a living. He’s sheepy as hell.” It nettled him that Dani could still be taken in by the guy. He drained his glass and poured another, topping off Rod and Dani’s as well.

“You might be right,” Dani agreed. “Sometimes I think I can’t read people at all.” She lifted her own glass to her lips, her eyes implying something he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Rod leaned back, stretching with his hands clasped behind his sandy-haired head, oblivious to whatever Dani was not saying. “That Perigosa was something else. Absolutely didn’t know when to stop talking.”

Will dragged his attention back to Rod, who was now stifling a yawn. “Yeah, he was rabbitin’ on about ‘his successful business’ even as they loaded him into the paddy wagon. That bloke is one stubby short of a six pack, not to mention a purebred mongrel, and I’m proud to have given him his shiner.” He looked to Dani, whose cheek was bruised from that dog’s slap. “Had he been my only reason for being there, I would have thrashed him within an inch of his life.”

Dani held his gaze with an intensity that surprised him. Or was it just the extra eyeliner? She wasn’t the only one having trouble reading people. Right now, she was a mystery he just couldn’t solve. He looked to the big diamond ring that, this evening, seemed to define her in a way he hadn’t experienced. How did extravagance and fancy clothes fit with the woman who risked her very life several times over the last two days to rescue trafficking victims in the heart of Brazil?

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.

Chapter 2

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.

As the spasms subsided, she flushed the toilet and realized he was crouched behind her, his hand at the back of her neck, gathering her hair away from possible defilement. She sat back

on her heels, and he released her hair, sliding that hand down her back in the gentlest of touches. “Sorry you’re feeling crook. Hang on a tick until your stomach’s settled, then drink the Berocca, and you’ll start to feel better.” He rose. “I’m heading over to the hospital to check on Tiffany and see when she might be released. I took a chance and got us booked on a flight out tonight.”

“Is Rod coming too?” she asked, still feeling a bit queasy.

“He’s on his way back to Sa ̃o Paulo as we speak. He’s got another case to get started on.”

“It never ends, does it?”

“I’m afraid not.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll come back and get you for lunch.” He looked back at her, his mustache twitching with a near smile. “If you’re feeling up to it by then.”

“Is it that late?” She pushed up from the cold floor.

He looked to his watch. “It’s 10:30. I’ve been waiting for you to get up for a while.”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Mascara still ringed her left eye, and she reached for the makeup wipes and went to work, mortified that Will had seen her once again looking horrible. “How did you know I was up?”

He nodded toward the shower. “The walls are pretty thin.” His gaze shifted to the other room. “No secrets are kept in this place.”

She decided that was a good moment to take on the bubbly drink, grabbing the glass and gulping it down. It wasn’t that bad—sort of like drinking a glass of Flintstone vitamins. She handed him the empty tumbler, wishing she could remember their evening of drinking. Will left with a promise to be back around noon, and she turned again to the shower.

She’d been fighting feelings for Will for days. She hoped she hadn’t made a fool of herself last night, saying things she’d regret. She needed to see Keith again—talk to him about everything that happened in Brazil and between them since she’d come to Brazil—before she made a decision about their relationship. As she reached in to check the temperature of the water, her eyes caught on her sparkly diamond ring, and memories came back to her. Not of the night before, but of Keith.

Keith, who had sent her a dozen roses every day for a week after their first date. Keith, who was always delighted in showing her off to his friends and colleagues. Keith, who bragged on her cooking and laughed at her bad jokes and wanted her to be his wife.

Pulling off her nightshirt, she stepped into the warm spray, wondering if she’d been too hard on her fiance ́ of late. He was under a lot of pressure with his congressional campaign and worrying about her in another country. Stress does weird things to people. She thought about her stupid behavior the night before, trying to drown her anxiety in champagne. Maybe I’m the one who’s been a jerk.

After washing her hair, she watched the shampoo suds course her legs to the drain, wishing she could wash away her doubt, uncertainty and confusion as easily.

***

Will raked a hand through his slightly shaggy hair before setting his hat on his head, overheated before stepping outside into the bright Brazilian sun and sultry air.

What Dani’s designer clothes could not do for him, that simple rumpled night shirt had, and getting out of her hotel room as soon as she seemed okay had been imperative.

He smirked. The mascara around just one eye wasn’t her best look, but damn, she was still pretty, despite it. It certainly wouldn’t have been a deal breaker had she pulled him into the other room and— His cab pulled up to the curb, and Will was grateful to be diverted from that line of thinking while he gave his destination to the cabbie.

What he’d learned about Dani last night in her inebriated state was that she was one mixed up sheila. At the age of thirty- nine, she was having some kind of mid-life crisis, questioning everything she’d done with her life so far and where she wanted to go.

It seemed that she had known exactly what she wanted not that long ago—she had started a business called Up-cycled Treasures, lighting up when she talked about it and how as a nonprofit, it made money for the homeless. She isn’t all that glitz she put on last night. She’s as down-to-earth as a bilbie.

And damn it, he’d felt himself falling in love.

What People Are Saying

“Red Rabbit on the Run is a page turner, mystery thriller. Jodi Bowersox captures the energy and excitement of the best action novels of the day. Unexpected twists and turns along the way from kidnapping and the depths of mental illness to a daring escape, investigation, and redemption. This mystery has it all, along with complex characters that also seem like they’re just common folks you might meet at the neighborhood park. This was a really enjoyable read that I just had to keep reading till the end. And one of many excellent reads by this emerging author.”