Me and Brad (Short Story)

by Mal Olson

  “Protective custody.” He patted his pocket. “I’ll get you home safely, and you won’t even have to whistle.”

  Dear God, she was trapped in her car with a man who oozed so much male charisma she felt like she was drowning in testosterone.

  “Seriously, how do I know your ID is legit? You could be an ax murderer for all I know.”

  “You want to call the Bureau?” He offered his cell phone. “You can get the number from information. You wouldn’t want to trust a suspected mass murderer for the correct number.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “It’s listed under Federal Bureau of Investigation. They’ll vouch that I’m a really nice guy.”

  When she took the phone, his body heat clung to it and warmed her palm, irritatingly so. “Are you, really?”

  “What, hiding an ax under my jacket?”

  “No.” She scowled and thumbed in 411. It didn’t hurt to check him out. “Are you really a nice guy?”

  “What do you think?”

  She thought he wanted to interrogate her. And none of the nice guys she knew were pumped like Hercules. Rather than answering him, she spoke into the phone, “I’d like the number for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  The car behind them honked, and she turned her attention to driving and squeezed past the stranded Tahoe. While edging into the intersection, she concentrated on the snow squall, the taillights of the car ahead of them, and on memorizing the numbers the automated voice was reciting in her ear.

  “Look out!” Crazaniak yelled as the Lexus materialized from the right, racing toward them. “The bastard must have turned off somewhere and circled around.”

  “Jeez, he’s going to ram us!” Shannon dropped the phone and stomped the gas pedal. The tires whined and spun and finally dug beneath the slush. But when rubber found traction, the car catapulted forward too fast.

  Streetlights whirled.

  Her 944 swapped ends twice on the glazed surface and came to a dead stop in the middle of the intersection.

  The Lexus revved its engine, its wheels pelting ice. Then rocketed toward them for a second attack.

  Paralyzed, Shannon froze in terror. Every muscle in her body locked up. Static electricity lifted the hair at her nape. An image of the accident two years ago flashed through her mind.

  “Hit the gas! Hit the gas!”

  EXCERPT 2 – Shadow of Deceit:

  The gun Shannon came across at the bottom of a neatly folded stack of masculine attire on her bed shouldn’t have surprised her. She’d seen the agent’s Glock earlier.

  Intrigued, she reached for the pistol, an object that seemed so out of place in her bedroom. As though she were familiar with handling firearms when she wasn’t, she wrapped her hand around the grip then jerked her head toward the bathroom door, conjuring up thriller fantasies.

  But she didn’t have to conjure anything when she noticed a letter poking out of Crazaniak’s inside jacket pocket. Nor did she have to imagine the fact that the closet door stood slightly ajar. Her stomach clenched, a mix of anger and unease. Had the FBI agent been nosing through Tyler’s belongings?

  Tit for tat—the urge to sneak a peak overwhelmed her. Her heartbeat ratcheted up as she shifted the gun to her left hand and reached for the letter.

  At that instant, she sensed a presence behind her. Even as the sound of water pounded the walls of the tub enclosure, Shannon knew in her heart of hearts that six foot-plus of dripping wet, naked man stood not relaxing under the water jets, but hovering five heart-palpitating feet away.

  “Want to toss me my clothes?” he asked.

  Unwilling to face him, she remained quick-frozen like a pillar of ice.

  “Tell me you weren’t snooping in my things,” he rumbled.

  “Tell me you weren’t snooping in my closet.”

  “I wasn’t snooping.”

  She eyed the edge of the letter. “I thought I’d treat your duds to some suds. You want to hang out in my robe for a few?”

  “Not enough material there to cover my manly attributes. I’ll settle for day-old Jockeys, and what the hell were you doing with my pistol?”

  “Nothing.” She almost turned around.

  Her chest thumped. The thought of Crazaniak au natural not only spiked her pulse, it titillated her imagination. She waited for a chord of guilt to strum across her heart. It didn’t happen. Instead, discord fluttered low in her abdomen, and she sensed him moving closer.

  To read more of Shadow of Deceit, a full-length romantic suspense novel by Mal Olson purchase a copy from:

  THE WILD ROSE PRESS

  ebook or paperback

  AMAZON

  Most online booksellers

  Available March 7, 2012

  Review of Shadow of Deceit:

  “Shadow of Deceit delivers on the author’s promise of adrenaline-kicked romance with great characters, a well-developed plot, and action packed scenes that’ll keep readers turning the pages and wanting more! Shannon is a heroine who’s been dealt a tragic blow but somehow manages to keep on living. Her strength is tested when she discovers her recently deceased husband had deadly secrets that have come back to haunt her. Though knocked for a loop the moment he sees Shannon’s beautiful blue eyes, FBI Agent Tony Crazaniak suspects she knows more than she claims. Attempts on her life cast him in the role of protector as well as investigator, and he’s helpless to resist their sizzling attraction. The end result is Mal Olson’s great debut full of action and emotion that you won’t want to miss!” ~ Stacey Joy Netzel, award winning author of Lost In Italy.

  Calatrava Conspiracy

  (Two Military Heroes Hunt Down a Terrorist)

  by Mal Olson

  Romantic Suspense – Short Story

  Available March 2012

  EXCERPT – Calatrava Conspiracy:

  The plane shimmied. Even with a ninety percent hearing loss, Benjamin Thigpen, special consultant to Homeland Security, detected a faint droning whine.

  “Attention, please. We are experiencing severe turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts as we begin our final descent into Milwaukee.” Thiggy read the flight attendant’s lips while the seatbelt sign at the front of the Boeing 757 seconded the motion to fasten up.

  “This could be a rough one,” he said, speaking for the first time to the woman seated next to him. The young woman dressed in United States Air Force dress blues.

  She looked up from the book she’d been absorbed in since they’d left D.C., glanced out the window then turned a pair of extraordinary eyes on him. Eyes the color of a stormy ocean, perhaps the color of a tempest-tossed Lake Michigan if one could see Lake Michigan as they prepared to land at Mitchell International in a near-blizzard.

  A sea of white curtained the view from the window. Thiggy sensed the reduction in thrust and a slight forward tilt. As they nosed into their descent, he watched the young woman’s face to read her reply. It wasn’t a hardship. Flawless creamy skin. Thick dark hair with golden highlights. And if he hadn’t noticed immediately, midnight black lashes framed her navy blue eyes.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure the pilot knows what he’s doing,” she assured. When she shifted, he noticed the silver wings on her uniform. An Air Force pilot. Probably an Air Force Academy graduate, definitely a commissioned officer, and she had toughed out training as extreme as Thiggy’s basics—at least before he’d progressed to the ranks of Delta Force. She’d endured land survival, water survival, and pilot training. Yeah, she’d been through hell, but she’d also touched heaven.

  All of which probably accounted for her calm deliberate movements as she slid the tray against the seat in front of her and moved her chair to the upright position. Her composure went a long way toward convincing him they weren’t about to crash and burn.

  Even so, as they buffeted through the altitude changes into the land of horizontal snow and zero visibility, Thiggy digressed to white-knuckle mode. He hadn’t been tossed around in the sky like this since the day he fled Afgha
nistan’s Korengal Valley in a chopper.

  It was the day he’d realized his world had gone silent.

  Slightly less harrowing than evading surface to air missiles, today’s decent was still a nail-biter as the passenger jet with one-hundred-and-eighty-two souls aboard rode out the storm.

  (Calatrava Conspiracy, a short story by Mal Olson available March 2012.)

  Lost In Italy

  by Stacey Joy Netzel

  LOST IN ITALY, by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Review quote: “...filled with so much suspense that I found my heart pounding in my chest hoping Halli and Trent would make it out of this insane situation alive. ...a wonderful addition to your library, and a great gift for an avid reader...this is definitely one story that you shouldn’t pass up!” Diana Coyle ~ Night Owl Reviews, Reviewer TOP PICK

  The best laid plans…

  Halli Sanders spent two years planning the trip of a lifetime to Italy. Her itinerary did not include being stranded by her siblings, kidnapped by a sexy American movie star, dodging bullets, or fleeing criminals in a car chase around Lake Como. And that’s just in the first three hours.

  …often go awry.

  Trent Tomlin put his movie career on hold to investigate his brother’s murder-ruled-suicide at his Italian villa. He’s closing in on the suspects when an American tourist unwittingly films the murder of the retired cop helping him. The killers will stop at nothing to get the evidence—including holding Halli’s family as collateral.

  Life’s a little different unscripted.

  Thrust into the role of real-life hero, Trent finds himself falling for the Plain Jane whose beauty blossoms with every challenge they face. But how can he keep the evidence from falling into the wrong hands and get justice for his brother and friend without betraying Halli and her family?

  EXCERPT:

  He led her back in the direction they'd come, careful to retrace their steps, but at the same time, not use the same route. Most especially, he wanted to give the accident scene a wide berth.

  After about a minute, she clutched his arm. “Why are you going this way?”

  “I parked near the station.”

  “We can't go back there,” she protested when he continued forward.

  “We don't have much of a choice.”

  “But it's not safe!”

  “Now you realize that.”

  She let go of his arm and stopped. Trent turned around to find her glaring at him, fists propped on her hips.

  “Don't be a jerk again.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on one foot. “Listen, I don't like the thought of it either, but unfortunately, I've only got two vehicles. One's by the police station, and the other is in my garage, full of bullet holes. Which one would you rather take to Milan?”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line and stalked past him. Trent shook his head as he caught up. She still didn't trust him. After he'd saved her butt twice already. What the hell would it take?

  About ten minutes later, he put a hand on her arm as they reached an intersection. “The station is down that way about two blocks. I’m parked on the other side a couple streets away, so we'll have to go around.”

  She remained silent, following his lead without resistance or comment. Finally. When he looked down and caught a look of exhaustion on her face, he was reminded of the fact that she wouldn’t have had any sleep since landing in the country.

  A twinge of sympathy increased his step. The poor girl still had a long night ahead of her once she reached the consulate. And God knew she had to be worried sick about her brother and sister.

  He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his car a few minutes later. "This is it," he said as he dug his keys from his pocket.

  She slumped against the passenger side of the Mercedes while he unlocked the door and opened it for her. She straightened, then stepped back with a soft gasp, staring over his shoulder. A quick glance located the reason for her alarm and gave him his own jolt.

  Three intersections away, a police car turned onto their street and slowly drove toward them. They had no time to run. Nowhere to hide.

  Trent stepped closer to Halli, grasped both her arms and hauled her against him. He brought his mouth down on hers, betting the cop would ignore a passionate kiss and keep on driving. A hell of a gamble, but their only option.

  Wide blue eyes staring into his, Halli made a sound of protest deep in her throat. She fought against his tight embrace, but Trent knew it had to look authentic. He moved his lips over hers, trying to communicate his intentions with his eyes. If she'd just relax—

  Her foot jammed into his shin.

  “Stop it.”

  “Let me go!”

  “Just kiss me.”

  “No way—”

  “Kiss me before I get arrested for assault,” he growled against her mouth. “Or have you forgotten about the damn cops?”

  She stopped struggling and her eyes closed. Finally, the little idiot had figured it out.

  Trent felt her body relax by degrees, enough that he loosened his arms and rubbed his hands over her back for full visual effect. Her head tilted a little to the right. Her lips softened. Her arms stole up around his neck.

  Going into the kiss, he had every intention of keeping it an act. No tongue, all show. Keep his eyes open and once the cop passed, they'd be on their way. But her lips parted ever so slightly with a soft little sigh, and details began to register in his adrenaline-high brain. Her curves molded along his body, soft breasts crushed to his chest, slim hips snug against his.

  His peripheral vision recorded the police vehicle gliding by. The officer didn't even give them a second glance. When the car continued down the street and turned a corner, relief tightened his arms around Halli.

  God, her lips were so soft. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of a lipstick-free kiss. Compared to the women he usually dated, it was a rare, welcome treat. She smelled great, too, after her shower; all fresh with a hint of flowers. No cloying perfume to choke his lungs.

  One hand slid up to cup the back of her head, and he discovered her hair was indeed as soft as it looked. He ran the tip of his tongue along her lower lip as a test, uncharacteristically cautious with this mistrusting woman who'd resisted him at every turn. Something else he wasn’t accustomed to. Because, as she’d guessed, often all it took was a crook of his finger. A wink. A smile.

  Her hold around his neck tightened, pulling him closer as she opened to him without reservation. Trent forgot the cop; forgot their dire situation; forgot that earlier he’d claimed she wasn’t his type. He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue inside her mouth. His taste buds registered a hint of espresso, but underneath, she was sweeter than he'd have imagined. Her tongue slid against his, advancing and retreating, teasing and seducing until his body responded to the rising passion.

  Trent spun to lean back against his car, pulling Halli with him. A groan rumbled in his chest. He slid both hands down her back and kept going until her butt filled his palms. Perfect. One swift move lifted her to ride his thigh. Desire pulsed harder and faster. His arms closed around her, pressing her body tight to his. It’d been forever since he’d enjoyed the simple act of kissing so much.

  Directly following that thought he became aware of the fact she no longer clung tight to his shoulders. In fact, she'd stopped participating altogether. He was kissing her now, just like at the beginning, but add tongue and minus the resistance. Before he could more than withdraw his tongue, Halli spoke against his tingling lips.

  “Is he gone?”

  Trent opened his eyes to find her watching him, her expression calm, cool and collected. Heat flooded his face. He looked in the direction the cop had disappeared and practically dropped her as he straightened.

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and put some space between them. “He's gone.”

  She smoothed her hair back from her face and squared her shoulders. “Then let's go.”

  Let's
go? That's it?

  What the hell just happened?

  Excerpt 2, Trent and Halli’s escape from the police station:

  “The female officer who was getting me a soda has probably found out I’m gone by now.”

  “Yep.” He jerked a pair of coveralls out and held them up. Too small for him, too big for her. As he tossed them aside, he instructed, “Do something with your hair. Put it up. Something so it looks different.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s an exit just down the hall. That’s where I was headed when you grabbed me.”

  Trent glanced over in surprise. “You were leaving?”

  “I saw the guy from the villa, too. I think his name is Alrigo. At least that’s what the officer called him—”

  His pulse skipped a beat. Alrigo Lapaglia. He’d heard of the guy a couple times, and Lorenzo had said his name on the wire, but he hadn’t been able to put a face with the name until now. “You’re sure he said Alrigo?”

  “Yes. He was talking to one of the cops, and he said video camera twice, so I pretended to be sick so I could get out of there.” She tucked the jacket between her knees as she tied her hair in a ponytail with a piece of string she’d pulled off a shelf. “Did you watch the video?”

  “Exactly when do you think I would’ve had time to find a battery?”

  “I just thought…well, it’s been a couple of hours since I left your place.”

  “And I’ve been sitting outside, waiting to make sure you were okay.”

  Her turn to look surprised. “You waited for me?”

  “Don’t read anything into it. I’d have done the same for a stray dog.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Right back at ya, baby.”

  He held up another pair of coveralls. Close enough. As he stepped into them, he directed a new surge of anger toward her bent head.

  “You screwed me over real good, you know that? After your story, the police have probably already swarmed my place and found the camera and the video. Not to mention the recording from Lorenzo’s wire. That was my only proof—”