Cynthia Rayne's Blog, page 2

Black and Blue Chapter One

Chapter 1

Louisville, Kentucky

“Where’s mine?”

Glaring at her partner, Assistant U.S. Marshal Annie Foster took a defiant sip of her venti mocha.

Too bad I didn’t have time for yoga. I’d be a lot less bitchy. 

The hot chocolatey liquid tasted delicious on such a cold night. It was three in the morning on a random Monday in late November. Six inches of snow was forecasted to fall, and she wanted to be in her bed underneath a fuzzy blanket.

Saying she wasn’t a morning person was a huge understatement. Plus, transporting three felons is a shitty way to start the week.

Annie had gone through a 24 hour Starbucks on her way to work and grabbed a coffee along with a gooey chocolate croissant. The caffeine and chocolate hadn’t been enough of a pick me up. She needed a couple extra coffees and at least eight more hours of sleep to fully function, but it would have to do.

“Oh, Lordy, it’s gonna be one of those days, huh?” Mike Danes chuckled. “So, what happened? Too much fun?” He made a left turn onto the highway.

They were traveling in an aging government van to a correctional institute. After picking up three prisoners, they’d be transporting them to another penitentiary. Shuttling convicts was considered the crap detail, and since they were the two lowest officers on the staff totem pole, they got stuck with it a lot. They’d taken tours of every federal prison in the Bluegrass state, and it had gotten old. Fast.

“Nope. My roommate broke up with her boyfriend and stayed up most of the night crying.” A vein in her temple throbbed, and she massaged it.

“And you consoled the poor sweet flower?”

She’d entertained Mike with stories of the blonde bombshell she shared an apartment with. Annie was originally from Ohio, and she’d answered a craigslist roommate ad when she’d moved to Louisville, so they weren’t friends.

“For the first couple of hours and then I gave up.” Annie had listened to every detail of the breakup and shared a bowl of ice cream with Susie, too.

‘There’s nothin’ worse than a cryin’ woman.” Mike shook his head in sympathy. He’d been born and bred in Kentucky, and she loved his accent.

“I tried to sleep, but she wouldn’t stop.” Susie had called all of her friends and posted on her social media networks with a blow-by-blow account of what happened. Her phone vibrated, dinged, and binged for several hours, in between the crying jags.

Annie wasn’t even on Twitter or Facebook and certainly wouldn’t hang her dirty laundry out for anyone to see. They were complete opposites, and as soon as she scraped up enough cash, Annie was out of there.

“Hey now, a broken heart heals slowly.”

Annie wouldn’t know because she’d never fallen in love. Yet. Although, she had every intention of meeting the man of her dreams, buying a house with the white picket fence, and settling down to have at least two kids and a dog. Annie kept waiting for somebody to turn her head, but she’d dated a series of dipshits and dicks.

It was depressing.

“This is her third break up this year.  Susie always says the guy’s her soulmate and he never is.” Maybe because she found all these losers on Tinder.

She pulled down the sun visor and examined her reflection in the mirror. There were dark creases underneath her dark brown eyes. While she wasn’t exactly a Plain Jane, no one would ever mistake Annie for a bombshell either.

Annie never wore makeup to work. She’d pulled her long dark hair back into a French braided bun to keep it out of the way. No fuss. No muss.

Since she worked with fugitives, felons, and the like, Annie preferred to tone down her appearance. Just like one of the boys. Make-up, jewelry, and perfume elicited unwanted attention. Like Mike, Annie wore a pair of khakis with a blue button down shirt and a U.S. Marshal fleece jacket to identify herself.

“Don’t be so harsh.”

“What do you know about being broken hearted? You’re so in love with Becky, it isn’t even funny.”

“Watch it. I traveled a long and bumpy road to meet Becky.”

They’d been dating for a bit over two years and were meant to be.  Becky Clay was a gorgeous redheaded realtor and the two of them were so in love with one another, it almost made Annie queasy. Almost.

On one level she was green with envy. Annie didn’t have any romantic feelings toward Mike, but she wanted what he had. Didn’t everyone?

“At least you got your happy ending.”

He grinned. “It’s about to get even better.”

“Oh yeah?”

He glanced at her. “I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

“Shut up!” She smacked his arm. “Congratulations.”

“Ow.” He rolled his shoulder.

“Oh, suck it up, you’re fine.”

“Yeah, you’re not that tough, slugger.”

“Give me some details. When? How are you gonna do it?”

“I’m askin’ Becky on her birthday.” Becky had been born on the Fourth of July and her family always had a big picnic and went to the town fireworks together.

“Then she doesn’t have a clue?”

“None. I wanted it to be a surprise.” Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet ring box. “Take a look and tell me what you think.”

“You’re carrying it around with you?”

“I picked it up from the jeweler last night and I’m gonna put it in my safety deposit box on the way home from work. If I leave it at my place, she’ll eventually locate it. Becky’s like a bloodhound when it comes to findin’ Christmas presents.” He handed it to her. “Check it out—I had it engraved.”

Annie opened the box to reveal a princess cut solitaire engagement ring with a white gold setting. It was a full carrot, so it had cost him a pretty penny.

“Wow.” Her jaw nearly dropped.

He beamed. “Yeah, that’s the reaction I want.”

“How on earth did you afford it?”

“I save a hell of a lot more than I spend.”

“Can I read the inscription?”

“Sure.”

Gently, Annie lifted the ring.  It read: This Kiss. She glanced at him for an explanation.

“It’s our song. You know, the one by Faith Hill?”

Annie nodded. She’d heard it before. It was a very dreamy song, perfect for Becky and Mike.

“I was a goner as soon as we had our first kiss.” With a sigh, Mike rubbed the palm of his hand over his heart. “Think she’ll say yes?”

“I know she will.” Sometimes she got a romantic contact high just from being around them. Annie wished the universe had someone wonderful in mind for her as well. “I’m so happy for you.”

Annie squeezed his shoulder and then handed the box over. He placed it back into his pocket.

“Thank you.”

“And it’s about time, by the way. After all, she’s practically moved in with you already. And didn’t you make her your next of kin?”

“Yes, she’s my rock, the one person I depend on.” He said the words quietly, but she could hear the love in his tone.

Mike didn’t have much in the way of family. His dad had died when he was a kid, and his mother had passed away a year ago. He didn’t have any siblings either and wasn’t close to his extended family. Except for her and Becky, Mike was all alone in the world. Since they worked in a dangerous field, they’d had to designate someone to make medical decisions for them.

“So, I’ve gotta ask. Am I gonna be your best man? Or best woman, as the case may be.”

“I’ll ask you after she says yes.”

“Spoiler alert, I’m gonna agree.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “You’ve gotta catch up, Annie.”

They’d both trained at Glynco together, in Georgia, and then they were assigned to the same field office. Mike was the closest thing she had to a brother, and Annie loved him dearly. “You’ve gotta get a move on—get hitched and settle down. I want our kids to play together, go to the same schools.”

It sounded wonderful to Annie.

Sometimes Annie felt like she was running behind everyone else. She’d just turned twenty-seven, and all of her friends were settling down, having babies, and buying houses. Annie lived like a college student in her two bedroom apartment.

“I’m trying, but it isn’t easy out there.”

“What about the guy you’ve been seein’?” He frowned. “What’s his face…?”

“Jim?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s history.”

She’d given him his walking papers a couple of weeks ago. Annie couldn’t decide if she attracted assholes, or there were just so many of them in the single male population, the odds were stacked against her.

She scrunched up her nose. “Jim wasn’t the right fit.”

“Are you tryin’ to date him, or hire the man for a job?”

“A bit of both, actually.”

She had some standards and marriage was a big deal. Annie was sick of fooling around with guys who weren’t relationship material.

Chuckling, Mike shook his head.

“What? I’ve gotta do something.  I’m sick of jerks.”

“Why don’t you try dating a LEO instead?” It was an acronym for a law enforcement officer.

“I want my work and private life to be separate.” Annie refused to compromise her career prospects.

Although, Mike might have a point. The guys she dated didn’t understand her schedule. She could be called in at any time.

It didn’t sound very modern, but sometimes she felt like the man. Some of them had never handled a gun or knew what to do in an emergency situation. Was it too much to ask to date a man who was more macho than she was? If a prowler came around the house, Jim would have run screaming, rather than handle the situation.

He shrugged. “Then don’t date a marshal, find a sheriff or cop, or an ex-military guy.”

“Did you actually give me dating advice?”

“Yup, and it’s damn good if I do say so myself. You oughtta take it.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed.

Soon, they reached their destination.

“Okay, you ready to this?” They were getting close to Rocklake according to the GPS.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Annie downed the last of her coffee. “Let’s do this.”

After they went through the security checkpoints and parked the van by the loading area, they went inside to retrieve their convicts.

With Mike at her side, she tromped down a series of brick and cement corridors, through several gates. The walls were done in a cheerful yellow, which was an odd choice, given the purpose of the place. Maybe they should’ve gone with gray? Or a soul crushing black?

Finally, they arrived at the guard station.

Mike flashed his badge. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Danes. I’m here to pick up Adam Ryder, Richard Turner, and John Doe.”

There was no reply from the corrections officer at the desk as he scrolled through his phone. It’s as if they didn’t exist.

“Excuse me?” Mike glanced at the name on his shirt. “Officer Sykes?”

No reply.

Mike slammed a palm on the desk.

Gasping, Sykes glanced up. “Huh?”

“I’m here to transport the convicts to Desmond.”

“Sorry! Oh yeah.” He snapped his fingers. “They’re all present and accounted for. We’ve got them ready for you, too.” The corrections officer handed Mike a clipboard and asked for his signature.

Sykes didn’t look much more than eighteen or nineteen years old, and he didn’t seem to give a damn about this job. Rocklake was a privately run facility, and Annie had her doubts about their methods. From what she’d seen, they hired warm bodies, rather than qualified staff and didn’t offer them much in the way of training either.

“Bring the prisoners for transport to Desmond, Johnson,” Sykes bellowed into his staff radio.

A few minutes later, three shackled men hobbled through the gate. They wore matching flame orange jumpsuits and cheap canvas shoes.

“Did you pat them down?” Mike asked.

“It’s standard procedure.”

Mike glanced at Annie and then back at Sykes. “That wasn’t a yes.”

“Meaning you took care of it?” Annie asked. “Right?”

He shrugged. “Not me personally, but I’m sure Johnson did.”

Annie sighed, before turning to their prisoners. They couldn’t take any chances, so she’d give them a once over.

“Arms out to your sides, look directly ahead.”

Annie took the skinny one on the end first. Before coming on this trip, they’d studied the files. Annie liked to know what she was up against before getting into a potentially sticky situation.

The prisoner’s name was Adam Ryder, and he was only an inch or so above five feet tall. According to his rap sheet, he’d been caught with a crapload of heroin, and it was his third offense, so his sentence had been severe.

“Turn around.”

Ryder did as he was told and Annie briskly patted him down, searching for any weapons. Mike watched the proceedings with a hand on his gun, in case any of them got frisky. Luckily, she didn’t feel anything beneath the jumpsuit. Thank God, because she really didn’t want to strip search him.

Or worse yet, a body cavity search.

Convicts had a way of hiding things in their asses which was disgusting for everyone involved. They called it keistering, as in shoving something up your keister.  She’d pulled all kinds of things out of people.

Annie moved on to the next in line, John Doe.

“Marshal,” he said, with a nod.

Annie didn’t reply.

Unlike Ryder, Doe was handsome with a square jaw, sandy blond hair, and warm brown eyes. He was tall, broad shouldered, and majorly cut as though he spent all his considerable free time working out. He raised a wicked brow, lips curling into a naughty smile, as she frisked him. Annie didn’t look him in the eye and went about her business.

“Nice day for a drive, ain’t it?”

A convict is hitting on me? I must be a magnet.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Mike’s face was grim.

His parents hadn’t christened him John Doe, but the penal system hadn’t been able to determine his real name. Doe was wanted in a series of robberies. He targeted wealthy douchebags, people who’d made their money by using super cheap labor, trashy reality television stars, and the like. He’d also never hurt anyone in any of his robberies.

Of course, he was still a convicted felon, but there were way worse scumbags. It’s all a matter of degree.

Doe always wore a disguise, even though he’d been captured on film several times. The government had done everything in its considerable power to discover his true identity but had come up empty, and he’d refused to cooperate with investigators.

When she finished, Annie moved on to the last one, Turner.

He’d raped and murdered twenty-four young women over a six year time span after he’d been dishonorably discharged from the Army. His victims were vulnerable—homeless women and prostitutes. Turner’s story had gotten some national press and he’d received the death penalty for his crimes. Turner was down to his last appeal, and Annie doubted this one would be successful either, at least she hoped it wouldn’t.

He sneered when she approached him. Turner was forty-eight, tall, with salt and pepper hair. Like Ryder, he was lithe but sinewy.

And he gave Annie the creeps.

She’d been around all kinds of thugs— drug dealers, mobsters, outlaw bikers, and their crimes all made sense to her. But she didn’t understand someone who got off on the pure joy of murder.

“Turn around.”

He didn’t comply. Instead, he glanced at the clock on the wall, acting as though he hadn’t heard her.

Mike stood up straighter but didn’t intervene. Annie was glad he held back because she didn’t want him to compromise her authority. Telling a convict to shut it, and taking over, were two different things. Any sign of weakness would be exploited by a misogynist like Turner.

Clearly, it was a dominance display, but she couldn’t figure out who was the intended audience. Was it for her and Mike? The other prisoners? Evidently, he wanted someone to know he had a big swinging dick. She couldn’t wait to get to Desmond and shove his ass into another cell.

“I said turn around. Now.”

He checked the time yet again, before complying.

Why? A cold chill trickled down her spine.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Annie said to Mike. They rounded up the prisoners and loaded them into the van. A half an hour later, they were on a lonely stretch of highway outside of the city.

To pass the time, they bullshitted.

Annie asked Mike about the bachelor party, and whether or not she could go along. She wasn’t wild about visiting a strip club, but she’d be there to support her friend. And he doubted Becky would let him have one. She’d ribbed him about being henpecked and the time went by pretty fast.

And then a series of bangs came from the rear of the van.

They’d shackled the prisoners to the steel benches and then buckled them in, for their own protection. Nobody should’ve been able to move.

What if I missed something during my pat down? The thought haunted her.

She swallowed. “Should we check it out?”

“I don’t know. Listen.”

It sounded like someone was pounding on the wall, deliberately trying to get their attention.  Had one of them gotten loose?

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either. I’m pullin’ over.” He steered the van to the side of the highway, while she pulled her sidearm. They were in the ass end of nowhere with no back up.

Annie picked up her cell phone, but she only had one bar.

“Hey, how’s your service?”

“I don’t know, check.” Mike handed her his phone.

His was a bit better. Mike had two bars, instead of one. Decent cell phone coverage was hard to come by in these parts. Being without it, made her anxious, in case they needed to get in touch with the office. Unlike the police, they didn’t have a dedicated radio in the van either.

Cutbacks are a real bitch.

“How is it?”

“It sucks. Maybe we should both change carriers?”

“Or stay in the big bad city.”

Annie called in the unauthorized stop on Mike’s cell, but there was so much static on the line, the dispatcher had trouble understanding her and she had to repeat herself several times. Annie hoped her colleagues fully understood the message.

Afterward, she struggled with a sense of foreboding.

“Why are you so jumpy? They’re probably just horsin’ around, givin’ us some shit.”

“Turner scares the snot out of me. At least we’ll be at Desmond in three hours, and we never have to see their ugly mugs again.” She tried to comfort herself with the thought.

They walked around to the backdoor, and pulled out their weapons. There were patches of black ice, so they had to be careful.

He held up three fingers, counting it down. When he put the last finger down, she reached for the door handle, but as soon as Annie unlatched it, the door came flying open, knocking Annie to the ground, and her weapon skittered across the pavement.

Fuck it all. That was rule number one, never lose your weapon.

The inmates jumped out. Evidently, they’d gotten free of their shackles. In a flash, Turner grabbed the gun and pointed it at her. Before she could scramble to her feet, Turner hauled her up and placed her in a chokehold. His forearm was tight against her windpipe, cutting off the air supply. Ryder and Doe stood behind him.

“Freeze, or I’ll shoot,” Mike gritted out.

“If you do, I’ll kill your partner.” Turner’s grip on the weapon tightened.

She mouthed I’m sorry to Mike. Annie had failed him. Her search hadn’t been thorough enough, and now she’d given Turner a weapon. This was all her fault.

He nodded but said nothing.

“It would be a shame, too. She’s a pretty one.” He slid the barrel against her temple. “What’s your name, honey?”

“It’s Marshal Foster,” she bit out.

Mike tried to reason with him. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid, Turner. Think about it, she’s a federal marshal. If you hurt her, the judge won’t be lenient.”

“Yeah?  What’s he gonna do? Sentence me to death again?”

Turner was already in desperate circumstances. She doubted his appeal would be granted and he would be put to death soon. Even if he died today, it would be better than being put down like a stray dog.

“Fine, let’s talk. Which one of you got free first?” Mike asked.

One of them must’ve used a hair pin or paper clip to pick the locks on their shackles. Annie’s money was on Turner. He’d been the one watching the clock. Evidently, he’d been planning this for a while.

Nobody piped up.

“Fine,” Mike said. “Let’s play this out. If you make your escape, you’ll be caught within a few days, at most.” Prison breaks had a poor success rate. “And then you’ll have a bunch of new charges tacked on. Is it worth the risk?” Mike glanced behind Turner. “And what about you guys? Doe’s only got eight years left on his sentence. And Ryder? You haven’t committed a violent crime. Do you really wanna be part of this?”

“Shut up,” Turner said. “You’re tryin’ to manipulate us.”

Just then, a black Forrester pulled up alongside them. Who was driving? His accomplice? Annie doubted a civilian would pull over in the middle of this mess.  The windows were tinted so she couldn’t see inside. Annie craned her head, trying to glance at the license plate, but couldn’t see it.

“I’m gonna tell you how this ends.” Turner’s tone was smug.

“And how’s that?” Mike asked.

“We’re leavin’ and you two can either be corpses or live to tell the tale. Which do you prefer?

Enough.

She stomped on Turner’s shoe, through the thin canvas and the man yowled in pain. And then she drove an elbow into his ribcage. While she fought Turner off, the other two went after Mike.

Just then, a man wearing a ski mask stepped out of the vehicle. He carried a sawed off shotgun.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck.

“Stop!” Turner screamed. “Or he’ll shoot.”

They stopped. There was no other choice.

Doe disarmed Mike and turned his gun on him. Mike stood beside her, and they both held their hands up.

This is it. Any second now, he’d pull the trigger, and they’d both be gone, roadkill on the highway.

“We just wanna go. Stand down, and nobody gets hurt,” Doe said. To his credit, he did seem regretful, but then again, he wasn’t the monster Turner was.

Somebody would get hurt alright.

Turner would kill again. The other two might not be physical threats to society, but neither one of them were model citizens either. Ryder would probably die of a drug overdose, and if he was driving, he might take someone else with him. Doe would steal from more people.

Not to mention, she and Mike could kiss their careers goodbye.

They’d face a disciplinary hearing. Even if they weren’t fired on the spot, they’d most likely never move up the chain of command either. They’d be treading water for the rest of their time with the Marshal Service.

After patting them down, Doe tossed their cell phones on the ground and then stomped on them, while Turner shot the tires out on the van.

Now, they didn’t have either communication or transportation.

Annie silently prayed for a good Samaritan to come along and report the crime, but the highway was deserted. It was barely four in the morning, in the middle of the nowhere.

“I think they want to be heroes. Since that’s off the table, maybe they’d like to be martyrs instead?” Turner got closer and placed the gun barrel against her chest, right over her heart. “What do you say? Wanna have a highway named after you?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Annie shook her head. She schooled her features into a blank mask, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her terror.

Annie thought she’d be brave, but she was scared stiff—for herself and for Mike. All thoughts of their future aside, they might lose their lives.

Suddenly, worrying about her career path seemed laughable.

“Pullin’ the trigger isn’t nearly as satisfying as chokin’ a woman to death, but I’d get off on it.” He caressed her with the gun, running it up and down the length of her cheek.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” Mike growled.

“What did you say?” Turner asked, swinging around to point the gun at Mike.

“Let’s just go, Turner.” Doe walked backward toward the Forrester while keeping the weapon trained on them.

Ryder had already climbed into the vehicle. He’d wrapped his arms around himself, rocking, as though trying to ignore the chaos around him.

“Who’s in charge here? You or me?” Turner asked.

“You are, so can we hit the road boss?” Doe hopped in the SUV, and the armed thug joined him. The masked man started up the vehicle.

And then Turner pulled the trigger— shooting Mike in the chest.

Before Annie could react, he shot her too. The bullet pushed into her torso, slicing through skin and bone.

With a cry, she fell to her knees.

Dimly, she was aware of the vehicle screeching off, the spray of gravel, the stench of burned rubber. Annie turned to see the taillights, only her vision was too blurry to make out the license plate number.  She suddenly realized she was crying.

“Annie?” Mike called.

“I’m here.”

“I can’t move…”

“I’m coming.” Slowly, painfully, she crawled over to Mike. Blood poured from his mouth. His wound was right by his heart, while she’d been tagged closer to the shoulder.

Annie pressed her hands on his chest, trying to stop the flow of blood. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I’m dyin’, Annie.” He squeezed her hand.

“No you aren’t. I’ll get us help.” She started to stand, but she was dizzy and slumped to the ground once more. “Just give me a second to catch my breath.”

“You’re too injured to walk. Civilization is miles away, and even if you did, I’d be dead before the ambulance arrived.”

Annie struggled to hold on to hope, but it was difficult. She was cold, exhausted, and in pain. They both were.

“No! We’re gonna get through this.”

“I’m cold…” Mike started to shiver.

“Here, take this.” Wincing, Annie gingerly removed her coat and placed it over him.

“I need you to tell Becky somethin’.”

“You’re gonna tell her yourself. Stay with me. A week from now, we’ll be laughing about this.”

He shook his head sadly. “A week from now, I’ll be in the ground.”

Annie swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You got hit in the shoulder, so you got a chance of makin’ it.” His face had gone ashen, and his breathing was labored. “But I don’t.”

“No, shut up. Stay with me, and we’ll both be all right. Remember? Our kids are gonna go to school together?”

“Annie…”

“You have to live. You haven’t asked Becky to marry you yet.”

“And I never will.”

She whimpered. It isn’t fair. This isn’t right.

“I’m so sorry, Mike. This is all my fault. I should’ve strip searched them. Obviously, I missed somethin’.”

“No, don’t.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll drive yourself crazy. Listen, you’ve gotta talk to Becky for me. Please?”

The “please” got to her.

“Okay.”

“Tell her I love her and more than anythin’ in the world, I wanted to be her husband.” Mike dug into his pocket and pulled out the ring box once more and passed it to her. “And give her this.”

“Mike…”

“Promise me!”

“I promise.”

“Thank you, and tell her I want her to move on and find somebody else to love because she’s gonna make one hell of a wife and mother.” He wheezed, coughing. “He won’t be as good-lookin’ as me, but she’ll make do.”

She laughed through tears. “I will.”

After she’d made the vow, Mike got real quiet, went as still and silent as the grave. Every so often she checked his pulse, and it got weaker and weaker with each passing moment.

With blood on her hands, Annie shivered in the cold, waiting to be rescued.

 

Black and Blue is available March 12th.

Pre-order it now.

Have you signed up for my love letters? Learn more.

The post Black and Blue Chapter One appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Draw Blood Chapter One

Okay, so here’s a sneak peek of Draw Blood. Apologies, but it hasn’t been proofread yet, so there might be a typo or two below. It’s a bit dark, but here’s a slice of Ten’s backstory. You’ll find several “interludes” in the book where you learn more about what Ten endured.

Warning

This book contains some disturbing scenes and images surrounding child sexual abuse and human trafficking.

 It isn’t for the faint of heart.

 You’ve been warned.

Interlude

 

Twenty years ago…

“One day you’ll go there.”

The boy crouched in a corner, knees drawn to his chest, flipping through a dog-eared travel magazine, dreaming of a future, which would probably never come.

It didn’t stop him from fantasizing though.

The well-worn pages featured panoramic pictures of the great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. They looked mysterious and inviting—mist hovered around the peaks and the trees were a symphony of color, red, gold, and a dark rusty brown so much nicer than the bare, crumbling cement walls surrounding him.

A fire pit nestled next to a cabin, and it looked inviting. The boy wished he were curled up in front of it, warming his toes. He could hear the crackle of the flames, almost smell the burning pine logs. Closing his eyes, he imagined being right beside it.

Anywhere but here.

He’d often fantasized about what the interior looked like. He pictured warm feather beds piled with quilts and a crackling fireplace in every room. The living room table would have big platters full of food—all the chicken wings he could eat, and mashed potatoes on the side, maybe an apple pie for dessert.

His stomach rumbled at the thought alone. Sometimes he felt like it was trying to gnaw on the rest of his insides and he pressed a hand against his empty tummy, to quiet the gurgling, but it didn’t work.

It never did.

Elijah was twelve years old, at least he thought so anyway. Like so many things about his past, it was nothing but guesswork and speculation. He’d been told many things, but didn’t know what to believe.

He’d read the magazine cover to cover several times. Once again, Elijah longed for something to read, anything to occupy his mind. Most days, he felt like he was going crazy.

Then he heard footsteps on the stairs, heavy and thudding, the sound of doom.

He stashed the magazine under the stained old mattress he slept on and scrambled to his feet, preparing for the worst, because nothing was ever easy for him. Nothing.

His gaze lowered to the floor, focusing on the man’s mud-caked boots. The boy preferred not to linger on his face or the wedding ring on his hand. He didn’t like to think about Paul at all.

Paul only visited once a week, thank God.

“I brought you dinner.”

He dropped two paper bags full of groceries near the steel door. Elijah didn’t need to look inside. Paul brought him an assortment of cheap junk food like potato chips and snack cakes. The stuff he chose didn’t need to be refrigerated. Every once in a while, if he was lucky, Paul brought a jar of peanut butter along with some crackers.

After the pan left Elijah would stash the food on creaky metal shelves on the other side of the room. There wasn’t much to the place—a mattress, shelves, and that’s about it. On one wall was an industrial sink which the boy used for drinking water and to clean himself up, after Paul left. He hadn’t had a real shower in months.

The boy had no idea where the abandoned building was, but it must be far from civilization. Elijah was stashed away in the basement. Whenever Paul visited, he always tracked dirt in with him. It fell from the treads and after he left, the boy swept them up with his hands and deposited the muck in the trash bag hanging on a rusted nail near the one window.

The glass blocks were so thick he couldn’t make out any distinct images through them.  His first few weeks here, he’d screamed himself hoarse, calling for help but no one came for him.

They never did.

“Come here.”

Elijah didn’t fight him, he’d given up trying long ago.

As always, he had to rely on himself to survive. Maybe it was better that way. He was strong enough to stand on his own and didn’t need anyone else. If Elijah survived this, he promised himself he’d get bigger and stronger and he’d never need another living soul.

Paul manacled one wrist and the boy bit the inside of his cheek.

You can do this, just get through the next few minutes, and it’ll be fine. The bastard never lasted long anyway.

“What’s your name, boy?”

He clenched his teeth. “Elijah.”

Now the boy hung from the chains mounted between two pillars, like a damp sheet flapping on a clothes line, arms stretched above his head. Elijah was painfully thin, covered in welts and bruises. Healed scars mottled his back and shoulders.

Paul backhanded him. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His lips were cracked and painful and his feet were bare. The cold seeped into him, buried itself in the marrow of his bones. It was a soul-deep chill, like the finality of a grave.

The man’s belt came down on his left shoulder with a stinging bite.

“I said, what’s your name?”

They’d played this game several times and apparently Paul never tired of the repetition. At this point, it was something of a script, a play they acted out again and again.

If Elijah gave in too soon, he’d be whipped bloody. And if he played along, he’d “only” have to endure the belt. And then afterward, Paul would fling him down on the soiled mattress and fuck his ass.

“Elijah.” He felt no connection to the name and never would. Elijah was weak, a prisoner, a victim, and the boy just knew he was made of stronger stuff.

One day, he would be the predator, not the prey.

The belt came down again and he winced.

“Tell me your name.” Elijah could hear the catch in his voice, the excitement. Hurting him turned Paul on. The sick bastard got off on inflicting pain. Elijah knew, without having to look over his shoulder, that he had a hard on.

It was time.

“I don’t have one,” he whispered.

“That’s right. You’re nothing, nobody.”

The words held a ring of truth.

“Say it.”

“I’m nobody.”

“Damn right. You’re nothing but a place to put my come.”

Elijah winced.

“You ain’t even a person. You’re just a thing, aren’t you? A dirty whore I use when I take a notion.”

Elijah flinched.

It never failed to amaze him. Somehow, the words hurt more than the actual beating.

The man grunted with satisfaction and Elijah recognized the whirr of his zipper being pulled down. Paul released Elijah and dragged him to the bed with trembling hands, so eager for what came next.

As the man mounted him from behind, Elijah squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something else, anything but the greasy cock pushing into his bowels.

If I somehow make it out of this dark and clammy hole in the ground, I’m gonna choose my own name.

Tennessee.

 Yeah, I like the sound of it.

People will call me Ten for short.

The post Draw Blood Chapter One appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Black and Blue

I’m so excited! Black and Blue is coming out in late March or April, depending on scheduling. Check out the blurb and cover below.

[image error]

Sometimes you need a second chance

Deputy U.S. Marshal Annie Foster accidentally got her partner killed during a routine prisoner transport. Now three dangerous felons are roaming the Kentucky countryside, and it’s all her fault. Black Star Security is hunting the fugitives, and Annie’s assisting them, even though she’s devastated by the mistake she made. But she didn’t count on West, a big, bad alpha male who’s an intoxicating mixture of ruthless and tender.

Life can leave you bruised

Former Navy SEAL, Jackson West, is trying to start over in the Bluegrass State. West had to choose between serving his country and being the parent his young daughter deserves. He’s missed too many milestones already and refuses to waste another second.  He’s formed Black Star Security with his military buddies, and they’re gonna kick a little @ss. For a price.

Will they capture the escaped convicts? And will West and Annie take a chance on each other?

The post Black and Blue appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Draw Blood is coming !

Finally, Ten’s book is coming. It will be out on February 12th and I can’t wait for you to read it. Head on over here for the blurb and a larger picture of the cover. Ten is my favorite LSM hero, simply because he’s so damaged. I’m looking forward to making him whole again.

 

~Cyndy

 

[image error]

The post Draw Blood is coming ! appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Black Star Security Series

Love military heroes? And romantic suspense novels? Then, I’ve got you covered!

Introducing my new series, Black Star Security, coming to Amazon in Spring 2018. These books can be read as standalones or as a series. It’s set in Kentucky and features former military heroes working together to save the day. I can’t wait for you to meet Zane, Fisher, Holt, Storm, and the rest of the crew.

Watch this space for more details!

The post Black Star Security Series appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Bad Blood is coming soon!

[image error]

 

I should be getting the book back from the editor in a week and then after the final read through, it will be ready. I can’t wait!

The post Bad Blood is coming soon! appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Writing Productivity Tools

Writing Productivity Tools

I love writing productivity tools! I started optimizing my process because I was always running behind schedule and never getting enough done. Over the past few weeks, I have been searching for ways to improve my productivity and I’ve collected helpful writing productivity tools that I’m sharing with you today. It’s worth noting that I use Android devices, so all of these are found in the Google Play store. Try these out, as well as other apps and refine your process. What works for me, might not work for you.

Also, I have a Kindle Fire, which doesn’t allow you access to the Google Play store. This has been a constant source of frustration and its’ something Amazon should reconsider, but I digress. So, I had to find workarounds. All of these tools are also available on a desktop version that I use on my tablets.

 

OneNote

My favorite app is OneNote and it’s absolutely free on all devices. I use it to collect ideas for upcoming books. I organize my notebooks by the title of my upcoming novel and then divide those into notebooks sections such as outlines, scene ideas, and launch plans.

I like OneNote because I have it on my phone, my Kindle, as well as my desktop so anytime an idea strikes, I can grab my device and jot down a note. It also supports audio input so I can just record my thoughts.

Now I don’t have a jumble of receipts, bits of paper, napkins, along with incoherent emails I sent in the middle of the night when an idea occurred to me. I’ve found ideas come at the worst times like when I’m in the shower or driving.  It’s a great way of keeping track of upcoming projects and placing all of your notes in one spot. I used to keep notes in Word but this eliminates a step.

Nirvana

Nirvana is another app I love. It uses the GTD method. It has both a paid and free version. While OneNote is wonderful for keeping track of ideas and other details of the project. It doesn’t work as a to-do list. So, I use Nirvana to track those large projects, as well as set due dates.

There’s also a great section, called inbox, that I use to capture ideas for tasks I’m going to complete during the week.

 

Pocket

Pocket was designed to capture articles online, in order to read them later. Pocket has both a paid and free version.  I use it to collect research on my books and also to organize my bookmarks. I love that you can tag an article or a website or a video in Pocket and get to it very fast, rather than an unorganized series of bookmarks on my tablet or my phone.  I was spending a lot of time searching through lists of random items to find things I needed. It can be frustrating and this is a way to have it at my fingertips.

OneDrive

I utilize OneDrive to store my book covers, completed book files, and my work in progress, so no matter where I am, I can grab the file I need. There’s also a sense of security knowing that my books are living in the cloud. If my desktop goes haywire or there’s a fire at my place, I haven’t lost them.

It’s also convenient. For example, I was out and about and received an email from my editor, and she said I’d send her the wrong version of the file. So I grabbed it from the cloud and attached it to an email, right from my phone.

Zapier and IFTT

These two tools can be used for automation. Both Zapier and IFTT have free and paid versions. If This Then That uses “recipes” to create automatic actions. Zapier does the same thing, only theirs are called “zaps.” Since everyone has different needs, I would encourage you to explore both sites and find out what automation works for you. One I use several times a day, involves transcription with my Dragon software. While I’m running around, I’ll dictate on my phone. Those files are automatically dumped into Google Drive but Dragon retrieves items from the computer, not an app. So I have an automation that will grab the file from Google Drive and then transfer it into OneDrive. Easy peasy. It’s a simple thing, but it saves me a step.

 

I hope this list gives you some ideas!

 

 

 

The post Writing Productivity Tools appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

How to Create an Author Website on WordPress

Want to know how to create an author website on WordPress? Every author needs a website to connect with fans, advertise projects, and build a web presence.

Buy a Domain Name

You can either buy a domain name, through your host or purchase it separately. Sometimes, the host will throw in your domain name for free.to see if your pen name domain is available. I would strongly recommend getting a .com website, rather than a .net or some other extension because people are familiar with .coms and it will be easier for fans to find you. Although, other extensions are considerably less expensive, so price may factor into your decision.

If your AuthorName.com domain isn’t available, I’ve seen other authors use AuthorNameAuthor.com. So mine would be CynthiaRayneAuthor.com. If you haven’t chosen a name yet, I would check both Google and Amazon to see if another author shares your pen name. For the sake of your readers, choose a unique pen name, so they can easily find you.

Choose a Host

I currently use SiteGround, but I’ve also hosted with GoDaddy, both are good, inexpensive options for authors. In my opinion, customer service at SiteGround is better. For example, I created a ticket for an issue I had, and it was fixed within the hour. There are a lot of start-up costs for an indie author (stock photos, cover art, ads, etc.) so minimizing expenses whenever possible is important. At SiteGround, the current monthly fee for website hosting is four dollars. That includes one website with 10,000 visitors a month and 4 GB of space. It also comes with WordPress hosting. It’s a bargain, if you ask me.

What is WordPress hosting?

Basically, it allows me to update the website without knowing any computer code. I’m not technologically advanced, but I get by just fine.WordPress hosting gives you a dashboard, where you can do posts, make pages, add plug-ins, etc.

Whenever I’m not sure how to do something on WordPress, I look for instructional videos on YouTube. This is less expensive than hiring someone to manage my website. I typically only spend a few hours a month updating and handling issues.

Choose a Theme

Okay, now we’re getting to the fun stuff. There are plenty of free themes available on WordPress. I wouldn’t pay for one straightaway. If you’re anything like me, your website will change several times before you decide on a look.  Both Fiverr and PicMonkey are inexpensive options to create logos and graphics for your website. I ultimately chose to buy a theme, which cost around $50, because I wasn’t happy with any of the available freebies. You’ll need to decide what’s the best option for your budget. StudioPress is a fantastic and affordable place to get a theme.

 

Create Pages & Add Plug-Ins

Once you’ve chosen a theme, add pages to your website. Some common pages are a bio page, a blog, a contact page, series/book pages, and upcoming releases. While designing mine, I took a look at other author websites for inspiration. Another step is adding useful plug-ins to your site.  Some of my favorites are Wordfence Security, Yoast SEO, MailMunch, and Sumo. Play around with these and find ones that suit your needs.

Customization

There are many ways to customize your website, such as fonts, graphics, color schemes. Consider branding in your decision-making process. Typically, a brand uses one or two fonts and two or three colors. For example, McDonald’s uses red and gold. Starbucks uses green and white. Macy’s uses white, black, and red, along with their signature star logo. I chose red, black, and white, along with a red pair of lips. To me, the lips are all about romance, which makes sense since I write in that genre. What is your niche within romance? For example, sci-fi romance authors use a lot of blue and purple, along with a futuristic font. Once I made some decisions, I used PicMonkey to customize my site.

 

Pulling it Together

I hope this gives you some basic ideas for starting an author website. Once you make the decision, you’ll want to echo these fonts and colors on your social media platforms as well. Why? It gives you a professional, pulled together look.

Happy designing!

 

The post How to Create an Author Website on WordPress appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Writing a Novel with Dragon

Writing a Novel with Dragon

So, I’m writing a novel with Dragon for the first time all the way through. I’ll keep you updated on the process.  I’ve used the software to complete my novel that was 80% done when I started using it. But for my next project, I’ll be relying on it exclusively to complete my first draft. And I’m actually really excited about it. Lately, I have been on a quest to improve my productivity. For the past three years, I’ve been putting out three books a year. I think I can do better. For one thing, I’ve become a full-time writer. Yet, I’m still only writing 2,000 words a day. So for the last couple of weeks, I’ve been writing with Dragon, in an effort to improve my word count per day.

And I’m actually really excited about it! Lately, I have been on a quest to improve my productivity. For the past three years, I’ve been putting out three books a year, but I know I can do better. For one thing, I’ve become a full-time writer. Yet, I’m still only writing 2,000 words a day. I kept up that word count when I had another full-time job. So for the last couple of weeks, I’ve been writing with Dragon, in an effort to improve my word count per day and give my wrist a break (more on that later).

So Far, So Good

I’ve only used the software for a few days, and I can already see an improvement. My new daily word count is 4,000. For one thing, I can speak faster than I type. Sometimes I’ve noticed when I’m writing that my fingers can’t keep up with the words in my head. Dragon solves this problem, and I can literally write as fast as I think.

Unless you do some pre-planning, it won’t help. However, I’m a plotter, not a pantser, so no problem. You’ll need an outline or a beat sheet, or whatever you use to organize your thoughts. Check out these writing resource books for some suggestions.

It is worth noting that the software might be easier for me to use, since I have a Midwestern American accent, and Dragon recognized my speech right out of the box. 

Benefits

With the transcription feature, Dragon can be used anywhere. So I can write in my car, at the grocery store, or while I’m waiting in line somewhere, and even lying in my bed night. All I do is grab my cell phone, hit the voice recorder app I downloaded, and start talking.

I use Dragon with a set of headphones, and they cost about $40. As a side note, it’s important to use a good quality microphone, whether you end up with a set of headphones or an actual microphone. Anyway, to improve my concentration, I started listening to focus music on Brain.FM. You can also find a lot of concentration/study music on YouTube for free. I’ve found the headphones block out extraneous noise, so I’m not distracted by the sound of a car alarm, or an emergency vehicle screaming down the street, or even the toddler in the apartment upstairs.

It’s easier to get into Flow State with Dragon.  Have you ever been writing, and lost track of time? Then you’ve been in flow. Basically, you get lost in the process.

I  also consider this software a health tool. Isn’t sitting considered the new smoking? I’ve used my cell phone as a dictation device, so I’ve taken it on a walk with me. Also, writing can be hard on your hands. That’s the reason I picked up the software.  I had a repetitive stress injury. It’s difficult to write when your wrist is throbbing in pain.

I’m a big believer in technology, and I’ve already written about the usefulness of Grammarly. Adding this software into the mix, is another improvement. For one thing, I’m less likely to make spelling errors with Dragon, and Grammarly is another layer to catch typos. Please note, neither one of these is an adequate replacement for a skilled editor. And even then, you might still have some sneaky typos.

 

Drawbacks

With Dragon, you have to speak your punctuation, and this can be awkward.  It takes a lot of practice and I flubbed up quite a few times. I’ve found it’s helpful to look at the screen, so you can get used to adding commas and such. Dialogue is challenging since you have to say “open quote hello there comma close quote he said.”

Names are a pain in the butt with the software. My current heroine is Etta and Dragon hates the name. Instead, it will write “at the” so I have to go back to correct it. I’ve been doing research on the subject and it’s a common issue. I can’t even imagine what it does with made-up names (used in sci-fi or paranormal romance). A lot of authors use a placeholder. I’ve done the same. Instead of Etta, I’m using Ella. After drafting, I’ll use the find and replace function in Word to fix it.

There is a lot of time investment upfront with the software. I read aloud from my books, painstakingly corrected errors as they appeared (to improve the software’s future performance), and uploaded a couple of my books, so it could learn my writing style.

Resources

This is the version of the software I bought, so I can use the transcription service. In the home version, transcription isn’t available.

[image error] [image error]

I chose a set of headphones likes this.

[image error][image error]

 

The Writer’s Guide to Training Your Dragon has been invaluable. The author gives lots of other useful tips and tricks. He’s been using the software for years.

 

 

[image error] [image error]

 

Dictate your Book has some similar tips. I’ve read both books, and in my opinion, either one of them will suffice.

[image error][image error]

The post Writing a Novel with Dragon appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.

Navy SEAL research

Since I’m writing Justice’s book, I’ve been delving into the world of Navy SEALS and learning a lot along the way. For one thing, even the training is brutal. They’re pushed to the limits of what they can do, and then beyond. It’s been eye-opening. So, it gives me a real insight into his character.

Justice is dealing with a painful past and PTSD. So I can already tell I’ll need to up my game on what he’s gone through if he’s already survived this kind of hell.

The post Navy SEAL research appeared first on Cynthia Rayne.