Rain trickled down the neck of his black uniform jacket, soaking Cade Murphy to the skin. Gripping a tree root, he carefully inched his way down the embankment in the muck to the car resting at the bottom of a gully. Hell of a way to start the day. The cold front that had blown severe weather in on Friday had ushered in a second wave of storms early Monday morning just in time for school traffic.
After the incident at Ana’s—he wasn’t sure what else to call shooting an armed guy that turned into a wolf, then dust at his feet—he had left Raven and Ana to settle things. It still grated on his conscious, but without proof, how was he supposed to report the shooting of a werewolf? As far as the world was concerned, Van Michaels had never existed. He had no record, no fingerprints; no identifying documentation Michaels had ever been born.
Recognizing the red Mitsubishi Eclipse with the Bears decal and pompoms in the back glass, Cade sent up a quick prayer for the young woman’s safety. The steady drone of rain made the trek slow and treacherous. Finally reaching the wrecked car, Cade tapped the glass of the driver’s window and peered inside. “Hey. You alright in there, Mindy?” The girl appeared to be slumped over the steering wheel. He tried the driver side door, but the wrenched metal was jammed shut. The scent of gasoline laced the air and her car was still running. Not good.
Reaching for his hand-held radio, he called it in. “We have a one vehicle accident just off highway 13 on county highway 99. Get a bus, fire and tow here now.” Moving to the passenger’s side, he tugged on the handle and the door opened. He quickly checked for pulse, tried to assess any injuries visually. The teenager moaned and opened her eyes. She was alive. Thank God.
“Its okay, Mindy. Let’s get you out of here.”
“Chief?” Cade was such a fixture at the school, attending all the games and events, watching school traffic, that most of the older kids just called him Chief.
“Are you pinned? Does anything feel broken?”
“My ankle hurts really bad. My seat belt is stuck. I’m scared. I wasn’t speeding this time. I promise. The deer was just there. Did I kill it?”
Figures. The kid could be dead and she’s worried about killing a deer. “You’ll be fine. Let’s get you out of there.” He didn’t want to scare her, but if he couldn’t kill the ignition, the car could blow up at any minute. Taking out his pocket knife, Cade quickly cut through the shoulder and lap straps of the belt. “Easy now.” Gripping her under her arms, he helped ease her across the bucket seat and out the passenger door.
Mindy stepped out into the rain and screeched when she tried to put weight on her injured ankle. “I want my mom.”
“We’ll get her.” Reaching in, Cade tried to turn off the ignition, but the key wouldn’t budge. Hell. Seeing no purse, he quickly grabbed her cheer bag out of the floorboard and looped over one shoulder and across his chest.
“Can you walk?”
Tears streaming down her face, Mindy shook her head.
From the car, his scanner announced another flash flood warning. Wonderful. He looked up the steep incline to where his Charger was parked, blue lights flashing. The smell of fuel was even stronger now. They were out of time.
Cade knelt down. “Climb on. We need to get you out of this rain.” And away from the ticking time bomb that used to be your car. The girl climbed onto his back and they began the careful trek up to the road. His fingers grasped and slid on the muddy grass. Fear gripped him. Fate and his strength would decide if they survived. He fought back the fear, his need to save an innocent more powerful than the demons whispering in his ear.
Good heavens, I love the Brynna writes. I can feel the tension and the urgency in this scene. But now I want to know more. Did they make it? Was Mindy okay? Are werewolves real? Oh, Brynna, you are a tease.
Now, let's take a look at Earth Enchanted...
Elemental Magic #1
Writer Liv Corrigan has the worst luck with men — her telepathy tends to make them run for the hills. When she meets widower and ex-cop Jack Roarke, she decides to keep her talent hidden. Things are looking up until their third date crashes and burns as the man who murdered Jack’s wife turns out to be after him too.
Injured, Jack retreats with Liv to his house under armed guard. But with Liv’s mysteries rapidly coming unraveled, a diamond-thief killer to stop and passion in the air, the safe house is anything but safe for their hearts!
I typically don't include an excerpt on these posts, but this one is too good not to add. Here's Liv and Jack's first meeting:
Jack scanned the bookstore as he sat in the hard metal folding chair, at the small table, and wrote. He thought his hand would fall off. Whoever said writing wasn’t real work had to have been crazy. He knew things about two hours’ worth of people their mothers probably didn’t know. Mandy Lou something or other had a granny who thought he was grade A and she was his number one fan. She didn’t look old enough to be allowed to read his brand of horror, but she had two copies of each of his books.
Jack had politely—he hoped—shrugged off the forty invitations to dinner, fourteen offers for coffee, and two very indecent proposals for ‘wild, hanging from the chandelier sex’ to quote one lovely fan. All in all, a long day barely described it, but he’d seen people and observed, that was for sure. If it helped with the new book, it might have been worth it, and then again maybe not.
Ellie dropped by to see how things were going, and then promptly ran away when he tried to beg out. He didn’t like being maneuvered, and Ellie was a champion at it. Entertaining the notion of strangling her got him through the second hour, but considering he needed a good editor, he changed his mind.
The line grew shorter. While he juggled the newest Hastings baby on his knee, which the boy’s proud papa had insisted on, Jack inscribed a message in the front cover to Mrs. Hastings, another number one fan and the mother of six children all under ten. How does she have the time to read at all? His message to her read, “Mrs. Hastings, I’m your number one fan. You rule. Jack.” Mentally saluting her efforts, he passed back junior, and sent them on their way. He automatically reached for the book a slim hand offered. Eyes down on the cover of what he’d created, he said the same thing he’d told countless others. “Hi, who should I make this out to?”
“Just sign it to Olivia Corrigan, fellow mystery writer.”
Her voice alone lifted his eyes to meet hers, a musical lilt that teased of mist and bogs, faeries and leprechauns. She was dressed professionally, but he could easily imagine her calling up a wild wind or casting spells. She was only about 5’4” and slim, claimed black Irish coloring. He saw a flash of what might have been a premonition, but after blocking the gift so long he couldn’t hold on to it. Did he smell rain? Candles or lightning? But the sun was shining. For a moment he just stared, couldn’t speak , and was certain he knew her but couldn’t remember where from.
“Is something the matter?”
He quickly signed her book, before he forgot that was the reason for their meeting in the first place. She was the last in line, and he was free. Thank God! Sorry, muse, position filled.
“Jack Roarke, it’s a pleasure, Miss Corrigan.”
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