No matter how far she runs, she can’t escape…
Changing the past is an impossibility ex-Marine, Cynthia “Cyn” Arden, understands all too well. Struggling in the aftermath of a botched mission, which cost her two teammates, her military career, and a fledging relationship, she’s brought home by a panicked phone call. The psychic killer behind her nightmares has escaped military custody to hunt down the remaining teammates, one by one. Next on his murderous list—Cyn. Her only chance at survival is to master the psychic ability she’s spent years denying.
Unless she finds a way to trust the one who walked away…
The killer’s game brings her face to face with the one person guaranteed to throw her off kilter—the unsettling and distracting man she left behind, Kayden Shaw. Once she believed he’d stand by her side, until he chose his job and his secrets over her. A choice that’s left the scars of the past etched deep on her mind and heart.
To win this twisted game, Cyn must risk trusting her heart and accepting who and what she is, or lose not only her life, but the man she loves.
Targeted Age Group:: 18+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I’ve always been fascinated by the arena of psychic abilities, plus I may have a teeny-tiny bit of a conspiracy theorist residing in a small dark corner.
I also read a great deal outside of fiction, and one particular book, THE SEARCH FOR THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE by John D. Marks, which follows the history of behavioral science and the CIA, helped sparked the idea. After finishing that book, I moved on to THE PSYCHOPATH NEXT DOOR.
Um, yeah, my research library of non-fiction titles would be scary to an outsider.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters are born of their backstories. It may sound weird, but as a character driven writer, I tend to create backstories that help mold my characters into real-life, breathing people. Those character histories drive how they react in any given situation, which making writing my books akin to a roller coaster ride. Now, I'll admit there may be an aspect or two borrowed from those I know, but I'll leave that up to your imagination.
The ringing of the phone interrupted my tirade.
I shot a look at the phone sitting on the counter to our left, and then narrowed my gaze at Kayden.
He quirked an eyebrow. The phone rang again. “You going to answer it?” he drawled.
Stepping back, I plucked the receiver off the cradle. “Hello?”
What do you know, it was Thomas Anderson Gunderson, AKA Tag.
I stared at the man standing across from me. “Yeah.”
“Where have you been? And why the hell won’t you answer my calls?” Despite his questions, there was a thread of relief in my friend’s voice. Ex-friend, I reminded myself.
“Why would I?” I gave my answer absently, watching Kayden make his way over to the other side of the counter and take a seat on a bar stool.
In my ear, Tag cursed. “Dammit, Cyn. I don’t have time to explain shit now—”
“Why are you calling me?” I cut him off, ice coating every word.
“Why are you in Sedona?” he shot back, his voice hard.
“I’m more concerned with how you got this number and why everyone seems determined to turn my cabin in to Grand Central Station.”
Momentary silence filled the line. “Shaw’s there?”
“Got it in one.”
“Thank God,” Tag muttered. “Be as bitchy as you want, Cyn, but tell me you’re okay. You ran away—”
“I didn’t run from shit, Tag,” I snapped. “I was kicked to the fucking curb as soon as you and everyone else got what you wanted.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Really? Because from where I stood, it sure as hell looked like it.”
Turning away from Kayden’s too-avid gaze, I tried to regain control so I could shove both of these men back out of my life. “I’m fine, but I’m little busy dealing with my own situation.”
“What kind of situation?” It actually sounded as if he gave a damn.
Closing my eyes, I tried to push aside the urge to bang my head against a wall at the single-minded intensity of the male gender. “My sister is AWOL. Now, can we just focus on why you’re bothering me and Kayden has decided to pursue a career in B and E?”
“How long has Kelsey been missing?”
The urgent note underlying Tag’s question reignited my earlier sense of unease, as if there was something bigger at play here. Worry about Kelsey trumped hurt feelings, so I answered. “Not sure, a couple of hours maybe. Her car is here.”
The string of oaths spewing over the line from Tag proved no one could swear like a marine. “Son of mangy bitch,” he muttered, then he took a deep breath. “The cabin’s an hour and half outside of Phoenix?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “I’ll meet you up there. Stay with Kayden.”
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