Jami Gray's Blog, page 10
December 1, 2016
#NANO Survivor
November 24, 2016
Happy Turkey Day!
November 17, 2016
Conjuring Misery Chapter 10 Part II #UF #serial #western
November 10, 2016
Conjuring Misery Chapter 10 Part I #UF #serial #western
November 3, 2016
Driving the NANO-bahn #nanotips #nano
October 27, 2016
Conjuring Misery Chapter 9 Part II #UF #western #serial
July 7, 2016
Meet the Intriguing BK Stevens and Her Mysterious Tales #mystery #YA
June 8, 2016
June 2, 2016
Conjuring Misery Chapter 5 (the first half)
Welcome back, oh devotees of CONJURING MISERY. We’re (by this I mean, me, Dave Benneman and Camille Douglass) happy to pick up our tale of gunslinging mayhem and magic as we rejoin our plucky gambler, Sam, at his invite only poker game….
Chapter Five
Sam
The cards were not falling into my lap as usual and my ability to sense what the other players might have was hit or miss. Gunther came through loud and clear, but I could take his money without any help. I played my cards smart and kept my bets conservative. Villalobos was less clear, but his tells were readable. When I looked at Jinx thousands of playing cards swirled about caught in a twister. It made me dizzy. Miss Snake projected her usual blank slate. Two Crows scared the shit out of me. Searching him had me staring into an endless abyss. Blacker than midnight and smelling of death. I didn’t usually get scents making Two Crows doubly disturbing.
Gunther’s stake diminished with each hand. I watched Villalobos close as he dealt the next hand. He seemed the most likely to pull a fast one. Hard as I tried I couldn’t get Two Crows to do more than grunt at me when I asked him something. I had the distinct feeling the stakes were higher than the pot indicated. Everyone at the table had that look in their eye a miner gets when he first sees a sign of gold. For some it meant greed and for others it signified power.
The half playing card matching my own was more of a summons than an invite. It meant the Yaqui Star was in play. Throwing my lot in with the sisters seemed like a smarter move with every deal. Villalobos didn’t have it. If he did, he’d be high-tailing it back to Mendez with the goods. Gunther was a throw away. He didn’t belong here. Once his money ran out, he would be tossed out on his ass. Jinx represented the wild card. Was he with us or against us? Based on my observations I leaned toward against. Two Crows could be holding the goods. It was an Indian relic after all. He could also be in pursuit of the Star. I was no closer to figuring this out than when I walked in.
Smoke came in with chaos on one arm and charm on the other. Her constant traveling companions were easily recognizable. “Hey y’all, brought you some decent hooch if anyone’s interested.” Glasses clinked in her hand as she waved them about.
“What the hell? Is this a public hanging?” Villalobos pointed a dirty finger at her. “Get out. This here is private game.”
Smoke’s smile grew sharper. “If you want to count to ten tomorrow, you’ll put that away. Mendez is not a man who likes damaged goods. He’ll throw you out with yesterdays bath water if I send you back with nine fingers.”
Confusion washed over his face, but to his credit, he slowly lowered his finger.
Jinx chuckled, but didn’t look up from his cards. “Don’t pay her no mind. She’s as flaky as yo mama’s biscuits.”
“Who’s responsible for letting that old reprobate in here?” She motioned at Jinx with her bottle of hooch. “I didn’t know Meemaw’s apron strings stretched this far. Or are you AWOL from the protection of her womb?”
Jinx’s color turned a little darker. “Shut it Smoke, before I put you across my knee and whip your fanny.”
I noticed too that his projection changed from a whirlwind of cards to a dark figure in a hooded shroud. This twisted my mind even further. Over the years, I understood the projections that came to me were of significance to the person sending at that moment. During a poker game, most men concentrated on their cards, giving me a peek into their hand. Any other time the images meant nothing to me and were all over the place, to the point I taught myself to block them out. Tonight the volatile gathering made blocking them out difficult.
Smoke laughed and set the booze and glasses down next to me. “Why don’t you try that? Lay hands on me once and I’ll gut you like a fish. Alls’ I need is one reasonable explanation for Meemaw.” She gave a careless shrug. “She won’t like it, but I’ll take my chances.”
“You much respected by your family Jinx.” Villalobos slapped the table rattling glasses. He laughed alone.
Two Crows looked like he was taking a nap, but I knew he saw everything through those slitted eyes. Poor Gunther was about to soil his britches. Jinx glared at Villalobos. Snake sat quiet, but her mouth held a hint of a smile. I think she was hoping to see Jinx gutted. Aside from me, it appeared no one liked Jinx. At the moment, I had no opinion one-way or the other.
“Don’t you worry your greasy head over it none,” the beleaguered redhead drawled, finally looking up. “Respect is over rated. Fear of me is what they have. And their fear will keep them breathing until they forget.”
I opened the bottle Smoke brought in and poured myself a liberal amount. “Here’s to fear.” I tossed back the drink. “Now can we get back to the game at hand?”
The room felt crowded and the air thickened. I waited.
“Señorita, you are playing?” Villalobos asked.
Smoke’s red lips made a sneer of distaste. “I think I’ll sit this hand out.”
“There is no room for, how you say, sitting out.” He watched her the way a cat watched a curious mouse. “Play or leave.” He twisted one end of his mustache.
“Look who found his cajones.” Smoke applauded.
Villalobos pushed back his chair. Before he could rise, Snake’s two lead spitting machines were out. One pointed at Jinx. The barrel of the second one placed squarely in the center of Villalobos’ dark eyes.
“Niece of mine, why you pointing that at me?” Jinx set his cards face down on the table.
“You never know what direction trouble comes from.” Her full attention remained on Villalobos even as her tone stayed lazy. “Maybe you get shot in the crossfire. One can’t be too careful.” There was no humor, just haunting darkness as she continued, “You’re going to want to slide your macho ass back into that chair before I have to ventilate your forehead. You understand me, Mexican?”
With the introduction of Snake’s two side arms, the room got smaller and the air huddled in the corners. I considered cashing out. My gut screamed to cut and run. I was a lover, not a fighter. Yet when it came down to it, I stayed. I could hold my own under normal circumstances. Dragon Breath spilled her share of blood in desperate times. I could see another such moment arriving here as clearly as one could see a late night train arriving at the station.
Raising both hands, I slowly stood. “Let’s all settle down a little. Miss Smoke, if you would please join us.” I grabbed an empty chair sitting behind me and made space between Two Crows and myself. She gracefully sat with a rustle of taffeta and pushed in her chair.
“Mr. Villalobos, please.” He scooted in, not much, but enough.
Now for the hard part. “Miss Snake, if I might, implore you to put your weapons away for the moment.”
That half smile returned and she nodded at me. I understood this as direction to sit. I sat and she retired her pistols keeping the one on Jinx until the very last. Obviously, the sisters wanted me to believe they had issue with their Uncle Jinx. For what, I could only imagine.
Straightening my glasses, I cleared my throat. “Before we begin, I suggest we all try some of this very tasty moonshine Miss Smoke so graciously brought us. At no small expense either, if I know Charlie.” I poured and passed glasses around the table. To my surprise, Two Crows accepted one. “May Lady Luck sit at your right hand tonight.” Everyone drank, except Two Crows. He politely lifted his glass, but the moonshine never touched his lips.
Smoke arranged two bit coins along with an ample supply of silver dollars.
I held my hand out for the cards. They were passed my way with only a little grumbling.
Gunther mopped sweat off his brow and forced a smile. “That’s more like it. A friendly game of cards.”
I was sure he’d soiled his britches by now and was grateful I hadn’t chosen to sit next to him. “Miss Smoke, as the new comer you may have the honor of the deal.” I showed off my one handed cut before passing her the cards.
The deal progressed around the table to Jinx without incident. Gunther was one hand away from getting the boot and I didn’t understand his purpose here. At least, not until he shared how he and Diamond Jim were old friends. Seemed the two served in the war together, fighting for South. The more he drank the more he talked. When he got to the story about Jim’s Indian girl friend, no one interrupted but the tension grew to a fever pitch. Wrapped in alcoholic splendor, Gunther remained oblivious as he related how the Yaqui Star came to be in Jim’s possession. As he babbled on, I wondered. He must know, or at least have a guess, as to the where abouts of this sought after piece of folklore.
With a pair of aces and an eight, I raised the bet.
Jinx passed out the fourth card and I froze. Another eight. The dead man’s hand.
I would not be playing this hand out.
Our humblest apologies, but we shall stop here, mid-chapter so as not to take you away from your daily routine for too long. Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion to Sam’s dilemma on our way to the next blood curling stop in our magical western adventure…
May 26, 2016
TOUCHED BY FATE is now on shelves near you! #newrelease #pnr #romsus
Mike! MIKE! Do you know what day it is? IT’S RELEASE DAY!
(Actually, release day was Tuesday, but since life pretty much splattered like pigeon poop on a windshield, we’re doing release day today!)
That’s right! TOUCHED BY FATE, the second book in my PSY-IV Teams series is now available wherever you purchase your e-books! So if you haven’t gotten your copy yet, go (insert shooing motions with hands). Go get your copy and don’t miss Risia and Tag as they race through the less glamourous side of Vegas and espionage.
Now available in eBook format at:
MUSEIT UP / AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / iBOOKS / KOBO / SCRIBD
TOUCHED BY FATE, PSY-IV Teams #2
Trusting him with her secrets is dangerous.
As a specialized consultant for the Department of Defense, Risia Lacoste understands the bargaining chip of a well-kept secret. When her current assignment threatens to unearth her deeply buried skeletons, she’s forced into a high-stakes game of lies and loyalty where even her ability to foresee the future can’t predict the winner.
Trusting him with her heart could be fatal.
Darkness lies under the skin of every man, and PSY-IV Team operative and touch empath, Tag Gunderson, has the demons to prove it. Scarred by betrayal and disillusionment, he’s not Risia’s top pick for a partner in the game, but he’s all she’s got.
As the game draws them deeper into a pit of intrigue and their list of enemies grow, will Risia trust Tag with more than her secrets or will his demons destroy them both?
READ CHAPTER ONE
Why, when you finally think you have your chosen path hammered out, Fate, the fickle bitch, always, I mean always, manages to knock you on your ass? Let’s just check out where my ass was currently. Hunched behind a mammoth RV, you know the kind, those massive houses on wheels that tend to flock southward every winter. Unfortunately, this particular one was perched in a parking lot, a stone’s throw from my lovely, air-conditioned condo in downtown Las Vegas. Not only was the baked asphalt burning said ass, but I was still struggling with watching another, very daring ass of the presumably male variety dangle off my top-floor balcony before dropping down to the one below it.
What the hell?
Maybe the July heat was playing tricks with my mind. Either that or last night’s ugly events had finally broken my tenuous hold on sanity. Yeah, let’s go with that one, because sanity and I had a very contentious relationship. One where it threatened to take a hike on a regular basis, while I tried to lure it back with lofty promises even I knew I wouldn’t keep.
Promises like I’d never question that gut-tugging sensation screaming warnings again. Because it normally meant things were about to take a very drastic downturn. Like coming home last night while riding high on the possibility of finally being done with my current assignment for Colonel Charlene Delacourt, the warning signs started their high pitched aria. I ignored them. Not smart. Nope. Instead, I walked right into my home, confident the building’s security wouldn’t allow for an ambush.
Arrogant, maybe. Careless, not usually. Distracted, definitely.
Stupid, never.
So last night, instead of being able to kick off my gorgeous lavender Jimmy Choo’s, I ended up sipping a Booker Noe neat trying to disguise my internal freak out of having been met by Lawrence Rawlings, the egomaniac behind Aether Industries and his hulking sidekick in my own (albeit rented) living room. And that wasn’t the end of it. It got better. Or worse, depending on your point of view.
Not only did Rawlings want me to endorse Aether’s upcoming contract with the Department of Defense, he wanted much more. And if he didn’t get what he wanted—namely me, and then his contract—he had no problems exploiting, what I had believed until he opened his mouth, a very well-hidden secret.
The DOD paid me good money to vet their civilian contracts, money which allowed my penchant for expensive footwear, a skyline view of the Vegas strip, and a closet full of indulgences. That same money kept my troublesome secrets six feet under. Secrets Rawlings shouldn’t have been able to unearth. But whoever he had digging up my past, dug deep.
So deep in fact, by the time Rawlings left with his smarmy smile and menacing shadow, I found myself between a rock and a hard place, wishing I had something a hell of a lot stronger than whiskey.
Mixing whiskey with nerves had triggered my desperate attempt at leveling the playing field. Which, in turn, led to my current position, crouched behind an RV watching someone spider-man his way out of my condo. It was such a death- defying stunt, even my lungs were stunned. And they didn’t remember to function until whoever that was dropped safely onto the balcony below mine. For a moment, all I could do was stare at where the whole surreal thing had happened, my very tired and battered brain trying to figure out the who and why, but coming up empty.
One thing was clear. Going home was not an option. Dammit.
Fate was having a hell of a good time at my expense.
Let’s tally her bill, shall we? A black eye, check. Bruised ribs, check. A bullet graze stinging across my shoulder, check. Nerves strung tight on exhaustion, double damn check.
Sweat trickled down my spine, and the muscles in my legs trembled. Not just from their uncomfortable position, but because for the last fourteen hours, I’d run more than I’d ever run in my life. Being blessed with a hyperactive metabolism, running was never really a consideration. Well, not until last night. And if things didn’t change soon, I’d be doing some more mad dashes trying to stay ahead of the rolling mounds of crap hurtling toward me.
What I should do is call Colonel Delacourt. Especially since it was mainly her fault I was in this mess to begin with. My job as the colonel’s information collector allowed me to play some very exciting, sometimes dangerous games. Most of the time, I didn’t mind. The adrenaline rush was almost as good as the paycheck, but this time the rush was fraying my nerves to tiny shreds.
Neither the DOD nor Delacourt could pay me enough to repair Rawlings’s damage to my nerves and my aching body. Initially, Rawlings garnered the DOD’s attention because his communications company had managed to find and solve a newly discovered weak spot in the government’s encrypted communications program. It wasn’t an overnight sensation. It took three years of work. For three years the DOD watched Rawlings and his Boyau Project. It wasn’t until Rawlings presented his project’s results and pointed out the DOD’s little problem, all the while requesting to put Aether’s prototypes with one of the many U.S. acronymned agencies, that the DOD decided to send me in to evaluate how accurate his claims were.
Then Delacourt, mistress of manipulation and guilt trips, called.
Seemed someone managed to hack into some very delicate files in some hush-hush agency, and were now preparing to market them to the highest bidder. For reasons known only to those above my pay grade, her interest turned to Rawlings and his new, nifty toy. Since my job just happened (yes, that was sarcasm you picked up there) to put me in the perfect spot, would I mind doing some digging for her? Stir in a subtle tablespoon of “you owe me” and a dash of guilt, and I teetered. Offering two paychecks for one job? Doable. So I tumbled right over the edge and agreed.
Maybe I should’ve thought it through a bit more, because right now, two paychecks wouldn’t come close to getting me out of this mess. But Delacourt had a team, a kick-ass team with unusual talents who could. Maybe. Problem was, a favor from Delacourt would be cashed in with interest sooner or later, and I was busy avoiding one particular team member as if he carried the plague. He didn’t. In fact, I kind of wish he did so he’d get the hell out of my head at the most inopportune times. Especially since I was pretty sure my preoccupation was one- sided.
Still, skulking in a parking lot in late afternoon in Vegas with dried blood and other things I really didn’t want to think about right now decorating my black cargos and T-shirt, stuck between a rock and hard place, calling Delacourt was quickly becoming my only viable option.
Armed with a new plan, tenuous though it was, I straightened, simultaneously wincing and groaning as my shoulder woke up. The too-close call with a bullet wasn’t going quietly into that good night. A lovely parting gift from my failed attempt to level the playing field. Failed as in, it tilted it decidedly out of my favor. I looked around preparing to move out, when life reached out and slapped me upside the head, because everything leading up to this wasn’t enough to crush me. The late-afternoon sun gained strength and seared across my retinas safely ensconced behind dark lenses. The world began to white out.
“Dammit, not now, please not now.” I slammed both palms against the RV, the metal burning my skin. My plea fell on deaf ears. The world wavered. Edges too bright. Shadows dancing in strange forms. Then the whispers started. See, told you sanity and I were not friends. Frustration and maybe a smidgen of fear rose, and I refused to listen, refused to see. My forehead joined my hands. Setting my waning patience, desperation, and anger against the sense of impending doom, I shoved against what waited. It backed off. The reprieve wouldn’t last long. Never did. And when it returned, it would bring reinforcements. Fun times.
My breathing was overly loud, but the sounds of voices and footsteps managed to get my attention. Trying not to aggravate the soft pounding in my skull, I slowly raised my head. At first, it was just a moving blob, then it became a small group of people exiting the condo and heading across the parking lot. As they took shape, something—no, someone—caught my attention. It took a moment for the image to register. And when it did, I didn’t know if I should jump for joy or just sit down and bawl.
At least I now knew who had been spider-manning from my balcony, and possibly courting a death wish.
Walking out the front doors, standing above the crowd of casually dressed businessmen was the last person I wanted to see, no matter how much he invaded my thoughts.
Thomas Anderson Gunderson. Tag.
Oh. My. God. Life really had a hard-on for me.
Have I scratched your interest enough to tempt you to get a copy? Good. Then go forth and get yours!
Now available in eBook format at:
MUSEIT UP / AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / iBOOKS / KOBO / SCRIBD
