Blue Maneuver-Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I jerked awake and the world started its mad tango. Again. Cotton batting shrouded my thoughts while stray memories struggled to poke through. This wasn’t quite the do-over I’d imagined, especially if it cost my meeting with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino. Light colored my eyelids pink right before the air conditioning unit kicked on. Cold air washed over me and mingled with the scent of cat litter.
Happiness trickled through my confusion. So I wasn’t in the park and Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino had carried me home.
Behind me, a cat meowed.
Relief relaxed the tension biting into my shoulders. That’s right. I’d been in Vivian’s apartment to feed her cat. My tongue slipped over the fuzz coating my teeth and I swallowed the sourness in my mouth. I’d given the darn cat the bottled water and had walked to the door when…
Silence rang inside my head.
Oh snap. I must have passed out again. Now, I’d have to visit the doctor. Mentally I tried to tabulate my savings but the gauzy swirl spit random numbers at me. Hoping to still the whirling, I reached up to grasp my head.
Except my hands didn’t move.
What the heck? Opening my eyes, I glanced down. Bands of blue light bound my wrists to the arms of the cane back chair. What in the world? I blinked. Nope, still bands of light. I tried to lift my hand. Nothing doing. Fear coiled low in my stomach. Leaning forward, I noticed similar manacles chained my legs to the front of the Vivian’s dining room chair. This was not good.
Vivian would be mad at the abuse of her antique furniture. A chill wormed down my spine. The heck with Vivian. How had I gotten here? And where had these light thingies come from?
“Ah, you’re awake.” Low and throaty, the man’s voice resembled a growl more than civilized speech. Movement whispered behind me.
Oh, God no! The hair on my neck pricked. Instinct drove my knees together despite my bound ankles. A shadow drifted across the wedge of light seeping through the thin part in the curtains. How had this happened? I was normally so careful. I turned my head. Bile rose in my throat, choking me.
“You can’t pass out. We haven’t had any fun yet.” One large hand cupped the back of my head as he walked to the front of my chair.
His hold was firm but gentle. Maybe he didn’t plan to harm me. Idiot. He’d fixed me to a chair like a photo in a scrapbook. Whatever he was up to couldn’t be good. I jerked on my left hand. The motion transmitted through the wood and into my body but those funky light cuffs didn’t give an inch.
He grasped my chin and turned my head toward him. Green eyes stared at me.
Ah shit! I flinched at the mental cursing. Who cared about a swear jar contribution? Mr. Parks and Rec Supervillian made no attempt to disguise his identity. Yet hope bubbled up at the clear maroon firebird embroidered on his breast pocket.
Maybe he wasn’t here to rape me.
Maybe he was here about some mischief my parents had gotten into. Heaven knew their protests for the cause of the day always accompanied a lecture on Big Brother’s ubiquitous oversight and the length of its evil tendrils. It also explained the light manacles. The government hoarded its technology and made up lame excuses to keep their secrets—things like Sasquatch, the Jersey Devil, and alien abductions. I tried to move my wrist. My belief had become incontrovertible fact.
Now I just had to remember the details and I’d start with my kidnapper. His blond hair was cut with military precision around his high forehead. A bump on his otherwise straight nose indicated a break in the past. Deep grooves bracketed his lips already thinned in disapproval.
He raised a fist.
I flinched and jerked back. Then again, maybe I had been right the first time. Instead of trying to contain the vomit chugging up my throat, I aimed for his face. The sad little lump of bile landed on my tongue. Fudge bunnies! How was I supposed to make myself unappealing if I couldn’t even throw up properly?
“Relax.” He pinched my chin tightly and tugged my head forward a bit then he opened his fist. A silver, triangular keychain fob rested against his palm. Nestled in a bed of filigree, a fiery opal winked in the kitchen light.
Rape or Big Brother interrogation? Neither would be pleasant. I locked my bones against a shiver of fear. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. Not yet anyway. Surely someone had seen him sneak inside and there was always Mrs. Roberts. The old snoop was bound to notice I hadn’t come out of Vivian’s apartment. All I had to do was bide my time until help arrived.
His lips twitched. “Decided to cooperate, have you? Good. This shouldn’t hurt. Much.”
Green light shot from the opal and washed over my forehead. The James Bond gadget confirmed it. I was in for an interrogation by a government douche. Would I survive it? Or would I end up as one of those losers who screamed alien abductions?
“What do you care?” And just exactly what did the green flashlight do? A frigid cold burned across my forehead. Tears pricked my eyes. I hissed through the pain and my breath fogged the air. Crap on a cracker! Even the battle of the punk metal bands seemed to fade before this torture.
Crouching before me, my abductor shifted his weight but his attention remained riveted on my forehead. In the jade light, he resembled a goblin. Or an ogre. Repulsive creatures both. Maybe I wouldn’t be left with alien delusions after the G-douche finished his experiments. Maybe he’d brainwash me into believing this was some sort of demonic encounter.
“Your repeated incapacitations interfere with me finishing my mission.”
“Mission?” I snorted then waited for the cranial payback. Nothing. Even the racket had faded. Maybe my head was so numb I couldn’t feel anything anymore. But what about the skullquakes? I ignored the questions and confusion. That could wait until he was gone. Hopefully in jail with a fellow named Bubba that wanted to give him a proctology exam. Too bad his buddies in the government would spring him. Still, he didn’t need to know that I was on to him. “Is that what they’re calling kidnap and rape these days?”
He blinked then his green eyes lasered onto mine.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Egging him on wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done in this century. Yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself. He was undermining my civil liberties. I’d been to the protests, read the literature my parents had gotten.
Of course, Mr. Parks and Rec had picked me for his experiment because of my free-thinking parents.
Taking a deep breath, I boxed up my anger. My situation called for a calm rational approach. So what could I do? My self-defense classes told me to be cooperative until I could find a way to escape. I mentally reset my brain. If I played docile maybe he’d untie me. I had a better chance of escaping.
Unfortunately, my personality seemed entrenched in stubborn and willful.
His eyes narrowed for a moment and a muscle flashed in his clenched jaw. The green light clicked off exposing the red suffusing his high cheekbones. “Just what nonsense has Konstantin filled your head with?”
Konstantin? The name bounced off the silence. I thought my parents had hooked-up with Moonbeam Hartsucker or some such nonsense. Another thing to worry about. Later. Much later.
“I don’t need Konstantin or anyone else to tell me what happens when a low-life scum-sucking toilet-feeder breaks into my apartment and ties me to a chair.”
A flush stained his cheeks before his teeth dug into his bottom lip and he glanced down. With exaggerated care, he set his key fob atop the gold placemat on the dining room table. A devilish light blazed in his green eyes as his attention switched back to me. Smirking, he cupped my knees.
I pressed my thighs together until my muscles trembled. Good Grief. What had my big mouth gotten me into?
His calloused palms rasped along my kneecaps before inching up my thighs.
I stopped breathing. The silken touch shot an arrow of pleasure straight to my core. Holy Toledo! Had the knock on the head screwed up my morality or had I been mesmerized by the funky green light?
His blunt fingertips dug into the soft skin of my inner thigh and pried my legs apart. Before I could snap them closed again, he surged forward and wedged his hips between my knees. His face was so close he brushed the tip of his nose against mine. Releasing my legs, he tilted my face up with one hand. The other traced my jaw, trailed down my throat and teased the cleavage created by my sports bra.
I inhaled a shaky breath as my body temperature spiked. Definitely some sort of mind control. No doubt developed by the CIA and given to the city employees to test on unsuspecting civilians.
“What happens to a beautiful woman tied to a chair?” He leaned in close to my ear and his warm breath cascaded down my neck.
I licked my dry lips. Shouldn’t I be doing something to put off his attack? No. No. I was supposed to cooperate to get released from my restraints. My body tingled where it brushed against his. Parts of me might be a little too cooperative. “Nothing good.”
“Pity,” he whispered before easing back. “I’m exceptionally good at whatever I put my mind to.”
Then he smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips parted to reveal even white teeth.
So the douche bag amused himself by exploiting my fear. Or had he figured out I was on to his government mind games. Anger pulsed in my blood. My hands curled into fists and my bonds cut into my forearms. Just let him come near me again. I’d bite off his nose and spit it back at him. “There’s nothing good about you. You’re the villain of the piece.”
“Not me, obecht.” Releasing me, he dug into his front pocket and pulled out an MP4 player. The three-by-four inch display remained black as he set it on the table. “You’re the one who’s on the wrong side.”
“Obecht?” The word resonated in my memory. Foreboding squatted in my stomach like a lead toad. Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino had called me that.
Could my actions and not my parents’ be the cause of Big Brother’s surveillance? Nonsense. I’d become a model citizen since graduating from UC Berkley.
And the statute of limitation should have expired on anything I did before that.
My blond kidnapper tugged his cell phone out of his back pocket and set it next to the MP4 player. “Obecht means baby—spoiled brat and unbelievably helpless in your case. Konstantin doesn’t choose any other type.”
I stiffened at the derogatory description. I was neither helpless nor spoiled. Okay, maybe I was a little too trusting and naive. He didn’t know that and I refused to give him the satisfaction of learning his words stung like pebbles—really tiny and insignificant pebbles.
I raised my chin and forced all the contempt I felt for him into my glare. That’s twice he’s tossed a man’s name around like it was a mutual acquaintance. Maybe if I knew who he was talking about, I could convince him to release me. Or formulate a good story. I wouldn’t tell the G-douche anything. In that I was my parents’ daughter.
“Who on Earth is Konstantin?”
My kidnapper patted his shirt pockets before pulling out a slim brass pen. He clicked the top once and the ballpoint emerged. Another click and it disappeared. The pen joined the other stuff on the dining room table.
“Victor Konstantin. Thirty-five years old. Six foot two. Black hair. Blue eyes.”
Oh God, no! I closed my eyes and immediately Mr. Tall, Dark and-Latino’s face popped up. This was my fault. But that didn’t mean he was the villain. No, absolutely not, Parks and Rec was the bad guy here. He’d broken into Vivian’s apartment, tied me up and laughed at my fears.
“Konstantin hides behind females. Without fail, he finds one and gets her to cover for him. Same story, different city. There’s one on every planet. Did you think you were special, obecht?”
“Stop calling me that. I am not a child.” But I’d been a fool over men before. Made a complete idiot of myself on occasion. I opened my eyes and stared beyond my kidnapper’s broad shoulders. I didn’t believe it. I refused to believe it. Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino deserved the chance to defend himself. If he was this Victor Konstantin.
My kidnapper tugged on my tee-shirt. The ribbing on the vee-neck stretched until he hooked the fabric against my upper arm and exposed my right shoulder and a red welt just above the swell of my breast. “No. You’re not a child.”
His thumb swept over the raised spot.
Pain radiated up my neck to thunder inside my skull. Tingles needled my right arm. I sucked air through my teeth. Holy Toledo! That hurt. “What did you do?”
My kidnapper cleared his throat and slid the rectangular MP4 player toward him. “What Konstantin might have neglected to tell you is that he’s also a mercenary. Sure, he claims to be loyal to the Astral Presidium, but don’t delude yourself. He happily kills for the one with the most money. And he’s good—very, very good. Fortunately, I’m better.”
Mr. Parks and Rec flipped open the top of his MP4 player. Gold circles glittered against the shallow black case.
At killing or something else? I swallowed despite my dry mouth. If that wasn’t an MP4 player, what was the phone and pen? And what did they do?
He stabbed a finger into the dots. One clung to his skin when he pulled back. He rolled it between his thumb and index finger before placing it on the red welt.
My heart rate kicked up three notches and my blood heated to a low simmer. Son of a monkey’s butt! What was he doing? The question bounced on my tongue but I couldn’t utter it out loud. Finding out might be worse than wondering.
“You’re not too bad at this spy game.” He eased my shirt back on my right shoulder before exposing the skin on the left. Another dot mirrored the first. “I bought the act the first time, obecht. You played the part well, running away and falling to damage yourself. Unfortunately for you, I had to return for Pescal’s datapad and saw you and Konstantin. Together.”
Mr. Parks and Rec’s lips hung down at the corners. Reaching over my leg, he ran his thumb down the dark display of his fake MP4 player. No sooner had he pulled his hand back than a cone of blue light shot out of the display. Wavy symbols scrolled through the air until they reached six inches above the surface, then they disappeared.
“It’s a hologram.” A pocket hologram. When had they invented such a thing? Right after the mind controlling device silly. Crap on a cracker! My parents’ information didn’t even come close to the truth. Wait until I tell them.
If I remembered this. Usually Big Brother covered the missing time with other explanations, all of which put into doubt the victim’s credibility. Oh, he was clever. And I’d gnaw off my arm before I said so.
“You won’t get away with this you know.” Only my restrained arms prevented me from smacking myself upside the head. I should have been able to come up with a better retort than that. Perhaps his mind-controlling device had an obedience sub-routine. I definitely felt the affects of something. Heat flamed across my skin and a chill sunk into my bones.
Vivian’s cat padded across the carpet to leap onto the table. He plopped his oversized fuzzy butt onto the table and stared at me.
Fat lot of help you are. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at the cat.
Ignoring my comment, he focused on the MP4 player. The words weak signal flashed on the hologram.
Weak signal? Did that mean he’d leave to get fresh batteries?
He tapped the display but the message remained the same. Muttering under his breath, he speared another circle on his finger. “Why did you injure yourself? Even Konstantin knows bashing in your head won’t prevent me from getting the information I want.”
I pressed against the back of my chair. He talked of smashing my skull a little too casually. Rising up on his knees, he eased forward, forcing my thighs farther apart. My stomach clenched as the denim rubbed the sensitive skin.
“You’re not going to get any information from me.” My muscles twitched with the need to cross my arms. The stupid light manacles held me in place. “Besides, I didn’t trip and bang my head on purpose.”
Perhaps I could use his paternal attitude to my advantage. That was if his brainwashing hadn’t usurped my free will. I didn’t exactly feel like he controlled me, but then I didn’t know that I would. After all, I hadn’t been brainwashed before.
At least, I didn’t think I had.
He combed my hair over to the left and touched a gold circle to the back of my neck. “It did add authenticity to your act. But playtime is over.” He taped my illuminated handcuffs. “Restrained, you can’t invent any other ways to harm yourself and prevent me from completing my mission.”
Mission. Konstantin. I had dots but no way to connect them. What did one have to do with the other? And how did I fit into the picture? Nowhere. I was innocent. I just had to convince him of that. “If you think I’m mixed up in something, you’re not just a sandwich short of a picnic. You’ve forgotten the whole dang food basket.”
He eased back and fished out another circle. His lips twitched.
Maybe I should have spent a little time formulating a better argument.
Before I could think of one, he added another circle to the other side of my neck.
Spears of pain lanced my head. Son of a monkey’s butt! My eyeballs rattled inside their sockets just as my teeth started to chatter. “Wh-what are you doing to me?”
His blurry figure moved over the table. The blue hologram blinked out then images materialized.
The blurry pictures looked like people. But despite squinting, I couldn’t tell for sure. My eyes refused to focus and the pounding in my head increased with the effort. I swear I felt each individual hair on my scalp.
“Hmm. Bad news. The Cee-Bees arrived too late to record the murder.” He raised his hand and held it over my eyes, blinding me. “Shall we begin?”
Begin what? He was already killing me. How much time did I have left before the gold dots snuffed me out? Time. Hope cut through the chills burrowing under my skin. His little show had cost him time. Maybe it was enough. Maybe help was close by.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you leave?” My chattering teeth diluted the message but I didn’t care. Big Brother operated in the realm of reasonable deniability. Getting caught with gadgets exposed would remove that. My body warmed to the theme. “My neighbor probably heard you break-in and has already called the cops. No doubt the men in blue are approaching this apartment with guns drawn.”
Please God, let them be here soon. I held onto the hope despite the fever consuming me.
“Ms. Roberts won’t interfere.”
He knew my neighbor’s name? Of course, he did. He was the government. He also admitted to… Steel bands squeezed my chest. I jerked back and freed myself from his blindfold. Rainbow halos surrounded him, no doubt a side effect of the brainwashing. “What have you done with her?”
I may not have liked the crotchety old woman but I didn’t want her hurt or… I swallowed the lump in my throat. Don’t think about it Rae.
He set his hands on my thighs. “I think you should be more concerned with what I plan to do with you.”
Humanitarian of the year, I’m not. I had been thinking of what he planned to do with me when I mentioned Ms. Roberts and look where that got me. Still, I couldn’t give up yet and I had one friend who was far enough away to be safe. I hoped. “My roommate will be home soon.”
Mr. Parks and Rec rolled his eyes. He removed his hand from my leg and activated his screen. Vivian’s picture immediately appeared next to the Southwest flight logo. “The woman who owns this domicile will not make her connection.”
Despite the sweat trickling at my temples, I shivered. First, Ms. Roberts and now Vivian. Just my luck to get a douche bag with long, evil tentacles and the will to use them. An alien abduction looked pretty good right now. “How much blood do you have on your hands?”
“As much as it takes to complete my mission.” He glanced at his hands before switching his attention on the hologram.
Right. The mission. That still didn’t explain how I fit into the picture. On the hologram, a shadowy male stood next to a truck. Darkness obscured most of the details but it looked eerily familiar. My scalp tightened seconds before pins and needles blanketed my head. “You have the wrong person.”
He cleared his throat, picked up his Smartphone before running his thumb down the screen. “MaryJane Radiance Hemplewhite, born to Susan Glenda Schmidt and George James Hemplewhite. Your parents never married. You were homeschooled as it suited your parents’ nomadic and anti-authority lifestyle. Each of you has criminal records for various misdemeanors. You have one cousin, Thomas Edward Schmidt in Indiana, who has no ties to your unorthodox family.”
He could leave my family out of this. “Who the heck are you to judge our legitimate expression of our civil right?”
“Tobias Werner. UED.” He tossed the cell back on the table.
“Wow, Tobias Werner, UED.” I repeated his name and rank. Maybe it would survive the brainwashing. “I thought government douche bags would be given numbers instead of names.”
Tobias stood up and strolled behind my chair. With a grunt, he lifted me up and turned me to face the table. Next, he moved the hologram closer to me. “What was your part in Pescal’s murder?”
The image shifted to a silhouette of a man pulling weeds and exposing… The hair on my neck rose. Holy Toledo! I remember this. “I remember this exactly.”
“That’s because it is your memory.” With a sigh, he leaned over the table and tapped the MP4 player’s faceplate. The hologram froze on the body. Tobias poked his fingers through the display before moving his hands apart. The dead man’s face filled the image. “This is Pescal.”
The blue lips, the unblinking eyes and the still, flat nostrils. “Oh my God! The body was real. But how did the log get there?”
Was that proof I’d been brainwashed before? No. Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino hadn’t seen it. But maybe he was part of the conspiracy. Maybe he was Konstantin. But they were on separate teams. Of course, Tobias Werner UED could have lied.
“I put the log there so you’d think you’d tripped over it.”
And I had. But his actions made no sense. I was alone with him in a deserted park. Why would he let me go only to come after me later? Frustration clawed at my control. Obviously, I was missing pieces to give me a clearer picture. “Why would you do such a thing?”
He shrugged. “At the time, I thought you were innocent.”
“I am innocent.” I jerked my head toward the hologram. “I could hardly have killed the man if I’d just discovered his body. Actually, you discovered the body. Where is the body?”
As expected he ignored my questions to lob one of his own. “What is Konstantin’s plan?”
“I don’t know any Konstantin.” But I might. Tobias just hadn’t given me anything to prove it one way or the other. I’d been damned if I’d hand over an innocent person for interrogation.
And if Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino wasn’t innocent?
Hush. That’s the brainwashing talking.
Tobias sighed while his fingers danced over the MP4 player’s screen. The hologram morphed into whirlwinds of color. It stopped with a lurch.
Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino’s face stared back at me. Well damn.
“Victor Konstantin is recorded in your memories. It will condemn you in any court.”
I snorted. Like Big Brother ever brought witnesses in to testify. “Then my memories will show he never introduced himself, that we have no relationship and that I only know him as Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino. Case dismissed.”
I raised my chin. Let Tobias Werner UED put that in his pipe and suffocate on the smoke.
His eyes narrowed for a moment. “Victor Konstantin is not Latino and I am taller.”
I wanted to kick him. The douche completely ignored the fact that I was innocent.
“And if you and Konstantin aren’t involved why have you staked out the park for the last week?”
Embarrassment added to the heat engulfing my body. Good heavens. He made it sound as if I stalked the man.
He smirked. No doubt the knucklehead had misinterpreted my blush. “UED records indicate that you’ve lived in the neighborhood for more than two years and have never visited the park before. Yet on the very day when UED’s latest WitSec steward is murdered, you appear and appropriate his Cee-Bees.”
All this for ham radios? Blackness circled the rainbows surrounding my vision. I didn’t let that stop me from glaring at him. Unfortunately, I think the shakes vibrating my body undermined the effect. Either the knock on the head or the brainwashing had made me sick. I wanted nothing more than my bed and warm blankets.
And I was willing to admit to being a total loser to get it.
“I wasn’t at the park to meet Mr. Tall, D… to meet Victor Konstantin. I was there to get exercise, but my stupid personal trainer never showed.”
Tobias’s forehead wrinkled and his lips compressed as if he had swallowed something nasty.
I shrugged. So my confession didn’t exactly earn me brownie points. All I wanted was to go home and sleep.
“I had nothing to do with any murder or stealing.” I shifted on the hard wooden chair and leaned toward him. “Search this place if you don’t believe me. I don’t have your precious Citizen’s Band radio.”
He smiled.
I doubted it was from humor. In fact, I’d bet the rest of my savings that Red Riding Hood’s grandmother had seen that smile right before the Big Bad Wolf ate her.
“Yes. You do.” With a tap of his fingers, the hologram burped an image of three blue lights.
A memory shimmered to the fore. Aw snap. The lightning bugs spazzing on pixie dust. Arching my back I glanced down at my chest where the first one had hit. Where I had a welt and Tobias had given me a gold dot as a stripper’s pasty.
He obligingly held out my shirt to give me a clear view.
Definitely a douche. “You mean these Cee-Bee things are inside me?” I inhaled then my nose started to tingle and itch. Oh no. “They’re making me sick.”
“The cerebral bots, or Cee-Bees, cause an infection-like response while they’re incorporating.” He flashed his pointy canine teeth. “Obviously the Cee-Bees were not part of Konstantin’s plan.”
Plan. Schman. I shifted on the seat while my manacled arms twitched. The light bands dug into my skin. I yanked harder. I needed a doctor, antibiotics, and a blood transfusion.
Tobias crossed his arms and smirked down at me.
That was real helpful. Not! I jerked my body up and twisted. The chair hopped on the tile with a loud click and angled toward him. “Get them out of me!”
He shrugged, uncrossed his arms and reached for the fake MP4 player. “Right now the Cee-Bees are merging with every cell in your body and integrating their operating code into your DNA.”
The hologram fell dark and he snapped the gold circle filled bottom to the back of the display.
He couldn’t be packing up and leaving. Not after casually announcing he had infected me.
“No.” The chair’s legs screeched against the tile as I hopped sideways toward him. My muscles jiggled and my joints creaked but I didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave me like this. “No. I won’t allow it. You put them in me; you need to get them out. Out, out Spam dots!”
I flinched at my father’s favorite interpretation of Shakespeare.
His mouth turned down at the corners. And for a moment, his blond eyebrows met in a vee above his nose. Clearing his throat, he turned away and tucked the MP4 player in his back pocket. “Can’t.”
“Yes. You can.” I’d become his personal cheerleader if he’d change his mind. I really needed him to change his mind. I sniffed up the unmentionables tickling my nose. I’d had a cold like this only once before and I’d ended up in the hospital for three weeks. This time I didn’t have insurance. “You created the Spam dots. You get them out or turn them off. Surely the fancy pen or cell phone can do that.”
I jerked my head toward the brass pen. He hadn’t used that yet. Surely Big Brother had a cure for something they created. Unless… Oh God. I stopped moving my chair. Unless they sterilized the infected.
“UED didn’t create the Cee-Bees. We stumbled across them on our first contact.” Tobias set his cold hand on mine. “As far as we know, they created themselves and keep on making more of themselves, improving and adapting with each generation. Although we’ve used them for nearly a thousand years, we have yet to understand how the Cee-Bees work.”
He lifted his hand and wiped it on his jeans.
First contact. A thousand years. Had the Spam dots effected my hearing now? Was I beyond curing? Tears stung my eyes. My fever disappeared under a wave of chills. “I don’t understand.”
“I know, obecht.” He tucked the pen into his shirt pocket, right above the city logo. “And maybe we could have left you alone but now that you’ve become involved with Konstantin…”
“I’m not involved with him!” My voice became hoarse as a dozen frogs played Cirque du Soliel with my vocal cords. Geez, if Mr. Tall, Dark and Latino stood between me and the cure… “I’ll give him up, swear off men, join a convent or take a vow of celibacy. Just don’t let those things kill me.”
Silently, he picked up his cell. He tilted his head to the right while turning the Smartphone round and round in his hand. “I’ve never heard of the Cee-Bee’s killing anyone.”
I collapsed against the chair’s wooden slats. Praise Buddha. I was going to live. My internal celebration died a quick death. Tobias didn’t actually seem filled with warm and fuzzy thoughts at the news. What was he not telling me? “But?”
“Given your association with Konstantin, UED cannot allow you to carry the Cee-Bees.” The screen of his phone lit up. He glanced at the name and ran his fingers through his short hair.
I sniffed. And that got him upset? Seemed like a win-win situation to me. “So they’ll remove the Spam dots and I’ll be okay.”
“The Cee-Bees can’t be removed.” Using his thumb he accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear. “The only viable solution will be your immediate termination.”
Blue Maneuver available now:

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Happy President’s Day (US)

Happy President’s Day to everyone in the US. I’m avoiding political commentary and just saying we’ve had some really great presidents. But since it is a day off, I’m not posting a blog. So there:P

The King is dead; How Long will the New King Live? by Toni V. Sweeney

The King is dead; How Long will the New King Live?

The hero’s always, handsome, a brave warrior, the best in the kingdom, dedicated to fighting, fighting, fighting—with occasionally forays into the other battlefield, the boudoir—and nothing more. The heroine’s an iron butterfly, innocent, untouched, ready to be launched by the magic of love, and thoroughly spoiled. He may be a loner, with a terrible secret, occasionally kept celibate by his vows to the Goddess…until that very deity tosses a headstrong, winsome lass onto his path. She may have too high an ideal of what a lover should be until she beholds the perfect man in the flesh—and usually plenty of it!—and takes inventory.

What if the roles were reversed, however?

What if the hero was shy and innocent, a delicate shell of a man, frightened of women, bullied by his mother…at the same time the most sickly of males while being the most powerful man in the kingdom? A fragile seashell hidden in an iron glove. A man cursed, as are his brothers, to give off the scent of roses when he’s upset. And the heroine was brave and strong, the best swordswoman in the kingdom, comrade of her sovereign’s warlord brother, trusted and revered as the daughter of the commander of the king’s army. But inside, she’s still a female, wondering what she’s losing by swearing chastity to an unseen goddess. So what happens when she’s entrusted with the welfare of this invalid king, this man who’s never been alone with a woman, indeed, who hasn’t left his bed but twice in his entire life and is considered nothing short of miraculous that he’s managed to survive for seventeen illness-filled years? Does she pledge her loyalty and alternately experience pity and scorn for such a hapless creature? Or does she become his friend, his playmate, and his doorway to a world he can never inhabit?

Janel Redhu is the only daughter of Jan Redhu and his warrior-wife, Mariah TruBlud, and it’s she who’s chosen to protect the newly-crowned king of Purdha. Crispin du Lance is the former king’s youngest son, chosen by a fluke of royal law as the new heir, the same age as Janel in years but a decade behind her in social and personal development.

When Janel overhears a plot by Crispin’s brothers to overthrow him and seize the throne, what had been an easy assignment suddenly becomes deadly as the young warrior spirits her charge away from the castle, taking him from the only life he’s ever known into a definitely dangerous one, that will turn a boy into a man if it doesn’t kill him first, and change the history of his country forever.

I divided my story into three parts: Part 1 is told by Janel; Part 2 is given from Crispin’s POV, and Part 3 is an omniscient view of the two. It’s a little different but effective, I think, in letting the reader see how both characters react to the same event.

Excerpt: PG Rating

At first, I thought we had walked into a library. There were books everywhere, the walls lined with shelves on which they were stacked. To our right, a door opened into another room. In front of the closest bookcase, a table held a chess board and pieces, other gameboards piled upon it. At the other end of the room, a high-arched, mullioned window let in bright sunlight.
On the opposite side of the room stood a large four-poster bedstead, its headboard against the wall. It was swathed so thickly in translucent draperies its occupant was little more than a faceless figure. Two people stood beside the bed, Prince Carel and the Queen Mother, both painted and draped in the heaviest of mourning.

“So you’ve finally arrived,” Carel greeted his brother brusquely. He flicked a glance at me. “And is this the Lady Comaunder’s choice?” He sounded as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Linus, who is this person?” Lady Mathilde didn’t give her next-to-youngest a chance to answer his brother. She was a small woman, even shorter than I, now plump with middle age— dumpy, to be truthful—and her voluminous gown with its flowing sleeves making her look even more squat and fat. I could see she’d probably been very comely when she was His Majesty’s bride, and that determined little chin and her bright eyes were probably two of the features catching his eye. Now, however, there was too much willfulness in her expression and her eyes appeared small and cruel. Perhaps king’s consorts become that way over time. All I know is I felt whatever she was thinking didn’t bode well for me.

“This is the soldier Comaunder Mariah sent to guard Crispin,” Carel answered for Linus.

“He seems young.” Standing, she bustled over to me, peering into my face. She was shortsighted also, it seemed. I forced myself not to back away. Abruptly, she recoiled. “Carel, this is a girl!”

“Astute of you to notice, Mother.” Carel’s didn’t attempt to keep his answer respectful. That made me frown. Truly, the Royal offspring weren’t acting as I thought they should. Certainly they weren’t deporting themselves as they did on the battlefield. There, they were calm and collected. At the moment, both seemed merely testy, spiteful children. Still, grief affected men in different ways. I hoped that was all it was.

“Comaunder Mariah’s daughter, as a matter of fact,” he went on.

Lady Mathilde stared at her eldest, plainly upset, more than a little angry. Something was wrong, and it appeared to do with my gender.

“She can’t guard His Majesty,” she stated, in a don’t-argue-with-me tone.

“Why not?” Linus spoke up, doing just that. There was so much belligerence in those two words I hoped I wasn’t about to witness a family row.

“She’s a female—” Lady Mathilde began, giving him a glare saying much about a son daring to question his mother’s opinions.

“So?” Carel interrupted. Not letting his mother finish a sentence earned him a scowl.

“Crispin’s guard has to be with him every minute of the day and night. This girl can’t possibly sleep in the same room with His Majesty. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Janel’s a devotee of the Goddess, Madame.” Carel’s reply was clipped as if attempting to control his anger. A faint rose fragrance hovered in the air. “DeOsse requires chastity of her followers. You needn’t worry about her climbing into bed with him.”

That earned him a shocked look. Both from Mathilde and myself. Linus stifled a chuckle.

“She’s too young, Carel. Your brother requires assistance in bathing and other…necessities. Perhaps if she were more mature… It’s common knowledge young women are susceptible to the sight of bare male bodies, even one as frail as your brother’s…”

At this point, I had to bit my lip to stifle my own laughter. Great DeOsse! She thinks I’ll have designs on the King? On that sickly creature? If I were going to break my vows, it’d certainly be for someone in better health than he. Carel or Linus or… Better end that thought right now.

“Stop this, Madame.” Carel’s snort said it all. “Janel Redhu’s no danger to anyone except those who might harm His Majesty. She’s a soldier first and a female second.”

“She can’t guard him constantly.” She wasn’t going to give up. “S-she’ll be indisposed…during…uh…female Times.”

“I’ve spoken to the Royal Leech about that.” Carel’s reply was calm though he avoided both his mother’s gaze and my own. The rose scent was stronger now. I could tell Mathilde smelled it also, from the way her nostrils quivered. “He assures me Followers are blessed with a lack of…that physical property. Until they are released from their vows.”
Carel might be calm but I felt my own cheeks reddening. I studied the floor. Linus fixed an equally interested gaze on the ceiling.

“Nevertheless—”

“Nevertheless, nothing! I asked the Commander for her best soldier and Janel is her choice. She stays.”

There was a sigh and a creaking of the leather straps supporting the mattress. A sleepy murmur, sudden movement from the bed, a body straightening and rolling over.

“M-Mother?” The voice was so shaky and hollow it sounded like an old man rather than a seventeen-year-old boy.

“Yes, my angel.” Mathilde was distracted from further argument as she rushed back to the bedside. She leaned into the draperies, reaching toward the vague figure lying there, assisting His Majesty in sitting upright. Once he was settled and propped on several pillows, she straightened.

“W-we have a v-visitor?” It was asked breathlessly. Crispin sounded as if he’d run a race and couldn’t get his wind. Oh, Goddess, and he stutters, too. I felt my heart dip with pity. He leaned forward slightly. “Who are you, s-soldier?”

“The guard sent from Sword Squad—” Carel began.

I started to supply my name.

“—a female,” Mathilde didn’t let either of us finish. “I’ve told him she isn’t acceptable.”

Oh no. She’s going to talk him out of it. Now I understood Linus’ earlier remark. For some reason, the Queen Mother didn’t want her son to have a guard. I imagined she had enough influence with him to have me sent away. Well, that’d be no reflection on me or my abilities, but it would be an insult. To myself as well as to the Lady Commander my mother for her choice.

“Why not?” It was the whining query of a child being told he couldn’t do something.

“See? Even His Majesty sees there’s no problem,” Carel pointed out, not trying to hide how this pleased him.

Mathilde ignored him, turning back to the bed. “Because your guard must be here at all times. Think about that. You don’t want a female here while you’re being bathed, do you? Seeing you naked? Or watching you relieve yourself into a chamber?”

She emphasized those last words as if this were a crime of the highest order. Crispin cringed. There was no other way to describe the sudden movement the figure behind the draperies made.

“She wouldn’t look…” His voice went up so quickly it became a squeak. There was a loud gulp as he attempted to return it to a more kingly timbre. The shadowy head turned in his elder brother’s direction. “Carel, s-surely she wouldn’t…”

“Of course not.” Where Carel was short with his mother, his tone with his brother was quieter. Matter-of-fact, but slightly pacifying as if he were speaking to someone much, much younger. “Whenever you’re being bathed, Janel will turn her back. And she’ll never be in your company when you perform your other functions. Will you, Prive?” He directed this last question at me so suddenly I nearly jumped.

“C-certainly not, Sire.” It was the first time I’d been addressed directly since entering the room and I grimaced at that brief tremble in my voice. I hoped no one thought I was mocking my king’s stammer. “I swear His Majesty’ll have privacy.”

“Let me remind you, Madame,” Carel went on, pressing the point. “If Prive Redhu’s sent away, the Lady Commander’s next choice may be her son, Marius. You do remember Marius, Mother?”

At mention of my brother’s name, Lady Mathilde shuddered. There was no other way to describe the visible frisson going through that overweight little body. She muttered something. It sounded like “She wouldn’t dare.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Come closer, Prive.” A hand wavered through the draperies. It was waxen-pale, large but bony, almost as white as the lawn sleeve covering it. The arm shook slightly as it extended, beckoning. “What are your orders concerning us?”

Before Lady Mathilde could object, I stepped forward and seized Crispin’s hand. It was as chill as a piece of alabaster, not like a living thing at all. Dropping to one knee, I pressed the cold fingers to my forehead.

“I’m to protect you, Your Majesty, and keep your enemies at bay.”

The hand withdrew, pulling me to my feet as it disappeared back inside the sanctuary of the bed. “Then it’s all right. She can s-stay, Mother.”

“But—” Mathilde wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“His Majesty has spoken, Madame,” Carel pointed out, and the finality in his own voice also held triumph. Got another one past her, it seemed to say. I was beginning to wonder just how much filial devotion there actually was between Mathilde and her sons. Not much that I could see.

Author Name: Toni V. Sweeney
URL: http://www.tonivsweeney.com/
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/tvsweeney
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/tvsweeney
Twitter: @tonivsweeney
Book Title: The King’s Swordswoman (Lovers of Leonesse, Book One)
Genre: fantasy romance
Publisher: Class Act Books
Purchase URL: www.classactbooks.com

Chapter Two-Blue Maneuver

Chapter Two

I struggled in that murky place between sleep and waking, awareness and oblivion. Rolling over to put out the heat licking my back, I groaned. Please God, don’t let the air-conditioner be broken! I couldn’t afford another bill. Hair tickled my nose and cheek. I brushed it away but it came back, stirred no doubt in the breeze of the overhead fan.
I snuggled deeper into my soft mattress, putting off facing another day of frantic unemployment and plain oatmeal. Out of sheer cussedness, the sheets felt clammy against my skin and smelled faintly of dank grass. I blocked the unpleasantness.
It refused to be blocked.
Shaking my head, I struggled to sit up. Nausea chugged up my throat and pink dusted my closed eyes.
While the world bucked and swayed, my brain clasped at the bobbing thoughts. Not my room at all. And… Pictures scrolled inside my head, accompanied by the pounding of gremlins and the rumble of an engine. The park. The dawn. More images—each led to another like pearls on a string. Mr. No Show Personal Trainer. The near splits on the sidewalk, Mr. Parks and Rec and…
And the dead body.
“Oh, God!” I tasted last night’s nuked dinner of shoe-leather parmesan and gagged on the lump before I managed to swallow it down. Some things should only be experienced once, even if they did cost a budget friendly ninety-nine cents.
Stop procrastinating, Rae. Your feet are propped up on a dead body. Another thought hovered in the fog clouding my mind. Its presence lingered like a malevolent stalker, but I couldn’t glimpse more than an impression. Sighing, I opened my eyes and glanced at my feet.
A log.
My feet were propped up on a log. Laughter bubbled on my lips. I moved my legs. Rough black bark ripped away from the bone-white trunk and scratched at the exposed skin above my ankles. Good heavens, it had been a dream.
All a dream.
Truck tires crunched gravel. From the corner of my eye, I watched Mr. Parks and Rec drive out of the horseshoe-shaped lot. A few branches and mounds of black garbage bags bounced in the open truck bed. At least, he hadn’t witnessed this humiliation.
I reached up to brush my bangs out of my eyes. Just as my fingers skimmed my forehead, pain blitzed my nervous system. My brain sloshed around and my eyes ping-ponged inside my skull. Idiot! Pulling back, I explored the fringes of the knot.
Mother Goose must have laid an egg on my forehead, when I’d tripped. But why had I fallen? I was much too careful to stumble over a tree. I glared at the large limb, basking in the dawn like a black and white crocodile on the river of green.
Obviously my rational mind had been affected by frustration. It couldn’t be Karma. Nothing I’d done would deserve this. And now my body would have to pay the price on the long slog back to my condo. I set my hands on the ground. Muck oozed between my fingers. As I levered myself up, static crackled inside my skull. The world dipped and swayed on the personal Tilt-A-Whirl that made up my equilibrium.
Ugh! Maybe I could unscrew my head and pack it in foam, before attempting to stand again. Maybe Prince Charming would ride to my rescue and carry me home.
What I wouldn’t give for a do-over. I closed my eyes, while my insides quivered in the aftershocks of my movements. The battle of the metal bands raging inside my skull prevented any thinking—positive or otherwise. How on Earth could I walk from here to my condo without moving?
Fly? Like that was going to happen. I sighed and my chin dipped. The world shuddered, measuring about twelve on the Richter scale. “Oh, God!”
“Women usually only call me that, after we’ve met.” A man’s voice rasped against my nerve endings.
Smooth, rich and deep, just the way I liked my chocolate. Had the head banging caused hallucinations? A shadow blocked out the pink sunlight shining across my closed lids moments before an acrid odor mingled with a musky scent. Male. My nose twitched.
My imagination wasn’t good enough to conjure up a picture.
Maybe I’d switch from positive thinking to positively avoiding more than my quota of bad events.
Grass shushed and the shadow fell away from my eyes.
Had he left? No, I turned my head slightly. A punk metal band joined the jamboree inside my skull. Still my ears didn’t detect any sound. Yet I felt him move closer. Man, the guy was quiet.
“Can you open your eyes, obecht?”
Obecht. The exotic word swirled around me and sliced through the pounding. Did it mean my love, or beautiful, or honey bunch? Fingers swept over my brow. How I dreamed of having a man’s caresses explore my dips and curves as if he were an artist and I his greatest sculpture. Calloused fingertips traced my cheek then ran lightly over my jaw. Pleasure skittered through me, sowing warmth that liquefied my muscles.
Part of me screamed to fight the spell he’d woven around me and reminded me that I was alone in the park at dawn. Primetime crime hour. For once, I could see why others found the rational part of me annoying. Besides, I needed help to get home.
“Obecht, you must open your eyes.” Steel laced the velvet chocolate voice. His touches morphed into insistent probes. One finger lifted my eyelid.
Light penetrated my skull, obliterating my view. Fear shoved into the vacant spaces created by my blindness. Could a whack on the head really knock the sense from me? I pulled free of his touch. Once I was certain I wouldn’t vomit, I opened my eyes. My heart thumped against my ribs.
The man was a shadow, no discerning features at all. Adrenalin chased fear’s chill from my skin. I had to get out of here. Back to the safety of my condo. To the presence of other people. Flattening my palms against the gunk on the ground, I pushed myself up. My muscles wobbled and I landed with a splat. Oops, I’d forgotten the whole ‘needing help’ bit.
“Easy.” He shifted, not further away as my fear wanted but closer to me. So close, I felt the heat emanating from his skin. “I’m just going to support you so you don’t sustain further injury. Okay?”
My stomach performed crazy acrobatics, while the world spun. I could use support. I could use a lift home. I blinked in the dim light and made out his broad shouldered silhouette.
I had asked for help.
And here it was.
Something told me I would never get home if I refused it. “Okay.”
“Let me know when you’ve recovered.” The deep timbre of his voice blanketed my fear like a balm and his arm settled around my shoulders. His fingers stroked my spine briefly, before tickling my nape and slipping under my hair to massage my scalp.
Hmm. That felt nice. The vestiges of my fear melted away, leaving only a building ache inside me. When was the last time a man had taken care of me? I wasn’t surprised when my memories turned up empty. Maybe being strong and independent was overrated, if it deprived me of massages.
Even if they were by a complete stranger who banished rational thoughts with his caresses and held me awfully close. A fissure of alarm bubbled up. Stranger, smanger. Someone who smelled like sunshine and soap couldn’t be all bad.
“We’ll just stay right here, until the nausea passes.” Peppermint-scented words stirred the hair on my neck.
“Nausea?” Was that my voice? It sounded a bit rusty and lower than normal. It definitely didn’t match the one inside my head. And just what had the man seen? Good grief! Didn’t witnesses to my humiliation have an occupancy limit?
“You’ve got a knot on your forehead.” His fingers gently combed through my hair.
I wanted to ask if he’d been watching me, but couldn’t summon the words. Instead I focused on the pleasure hemming in the pain. I could play Damsel in Distress.
“You didn’t pass out, did you?”
A glimmer of self-preservation stopped me, before I nodded. “I don’t know. I definitely had the wind knocked out of me.”
I straightened then waited for my head to settle on an even keel. Never had I been this affected by a simple fall. What if my brain was swelling? What if I went to bed and woke up dead? Should I call for an ambulance? See a doctor? Crap on a cracker! I didn’t have insurance to pay for an emergency room visit and there was the matter of getting there. I seriously doubted I should drive, even if I owned a car.
But I wasn’t helpless; I could Dial-a-Ride. Phone. I patted the flat pockets of my shorts. My cell must have slipped out, when I’d tripped. But where had it gone?
His arm fell away from my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Phone.” I brushed the grass near my bottom. Please God, don’t let it have gotten far. I opened my eyes, glanced down and tasted again the onion bagel I’d eaten two weeks ago. Note to self: stop moving head. And just how was I supposed to search for my phone?
“Is it purple?”
My hero. Relief tumbled through me. How many purple cell phones could there be near me? I caught myself before I nodded. “Yes.”
“Here.” Warm fingers curled around mine.
“Thank you.” Seconds later the sleek casing slipped against my palm. Flipping it open, I raised it to eye level. The screen remained dark. My thumb pressed the volume button. Nothing. “Son of a—”
“You can say it.” Soft chuckles drifted on the pearly dawn. “I’m a big boy. I’ve heard lots of words.”
I resisted the urge to look at him. Barely. He’d have to be damn good looking for me to weather another skullquake. “Monkey’s butt!”
He choked mid-laugh. “Monkey’s butt? Is that even possible?”
Maybe not. But it was better than dropping a dollar I didn’t have into the swear jar. It wasn’t even as satisfying as swearing, but it was part of my new self-improvement regime. I snapped my cell phone closed and groped my leg before shoving the thing into a pocket. “You’d be surprised at the advances made in medical science.”
Or not. I would though. I hated science, medical or otherwise. Still, he didn’t need to know that my language could turn a sailor’s ears red. Just one of the many things I learned, when my parent’s moved to that commune near the oil fields in Oklahoma.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He cupped my chin. Gently but firmly, he turned my face to the pink sunrise. With his features still in shadow, he leaned closer. “Aside from a few cuts and bruises, I don’t think you have any other injures.”
Cuts. Bruises. That sounded quite manageable. It was the gremlins playing bass and drums in my head that complicated things. Like walking. Moving.
“Can you open your eyes for me?”
“My eyes?” I thought they were open. I could see him. Well, the shadows filling him at least.
“Widen your eyes, I mean. I need to check your pupils. See if you have a concussion.” A butterfly touch landed on my eyebrow. He exerted a little pressure and light flooded in.
Bile rose up my throat. The light hurt but at least this time my brain didn’t try to squeeze out the back of my head. Focus on something else. Like him. Thoughts of him calmed me more than a roomful of lavender. “Are you a doctor?”
With a voice like that, I wouldn’t mind playing doctor with him.
“Once upon a time I was a medic.”
Close enough. I had an impression of a strong jaw, before white light shone from his hand. I tried to blink but he held my eye open. The brightness seemed to brand the inside of my skull. My stomach cramped. After a calming breath, it eased. I switched my attention back to him. “You were a soldier?”
“Yes.” The light slid out of my eyes then rushed back.
Again, I tried to wince. He held my eye open and drew closer. His breath washed over my face. Minty fresh breath. I could get used to this. Even the pain seemed to have dulled.
“You have a beautiful soul.” He released one eye to focus on the other.
“Soul?” Had I blacked out and missed part of the conversation? Another alarm thrilled low inside me. Was it possible to hit my head so hard, my brain had to rewire itself?
“The eyes tell me.” Amusement lightened the serious tone of his words. “They’re the windows to the soul, you know.”
Ahh. That sounded familiar. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I’ll bet lots of males will say anything to peer into those beautiful brown eyes of yours.” He clicked the light off and released my eyelid but his fingers skimmed my cheek to trace my jaw before falling away.
Pleasure warmed me like summer sunshine. I closed my eyes, giving my vision time to adjust to the new light level. “You think I have beautiful eyes?”
“More than beautiful.” Sowing goosebumps in their wake, his hands skimmed down my arms to toy with my ring finger. “But obviously no one has convinced you, yet.”
Wow! I shivered and the brain bands cranked up the volume. I could deal with that. My special order hero was actually flirting with me. Should I flirt back? Did I even remember how?
He shifted, moving between me and the eyeball skewering light of the dawn.
Good heavens. Where had this guy been all my life?
“Can you stand?” His hand eased back up my forearm to cup my elbow.
Stand. Walk. I raised my chin. If he kept flirting with me, I could samba. The world shimmied and shook to the bass pulsing inside my head. Okay, maybe the dancing was a bit optimistic. Still, I’d have to move if I wanted to get home. “I think so.”
“Good. I’m going to shift to your side, wrap my arm around your waist then we’ll see if we can get you on your feet.”
The royal we. I hated when health care workers used it, like they shared a patient’s suffering. Still… There was no way I could stand on my own. And he said it in that yummy voice. “Okay.”
True to his word, he shifted to my right. Fire trailed in his fingers’ wake as they skimmed my waist.
I sucked in my gut. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the pooch I’d acquired since hitting the big three-oh, two months ago.
He paused before cupping my hip. “Sorry if I hurt you.”
“Nuh-uh.” Obviously the bump on my head had affected my ability to multitask. Of course, I’d always been tongue-tied around men. As my hand crept around his narrow waist, I felt the play of muscles under my palm. Lordy, the man was ripped.
“Let me know when you’re ready to stand.”
“Okay.” When he didn’t begin to rise with me, I turned to look at him. Despite the rockets of agony, my heart stilled in my chest. I knew that chiseled jaw, straight nose and jet hair with a single lock hanging over his cafe-au-lait brow.
My personal hero was none other than my condominium complex’s own Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino.
And he was touching me, holding me. Oh, man. Oh, mama. Air rushed out of my lungs in a gurgle.
He peered down at me. Sunlight glinted off the cobalt blue depths of his eyes and danced over the soft lines radiating from the corners. “Perhaps you should sit a bit longer.”
He caught me against him, thigh to thigh and chest to breasts. Tingles zinged through me and a soft humming joined the banging inside my head. Oh, baby.
With his free hand he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Maybe I should carry you.”
Carry me. Marry me. Rational Rae might stick obsessively to her plans, but Lusting Rae could be flexible. My palm molded the contours of his firm pecs. “Umm.”
Conversation was not my strong suit.
Hash marks appeared over the bridge of his nose. “Are you quite certain you’re okay? You’re alternately pale and flushing.”
“I—” I bit my lip before I confessed my lust. Embarrassment heated my cheeks as he continued to stare down at me. I studied his clean shaven jaw. Great. Not only was the man gorgeous and caring, he actually wanted to hear what I had to say. “I’m just not used to being so…so helpless.”
What a lame excuse. The truth threatened to leap from my tongue. I peeked at him through my lashes.
His eyebrows rose and his jaw went slack for a moment. “You’re not helpless. You’re hurt. There’s a big difference.”
I swallowed my confession. It would be rude to hurl his sympathy back at him. Besides, I was an adult. I could control my lust. As I straightened, my body slid against his. Heat blossomed inside my belly. At least, I hoped I could control my lust. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled.
Butterflies emerged from the heat building inside me.
“Shall we see about getting you home?”
Home. For a moment, the thought of my bed and condo eclipsed even his allure. I nodded and my body folded over just as cramps wrung my stomach.
Crap! I’d forgotten my mental note.
Vomit splattered his grass-stained running shoes and oozed onto the trampled vegetation. Embarrassment set my cheeks aflame and the burn spread down my chest. This was not how I envisioned meeting my dream man.
“That’s good.” His fingers skimmed my ear as he gathered my hair at my nape. “Let it out.”
I blinked at the tears stinging my eyes. Good heavens, could the guy get any more perfect? Saliva flooded my mouth the moment my stomach stopped trying to turn inside out, and I spit out the bitter taste.
With his free hand, he rubbed the small of my back. “Feel better?”
Not even close and this time it didn’t have anything to do with the bump on my noggin or the cacophony trapped inside my head. “Sorry about your shoes.”
He lifted one and shook off the goo still clinging to it. “I didn’t like them much anyway.”
Swallowing hard, I squeezed my eyes closed, blocking out the stringy mass. Should I offer to replace his shoes or wash them? One might put a dent in my dwindling savings while the other… The other would provide an opportunity to see him again. One where I could show off to a better advantage. Of course, I don’t actually do the laundry in pearls and a cocktail dress but I could make an exception in his case.
“I could wash them for you.”
The hand on my back stilled. “Why don’t we see about getting you home first?”
I wisely refrained from nodding but cleared my throat. The sour taste still coated my tongue. Oh, for a drink of water. Bracing my hands on my knees, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to try to stand on my own now.”
His hand left my back to hold my elbow. “Take it slow.”
At the moment, I seriously doubted I had any other speed. Still, it felt nice to have someone looking out for me. Vertebrae by vertebrae, I straightened until I stood upright. Too bad the rest of the world kept moving. My stomach clenched again. If I kept vomiting, I’d soon be throwing up things I’d eaten as a toddler.
“Try and focus on a point far away.” His arm encircled my waist and held me against his muscled chest.
I would have enjoyed it more without the skullquake.
“It might help with the nausea.”
Yeah, except that would require lifting my chin. Right now, staring at the ground seemed the safest choice for both my stomach and his shoes. “Where’s your car?”
Please be close. I slid my right foot along the matted vegetation and shifted my weight to follow. The motion transmitted up to my skull. Ugh. I had forgotten the ankle bone was connected directly to the skull bone.
“Unfortunately, it’s at my house.”
Okay. I dragged my left foot forward. I raised my head a quarter of an inch. We were about five feet from the yellow concrete poles opening onto my street. Once I cleared them I had maybe two hundred yards before I reached the condos and another fifty feet of twisting paths to my front door.
Maybe I’d make it home before the sunset.
I sighed and swallowed the bile pushing up my throat. And there was still the matter of feeding my neighbor’s cat.
“It’s not far.” His grip tightened. “I live at Oasis Springs Condominiums. Just up the road.”
“I know.” I tripped over a pebble. Geez, now the man would think I was stalking him.
“I thought you looked familiar.”
The words barely penetrated the skull bands’ din before I felt the pressure against the back of my knees. In one swoop, he scooped me up and cradled me against his chest. Looping my arms around his neck, I clung to him. The motion wasn’t too bad.
He hitched me a little higher against him. His forearm cut across my back while his fingers teased the bottom of my sports bra.
My breasts tightened to hard peaks. Oh man, oh mama.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Maybe. The Fates must be rolling on the floor clutching their sides from laughing so hard. I’d dreamed of being in his arms all week and now that I was, I couldn’t exactly enjoy it.
“I’m going to start walking now. Let me know if I need to go slower.” His steps whispered through the grass and weeds.
The corpuscle cymbals crashed at the same rhythm and decibel level. “I can handle this pace.”
“Wait until we get onto the sidewalk and we’ll see how it goes.”
Cautious, heroic and strong. I wasn’t a stick insect thin yet he didn’t seem to be breathing hard. Of course, we hadn’t gone five feet. “Let me know when I get too heavy.”
“You? Heavy?” He twisted to ease through the concrete pilings. “I doubt that could happen.”
Wow, if he kept talking like that I’d slip right out of lust and into love. Gravel crunched under his sneakers and each step transmitted through him and out the top of my head. Two hundred yards. I could make it.
“How you doing?”
“Good.” I strained the word through my clenched teeth. As long as I don’t move too much. I managed to raise my head enough to keep his shoulder within sight. His freshly-shaven chin appeared in my peripheral vision. He had a nice chin. If it had a cleft, it would be perfect.
He followed the curved road. Cicadas sang in the Palo Verdes drooping along the sidewalk. Their red-brown pods rustled in the breeze. One hundred seventy-five yards to go.
Silence ballooned in the space between me and him. I groped for words to fill the gaps. His muscles trembled against my back. “I’m sorry to be such a burden.”
Literally.
“I’m not sorry.” He cleared his throat and his fingers dug a little into my leg. “I noticed you about a week ago and was working up the nerve to talk to you when I stumbled across you this morning.”
His voice wobbled a bit on the end. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino had to work up the nerve to talk to me? How could someone this good-looking be shy?
“Now I don’t have to worry about asking for your phone number, I get to take you home.”
I blinked. Cool beans! All that positive thinking was paying off. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino was interested in me. I stroked the silky black hair at his neck before I caught myself.
We’d reached the wrought iron fence circling the complex. Card activated gates blocked vehicles from entering the parking strip rimming the units but the pedestrian entrance swung open on silent hinges in the breeze.
A bead of sweat plopped onto my shirt and an occasional gasp swirled past my ear.
“If you could take me to 2557, I’d appreciate it.”
“2557.” He huffed and angled through the opening. Eucalyptus trees towered over us. Their round silvery leaves tumbled to the sidewalk. “No problem.”
A chill washed down my spine at the transition from sunshine to shade. “Which unit did you buy?”
“2972.” He slowed as he passed the placard with the units’ numbers. “Or 2792. I forget.”
He forgot where he lived? “That could be awkward since all the units look alike. You might accidentally walk into the wrong condo.”
Too bad it hadn’t been mine.
“Yeah, it’s a pain being dyslexic.” When the path forked he took the right branch. “Fortunately, I navigate using landmarks. There’s a purple bush next to my door and a thorny one with red flowers next to that.”
I smiled. Finally, a man who adapted to the world and didn’t demand it change to suit him. Maybe I should put a Justice of the Peace on speed dial. “The condo is just up ahead. First door on the right.”
“Got it.” Within a minute he’d reached the entrance. “I’m going to set you down now.”
“I’m ready.” I gritted my teeth.
Slowly, he lowered my knees. A moment passed then another. One hand settled on my hip, the other caressed my jaw. His warm breath stirred my bangs as he leaned into me. “How do you feel?”
“Not too bad.” Aside from the Caribbean band playing bongos. I might feel better with a kiss or two. Of course, I’d have to tilt my head back to do it. I licked my lips. Or I could invite him inside, push him onto the couch and sit on his lap. Would he wait until after I fed Vivian’s cat and we walked to the next group of units over to my place? Only one way to find out. “Look I—”
“Rae!” A woman yelled.
Sherbet! I turned my body toward the sound.
Ms. Roberts jabbed her cane in my direction. Water dripped off her bathing suit and pooled on the sidewalk. “You tell Oscar to stop making all that racket. I pay good money to live here and I expect to be able to hear my soaps without him carrying on.”
“Yes, Ms. Roberts.” I straightened. I’d tell Oscar the grouchy cat but I doubted the fur ball would listen any more than he had since my cat-sitting stint began a week ago.
The stooped, old woman thumped her cane on the sidewalk. “See that you do.”
I glanced at her.
She glared back.
I wasn’t in the mood for a staring contest with a crotchety octogenarian. Sighing, I turned back to my rescuer. “Well…”
I’d invite him in, but the Roberts’ tattler would snitch on me and Vivian was most particular about who she let inside her house.
My hero cocked an eyebrow. His lips thinned for a moment. “Oscar?”
“It’s a long story.” I tugged on the black cord rubbing against my neck. Keys jingled as they came free of my sports bra. “I’d love to tell you about it over dinner.”
His gaze cut to Ms. Roberts. “Sure. You know where I live.”
Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked away.
I raised my hand. Crap on a cracker. I hadn’t gotten his name. And I didn’t really know where he lived. But I could find it. I would find it. And we would have dinner together. And—
“You shouldn’t let a man lay his hands on you, Rae.” Ms. Roberts’ gray curls bounced against her pink scalp. “In my day, we didn’t have a choice, but your generation does.”
Lay hands on me? I ducked to lift the keys from around my neck and a wave of nausea burst over me. Oh Lord. Ms. Roberts thought Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Latino had hit me. I would have laughed but that would have hurt. Leaving the cord around my neck, I bent my knees and inserted the key into the deadbolt. “Yes ma’am.”
“Humph.” Ms. Roberts shuffled back to the pool accompanied by the rhythm of her thumping cane.
The condo’s door swung open and a rush of air-conditioned air sowed goosebumps on my exposed skin.
Oscar lounged on the back of the chintz sofa edging the tiled foyer. Yellow-green eyes narrowed to slits and his bushy gray tail curled and uncurled in agitation.
“Yeah. I know. I’m late.” I kicked the door shut and dropped the keys. The cord cut across my nape as they jangled to a stop between my breasts.
Oscar turned to look at his dish sitting on the kitchen island’s granite countertop.
Toeing out of my sneakers, I padded across the pristine white foyer and veered to the left into the galley kitchen. Pewter knobs and handles gleamed on the cherry cabinets as the recessed halogen lighting blinked on. If Vivian wasn’t such a fussy person, I’d stretch out on her designer sofa and take a nap.
“Rowrr.” Oscar scolded, stretching along the sofa back.
Remembering to turn my body along with my head, I eyed the gray striped cat. He was as big a snitch as Ms. Roberts, even if he couldn’t talk. I eased to a stop near the can of cat food sitting next to the stainless steel gas range and peeled off the sticky with the word Friday in red sharpie. Oscar was probably already collecting evidence that I’d fed him his entrees out of order. “With the day I’ve had, you’re lucky I showed up.”
Oscar hunched down before leaping the four feet from the arm of the sofa onto the island counter. He nudged his water dish. Bits of food rolled in the rippling water.
“Yeah. Yeah. Food and water.” I popped the top of the gourmet cat food and upended the can into the appropriate dish. Bossed around by a cat. My life certainly hadn’t gone the way I planned.
Oscar stuck his head in the dish and shoved against the can.
But then I was getting paid a hundred dollars to look after Vivian’s precious baby.
“Hold your horses.” I whacked the bottom of the can and the wet pate splatted out.
Oscar reared back. His pink tongue curled over his nose and licked off the dots of gravy.
I lifted the can and rinsed it out in the island sink. Sliding open the specially designed cabinet, I tossed it into the recycling container. The steel rattled against the others inside.
Still eying his water dish, Oscar lapped at the gravy circling the pate.
“Yeah, I get it. You’re thirsty.” Welcome to the club. I licked my dry lips and padded to the refrigerator. Too bad I couldn’t drink one of the bottles of water. But like everything else, Vivian had numbered those too. I plucked the half-empty designer container from its place amongst the ordered regiment then carefully made my way back to the island.
After emptying and rinsing the water dish, I twisted the plastic cap off. Of course, there was nothing to say that I couldn’t finish off this bottle and give the kitty tap water.
Oscar looked up at me and flattened his ears.
Okay, there was his foul temper. No point in adding nasty scratches to the bump on my head. I dumped the water into his dish. “See, I didn’t do it.”
He hunkered lower onto the counter.
Geez was he judgmental. I chucked the empty into the recycle bin and watched the cabinet glide silently closed. “Thoughts don’t count.”
Oscar growled.
Like I needed this. Wiping my hands on my shorts, I glared back at him. “If that’s your attitude, I’m leaving.”
His tail swished.
Ungrateful creature. I retraced my path to the foyer and stepped into my sneakers. The backs folded under the weight of my heels but I didn’t care. I didn’t have too far to go to get home.
Oscar hissed.
“Oscar, really. I don’t feel up to dealing with your male-diva attitude now.” I set my hand on the door knob just as the hair on the back of my neck prickled.
A moment later, a hand covered my mouth and a body slammed me into the door. I hit my forehead. Stars danced in front of my eyes before winking out.

Blue Maneuver available now:

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Chapter One-Blue Maneuver

Chapter One

Alone in an isolated park at dawn, I was practically a statistic waiting to happen.
Except, I wasn’t supposed to be alone. Shoving my damp bangs under my hair band, I scanned the Cave Creek Recreation Area. No sign of my personal trainer. Had I wasted fifty dollars in hiring the guy on my friend’s recommendation? It seemed a bargain in my new ‘change my attitude, change my life’ campaign. I sucked on my bottom lip. Heaven knew something needed to change.
Hopefully, something other than my bank balance.
The sun punched through the clouds and bruised the horizon. Cicadas sang in the drooping branches of a Desert Willow and reptiles slithered in the underbrush. Around me, twisted shadows merged into the basketball hoop, swing sets, jungle gyms, and hard plastic riding animals. A trickle of unease slid down my spine.
“Snap out of it, Rae!” Running my fingers over my head, I mentally cleansed the negativity from my aura. “The park is in the middle of the neighborhood. Maybe he just got lost.”
Or maybe, beginning an exercise routine was just plain stupid.
August in Phoenix was pizza oven weather. The kind that left the unwary burned to a crisp and ready to melt against any cool solid surface, the moment we walked inside. Provided we had air conditioning. A luxury I might have to forgo, if I didn’t find a job soon.
I tightened my ponytail. Skirting the dots of light and the puddles from last night’s storm, I trudged up the serpentine concrete path to the square facilities building. I leaned against the silver disk on the drinking fountain and waited for the water to cool below scalding.
“Today things will change for the better.” I repeated my positive-thinking mantra. Bending over the metal trough, I allowed the musty, chlorine-tasting water to wash the hope from my mouth. I struggled to grasp the positive remnants. If I didn’t get a job, then Mom’s traditional tofu Thanksgiving turkey and Dad’s wheat-germ stuffing would be mighty tasty.
If I could find them, that is.
My counterculture parents never settled in one place long. Big Brother was always watching them, taking chunks of their cash to support shadow programs designed to make us dependent. Like the unemployment insurance I currently lived on. Finishing my drink, I wiped away the dribble of water on my chin and sidled out of the wedge of bug incrusted light by the caged rest room door.
They’d probably be happy to hear I was on the verge of losing my home and ruining my credit. Not that they wanted me to fail. They just wanted me off the grid and away from Big Brother’s prying eyes.
“Enough.” I shook my hands, symbolically ridding myself of the depressing thoughts. “Today things will change for the better. Today things will change for the better.”
Absolutely. Time to exercise. I glanced at the empty parking lot. Where was my trainer? He was the one to insist on this predawn hour, when the temperature was a balmy ninety degrees. Tugging my cell phone out of my baggy running shorts, I hit the side button to bring up the time.
Five minutes after five.
No texts. No messages. No missed calls. Should I get started without him? Maybe a short walk to take the sting out of waking up unused muscles.
I eyed the dark path and the broken lights. Had those always been out? Skeletal shadows reached into the gray morning and a coyote howled. Maybe I should wait until later. Surely walking in a hundred degrees was better than facing a rapist. Or worse. My muscles twitched with indecision. Leave. Stay. Leave. Headlamps appeared down the road. Stay. Definitely.
Gotta give opportunity a chance to help me change my life.
Walking to a pruned Ironwood shading the dark playground, I flattened both hands against the rough trunk. After placing my right foot at the base, I moved my other behind me. The stretch burned up my hamstrings.
I’d have to take it slow. For the last twelve years, my entire cardio experience was limited to exercising only when being chased by large carnivores or small yappy dogs. Not an everyday occurrence, even for me. I switched legs and hissed through the discomfort. Maybe I’d only stretch today and walk a mile tomorrow. No, I’d do what the trainer said. I paid good money for the coaching.
I dusted the crumbly Ironwood bark from my hands as headlights sprayed across me. Flinching, I shaded my eyes. My heart rate kicked up a notch. Finally! Gravel crunched as a truck pulled into a spot in the curved parking lot. My thighs protested as I walked across the sandy playground toward the trailhead near the overgrown wash. Casual. Assured. Yeah, I can be cool, when I need to. A red firebird stared back at me from the truck’s white door panel.
My trainer didn’t drive a City of Phoenix pick-up; he’d mentioned a Prius in our conversations.
I jerked as if slapped and lost traction on the grit coating the cement path. My legs slid in opposite directions, while my arms flapped like a penguin trying to take flight. Graceful I’m not. Halfway into muscle-pulling splits, I managed to stop.
Across the stillness, keys rattled.
“Hey!” A man called out. “You okay over there?”
Embarrassment heated my face. “Yeah! Just peachy.”
Except my pride, which at this very moment, might be registering a complaint with Amnesty International. Then again, what’s the point of humiliating myself without an audience? Gingerly, I worked my toes in then my heels like a country line dancer, until my feet touched. My thighs started to shake and my knees changed to rubber. Okay universe. I got the message.
Exercise isn’t going to change my life for the better.
Double chocolate mocha ice cream will!
Taking a deep breath, I took a step and sucked humid air through my clenched teeth. Crap on a cracker! I’d have to hold an ice pack between my legs during my internet job search.
Keys jingled again. “Are you sure, you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” I cleared the whimper from my throat and took the next step. My inner thighs still screamed in protest. “I’m good.”
I glanced up from the death-trap sidewalk. A silhouette of the Parks and Rec Superhero stood by the caged men’s room door. I felt his eyes on me. That’s right. The walk of shame needed an audience, too. Raising my hand, I resisted the urge to show him my tall middle finger. “Have a nice day.”
He waved a glove back at me. “You, too.”
Locking my jaw, I dragged myself across the trail. The pulled muscles dulled from painful talons gouging my inner legs to fondue forks. My trainer was going to give me a refund with interest. With such an auspicious beginning, my day was going to suck more than a brand new Dyson. I exhaled a long breath and shambled toward the neighborhood entry into the park.
Parks and Rec Superhero still hadn’t budged.
Its okay, Keyman. Thanks to your brilliant observation skills and impeccable timing, you’ve managed to catch yet another citizen at their most embarrassing moment, and once again the world is safe enough for you to unlock the restrooms.
As if hearing my sarcasm, he finally turned away. A moment later, the metal gate clattered open.
I limped a little faster toward the entrance then swerved to the right. What was I thinking? Why should I walk through the serpentine sidewalks of my neighborhood, when there was another entrance to the park not too far from my condo?
Skirting the hedge of high grass and weeds growing against the brick fence surrounding my neighborhood, I trundled on. The pain dulled with every yard. Maybe I wouldn’t have to become intimate with an icepack after all.
A sultry wind whispered through the weeds and something rattled in the brush.
“It’s just seed pods.” I scooted closer to the cement trail and eyed the holes burrowed in the gravel. Sweat trailed between my shoulder blades, before being caught on my sports bra. It couldn’t be rattlesnakes. It had better not be rattlesnakes!
A door slammed behind me. I refused to look. If my trainer deigned to show up, well that’s just too bad. No tight buns, flat abs and firm arms where worth this.
Beyond the band of swaying green and brown vegetation, I spied three bright-yellow concrete poles. Almost home. Just as I plowed into the weeds, the breeze carried the twin scents of fresh-brewed coffee and frying bacon. My stomach growled and nostrils twitched appreciably. Closing my eyes, I inhaled.
My toe caught against something and I pitched forward. Son of a monkey’s butt! My victory over profanity died quickly. I opened my eyes and raised my arms. Half a second later, my hands disappeared into the weeds. Thorns bit into my palms and scratched at my exposed skin.
Oh God, this was going to hurt worse than the pseudo-gymnastics.
My knees hit something soft and squishy. While my brain struggled with the inconsistencies, my palms rammed into the ground. The impact rattled up my arms, jammed the bones in their sockets and jangled out the top of my head. A metallic taste exploded in my mouth where my tooth had nicked my tongue.
Change my attitude? My hairy behind!
I blinked at the nest of green branches in front of my face. When I raised my hand, mud and leaves clung to my skin. The day wasn’t getting any better. I batted away the skeletal weed and watched it bounce into the vegetation.
That’s weird. Why wasn’t it rooted to the ground? Without supplying an answer, my brain shoved two more questions at me. Just what had I tripped over? And why were my feet still elevated?
Good questions.
The skin at my nape prickled. But did I want answers? Nearby, an engine rumbled. The sound grew louder as I dithered. Dang it! Why couldn’t Mr. Parks and Rec Superhero mind his own business?
I needed to move, like five minutes ago. Inhaling a breath for courage, I lifted one leg off the soft squishy thing and moved it forward. My knee parted the short grass, before sinking into the clammy muck with a slurping noise. Eww! Good thing I didn’t have a phobia about bugs and other creepy crawlies. Just as I lifted my other knee, brakes squealed. I had brought my leg under me as a truck’s door creaked open.
Today wasn’t my day.
Maybe I should go home and sleep it away like a bad memory.
Tomorrow was bound to be better, especially if it involved a pint of double chocolate mocha ice cream.
I pushed slowly to my feet and turned to face the witness to my humiliation. My thighs hurt, my palms stung, and my shoulders throbbed. Positive thoughts. Think positive thoughts. At least, I’m alive and in one piece. I rubbed my hands on my shorts. Mud and leaves streaked the gray-knit fabric. And doing laundry will give me a break from job hunting.
The truck door slammed shut. Mr. Parks and Rec Superhero propped his elbows against the ledge surrounding the truck bed. The rising sun cast his face in shadows but highlighted his broad shoulders and gilded his hair. “That’s twice you’ve gone down on me today, and we only met five minutes ago.”
Heat unfurled deep inside me. He couldn’t possibly have meant it that way. But what if he did? Hope welled up. I squashed it. Embarrassment is not foreplay and I’m not desperate!
I stared back at him, not really seeing much thanks to the angle of the light.
Time ticked on and the silence stretched.
What did one say to a man who just accused me of going down on him twice in five minutes? Thanks? Let’s do it again? Where are my hundred bucks?
In one smooth motion, he peeled off his sunglasses. “Maybe I should give you a ride home.”
I blinked. What was with the sunglasses? It was practically night still. I backed up. Maybe Mr. Parks and Rec wasn’t a superhero but a supervillian.
“Are you all right?” He pushed away from the truck and sauntered toward the tailgate.
Shaking my head, I raised my hands to ward him off. “I’m fine. Just fine. I—I can get home just fine.”
Pink rays bathed his aquiline nose and accented his strong jaw line. His long lashes painted spiky shadows across the bridge of his nose. “You keep repeating fine. Perhaps medical attention is in order.”
I shook my head harder. My pony tail slapped my shoulder blades and my bangs escaped the sweatband. “I don’t live far.”
There. I forced a smile on my stiff cheeks. Not a fine in the bunch.
“Its no—” He jerked to a stop before rearing back.
Wow! I never had any rebuff be that effective. I— Wait a minute. His attention wasn’t on me. My gaze followed his line of sight. He stared at the same spot where I tripped. My stomach knotted and cold brushed my skin. I inched closer to him. Adrenalin reduced my aches to white noise.
What had I tripped over?
Swearing, Mr. Parks and Rec’s boots pounded on the gravel.
I slid one foot forward and rose on tip-toe. Something pale lay in the high grass and weeds. Despite the shadowy dawn, the sight seemed familiar. Yet my brain refused to identify it. A little closer and I would see…
The truck door creaked open, there was a click and a cone of light cut across the object.
I almost laughed. A face. It was a face. I blinked. Holy Toledo! It was a stiff face! The eyes didn’t blink, the flat nostrils didn’t flare and the lips were bluish. My sluggish brain finally connected the dots. “He’s dead!”
Who knew that year my parents had managed a hospice would come in handy? No, death didn’t shock me. Except that his eyes were open, he seemed to be sleeping. But something seemed off with this death.
Without saying a word, Mr. Parks and Rec strode toward the corpse.
“Hey! Don’t touch him. He’s evidence.” I patted my shorts. Phone. Where was my phone? It must have fallen out during my swan dive.
Mr. Parks and Rec grabbed one of the plants piled atop the body and tossed it aside.
“Stop it. That’s evidence.” I took a step forward then stopped. Okay, I’m not a death weenie, but guys didn’t collapse along a jogging trail then bury themselves under a mound of weeds. “We need to call the cops.”
Good plan. I refrained from patting myself on the back. Too bad he didn’t listen.
Mr. Parks and Rec knelt next to the body. “He might still be alive.”
And I thought I had the optimism market cornered. My mouth dropped open, before I snapped it shut. People dealt with death in different ways. Maybe he couldn’t stand the idea of a jogger eating the big enchilada in his park. I took a deep breath. I’d helped family members accept loss before. “Look, I know—”
When Mr. Parks and Rec lifted the next weed off the body, three fireflies rose into the air. Their pale blue light washed over his rugged features. “Good. They’re still here.”
I snapped my jaw shut and my skin tightened. When did Phoenix get fireflies? And why were they blue?
I stepped back and crushed something under my heel. Oh snap, not my cell! I winced at the crinkling noise and looked down. An aluminum can folded against my sneaker. Surely, this is more bad Karma than I’ve earned in this lifetime. Maybe Mr. Parks and Rec and his blue light show hadn’t noticed. Shaking off the can, I peeked at them from under my lashes.
Mr. Parks and Rec’s eyes lasered on me like his next target and the lights…they buzzed back and forth.
My stomach cramped. This was so not good. Maybe I should just leave.
One of the blue lightning bugs broke away from the trio and zipped toward me.
“No!” Mr. Parks and Rec’s shout jangled along my nerves and raised the hair on my arms.
The bug showed no sign of having heard, let alone stopping. I waved my hands hoping to fend it off. It darted around and dived into my shoulder.
Into my shoulder.
“What in the world?” My shoulder glowed blue for a moment then the pain blossomed like a mushroom cloud. Waves of heat rippled through me, each one hotter than the next. Holy cow! I think I heard my brain sizzle.
The two remaining lightning bugs darted toward me.
Run!
Sounded like a plan to me. I could call the cops from the safety of my own home. I spun on my heel. The motion jarred my arm, and the burning sensation engulfed my chest. Home. I needed to get home. Through the weeds and over the sidewalk. Thorns scratched at my legs as I plunged into the overgrowth.
“Don’t run!”
Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I was an optimist not an idiot. I focused on the bright yellow concrete columns like goal posts. Leaping over a knot of weeds, I landed in a mud puddle. Water sprayed in every direction and invaded my shoes. I stepped out of the mud with a slurping noise and reached cracked asphalt.
I’m close. Just a little further and maybe I’ll avoid those lightning bugs high on pixie dust.
Something hit the back of my left thigh. Stinging spread from the point of impact and an inferno of heat chased after it.
Darn it! That’s twice the suckers have stung me. When I get home, I’m gonna douse myself with bug spray! I cleared the columns. My sneakers sunk into the mud. Twigs bent under foot as I ran.
Fiery pain wrapped around my head. I felt like a human torch. Black tainted my vision, edging out the familiar surroundings.
Keep going. You can make it. My internal cheerleader grew fainter and fainter.
I sprinted on. Funny how the bug bites didn’t affect my coordination.
The last bug slammed into the back of my head.
Blackness consumed my vision and I stumbled. Aw snap! If I’d known I was going to take this many trips, I would have packed! My right knee hit the ground first. Where was the pain? Had the last bug been a good bug? My thoughts disappeared under a tidal wave of nothingness.

Some of the greatest Fictional inventions

As I was in bed last night, listening to the dog lick itself, I got to thinking about some of my favorite things that I’d love to see made into a reality. So here they are in no particular order:

The hover car–I’d love to be able to make my own way to work. Of course, what we saved in road maintaince we’d roll into home maintanence as we crushed roofs when we flew over.

Transporter–I don’t have to justify this, the benefits are self-evident.

Food syntesizer–Wouldn’t this be great for the environment? No waste would be generated. You could have gourmet meals for one. Calories could be counted. No refrigerators with science experiments growing in the vegetable bins.

The Nautulius–Okay, sure, we have submarines, but for opulence and luxury nothing beats Jules Verne’s invention. Add in that it can go all the way to the bottom of the ocean, and that’s just pretty darn cool. I’d love to spend a week there.

The Space Station–Not the hodgepodge in space but the ringed one like in Babylon 5 with artifical gravity. Okay, I would include a lunar or Mars base in this category or an underwater one.

A communicator–not the handy cell phones that we have now, I want one that can beam me up (although this comes the closest to being actual technology)

A stargate–if a transporter isn’t a possibility due to the Hisenberg uncertainty principle, then build a stable wormhole from crossing time and space. Think of the feul savings and the lack of contrail experiments.

A dragon–Hearing these wonderful beasties were nothing but explanations for dinosaur bones about broke my heart. I want a dragon that can fly and breathe fire. I’d take care of it. I promise.

A disintegrating ray–Taking out the trash would never be easier, plus you could funnel all the moleculer into a synthesizer. The ultimate recycling machine.

A tractor beam–Towing would be a snap and as a bonus you should be able to reverse it and prevent people from hitting your hover car. Of course, we would have to give up the high speed car chases.

So what are you favorite fictional inventions?

Is a job a job? By author Jill James

Happy Saturday everyone! I’m pleased to have Jill James on my blog today talking about the career choices our heroes make. Take it away Jill.

A job is a job…
Or is it? In most romance novels these days it seems like all the cool jobs; cop, firefighter, Navy SEAL, Sheik, are taken. What’s a writer to do? I say, go back to basics.
Sometimes a hero is an accountant or a house painter. Your strength of character, your moral fiber, is not defined by your pay check. Your job is not who you are on the inside. A hero can be waiting in an office worker or pizza delivery guy.
In Tempting Adam, my hero is the CEO of a Hollywood movie studio because originally I was writing the story to send to Silhouette Desire, and they wanted high-powered executives. In Divorce, Interrupted I mention that Todd Miller works long hours and ignores his family, but I don’t really mention what his office job really is. The reader can imagine a CPA or pencil pusher. In Someone To Trust, my new book, Brady Jackson is a carpenter with a construction company. He is very much blue-collar, down to earth, and mostly truthful. He has some skeletons in the closet that will wreak havoc with his budding romance with Evie Grimes, antique store co-owner.
Any job can be exciting for your characters if you dig deep and make it real. Any small detail can make the story brighter, bolder, more lifelike. Show the difference between their job and their life. Why they did or didn’t choose their jobs says a lot about a man.
Readers: do you like characters with exciting jobs in your reading? Writers: how do you make your characters jobs exciting?

And now here’e a little bit more about Someone to Trust: Book 2 – Second Chances series

Evie Grimes doesn’t trust men. She’s been lied to and deceived too many times before. Happily single, the last thing she needs is a man.

Brady Jackson is a former Marine. Now a carpenter, he is as honest as the day is long. What you see is what you get.

When Brady falls for Evie he will have to prove he can be trusted with her heart. When danger arrives at her door he will have to prove he can be trusted to protect her. When everyone turns against him, he will have to prove he is someone to trust.

And in case you’re wondering who came up with such wonderful stories, here’s a bit about Jill. Jill has loved to write since she first began putting on puppet shows in her garage for a nickel a person. Her first love was poetry until she picked up her first romance novel, Lily of the Valley, after that it was all romance. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense and paranormal romance. She is a member of RWA since 2004 and a member of the From the Heart chapter, Black Diamond chapter, Kiss of Death chapter, and ESPAN chapter. She has been writing romance for a few years with a few poetry contest wins and a published short story, Lunch Break. She lives in Northern California with her husband, the inspiration for all her heroes.
She is a published author with The Wild Rose Press and as an Indie. Her books include Tempting Adam, Divorce, Interrupted, and Someone To Trust.