Happy October!
So, after going off
on a tangent last week about my 'blah' feeling for the new season of Doctor Who, I can't say my impression
has changed, but I did enjoy this week's episode better. So there's that.
*grin*
Gotham is kicking some big time butt so far. I like the rather darker edge it
opened with and actually can't wait to see this week's episode. I missed the Sleepy Hollow premiere, so I need to
catch up on that one ASAP.
And the best news! The Flash and Arrow are back this week!! And I truly hope nothing tries to get in
the way of me and my TV those two night. LOL
So… probably a long
ramble about television next week. But on to tonight's post.
Down the Middle is a novella where my heroine doesn't want
help, but can't refuse.
Here's the
mini-blurb:
Bounty hunter Ursa
Goode always gets her man… if Jake Weatherwax doesn't beat her to him. But when
a target escapes and comes after her, Ursa has to take Jake up on his offer to
work together and split the reward right down the middle. The need for a
partner rubs her wrong, but Jake definitely doesn't.
And a snippety
peek…
Breaking
news. It's been reported that Llewellyn Cavil escaped custody during a transfer
to his permanent facility for the mentally impaired. He's to be considered
armed and dangerous and any sightings should be reported to the sheriff's
department immediately.
Ursa Goode rolled out of bed and
grabbed her phone. A sick feeling of dread and a hot kick of rage filled her
when she scrolled through her contacts and hit send. She fought to stay in the
present and not let her mind get stuck in the past. She wouldn't throw up. She
would not. Would not. Would. Not.
Her handler, Rob Morse, picked up
on the third ring. "Urse? I take it you heard the news?" He never minced
words or made small talk.
Ursa appreciated the directness.
"Yeah. I'm in. And you'd better keep the path clear. I want Cavil."
She waited a beat. "And you know he's going to want me." The
goddamned maniac always would.
Rob sighed. "I had a feeling
you'd be wound up and half-cocked. My phone hasn't stopped ringing since he
escaped—"
She cut him off. "Dammit,
Rob. Why the hell didn't you call me
when you found out?" Instead of letting her hear it on the news.
He didn't respond. Didn't have
to. Her brain only needed a quick second to process.
She blew out a breath.
"Right. Phone hasn't stopped. You've been fielding calls." A painful
throb started between her eyes and she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Sorry. Shit. You know my mouth works faster than my brain
sometimes." Try all the time, but she always got the job done.
Sometimes in the messiest way
possible and Llewellyn Cavil had been the biggest cluster fuck of her entire
career. The man taught her everything she knew about bounty hunting—by holding
her captive for three weeks. She managed to escape his clutches then turned the
tables by bringing him in. For seven years, he'd dragged his case through the
courts, convincing everyone he had a diminished mental capacity. No way in
hell. The guy had a genius IQ. But did being highly intelligent stop him from
being bat shit insane? Absolutely not.
Rob finally broke the silence.
"Urse, I'll do what I can. Hell, I already have by calling off most of the
smaller crews." He paused a moment. "But you know Gaffington is going
to bring someone in. And you know who they'll call."
Fuck. Yeah, she did.
Jake Weatherwax.
Gaffington Incorporated had a lot
of money invested in Llewellyn Cavil. Mainly because of a family connection.
Whether Llewellyn proved to be guilty or not, protecting the corporate image by
keeping as much information out of the media ranked high on their list. And
Jake almost always got quick results.
Ursa growled. "I'm not
letting Weatherwax take the tag on this one. Cavil's mine."
Rob huffed out a sigh. "I
want you to be careful, Urse. Llewellyn feels the same way about you being his.
Don't forget that."
Ursa would use Cavil's obsession
against him. "I know. I'm counting on that fact." She got up, crossed
to her dresser and dragged out a pair of pants, a tank top, and her weapon of
choice—a four-inch blade. "If I go dark for a couple of days, don't worry.
I'll check in when I can." Cutting the call before Rob could sputter and
spew cautions, she tossed her phone on the dresser and ducked into the bathroom.
Twisting her hair up on top of
her head, she stripped off her pajamas then went back in the bedroom, dressed
quickly, got her gear—the knife and her phone—and made a quick exit from her
sublet basement apartment. Walking up to street level, she took a right and
strolled down the road, stopping to grab some coffee from the Java Café truck
two blocks up. Glancing around, she figured she had twenty-four hours before
Llewellyn made a move.
And before Jake Weatherwax could
butt in and muck things up.
Ursa bites off way
more than she can chew. Maybe having Jake show up won't be such a bad thing.
That's it for this
week. Happy reading!
Skylin
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