Elaine Levine's Blog

War Bringer has been sent to all vendors internationally. I'll post the links as they become available, so check back if you don't see the link to your preferred vendor.

 

Amazon US:  http://geni.us/12j4
Amazon UK:  http://geni.us/1MGH
Amazon CA: http://geni.us/1TTC
Amazon AU: http://geni.us/3GH4
iBooks US:  http://geni.us/135i
iBooks UK:  http://geni.us/3ycW
NOOK:
KOBO:  http://geni.us/1dru

 

 

The print version will be available in about 2 weeks.

The Covert Operative…

Kelan Shiozski wasn’t looking for a girlfriend or a wife or any other sort of female in his life, but he found her hiding in his enemy's home...and he knew instantly she was his soul mate.

Patience has long been part of his warrior ethos—until it meant waiting for his woman to come of age. Now that time is here, and he’s about to spend three days alone with her, away from his team, away from their mission tracking a homegrown terrorist group operating out of the Rocky Mountains. He has three days to show her, with his heart and his body, what it means to be his other half.

But when she’s kidnapped before their celebratory weekend, Kelan must track her into the dark depths of a hidden crime world, which few ever experience or exit alive.

 

…And the Innocent

At just twenty-one, Fiona Addison has lived a sheltered life that began unraveling a year earlier when her mom and her friend died in two separate car accidents the same week. The layers are peeling away, revealing who she really is, culminating in a truth she cannot accept.

And now, everything she learns about herself imperils the future she hoped to have with Kelan, a man whose fierce warrior nature will not let her go despite the cost to himself.

They’ll either live together or die together...a fate they cannot let be decided by a madman.

 

[image error]It's been busy over here in still-snowy Colorado!

I've been working with a very talented web design company, AuthorClicks.com, to help me redesign my website. We'll be launching it in just a few days.

The new site gives you a place to buy autographed print copies of my indie books, as well Kindle, Kobo, iBook, and Nook versions of my ebooks.

When the new site rolls out, I hope you'll take a stroll through it and let me know what you think!

Greer's book is finally here!! I'm working on the print version--it should be out in a couple of weeks.

Here are the links for you:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1LONp7s
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FgjYyt
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1gP8hmq
Amazon CA:  http://amzn.to/1Kw20qN
KOBO:  http://bit.ly/1iObNzx
iBOOKs: http://apple.co/1NWrD7Z

NOOK: TBD (link not available yet)

 

Greer's story will be out in just about a week now! Here's a little sneak peek to wet your appetite!

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Assassin’s Promise Blurb

Traumatized by her unusual childhood, sociologist Dr. Remington Chase, has made a career out of her lifelong obsession with American cults. Her research often results in pushback from the groups she studies, but not like what’s happening now, with the White Kingdom Brotherhood biker gang shadowing her every move. 

Is it luck or something far more sinister when a consultant from the Department of Homeland Security makes a surprise visit to her university office, seeking her help in finding a teenager lost inside the group she’s studying? 

Covert operative Greer Dawson has one objective: find the girl who tried to kill his team leader. He promised to protect her, but he didn’t, and now his failure haunts him. He’ll fight for the answers he and his team need...and risk losing his heart to a woman with secrets as dark as his own.

-------------------------------------------------

Chapter One 

 

Greer lay on his bed, naked and sweating, sucking air like a marathon runner. Can dead eyes still see?

He shot a look around his room, making sure the ghouls had only been in his dream.

He was alone.

He ripped the twisted sheet away from his legs and walked over to the window. Dawn was still an hour away, but already the sky was a pale lavender. He slid the large glass panel open. Cold air seeped inside, spilling over the windowsill and down the wall to wrap around his feet and ankles like the icy fingers of dead hands.

He pressed his face against the screen and breathed the crisp alpine air through the musty screen mesh. He hated ghosts. They were the rodents of the supernatural world. All they did was mess stuff up. Like his head.

Christ Almighty. Can fucking dead eyes still see? he wondered.

And whose eyes had he seen in his dream, anyway? He’d memorized the faces of everyone whose lives he’d ended in case they showed up later in unwanted ways. All of them had been men; the eyes he saw in his nightmare were female. Who was she? Someone he already knew or someone he’d yet to meet?

He straightened, withdrawing from the questions he couldn’t answer. Centering himself, he closed his eyes and calmed his racing heart with slow, deep breaths. He could feel his energy pulling back inside of him, closer and closer to his inner core, until nothing was left of him in the outside world. He was invisible, one with the atmosphere, inseparable from his surroundings.

Numb to his body and his life.

He let himself exist in that empty zone for a few more minutes, then shut the window and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Hot water pelted his back from a half-dozen showerheads. He bent his head, letting it spill off the sides of his face as he shed all thoughts. Or tried to.

The nightmare was beginning to fade, but it left behind the black residue of his panic. This wasn’t the only go-round with that dream. He couldn’t remember the first time he’d seen the woman. Weeks. Months. Who knew?

Breakfast was almost over before he made it down to the dining room. His stomach was still twisted from his dream. He didn’t eat, just filled a coffee mug so no one would pester him with questions.

He wasn’t the only one who was self-absorbed; Max and Hope followed him into the room. They looked tired and happy. Replete. Max nodded at him as he held Hope’s hand and led her over to the buffet table.

“We’re meeting downstairs in fifteen,” Kit announced to the few who were still at the table.

Blade grinned at Eden—now his wife. It was the first day back at work after their big wedding celebration over the weekend. He had no difficulty imagining how Blade wanted to spend those minutes.

Greer took his coffee and walked out the patio door. The joy-joy of the couples echoed uncomfortably inside him. He sipped the black brew and looked across the wide, double-tiered lawn behind the house. The tent, carpets, and furniture from Blade’s wedding were gone, but flattened areas on the grass showed where they’d been.

Owen stepped outside and paused long enough to take a read on him. The nightmare had left Greer in a strange pall with sluggish reflexes; he was slow to shutter himself from the boss’s penetrating gaze. When Owen moved down the patio into the den, Greer followed him, leaving his mug on one of the patio tables.

Man by man—and Selena—the team presented themselves downstairs in the bunker’s meeting room. Owen, as usual, leaned against the back wall.

“First things first,” Kit opened. “We got the report back on Lion’s DNA. His sample had no hits. So it looks as if King isn’t in the system.”

“Or,” Greer said, “Lion’s father had himself, and his relatives, erased. I would have done that, if I were playing the game he is.”

Kit nodded, then looked over the table to Owen. “Interestingly, your friend, the rogue Red Teamer, Wendell Jacobs, was also no longer in CODIS.”

Owen didn’t seem surprised. “He’s on the lam, and he’s covering his trail.”

“Maybe Jacobs is King,” Kit said.

Owen didn’t blink or shift his position against the wall. “While he’s capable of being King, I don’t think he is. We’re getting closer to whoever is King, though. I can feel it.”

“Maybe Lion was lied to,” Max said. “Maybe King is his father in a figurative sense, the way a cult leader is called ‘Father.’”

Kit nodded. “Which leads us to the Friendship Community. Greer, get over there and scope them out. They’re involved in this—we need to know how.”

“Lion said the community sometimes leaves food and supplies for the watchers,” Max said. “He talked of Armageddon, too. Those weirdos are in this up to their necks.”

“There’s a professor at the University of Wyoming who’s been studying cults,” Greer said. “She’s researching the Friendship Community. I’ll go talk to her.”

Kit nodded. “Good. What have you discovered so far about them?”

Greer put up some pictures on one of the big smart screens at the side of the room, images of the community he’d harvested from the internet along with a topographical map of their compound. “They’ve existed where they are for close to one hundred eighty years. They owned over ten thousand acres at one time, but sold a portion of it off to the federal government middle of last century when the Department of Defense wanted to build the missile silo complex that the White Kingdom Brotherhood now owns. Most of their land is in a fertile valley protected by the Medicine Bow Mountains.

“When the world began to modernize early last century, they were remote enough that they slipped behind. Rather than catching up, they’ve stayed true to their nineteenth century roots, eschewing everything from electricity to modern medicine. They’re a closed group. They have no currency system and only raise enough funds to cover their property tax bill each year. As a Christian pacifist society, they claim a religious exemption from military service.

“They don’t own mechanized vehicles. They make an annual trek down to Cheyenne during Frontier Days to sell their wares to raise tax money and to acquire the small number of goods they can’t directly produce. They aren’t polygamists. They govern themselves via a secular council structure. And according to the censuses, their population has been slowly increasing since the 1970s, with the largest increase appearing at the last census.”

“Lion said the community nearly died out middle of the last century, but if their population has been increasing since, they may be getting an infusion of new adherents from somewhere,” Max said. “He said there are multiple prides. Maybe there are multiple Friendship Communities.”

“Look into that, Max. Maybe they’re co-located with other WKB camps. Greer, let us know what you find after you talk to the professor.”

 

* * *

 

Dr. Remington Chase, associate professor of sociology at the University of Wyoming, was lost in thought as she approached the department’s side entrance. Took her a long minute—too long—to become aware of police cars parked in a no-parking zone in front of the building…and a couple dozen people standing around the greenspace in small clusters, talking in hushed tones.

She realized they were all staring at her now, with worried eyes. Her stomach clenched as a powerful wave of fear hit her. Had there been a shooting on campus? Her grip tightened on the stack of books and documents she held to her chest, as if a few reams of paper could stop a bullet.

There were only two cop cars. Surely there’d be more if there’d been a shooting? She looked at the people standing in groups. None were crying. Still, she had a bad feeling as she walked around to the front side of the building, toward the crowd, and saw what had them in knots.

Giant red spray paint letters, spanning about twenty-feet of the brick wall, read: “Professor Chase is a lying whore.”

Her knees went week as she stared in horror at the message. The paint had dripped in blood-red tendrils, as if the brick wall had been sliced open and now bled.

Dr. Zimmers, her department chair, came over with the cops. “What’s this about, Dr. Chase?”

She shook her head, pretending ignorance, but her pulse was drowning out sound in her ears.

“Hi, Doc,” Officer Franklin smiled at her.

She latched on to the middle-aged cop’s kind eyes and forced air into her lungs. The campus police were competent and non-reactionary, used to the antics of students. This was graffiti. Nothing more. It was paint, not blood. Just paint.

He touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, then nodded.

“Any idea who might have done this? An angry student, perhaps?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Did the security cameras pick anything up?”

“Not in detail. Two men wearing dark hoodies, baseball caps, and gloves did it about two a.m. this morning,” Dr. Zimmers said. “They were on motorcycles.”

Motorcycles. Remi’s fingers dug into the books she held. Were they from the White Kingdom Brotherhood?

“Their license plates were obscured,” Officer Franklin’s partner said. “Do you have any enemies? Students who are angry with you? Frustrated parents?”

Remi frowned and tilted her head. “There are always students and parents with their own agendas. For the most part, my students and I get along great. They’re good people, active and engaged in their studies.” She smiled. “Though I wouldn’t put it past any of them to do something as outrageous as this for a social experiment.”

“Her students love her,” Dr. Zimmers added. “She’s one of our most highly rated professors. And though it’s still early in her career, she’s making quite a name for herself and for the university. In fact, she was interviewed about her research into American cults for a public radio segment—it just aired yesterday.”

“Maybe someone didn’t like the attention you directed at them,” the other cop suggested.

“I spoke in generalities during the interview. I didn’t call out any specific group. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten push back while actively doing field research,” Remi admitted, playing it down, making it all sound rational…as if she weren’t close to jumping out of her skin at any moment.

“Which group are you working on now?” the cop asked.

“A local group. The Friendship Community. They’re just up the mountain. They don’t have motorized vehicles anywhere on their compound. They couldn’t have done this.” The WKB could have, however—a theory she kept to herself.

“It could be someone lashing out from one of the previous groups you’ve studied,” Dr. Zimmers suggested.

Remi shrugged. The papers she held were getting heavy, and her arms were sweating. “I guess.”

“Has anything else odd happened lately? Strange emails? Anything threatening?” the campus police asked.

Remi felt her eyes widen. Yes. So much that she was jumping at shadows. And now this.

Dr. Zimmers answered for her. “No. The summer’s been very quiet, actually.” The police continued asking her department chair more questions, but Remi had stopped listening.

She sent a look around, checking for something that didn’t belong…someone whose gaze seemed furtive or triumphant, someone watching her reaction. She recognized all of the people standing nearby; she worked with them, or taught them, or had seen them on campus. No one looked out of place.

Her gaze settled on her teaching assistant, Clancy Weston, a doctoral student at the university. His expression was neither friendly nor concerned. While he had the potential to be a great educator, the chip on his shoulder weighed him down. He’d been unhappy when the university hired her; he’d hoped her position would remain open while he finished his doctoral studies.

When the police were finished with their questions, she went straight to her office. She’d been feeling a strange, ungrounded anxiety for a while now—a tension which the graffiti only deepened. It was comforting to fill her mind with other thoughts.

The university would be back in session in a few weeks. The semester’s final lesson plans and class synopses were due to her department head by the end of the week. She’d already made a few tweaks to them from the last semester. She intended to hand them over to Dr. Zimmers, then settle in for a long day of working on the notes she’d collected over the summer from interviews she’d conducted while visiting the Friendship Community. 

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(C) Elaine Levine 2015 ASSASSIN'S PROMISE (Red Team - Book 5)

Sometimes I feel very close to my characters. When I finally get them to open up and share their stories with me, it can be downright overwhelming. Greer, for instance, is one scary dude. He was an assassin long before he joined the Red Team. Somewhere along the line, a psychologist suggested he might benefit from keeping a journal. 
 
Here's one of his entries (written after meeting Remi, his heroine in ASSASSIN'S PROMISE):
 

I’m not what you think I am

The wind goes through me like I’m not there
But I feel the cold
The sun blazes down. I make no shadow
I’m already hidden

I see your smile
But it’s for someone behind me
You don’t see me

I keep the line where the line needs to be
You walk past me
Safe because of me

I’m hollow
I’m alone
I’m a monster in your home

They might come in, but they won’t leave
I eat their souls
And I wait. For yours.

Since so much happens in Blade's wedding novella and some of you may have missed it...

I put up a new boxed set (not new books, but a new collection) that includes the two wedding novellas and Twisted Mercy. I will likely be putting it on sale before Kelan's book comes out later this year. As it is, the boxed set saves a little money off the individual book prices. 

iBooks US: TBD

iBooks UK: TBD

iBooks AU: TBD

iBooks CA: TBD

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1e5Q2sH

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1GvQjiT

Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1QP72zd

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1QrmA1k

NOOK US: TBD

KOBO: http://bit.ly/1B8UWiy

 

 

Now I'm back to finishing up Greer's book!

Have you started reading the Red Team series yet? The first, THE EDGE OF COURAGE, is free at all vendors. And iBooks just added SHATTERED VALOR to its list of 5-star suspense reads!

Ty and Eden: A Red Team Wedding Novella is on sale for its debut week at $1.99. After March 5, it will go up to its regular price of $2.99.

I hope you find a few hours to set aside for Ty and Eden's wedding. Enjoy!!

Kobo Books:  [TBD]

NOOK: [TBD]

iBook: [TBD]

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1zJiT9M

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1EtcwwG

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FXY7dH

Print Version:  The print version will be available March 12, 2015. If you've joined my mailing list, I will send out a discount code for you to use at Createspace, the POD service from Amazon, so that you can save a little off the retail price. If you missed the secret discount code, just join my mailing list, then drop me a note to request it!

Contribute to the Red Team Community:

Want to chat with other readers about Max and the rest of the Red Team? 

Join our reader group on Facebook. 
If you're more of a visual person, visit the Red Team Pinterest Board!
Visit Goodreads.com to see what others are saying about Ty and Eden!

Ty and Eden's wedding novella will out later this week!! Here's a little peek at what's coming:

 

Chapter 1

The hot asphalt road seared the soles of Ty Holt’s boots. He shifted his stance, freeing them momentarily from the sticky tar pavement. Hard to tell what was hotter, the road or the sun.

He looked at the photo the warden had given him of Cordell Ryker, his bio dad. The man was an older version of himself—same eyes, same nose, same mouth.

Ty felt sick. He knew he’d never looked like Bladen; he’d assumed it was because he inherited his looks from his mom. The photograph of his bio dad broke that comfortable myth and stole the last connection he had with his mom.

Some of the visitors who parked near him got out of their vehicles and waited tensely as men started to file out of the prison. The first group, wearing orange prison garb and handcuffs, moved forward under heavy guard. They were quickly loaded into blue vans parked at the curb.

As the vans pulled away, the next batch of men spilled out of the prison. These were dressed in civilian clothes and each carried a plastic grocery bag of personal items. They squinted in the sunlight and moved in halting steps, as if the freedom they headed toward would be taken away from them at any moment. They didn’t look back or to either side. The closer they came to the gate, the faster they moved. There were more parolees than there were visitors to pick them up.

 Guards directed those who weren’t being picked up to walk a few blocks into town to await their buses at the station. Ty saw Ryker among those headed to town. He didn’t need to check his father’s picture; he knew him like he knew himself. Ty watched him move, his cautious pace speeding up with each step. The jeans he’d been given would have better fit a shorter, wider man. His black shirt was tucked into his waist and the cuffs were rolled up. It looked too tight in the shoulders and was probably too short in the sleeves. His dad was a tall, lean man.

Ty caught up with him. “Cordell Ryker?”

His dad didn’t break his stride or look over at him. “Who’s asking?” His baritone voice rumbled from his chest like a rockslide.

“I’m Ty Holt.” That did stop him. He turned to face Ty. “Your son.” The other men moved around them on the sidewalk.

Ryker started walking again. “I don’t have a son.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know about you either until a couple of months ago.”

His dad stopped. “Shit.” He turned back around. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to say your piece. I got a bus to catch that I sure as hell don’t wanna miss.”

“Forget the bus. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I got no home, boy.”

“Yes, you do.”

His dad’s eyes narrowed. “How do I even know you’re my son?”

“Guess you haven’t seen a mirror lately.” Ty showed him the photo. “The warden gave me this so I’d know which one you were.” Ty looked up at the sky as he pulled a long draw of air. “We got a few hours’ drive back up to Wyoming. We can catch up on the way.”

Ryker nodded. “Then you should head out. Quit wasting time here.”

“I didn’t get you out to throw you away.”

Ryker’s gaze zeroed in on Ty. “That was you?”

“Yeah.” Ty had worked through a group of attorneys and investigators to secure his dad’s release—he’d kept mention of his name out of the paperwork because he didn’t want his dad to fight him. It had taken several weeks for them to connect all the dots to prove his innocence, but once it was done, Owen had pulled some strings to get his dad’s case shown to a hastily convened hearing. And now, his dad was standing before him, a free man.

“Why’d you do it?” Ryker asked.

Ty considered his words as he stared at his father. How could he give a quick explanation for a situation that was fucked beyond imagining and still volatile?

“I’m cleaning house. The shit that got you thrown in jail is coming to a head. You aren’t safe.”

Ryker nodded once. “Good to know.” He resumed his walk into town.

Ty sighed, then did a jagged hop to catch up with him. It had been a long drive down from Wyoming, and his thigh was tightening up. They moved in step for half a block, then his dad looked over at him, glancing first at his bum leg, then up at his short hair. “What happened?”

“Took some lead in Afghanistan.”

Ryker faced forward without easing his stride. “You still in the service?”

“No. Well, sort of.”

Ryker stopped and looked at him. “Which is it? The military ain’t a mood-driven organization that lets you serve when you feel like it. You’re in or you’re out.”

Ty met his hard look and slowly grinned. “It’s complicated.”

Ryker shook his head and started forward again. Ty began to feel as if he was a drag on the old man’s roll—and his next words confirmed it. “Go home, boy. If I’m in danger, then you are too if you keep hanging around me.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“You may not have noticed, but I’m walking out of Callum a free man. I’ve spent more than three decades in jail for a crime I didn’t commit. I can make my own way. It’s a freedom I’ve earned. And right now, I’m going to get a meal at the diner and wait for my bus. So beat it.”

Ty gritted his teeth and continued down the path heading toward the diner. His dad fell in step with him. Neither spoke, not on the way there, not when they sat down.

The waitress handed them tall, laminated menus with a wide selection of meals, all with kitschy prison-themed titles like “Jailbreak Meatloaf” and “Parolee’s Platter.” The platter was a sampling of six of their most requested foods, including cheeseburger sliders, onion rings, fries, mozzarella sticks, mini chili dogs, and a slice of pizza. All in all, a big old heart attack on a tray.

Ty sent a look around the room, seeing many of the guys his dad had walked out of the prison with. A waitress came over to take their order. She made no eye contact and seemed excessively grouchy. He ordered a cheeseburger with a salad and iced tea. His dad, however, hadn’t progressed far beyond his drink choice.

“I’ll have a Coke,” he requested.

“We got Pepsi products.”

Ryker frowned when she called off the list of drinks in the Pepsi umbrella. Most of them hadn’t existed three decades ago. “Pepsi, then.”

“And what to eat?”

“Um—”

“Want more time?”

Ryker looked up at her, his face tightening at her question as his mind poured her words through a filter Ty could only guess at. “No.” He shook his head, but still didn’t offer a food choice. The waitress hissed a sigh. Maybe the newly released were always like this—confused and tedious.

“He’ll take the Parolee Platter.”

“I’m not a parolee,” he snapped at Ty.

“I never said you were.”

Ryker handed the menu to the waitress. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

After she returned with their drinks, Ty watched his dad take a long sip from the tall plastic cup. He wondered if it was as he remembered.

“You said nothing’s changed, so fill me in, since you’re here and all.”

“I didn’t say nothing’s changed. I said the problem still exists.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’re not going to talk about it here.” He took a sip of his tea as he looked at his dad. Tension had burrowed deep into his face, emphasizing his age lines. “Three decades is a long time. Very little in the real world is as it was when you went in. Cars are different. You’d be hard-pressed to find a pay phone because we’ve all got mobile phones. The internet was virtually unknown back then. Now everyone’s got a laptop and a tablet and smart phones. Anything you want to know is available at your fingertips anytime of the day. The Beta versus VHS wars are over and neither won, ultimately—we can stream all the audio and video content we want. At home or on our phones, anywhere we happen to be. Big Brother from Orwell’s 1984 is here. You can’t go anywhere without being caught on a surveillance camera or your movements tracked through your phone. Women can hold any job they want. The slang is different. Attitudes are different. Hell, even our history is different, as the old white-washing is wearing off.”

“I’ve watched TV. I’ve seen these changes happening.”

“Yeah, watching and experiencing are two different things. It’s going to be overwhelming to you for a while. You need a safe place to lie low until you get your feet under you.”

“Well, boy, I don’t have the benefit of your fine family fortune. If I wanna eat, I gotta work.”

“I can get you a job. Two or three if you’re so inclined. I got a place for you to live. You don’t like it, then in a few months, when I’ve dealt with our enemies, you can move on and make your own way.”

“What makes you think you can take them on? They’ve outlasted your grandpa, outlasted me.”

Ty’s gut tightened at the mention of his grandfather. He knew so little about his mom or her family. And now he wondered if his grandpa had been involved in the rat’s nest he and the team were unraveling.

“I’m not alone. I have a whole team on my side.” He looked his father square in the eyes. “I’ve lost enough. If you owe me anything, you owe me this.”

His dad shook his head. “I’m not going back.”

“Yes, you are. Know why? ’Cause that’s where your family is.”

His face went blank, then white, as intent focus sharpened all the lines on it. He leaned toward Ty. “I thought your mom was dead…”

Ty nodded. “Yeah. Bladen killed her. He damn near killed me. But I’m alive and he’s dead, and you sure fucking do have a home to come back to. Besides, I want you to meet Eden, the woman I’m going to marry.”

Ryker shoved a hand through his shaggy hair. He pinched his eyes closed. “I’m not going back.” He shook his head.

Ty couldn’t blame him. There was a time he’d felt the same way. Now the house felt like a haven, the best place for him to keep his dad safe. “You don’t have to come back to Mom’s house. You can stay next door.”

“Where the Fieldings live?”

“Lived. They’ve passed. Their granddaughter owns the property. It’s empty now.” He hadn’t talked to Mandy about it, but he would when he got back. “Just for a while, until we can figure out what end is up.” Ty contained the emotion of his statement to keep it from sounding like the plea that it was. It wasn’t only for his father’s safety that he was bringing him home.

His dad studied his eyes for a long moment. “All right. We’ll do it your way. For now.”

Their food arrived. Halfway through his burger, Ty noticed his dad’s attention wasn’t on his meal, but on everything around them. People were moving about freely, entering and exiting through the front door and the kitchen door and the bathroom hallway, paying their bills, chatting and laughing. The chaos made Ryker edgy.

His dad was going to have a long road ahead of him on the return to civilian life. 

Audible is running a special sale on my first audiobook, The Edge of Courage! It's only $6.95 now thru December 14! Many of you have asked me when the rest of the books in the series will be availabe in audio. I'll be starting that ball rolling this coming January!