I know this book has been a long time in the writing, but I can’t express how happy I am with the way it turned out!

~~Excerpt~~

When gunshots barked right outside the door, she dropped like a stone to the ground. She had no idea what caused the commotion, but she wanted nothing to do with it or any stray bullets. When the door opened and closed just a moment later, she held her breath. Fear sent her heart racing, fighting to get out of her chest.

Then she heard two magical words.

“Fuck. Me.”

It wasn’t the words so much as the weak, rasping voice that she recognized. Before her brain could tell her mouth to stop and be cautious, quiet, the stupid orifice opened.

“Rick?” For all she knew, she might be imagining things. She struggled to move, but in her haste, she fell.

Footsteps rushed over and then big hands were on her, turning her until she sat on her backside. Then in the murky darkness, she heard the voice that she’d worried might be gone forever. Rick’s. “Thank Christ. Are you okay?” She wanted to sob with relief, wanted desperately to wrap her arms around him and crush him to her.

Yet, she couldn’t. She was as helpless as a turtle on its back.

“I’m fine. Please tell me you have a knife?” Her head buzzed with a hundred questions, but their situation went above and beyond dire.

Low, a little bit gravely and a lot tired, he spoke into her ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t move.” She ached to lean closer and absorb his presence, his everything. He cupped her ankles and examined the ties around her ankles.

His hands shook as he pulled out his knife.

“Rick. I—I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Your leg? I—”

“Not now. And it’s not your fault. Never. Let’s concentrate on getting out of here alive. Okay?” He sounded so tired, utterly drained of his usual strength. He should be in a hospital bed, not running a Dark Horse rescue operation.

Speaking of which… Something didn’t add up.

“Rick. Where are the rest of the crew?” It might be Rick’s newly formed team, but considering the shape he was in, she didn’t think Trent would let him participate in a rescue mission. She might have only known him for a few months, but she knew enough about Trent Dawson to understand he would lock Rick down if he wasn’t up to a job.

His hands trembled on her legs. Alarmed, she looked at him closer. Was it the yellow tinted light casting the sickly hue to his skin? When sweat beaded on his forehead she feared it wasn’t. His breaths were short and shallow. He didn’t look up to walking out of the room on his own steam.

Not to mention her overprotective brother Joe who, at the minimum, would be right in the thick of things, if not barging in and taking over. Something stank to high heaven.

“Sweetheart, don’t move.” Despite the noticeable tremble in his hands, he positioned the blade with precision beneath the tie.

“Yeah. You already said that. What’s going on?” When he wouldn’t meet her eyes, her stomach sank.

His only response was to cut her bonds loose. A million pins and needles stabbed her legs. An excruciating rush of feeling returned to her lower limbs. It was all she could do not to cry out. The trembling in her muscles made Rick’s hands look like immovable granite. He sat the knife down and, starting at her ankles, tried to massage some feeling back into her legs.

Outside the room, one voice rose above the others. The one who’d taken charge and seemed the most capable had returned. “What the hell is going on here? Give me that fucking gun.”

All the other voices started talking at once, spilling a tangled story.

“Something’s up. The door to the utility room is locked. It was unlocked when I got here. I found the key. Don’t let anyone out, nobody fucking move until I get the lights back on. Not a fucking millimeter.”

“We gotta go, babe. We’re sitting ducks.”

“Okay.” The only thing she knew was that she had to trust Rick’s abilities.

He considered the window then he looked back to her. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we can make it.”

 

Finding Leigh releases March 14th and preorder links are live!