Excerpt from The Third Option
THEY CAME FOR me in the wee small hours of the morning, thinking, I was sure, that I’d be asleep and easy prey. They were wrong. I knew they were there. I knew the minute they eased the front door open and slid inside the cabin. I could smell them when they opened the bedroom door, feel their nervous excitement in the air, but I chose not to do anything about it. If I fought, someone was going to get hurt or even worse, killed. It just wasn’t worth it.
So I let them come, deciding I would let them take me this time, if for no other reason than I wanted to see what they would do if they actually got me out of the building. Once they had me, were they fully prepared for everything that meant? I stifled a sigh of exasperation and pretended to be asleep, as they hovered in the doorway. The sharp sting of the needle came as a surprise, and I had a moment of doubt as the drug quickly took hold. They’d shot me with a tranquilizer dart from across the room. This was a first. They were getting smarter.
* * *
They’d zip-tied my hands together with heavy duty cable ties, like the ones the police use. There is no breaking those. You struggle, and they just get tighter. Regular zip ties or even duct tape would have been so much easier, but then easier hadn’t been what they were going for.
They had run a chain around the ties, and I followed the links as they disappeared into the snow, the shadowy track leading to a metal post with a big u-bolt screwed into it. The post was three to four feet away, giving me enough slack to move around some if I got closer. Maybe I’d given them too much credit. Here I thought they were getting smarter, what with the dart gun and heavy duty cable ties. Leaving me in the snow and cold had been a good move. I hate both those things. But giving me room to maneuver? Big mistake.
I scooted closer to the pipe to get more slack in the chain and gained just enough to be able to stand without stooping too much. My bare feet certainly didn’t appreciate it nor did my sopping backside as there was just enough breeze to ramp up the cold factor a couple of notches. I glanced around to try and get some bearings. As far as I could tell, I was in a little glade with dense pine trees about 50 feet out on three sides and open to the hills on the fourth. There were no obvious landmarks, but I thought I could just make out the top of the building where they’d taken me from just over the crest of one of the hills. They hadn’t taken me far, and I hadn’t been out here for long. I could still feel my hands and my feet, so they’d delayed staking me out for a while. That was nice of them.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when the first missile hit me square in the face, stunning me with enough force to knock me back a step. My arms jerked on the chain, pulling against the zip-ties, the force biting into my wrists and driving me to my knees. I shook off the impact, throwing the ice and snow off my face, certain I was going to see blood on the snow…
Excerpt from Blacker Than Sin
I SLIPPED INTO the shadows of the doorway and pressed tight against the wall, just as the guard came around the corner and headed straight in my direction. I held my breath as he passed by, oblivious to my presence. I stayed there, watching his back as he walked away, going about his duty completely unaware that the compound had been infiltrated. We were in. We had found Abby. Now it was time to go get her and take her home.
I stepped out quietly and looked around for the rest of my team. We had all come in together but had been forced to scatter when the guards had made an unexpected change in their routine. Now, they were nowhere to be found. I keyed my mic and waited for a response, but none came. Either they couldn't answer or something was jamming our communications. I was on my own. At least for now.
Staying close to the wall, I made my way further down the building toward the door that I knew was about 30 feet away. It was a back entrance and only one of many. Vice President Armstrong had done well choosing his hiding place for Abby. They had a lot of options for escape, should it come to that, but we were ready. With any luck, my team had deployed as planned and were watching the other doors. It spread us thin, but there was no help for it. If things went south, we couldn't afford for them to make it out of the building with Abby. It had taken us too long to find her, and I was afraid we might not be able to do it again.
I came to the door and paused, listening for any movement inside. There was none, and I tried my mic again, hoping to get a different result. Silence was all that I heard. I closed my eyes, prayed my team was in position and grabbed the door handle. It turned so easily, my heart nearly stopped in my chest. It wasn't locked.
I froze, convinced that someone must be coming through from the other side, but no one came. No alarms rang out. I took a deep breath and pulled the door open, amazed as it swung silently toward me. This was too easy. Something was wrong. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. This was my chance. Maybe my only chance, to get Abby. I wasn't going to stop now. I took another deep breath and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind me.
I was in a hallway. A tight one. The walls close enough on each side to make me uncomfortable. There wasn't room to maneuver much less to hide should one of the doors along the way open up. My only option was to move quickly and get to some place with better cover. The lights were out, but I was able to see. Not well, but enough to get by. I listened, waiting to move until I was sure there was no one around. Then I went down the hall, opening doors as I went by, making sure that Abby wasn't here. Making sure I didn't leave her behind. Again. Remembering what had happened at the Agency sent shivers down my spine. I had missed her then. Let them take her. That couldn't happen again.
She wasn't here. Wasn't in one of these rooms. But she was close. I could hear her. Hear the hum that she gave off. I had heard it at the Agency but hadn't known that it was her. I had thought it was Timothy or Theresa, but it had been Abby behind that locked door and by the time I'd discovered the truth, it had been too late. The hum had stopped. She was gone.
It was back now though. I could hear it, and I went toward it, intent on my goal. As I moved through the building, passing one empty room after another, the humming got louder, until it was nearly a roar, bouncing off the walls around me. She was close. All I had to do was find her.
I made my way down the hallway until I reached the final door. The intensity of the hum coming from behind it made it vibrate, and I reached out to touch it, feeling the pulse that made it seem as if it was a living thing. She was here. Just on the other side of the door. I braced myself, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.
Excerpt from Gone
It was a dark and seedy place. Full of smoke and drunks. Everywhere you looked, there were men looking for a good time and women willing to provide one if the price was right. Mac and I stood out like a pair of missionaries, which wasn’t ideal since we were trying to blend in.
“This isn’t working,” Mac mumbled into his beer as our mark racked up the balls for yet another game of billiards. “If he doesn’t leave soon, I’m going to be out on the floor.”
“He’s winning. He isn’t about to quit now and leave money on the table.” I took a sip of my root beer, which I’d asked to be served with no ice. It was warm, but it was dark and foamy so it looked like beer, and unlike Mac, I wasn’t about to slide off my stool. “How many of those have you had, anyway?”
“Too many. I’m going to be paying for it tomorrow.”
“Nobody said you had to drink. That was your decision.” I watched our guy line up behind the cue ball and draw back, taking careful aim.
“I’m just keeping it real,” he said with a lopsided grin. “One of us has to smell like they’ve been tossing them down. I figured it would be better if it was me.”
“Is that what you figured?” I said absently, as our shooter cut loose with a powerful strike, sending the cue ball hurtling into the mass of balls. They scattered across the table, bouncing off the bumpers in reaction to the impact. Our guy smiled as two balls fell neatly in pockets, already lining up his next shot as the cue ball rolled into place near the corner pocket. Then I smiled as I gave it a little mental shove to keep it rolling. Right into the corner pocket.
“Scratch!” his opponent yelled out merrily before realizing the error of his ways. The threatening glare he got, stopped his laughter almost before it was out of his throat.
“Our guy’s one scary dude,” Mac noted, slowly taking a sip of his beer. “He was born angry, and that little move there did not improve his mood any. You sure you want to poke this bear?”
Yeah, I was pretty sure. Thomas J. Brinkmann needed poking, and I was just the one to do it. If he kept on winning, we’d be here all night, and time was moving against us. Tommy, as he was known to the few friends he had, needed to lose, pack up his toys, and head home. I had no problem helping that happen. In fact, I had a feeling I was going to enjoy it.
* * *
Tommy knew someone had shoved him, but he just didn’t know who it was, so he made an assumption. The wrong one. He turned and swung and made contact with one of the biggest guys I’d seen in a long time. This fellow made Lars, who was a giant of a man, seem normal in comparison. The size of his fist was nearly the same size as Tommy’s head, which didn’t bode well for Tommy. One hit was all it took to send Tommy flying backward onto the pool table, but it wasn’t enough to knock him out.
Tommy scrambled up, throwing billiard balls as hard as he could as he crab-crawled off the table. He disappeared from sight for a second, only to pop back up with a pool cue in his hand. He was holding it like a baseball bat, and he was looking for something to hit.
The giant took one look at him, picked up his own pool cue, and snapped it in half with his bare hands.
“He’s going to kill him,” Mac informed me. “We can’t get information out of him if he’s dead.”
“He’s too mean to die,” I assured him. “The other guy is bigger, but our guy’s a dirty fighter. He’s been in situations like this before and walked away. He’ll take a licking, but he’ll keep right on ticking. Just you watch.”
“So you’re not going to do anything?”
“I already did. Now I’m going to wait for him to decide it’s time to call it quits and go home while he still can.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He will,” I said. I watched as Tommy picked himself off the floor, after taking a hard blow to the side of the head. He was still on his feet, but he was starting to stagger. It wouldn’t be long now.
He managed to last a few more minutes, throwing a few more punches, the last of which were wild. The time had come for our guy to do what he did best: turn tail and run.
“Let’s go,” I said, getting up from my stool at the bar. “It’s over.”
“It’s not,” Mac warned as Tommy sprinted past me, heading for the front door with the giant guy hot on his heels. I let him nearly catch Tommy at the door before I grabbed the big guy’s foot in a mental lock and jerked it out from under him. He hit the floor hard, scrambling to turn around to see who had tripped him. The guy he decided was the culprit had come with friends, and the pursuit of Tommy was over. Our giant had other things to attend to.
Excerpt from The Sword
“Is everyone in place?”
“All present and accounted for.” Jace’s voice entered the conversation. “We’re in position. Ready when you are.”
I grunted, knowing my second-in-command had things under control. Whatever happened, whether I succeeded or not, whether my powers worked or they didn’t, my team would be there to back me up. The admission eased the tension that was gripping me, and I felt a sudden tingle of energy ripple through me as I relaxed. I hadn’t lost my powers. They were there, lying dormant just under the surface, waiting for me to accept them again.
“I’m going in.” I smiled, feeling my power surge as I turned the knob and quietly pushed the door open. This was going to be fun.
I slipped in, silently closing the door behind me as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There were no windows, no outside light to help illuminate the offices — only the dim light from the hallway that stretched out before me. My objective was in the office at the end of that hallway. All I had to do was get there.
My fingers twitched, itching for my gun. In the past, I’d always had it with me, only using my psychic abilities as backup when needed. Not the case this time. Silence was of the essence. I had to get in and out without anyone noticing. Gunfire had a way of attracting attention, and setting off the alarms would be a dead giveaway of my presence. If I came across trouble, which I knew I would, I’d need to draw on my powers to get me out of it.
Eyes adjusted, I glanced through the small reception area to the hallway and closed doors along the way. Light showed at the bottom of two of the doors, indicating the possibility of people inside. I tossed these aside as decoys, knowing that if they were waiting for me, they wouldn’t announce it. It was the darkened doors that I needed to worry about.
I eased past the desk and the potted plants along the wall and started quietly down the hall. I paused at the first door, which had the light shining through. I placed a hand softly on the wood entrance and felt… nothing. Not that I was surprised. I’d only felt vibrations once before — when Abby had been on the other side of the door — but I thought I’d check, just in case. My powers had a way of changing and adapting lately, so I never knew exactly what to expect. Dismissing the door, I moved on to the second lit door, resisting the urge to throw it open and rush into the room. This creeping about in a eerily quiet, dark hallway was tedious. My power was ramped up and straining to be released after being tamped down for so long, and here I was teasing it, waiting for something to jump out at me.
I shook my head and headed for the office at the end of the hall, figuring it was better to just get it over with. If they were lying in wait, I’d deal with it, but there was no sense in prolonging things. I was at the end of the hallway before I knew it, having made it there without incident. I grasped the handle on the closed door and pushed it open, expecting to find the welcoming party. Instead I found something much worse.
Across the room, in a small, well-lit alcove, was the item I’d come for. The dagger was on display, mounted securely on the far wall, along with a number of other parts of the collection, well protected by a set of steel bars. It was a look-but-don’t-touch type setup, leaving the prize yards beyond my reach.
I eyed the knife and its deadly sharp point, fully aware of the seconds ticking by. I needed to get the knife and get out, but this… this was not my forte. I might have telekinetic power, but pulling things toward me was something I had yet to master. Controlling speed with my mind was difficult. I’d practiced it with my team — an effort that had led to much laughter, some fast ducking and bobbing, and a number of bruises when the ducking had come too late. My guys had joked that I was purposely trying to hit them, convinced I couldn’t possibly be that bad, but they were wrong. I was that bad, and I had a feeling that my hiatus from practice hadn’t helped improve my skills any.
The knife on the wall was displayed without a sheath, making it all the more dangerous. The cold smooth steel on the business end of the blade practically twinkled as it reflected the spotlight above, while the jewels in the hilt shone with a deep glow of color. It was a beautiful piece, and as I focused on it, I prayed it wouldn’t end up buried in my chest.
Guest Posts - Cat Gilbert
Can you, for those who don't know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?
I was born… No, I won’t do that to you. I’ll sum up, instead. I grew up in Colorado. Met my husband in high school and proceeded to move all over the world. In the course of our long, long, marriage we’ve managed to move over 35 times, living all over the United States as well as Singapore, China and Canada before finally settling down in Arkansas — our favorite place of all.
It was while living in China that I finally slowed down enough to start writing some of the stories that were floating around in my head. A large part of Brain Storm was written in our apartment in Suzhou, a city located a few hours outside of Shanghai. And Starbucks. There was a Starbucks nearby and I spent quite a bit of time there, nursing a latte made by Killer or Three (the names of the Baristas) while I wrote Taylor’s story at my make-shift desk near the window.
When we returned home to the States, Brain Storm was nearly finished and I’d caught the writing bug. The first book took me a couple of years to complete. Now I can write a book in a few months if life doesn’t get in the way. It has a way of doing that. Cooking, cleaning, laundry…
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
It’s a combination of both. Some characters I make up, but there are others have a basis in real life. Alex Connors, for instance, is based on my grandfather. A small man of Irish descent, the two men share a number of traits and characteristics. Connors — as Taylor calls him — is a man that she takes an instant liking to and she seeks out his advice and companionship on a regular basis.
Taylor herself is somewhat a reflection on some of my quirks… She’s addicted to lattes, does a lot of her thinking in the shower and has little to no tolerance for liars. She’s also morally conflicted. With her abilities, she can do things that no one else can, so she worries about losing control and crossing the line. I think given the circumstances Taylor finds herself in we all would be torn at times — but just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. With great power comes great responsibility. It’s something that keeps her awake at night, and has me pausing over the keyboard asking myself if I did this, could I look at myself in the mirror? Would this compromise my principals and beliefs? It’s a fine line to walk, but Taylor tries her best.
Can you tell us a little bit about the characters in Brain Storm?
Oh, the characters! There are some great ones in the series, and they are pretty well defined. Unlike the majority of thrillers out there, there are relationships here. You get to know and love Taylor’s “crew”.
There’s her best friend Trinity — the pitbull lawyer that is loyal and fierce. Mama D is Trinity’s grandmother. The one that holds them together and who Taylor seeks out when she needs some tender loving care. We have Jonas, the police detective that ends up on the run with Taylor, and Mac — the man who has been secretly watching her for years — waiting for her powers to emerge. Then there’s Lars. Ah, Lars. A quiet but deadly giant of a man who irritates Taylor beyond belief. He’s determined to protect her in spite of herself, which makes for some rather interesting and amusing situations.
There are others as well and I try to make sure they all stay in character — acting and reacting the way you think they would. Each one fills a space in Taylor’s life, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything. In fact, protecting them is the reason she does what she does. She loves them as much as fans of the series do!
How did you come up with the concept for the book?
I’ve always been fascinated with how the mind works and I love action, suspense and thrills in the books I read, so combining the two things seemed — pardon the pun — a no brainer. At least for me.
The bad news is that the books are cross-over genres. They don’t have vampires, demons or werewolves so they aren’t really considered paranormal, but they have a psychic element so they aren’t traditional thrillers either. They’re a combination of both.
The good news is that they’re different. My readers love the psychic twist in both of the series. I think it’s something we’ve all been through. Whether it’s sensing something is about to happen, or that feeling of dè já vu, most of us have experienced a time when we ask ourselves did that just happen? That’s what makes it fun. What happens to Taylor, could happen to us…
What is your favorite part of this book and why?
My favorite part is that Taylor evolves — not just in Brain Storm, but throughout the series. In the beginning when her abilities emerge, she’s thrown off her game, struggling to find her balance, but she learns. In the latest book in the series, she’s a force to be reckoned with. She’s come into her own and through it all, she manages to hold to her values and moral code. It’s a hard journey, but she’s gotten there. Now we’ll see what she can do with it.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I still don’t consider myself a writer. I’m a storyteller. I’ve always been a storyteller. I just put it down on paper now.
What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first?
I have a beginning and an end. I know what the story is about and how it starts, but other than that I let the characters weave their own tale. I’m very strict about details — the story has to make sense; questions have to be answered; characters have to react as you or I would. I find an outline tends to restrict that process. The result is often surprising, even to me. Sometimes the book is nothing like I thought it would be, but I don’t change it. I don’t re-think what the characters do. I don’t do drafts and re-writes. What I write the first time is what goes to press. It’s scary, but it works for me.
Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?
Hopefully, a little of both! The books are different — containing a psychic element in a genre that usually doesn’t have that, but it works.
Do the characters all come to you at the same time or do some of them come to you as you write?
That’s a great question! And yes — some of the main characters even showed up unexpectedly. Two fun ones made their appearance in the series a couple of books ago and I brought them into Taylor’s crew in the latest book. They’re a great addition and already have their own fan base.
What kind of research do you do before you begin writing a book?
Quite a bit. I try to make sure things work the way they’re supposed to and that it all makes sense. I pick out locations, study maps, try out different things so see what might actually work and what doesn’t. The books all have a psychic twist, so I try to make sure the rest of the story is as accurate as possible. If no one ever runs out of ammo, or takes a wrong turn, it lowers the ‘believability’ factor.
Tell us about your main characters- what makes them tick?
I think it’s that they’re human. They’re like you and me. Normal everyday people who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances. They react like we would. Have the same fears, needs and wants. The same daily issues to deal with. Life doesn’t stop in a crisis. It just gets more complicated.
Each of the characters has their own weaknesses and quirks, along with their own unique strengths. Together, as friends, they are a formidable force. They love and care for each other. They also argue, tease and annoy. In other words — they’re us.
Do you prefer to write in silence or with noise? Why?
I write in silence. Once I start writing, I’m oblivious to everything else. I hear nothing. I see nothing. Not even my alarms to get up and move away from the keyboard. I know a lot of authors write to a song, but I don’t. No sense wasting perfectly good music. That’s for after the writing is done…
What can we expect from you in the future?
More books. More adventures. Taylor has wrongs to right, and Molly has just begun solving her mysteries — so there are plenty more books to come.
Where did you come up with the names in the story?
If my readers see this question, they’re going to die laughing, because they know how I labor over naming the characters. The names have to be perfect and I have a terrible time picking them. The worst part is that I can’t write until I have the name — because the name is everything. For instance: The Molly McMurray Mysteries all came about because of the name.
A fan of Taylor’s wrote me an email excited about the books and her name was Molly McMurray. I instantly fell in love with it. I asked her if she minded if I used it for a character and she said it was mine! Suddenly there was this whole little person, with a personality and a perky attitude and a psychic twist all her own and the new series was born. I wish finding names were always that easy…
How long have you been writing?
Only about ten years. I got a late start. Don’t get me wrong — I’ve always told stories. I made up tales for our daughter and one of my favorite pastimes was making up stories about people we passed at the mall or in the park. I wrote stories, but they were in the form of letters back when we put pen to paper instead of fingers to keyboards. Everyone told me I should be writing books, but there never seemed to be time. Then we moved to China and suddenly, there was nothing but time. I wrote most of Brain Storm there, but when we returned to the States, I went back to my old ways. Having spare time to write was thing of the past and the book sat on my computer, unfinished. But the need to write had been sparked and I discovered that if I wanted to write, I had to make the time. So I did. It’s like everything else in life — you make time for the things that are important to you and writing had become important. I only wish I had learned that lesson sooner.
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