Sensory Ops: Sounds To Die By Part 19

His heart caught in his throat as he rounded the coupe's door and saw she had a little girl clutched under her arm.

The woman braced herself on the ground with her other hand as she tried to get away from the burning car. He grabbed her by the forearm and hauled her to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily as he pulled her arm over his shoulder. The child scrambled past him, headed for the backside of his garage.

A confusing mixture of past and present rocked him like a punch to the gut. She wasn't his beloved daughter, but the sight of her blond hair tossing as she ran ahead of him sent coherence spinning away.

The woman moaned and her weight sagged on him, bringing him back to the here and now.

"Help..."

He dragged her away from the car. "Jesus, lady, what the h.e.l.l? Are you trying to get killed?"

He was practically carrying her by the time they arrived at the corner of the building where the little girl waited, shielded from the scorching heat.

"Aunt Lily!" She threw her arms around her aunt's waist.

The woman knelt and gripped the child by her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, sniffing.

"I'm so sorry." She pulled the child close. "It's okay, Annie. We're going to be okay."

"Not if you keep driving like that," Miles growled. "You just blew up my gas station."

The woman glanced at him. The horror in her eyes made him flinch. A trickle of blood ran down the woman's temple and spattered her blouse.

"You're hurt," Annie said. Her voice trembled with the precursor to tears. She reached out and touched the woman's face with tiny, hesitant fingertips. The gesture caused his shriveled heart to jerk.

Without removing those wide, brown eyes from his, Lily took her niece's hand and stood. Only then did she glance past him.

"Is that your truck?"

His mouth fell open. "Lady, you need an ambulance."

Would the phone still work, or had the destruction of his station knocked out power and phone lines? Services were finicky enough up here without being rocked by a two-megaton blast.

"He's coming," Annie whimpered.

The horror in Lily's eyes deepened. She glanced at the child and started past him.

"I need your vehicle."

Before he could have guessed this night would get any weirder, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up a rusted sliver of metal and whirled around, pointing it at him.

"Give me the keys."

She's robbing me with an old antenna? "You've got to be kidding."

"Aunt Lily," Annie persisted with greater urgency.

Slivers of wood exploded from the corner of the building above his ear. Miles heard the m.u.f.fled chirp over the roar of the fire. He knew what it was even before a second shot whizzed past his head. The sound sent him careening back to his eight years with the Seattle PD.

Silencer.

Sometimes what you're looking for is closer than you think.

Because of You 2009 Mari Carr Jessie's life is a mess. In the eight h.e.l.lish months since her husband died in a freak accident, she's been mugged, her house has been trashed, and now she's receiving frightening pranks calls. She resists a friend's offer of a weekend getaway-her grief is still too fresh to consider meeting anyone new.

Then again, since it's a party for gay men, there won't be any pressure, right?

ER doctor Caleb James feels perfectly at ease among his gay brother's friends, but one look at Jessie sparks a s.e.xual tension that's impossible to ignore. A few drinks and a few hours of conversation later, things move a lot faster than either of them expect. Jessie is left confused and Caleb aches with regret-and love for a woman who is still guarding her heart.

Pressure is the last thing she needs. But as it becomes apparent that her string of misfortunes trace back to her husband's death, help is what she's going to get. Caleb's help...ready or not.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Because of You: "Husband?" he asked and she saw his eyes dart to her ring finger. She'd given up wearing her diamond engagement ring, but she couldn't seem to part from the actual white gold wedding band.

She sucked in a breath at his question. She'd carefully avoided talking about Tommy all night. She'd wanted a night to forget, a night to pretend that her life was normal and happy and that she hadn't had her heart ripped out of her chest eight months earlier.

"I'm a widow," she said and the sound of that simple word released the flow of ice cold water throughout her body once again. For a few hours, she'd been warm. h.e.l.l, between Caleb and the alcohol, she spent more than a few moments on fire and it had felt so d.a.m.n good.

"I'm sorry," he said, rising and crossing the room to take her icy hands in his. She didn't realize until his touch that she was shaking. In just one evening, he'd diminished the shadow of fear that constantly hovered over her. He'd rejuvenated her, made her feel alive.

She shook her head, desperately willing away the chill, the sadness. Dammit, she didn't want to be cold anymore. She was tired of being afraid. "It's been eight months and I'm afraid I sometimes tend to talk about Tommy in the present tense, like he's still here."

"Had he been ill?" he asked and she smiled sadly. He sounded very much like a doctor.

"Freak accident. He slipped on a patch of ice and hit his head on a car door. It was late and brutally cold and he was the last person leaving work that night. It was several hours before I found him and by then-"

"You found him?" he asked, pulling her gently to a chair in the kitchen. He pushed her down before sitting next to her. He never released his grip on her hands and she knew he felt the coldness in them as he began to rub them with his own as if to warm them.

"I was concerned when he didn't come home and didn't answer his cell. He was an accountant and it was audit season, so he worked late occasionally, but it wasn't like him not to call and check in. Finally, I worried myself into a frenzy and decided to drive by his office, fully prepared to give him holy h.e.l.l for scaring me so."

He nodded. "I'm sorry it was you who found him."

She shrugged and closed her eyes. She was a master at controlling her tears, yet here with Caleb it seemed harder to do. She'd managed to push her pain deep inside her and she even found it easier of late to discuss Tommy's death. Tonight, whether it was the alcohol or her tiredness or Caleb's compa.s.sion, the emotions were threatening to bubble over and she refused to let that happen.

"Well, I suppose I managed to bring tonight's fun level down. That's me-the official ruination of all parties," she tried to joke. She pulled her hands out of his comforting grip and went back to the counter. "Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee?"

"No, I drink it black, and, Jessie, you didn't ruin anything. You're going through a d.a.m.n hard time right now, dealing with something no one should ever have to deal with. Don't be so hard on yourself. I wish I could give you an easy fix, but I'm afraid nothing except time will cure this."

She grinned over her shoulder, determined to return to the easy banter they'd enjoyed all night. "That's quite a bedside manner you have, Dr. Caleb." The flirtatious line felt rusty and foreign as it fell from her lips, but Caleb didn't seem to notice.

He gave a short, brief laugh. "Oh yeah, I'm a master at bedside-" He paused mid-sentence and she was surprised when he walked over to her and placed his hands on her cheeks. "Christ, Jess. I want to kiss you so badly it hurts."

"So kiss me," she whispered, uncertain where the words had come from, his and hers. From the second he touched her face, she wanted him with a pa.s.sion she'd thought long gone.

He leaned down and took her lips gently, sweetly, but she refused to be patronized, treated with kid gloves. She was a living, breathing woman and she wanted him. Wanted him beyond reason, beyond care.

She reached up, gripping his hair in her fingers roughly, pulling his face more firmly to her. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue, before pushing it out of her way to explore his lips, his teeth with her own.

He moved his hands down to her waist, his grip stronger, more certain, more controlling. She was giving him everything her broken sh.e.l.l of a body had left to give and she sensed he was more than ready to take her up on the offer.

His lips slid from hers, gliding along her cheek to her earlobe, down her neck. The whole time he worshipped her with his mouth, his hands roamed, finding their way beneath her T-shirt to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She groaned at the hot touch of his hands against her taut nipples and he ground his hard erection into her p.u.s.s.y.

"G.o.d," she gasped, his touches, his lips, his body pushing hers rapidly into overdrive. "More," she demanded. "Please, Caleb. More."

He continued his sensual a.s.sault and she fought to keep up. She shoved his hands off her body for a moment so that she could pull his T-shirt over his head. The image of his bare, sculpted chest was a visual treat, but she couldn't make herself take the time to enjoy it. She was on fire and her body was demanding that she take everything he had to give immediately. She leaned down, nipping at his small, hard nipples and he hissed with delight. His hands began working at the b.u.t.ton and zipper of her jean shorts, shoving them and her panties over her hips, leaving her bare from the waist down.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she wondered what the h.e.l.l she was doing, but that thought was quickly squelched by a single touch of his fingers against her c.l.i.t.

"Yes," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely. His hand delved farther and soon she found herself roughly pushing her hips toward him, forcing the two fingers he plunged inside her deeper, harder, faster. She was cresting on the edge of an o.r.g.a.s.m within moments, but she refused to come alone. Caleb had given her so much tonight. Without realizing it, he'd offered her an escape, a refuge from the mourning, and she wanted to give him back some small part of the incredible pleasure he was building inside her.

"You," she demanded. "I want you."

Seeing dead people is bad enough. Loving him could make her one of them.

Catch Me In Castile 2009 Kimberley Troutte When the mother of all panic attacks prompts Erin Carter's boss to pa.s.s her over for promotion, her mind doesn't just crack. It explodes like an egg in a microwave, shattering her career along with the company car she crashes into the office building.

The death grip she's kept on her sanity slipping, she takes a friend's advice and flees to Spain. There she finds comfort in the healing arms of surgeon Santiago Botello-until a fifteenth-century ghost warns her that being with Santiago is dangerous, possibly even lethal.

Santiago has his hands full protecting his sister from a dark curse and his family from a very modern-day psychotic killer. The last thing he needs added to his plate is a neurotic American. Yet something about Erin tugs at his heart so hard he wants to wrap her in his arms and never let go. No matter the risk.

Erin's attraction to Santiago makes her the killer's next target. Survival means she must face her greatest fear, solve an ancient murder mystery-and hang on tight to the one man she's fallen crazy in love with.

Warning: This book contains a woman willing to lose her mind for love, a hot Spaniard with hands a girl could die for, deadly family curses, a ghost with memory disorder, and a really mad killer.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Catch me in Castile: "You worked with Maria?" Santiago asked.

"I am...was...am a stockbroker." I laughed. "It's a little confusing right now. I'm taking a break from it all." I sat back. "Call it a vacation."

"Ah," was his polite answer. He probably suspected I'd been canned. I let him think whatever he wanted. Somehow being fired from my job would have been better than losing my mind, heart, and soul to it.

"It's a difficult business, especially for a woman."

My hackles rose. "For a woman?"

His eyebrows rose to match my tone. "It's not?"

"It's a hard business for many. A woman dedicated to succeeding in her career can handle it just fine."

"You're a career woman."

"I most certainly am-hey, watch out!" A fist to my shoulder blade rudely cut off my thoughts. Spinning around in my chair, I was ready to scream at the brute who had the audacity to sock a woman in the back. Oddly, no one was there.

Dear G.o.d, I'm imagining things?

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Facing him again, my hackles had gone down, replaced by goose b.u.mps all over my skin. "Did you see who hit me in the-?" I closed my mouth.

His dark eyebrows. .h.i.tched up in confusion.

No, I scolded myself, Stick to Plan 3 in my Get a Life Journal-don't go crazy.

"Nothing." The old fight to stand up for myself and my gender was gone. I sighed. "To answer your question, I'm trying to be all right. Sometimes...it's hard."

Emotion I couldn't decipher pa.s.sed over his face. "I know."

He had his own hardships to bear. I wasn't about to drop mine in his lap. "Santiago, all I want to be right now is on vacation. I need a break from my life. When I get home, I'll try to sort out what I want to be when I grow up."

"Fair enough." He still eyed me suspiciously. "How long will you be staying?"

"Trying to get rid of me already?" I teased, but thought it might be true.

"No. How long will we be fortunate to have your company?"

"Ah, a charmer you are. My condo is rented out for the summer, so I have three months to play around. I'll probably travel Spain a bit. See the sights."

"Why don't you stay here the whole time?" His mouth opened in surprise as if he hadn't meant to say that at all.

"Here? In your home?"

His lips parted, but no sounds came out.

I kept my answer light. "That would be imposing. Something my mother tells me not to do."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. What in the world was he debating in that glorious head of his? Finally he said, "The house is big. I'd appreciate it if you keep Maria company while she settles back in. It will be good for her to look after you. I'm not here often. I have a flat downtown, closer to the hospital."

"Oh."

"Please consider staying. Here."

"You and Maria are very kind. I'll think about it."

Oh man, that devastating grin.

We switched gears and I asked him about his career, while the candlelight shimmered in his eyes. He had a general practice, was trained in internal medicine and elected to the position of Chief Medical Doctor at the Salamanca hospital.

I smelled modesty. "Impressive. Where'd you go to school?"

"I graduated from UCLA. Pre-Med. My graduate work was here, in Salamanca."

"You must know Dr. John Stapleton at UCLA," flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to rein it in.

He thought a moment. "Doesn't ring a bell. Which medical department is he in?"

Holy c.r.a.p, please tell me I did not drop my psychiatrist's name into casual conversation with the s.e.xiest man on the planet.

I ran my hand up the back of my neck. "Um, not sure." Think, Erin, think. "Hey, I almost went to UCLA too. USC has a better Economics department." I drew lazy eights on the gla.s.s table with my fingers, trying to calm myself. "Too bad I can't speak to you ever again."