My snippet this week is from Code Name Jack Rabbit,
book 1 of The Vampire Guard.

Sophia nodded and they fought their way toward each other. Porter grabbed Sophia’s arm. At the same time the helicopter became visible just above their heads.

“Grab on!” Kai hung out of the helicopter and tossed a thick rope at Porter’s head.

Sophia vaulted at the rope, catching it, and hanging on. A split second later, Porter did the same. Mere seconds passed before they were being hauled into the helicopter. They watched in horror as the boat was pushed completely out of the water and flipped over. It didn’t take long until it vanished beneath the surface.

“What is that?” Kai ground the words out.

Sophia shook her head. “Nothing good, that’s for sure.”

They took their seats, fastening their safety harnesses and Porter called to the pilot, “Go!”

The turbo-powered helicopter ascended, leveled off and flew them toward home.

“We need a new plan,” Kai grumbled.

“Plan B should’ve been Plan A all along. People have died because we made the wrong choice,” Sophia added.

Porter closed his eyes for a few seconds then opened them to look around at the others. “It’s been long enough. They should’ve been brought in months ago.”

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Code Name Jack Rabbit is available in eBook, paperback
​and through Kindle Unlimited.

It didn’t take long before a mundane, dark blue SUV appeared behind them. A quick glance at Blair, who nodded, and Forge knew they’d picked up their tail again. He’d have to head south, then double back or risk people getting needlessly hurt if there was a confrontation in the denser section of the city, which was also near the college. It was getting dark. There were few cars on this road, and Forge was chastising himself for taking that walk.
​
As soon as they came to a bridge that ran over a small embankment and creek, the SUV sped up and pulled alongside them. Clearly the driver was going to attempt to force them off the road.

“Hang on.” Forge hit the gas and the car zoomed forward. Seconds before they reached the bridge, Forge yanked up on the emergency brake and spun the steering wheel. His car skidded sideways to a stop, and the SUV went right on by. He released the brake, pressing down on the gas pedal at the same time. The tires squealed, the smell of burned rubber permeated the air, and they fled back the way they’d come.

“That was so cool!” Blair punched the air and jerked around to look behind them. “You have to teach me to do that.”

“Shush.” Forge growled and spun the car around a corner when a pickup loomed in front of them, barreling down the middle of the road. “So not playing chicken with you.” The car bounced over some train tracks, Forge took another hard right, cutting too close to the sidewalk and plowing through a line of garbage cans. “Thank God we didn’t take the Mustang.”
Forge saw another street on the left he knew would take him back to where he wanted to be. Gunning the engine made the car fishtail, but they made the turn.

“Crap!” Blair shouted.

“Motherfu—” Forge slammed his foot on the brake. The car stopped just inches shy of bashing head-on into a cement construction barrier. He backed up and spun the wheel as he stomped on the gas. In the next instant, he slammed on the brakes again. The SUV, followed by the pickup, blocked the road ahead. There were buildings on each side, too close to the street for them to get through.

Each vehicle’s driver was already on the ground and coming at them.

Forge shut the car down and shoved open the door. “Stay here!” he shouted to Blair and wasn’t in the least surprised when he heard Blair following him. The first thing that hit him was the scent of werewolf. The second was the realization he knew these two, a man and woman, but couldn’t place them.

The woman had him pinned to the car and bent backward over the hood in seconds. Forge used both arms to slam into her head. She screamed and backed up enough so he could get his feet between them and kicked with ample force to knock her away. Blair caught her around the neck and dragged her back.

Forge was on his feet in time to meet the man head-on. They exchanged punches, neither one gaining ground or going down. Forge could hold his own and had a chance as long as these two werewolves stuck to the rule about no shifting to wolf form in public.

Except they really weren’t in public.

Shifting Chaos is available in eBook, paperback and
through Kindle Unlimited.

Holding his broken arm tightly to his body, Declan battled Jonas as best he could, driving him closer to the basement door. In the process one of their bookcases crashed to the floor and a credenza was turned to firewood. He heard Ben’s footsteps, then the sound of the lock being opened. He kicked out, then delivered a solid hit to Jonas’s head. Jonas returned with two fast punches, but nothing like the violence of a few seconds ago.
​
Lucas blew by Declan, more werewolf than human, tackled Jonas, and they tumbled down the basement stairs. Fortunately, all their computer equipment was off to the right and safe. The small table with a collection of dog statues against the wall at the base of the stairs didn’t survive. Declan followed. He heard Blair and Simon right behind him. The minute Lucas and Jonas hit the floor, Lucas was thrown off. Declan jumped out of the way and sprinted around him. Jonas was on his feet, his eyes solid white, not blue. Ignoring speculation on what could cause that, Declan jumped and kicked, hitting Jonas square in the chest and driving him toward Lucas’s room.

“Help me!” Declan growled.

Simon had gotten around behind Jonas, grabbed his arm and turned him, hitting him in the face repeatedly. Jonas stumbled back, then bellowed another ear-shattering blast of sound. Simon staggered back, forced away by the noise. Declan put his head down and ran at Jonas, ramming him in the solar plexus. That move pushed him to the threshold of Lucas’s room. It was the strongest, most secure place Declan could imagine they had. Only time would tell if it would hold Jonas in this state.

When Jonas sprinted at them, he was met by Simon, Blair, and Declan delivering simultaneous blows that sent him sprawling to the floor inside the room. Ben slammed the door and engaged the lock.

“It’s in him!” Blair said.

Jonas screamed on the other side of the door and began pounding against it, battering it with his body from the sounds he was making. The door shook on its reinforced steel frame, and Ben jumped away.

“Fuck! Is that going to hold?”

Declan slid down against the door and stared up at Blair. “What do you mean it’s in him?”

Shifting Chaos, book 4 of The Sleepless City is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.
​Series cowritten with Anne Barwell

The room they were using as a home base was larger than the one Clint had been kept in. There was a round table along with the normal trappings of any motel room. Candice spread a detailed map of the area out across it. Griff pulled out his phone and spent a minute comparing the paper map to one of his digital ones. He leaned over the table and put his finger on a spot on the map. “From Clint’s note, this is where I think he and Hatchet are headed for.”
​
“What exactly in that note makes you think that?” Mason asked.

“Clint’s note mentioned a vertical drop and a discovery. We’ve been to this area regularly. Clint doesn’t enjoy pit caves as much as I do, and Jewel Cave is where we met. The last few trips we did some exploring and found some tunnels that weren’t on any map we had. One of them, here”—he made a circle on the map with his finger—“is a tunnel that has a second opening here.” Griff indicated another spot. “About halfway through the tunnel is a small vertical drop. The tunnel branches off, so there is one entrance here and two close together here.”

“Does Hatchet have caving experience?” Mason asked.

“Not that we’re aware of,” Matt said.

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They were in the car driving back to their office when Griff’s phone rang. He put it on speaker. “We got lucky big time,” Jim said. “The park where Clint’s phone was dumped was a city park a block from a police station. Not only was the phone found in a trash can along with clothes, jeans, and a T-shirt, but security cameras caught what happened. They sent us footage and pictures of the clothes. The jeans had been soaked in urine, which was dry when they found it. We should have analysis by tomorrow.”
​
“Can you e-mail the pictures?” Candice asked.

“Already got them,” Griff said. He didn’t have to spend a lot of time looking at the pictures. “Those are the clothes Clint was wearing when I left yesterday morning.” Closing his eyes for a few beats, Griff bit down on his lip. He wanted to say he’d bought that shirt for Clint, but it was impossible to put that additional detail into words.

“We also found out Dylan Hatchet had a second part-time job for a landscaper. About ten days ago, Hatchet reported the company van he was driving that day was stolen. Get this: the plates were recovered three days ago… in Toledo, Ohio,” Jim said.

“So,” Candice said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Hatchet has a stolen van he could have painted by now and likely stolen plates that could be from any state between here and Minnesota.”

“Griff, despite your best efforts to screw up evidence in Clint’s car when you searched it, there were trace amounts of blood found inside, soaked into the seat fabric. Matches the blood we found in your house,” Jim said.

“Thanks. We’ll be upstairs in a few minutes,” Griff said and ended the call.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering, and I think this answers that question. How the hell did this guy get Clint out of the house without anyone seeing anything? I know it was the middle of the day, but every time I’ve been on your street, people are around. While you were gone I interviewed a few of your neighbors. The blind lady who lives in the house kitty-corner across the street from you heard a different vehicle’s engine, which sort of amazes me. She thought the car might have pulled into your drive or the house next to you.”

“I already know no one was home in the house just east of me. What about the house on the other side? They have two little kids and are outside with them a lot,” Griff said.

“They were gone for the day—went to the zoo,” Candice said. “The man across from you works nights and he was asleep. The family with the landscaping business had their crews out from dawn and no one came home until it was getting dark. It seems like the timing of this was thought out, and we know he was watching your house at various times.” She stopped talking for the few minutes it took her to park the car. “Clint’s a big guy. Here’s my theory. Hatchet moves Clint’s car and pulls his stolen van up to your side door. Really, would you notice if Clint’s car wasn’t exactly in the same spot, moved a foot or so?”

Griff shook his head. “No. And the part of the driveway closest to the side door is between our house and the neighbor’s. It would be possible to get something or someone out of the house and into the van without being seen.” Griff stopped and grabbed Candice’s arm. “All the urine. Clint had a seizure.”

“Is that something he does?”

“No, it’s not. What’s the statistic? More than 50 percent of people put in a choke hold and rendered unconscious have a seizure while waking up.” The whole thought made Griff sick.

Candice grabbed her wrist and mimicked the act of using a choke hold. “Hatchet chokes Clint out, and by some miracle doesn’t kill him since I’m sure he never had training. That gives him a minute or less to fight off your dog, restrain Clint, and get him out of the house and into a van.”

“So what else did he use, stolen Isoflurane? How? And where did he take Clint?”

Clint cracked his eyes open and yawned. The motion of the car made him want to drift back to sleep. When he shifted, his hands and fingers tingled slightly, and he wanted to move, to stretch and wiggle to make the feeling return. When he tried to move his arms, they felt odd, as if held down. He groaned and tried to straighten his legs, but the space was too cramped.
​
“Griff, can we stop?” Clint mumbled. His voice sounded like he had a mouthful of marbles, and he was so thirsty. “Need some water and a bathroom.” A dull ache jabbed at his lower abdomen every few seconds.
He heard a low chuckle and thought Griff must be getting a cold or something—it didn’t sound much like him. When Griff laid his hand on the back of Clint’s head, Clint instinctively turned into his palm. Griff’s callused thumb brushed over Clint’s cheek.

“Shhh, baby.”

Clarity came swiftly, followed by terror. Griff didn’t have calluses on his thumb or any of his fingers, and he’d never once called Clint “baby.” Clint jerked his head away and promptly hit the car window.

“It’s alright, baby. You’re safe now.”

“What the fuck? Dylan? You asshole! What the fucking hell?” Clint slammed himself as hard and as fast as he could against the seat, then the car door.

“Baby, baby.” Dylan looked at Clint for a few seconds before turning his eyes back to the road.

“And stop calling me ‘baby’!”

“But I always call you that. You love it,” Dylan insisted.

Clint blew out a harsh breath. He looked down at his arms. They were tied in front of him with chain. Another chain ran from his wrists to a ring bolted to the floor of the car. Chains encircled his ankles that led back to the ring as well. “I have to take a leak.”

“We’ll stop soon. Get some food, something to drink, use a restroom.” Dylan reached over and ran his hand over Clint’s thigh, using his fingertips to press against the sensitive part next to the inseam of his jeans.

“Get your hands off me,” Clint snarled. “I don’t know what you think, but Griff’s going to kill you when he finds me.” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. Can’t hide behind Griff’s badge. I won’t hide behind Griff or his badge. His brief glance at his own leg made him realize these weren’t the jeans he remembered wearing last, nor was this his shirt. How he came to be in different clothing was something he decided not to think about. That decision didn’t stop a shiver from working through him.

Dylan chuckled again. It was a sick, cold sound. “Oh, we won’t have to worry about Griff anymore. I promise.” He removed his hand from Clint’s leg and grabbed the steering wheel so he could hold his other hand up for Clint to see. “Or his dogs. Especially the bastard who bit me.”

“Our dogs.” Clint’s voice broke. He wanted to believe Dylan wasn’t able to hurt Griff. Yes, Dylan had gotten the drop on Clint, but Griff was a professional whose life revolved around protecting others and himself. He had training and skills when it came to self-defense. Clint couldn’t get through this without utter conviction Griff was alive and well despite Dylan’s words. Phoenix and Fern he wasn’t as confident about. A silent cheer went through Clint’s head at the sight of the crude gauze bandage with blood oozing through it. He hoped Phoenix had chomped down hard enough to do real damage to Dylan’s hand. The sort of damage that prevented it from being used normally after it healed.

“Anyway, I have a nice trip planned for us. You’ll see how much I want to be like you and love you enough to be with you,” Dylan said without taking his eyes off the road.

“And you think threatening the man I live with, the one I actually love, and our dogs, then taking me by force is going to endear you to me?” Clint shouted and tried jerking his feet up and down again.

“Stop it!” Dylan snapped. He punched Clint’s head twice. “This is our adventure into love. It’s just you and me and no one else from now on.”

The punches stunned Clint. He sucked in a breath and tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. Dylan’s fingers curled in Clint’s hair. He yanked Clint toward him, then away in rapid succession and slammed Clint’s head back against the headrest. Small sparks of pain lanced through his shoulders and down his back until Dylan released him and he could hold his head at a normal angle again.

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through Kindle Unlimited.