A master of disguise, Cali has assumed so many identities over the years that remembering who she was born to be is impossible. Abandoned on the streets as a child, she was rescued by André Dalhard. She’s served him loyally for many years, using her shape-shifting abilities to take on new personas in the blink of an eye, such as Boomerang, the master thief. To save Mr. Dalhard from prison, she becomes Colleen Avila, a meek and mild personal secretary.
Joe initially planned to use Colleen as a confidential informant, but wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his feelings for her. When he meets the arrogant and brash Boomerang and the determined and fearless Cali, he finds himself torn between the three women. For Cali, she knows she must inevitably either break Joe’s heart or turn against the man who saved her from a life of uncertainty and poverty.
As Joe and Cali work together, they discover an even greater threat to the lalassu, one that could send everyone tumbling down into a new rabbit hole. If their fears are realized, neither their friends nor their enemies will be able to escape.
"Spectacular" is not a strong enough word for this book!
Jennifer's writing is exceptional. Her word choice, imagery, dialogue, EVERYTHING is so perfectly done. Add to that nail-biting elements of the suspenseful drama entwined throughout, and that makes for one heck of a story!
As with the other books in this series, I was sucked in from the first page. This was one of those books where I would sneak even a paragraph into any spare moment I could find.
When I think of "romantic suspense," this is my ideal story. While this does have paranormal elements to it, I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND this to anyone looking for an AMAZING romantic suspense. The "suspense" is definitely present, but so is the romance!
I am sincerely hoping that Jennifer adds more books to this series. An underlying plot has unfolded over the course of the series. I would absolutely suggest reading them in order, and reading all of them because they're amazing.
But don't say I didn't warn you. You'll be HOOKED!
(I received a copy of this book in consideration of an honest review)
Jennifer's writing is exceptional. Her word choice, imagery, dialogue, EVERYTHING is so perfectly done. Add to that nail-biting elements of the suspenseful drama entwined throughout, and that makes for one heck of a story!
As with the other books in this series, I was sucked in from the first page. This was one of those books where I would sneak even a paragraph into any spare moment I could find.
When I think of "romantic suspense," this is my ideal story. While this does have paranormal elements to it, I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND this to anyone looking for an AMAZING romantic suspense. The "suspense" is definitely present, but so is the romance!
I am sincerely hoping that Jennifer adds more books to this series. An underlying plot has unfolded over the course of the series. I would absolutely suggest reading them in order, and reading all of them because they're amazing.
But don't say I didn't warn you. You'll be HOOKED!
(I received a copy of this book in consideration of an honest review)
“Hey, Detective Cabrera. Good catch today.”
The newbie’s words caught the attention of the other Perdition police officers bustling around the bull pen. The rustle of paperwork and murmur of conversations dropped, leaving an eager silence.
“Thanks…” Joe Cabrera let his voice trail off, unsure of the kid’s name. He knew he should walk away rather than risk tainting this kid’s career with his presence. The guy was so new he was practically quivering in his crisply pressed uniform and glistening shoes.
“Rob Salazar.” The rookie held out his hand. “If you have a minute, I’d like to talk about the case. How did you track down the firm that makes the weighted dice?” He’d probably read a book on how to introduce himself and create a presence at work. Joe’s own eager rookie days were too distant to dig up from his memory. These days, he was too tired and cynical to even try.
“I just followed the leads.” Dammit, it was a good catch. But he didn’t dare brag about the work he’d done to track down the trio of scammers who’d been counting out cards and swapping out dice at the local casinos. He’d managed to catch them before the organized-crime family who ran the place caught up to them. “Nothing special.”
“How did you know that one guy would go back to his ex-girlfriend’s to hide out?”
The other cops in the precinct were starting to snicker. Joe shook the boy’s hand as quickly as he could. Time to bail. “Another time, Salazar.”
Joe turned and found himself blocked by a tall man whose girth ensured there would be no convenient retreat. Detective Dave Hampton carried a grudge stretching back to when Joe made detective first. Staring at the flecks of crumbs and lint dotting the man’s once-expensive wool trench coat, Joe reminded himself not to react and give Hampton the satisfaction of knowing his blows had struck home.
“Don’t waste your time, Salazar.” Hampton gave a broad grin, clearly eager to delve into old ground with a fresh audience. “Not unless you want a front-page story for the tabloids.”
“I don’t understand.” Salazar glanced between the two of them, eyes round and uncertain.
“Tell him what they call you.” Hampton smirked, his grin displaying yet more crumbs caught in his sandy-blond beard. Joe despised the man’s slovenliness, especially since it carried over to his police work. Hampton never bothered finding the right suspect if he could beat a convenient one into a confession.
“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the pleasure.” Joe gritted his teeth in a pleasant, professional smile. Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Creepy Cabrera.” Hampton should bein charge of crowd control. He didn’t need a megaphone to project his voice. “Guy’s a regular X-file.”
Salazar shook his head, confused. Joe tried not to roll his eyes. The kid probably didn’t even remember The X-Files.
“Once they figured out you were loony tunes, they took away the Dalhard Industries investigation and gave it to a real detective.” Hampton puffed himself up, tucking his thumbs into the nonexistent gap between his paunch and his belt.
Joe pushed past the bully, not trusting his temper to remain under control much longer. Obedient chuckles echoed down the hall as Hampton proceeded to loudly explain the facts to Salazar. “Creepy Cabrera used to be a hotshot, but no one trusts him since he started spouting off about the little-green-men brigade.”
It was psychics, not aliens, you moron. Try to keep your prejudices straight at least. Joe’s jaw tightened, and he ground his teeth hard enough to squeak.
The elevator doors slid shut, and Joe let himself slump. If only he’d kept his mouth shut this winter. The ancient machinery whirred in the walls as the elevator ascended slowly, giving Joe plenty of time to brood about what went wrong.
He was open-minded, willing to believe that the universe still held plenty of surprises. Tía Agata was always babbling about positive and negative energy, blessings and curses. He didn’t put much stock in such things himself, but he didn’t dismiss them either. But what had happened went far beyond a mere surprise.
Seven months earlier, he’d discovered that there were people walking around with the sort of superpowers that belonged in comic books and movies. The discovery hadn’t just yanked the rug out from under him—it had shattered the bedrock of his beliefs about the nature of the universe. He’d been doing all right with it, managing to pick up the pieces and fit them back into some semblance of order, until his so-called friends dragged him out to Alaska to hunt down André Dalhard, a man who could control people by touching them. Dalhard had used his skills for murder, kidnapping, extortion, fraud, and any number of other crimes. None of which Joe could prove.
Why did they even bother? He knew the reason. They’d needed his help to track the man down, but then they’d expected him to turn his back while they took care of the problem. Instead, Joe had insisted that even a man like Dalhard deserved due process, and he’d brought him back and put him on trial.
That was when the trouble started. Other officers could mock the tin-foil-hat crowd, but Joe knew that at least some of those dangers were real. He’d begged for enhanced security precautions to keep Dalhard in jail. But he hadn’t been able to come up with a rational explanation for why staff should avoid all skin-to-skin contact with the prisoner. Joe had gotten frustrated one day, and it all came spilling out. Two minutes of babbling had ruined ten years of his career and reputation.
His sergeant insisted on Joe seeing a psychologist. He’d gone, and he’d made all the right noises, claiming stress, bad medication, and whatever he thought might make a difference. Of course he understood that psychics weren’t real, and he’d been tired and had made a little slip while joking. No big deal.
His verbal footwork had kept his badge safe but hit his pride hard. Cops were worse than frat boys for holding on to an embarrassing joke. At least frats only lasted through college, though. He’d be Creepy Cabrera until the day he retired. Especially with Hampton stirring the pot at every opportunity.
Even worse was the knowledge that his brothers in blue were walking out there, ignorant of the dangers that Joe now knew existed. Keeping it to himself made him feel like a traitor, but how could he convince them of the truth if they hadn’t seen it for themselves? Joe’s eyes had been forced open, and slipping back into the shadows of ignorance wasn’t an option any longer.
The elevator doors dinged as they began to close, and Joe realized he’d been standing there, staring into space like a shell-shocked trooper from World War I. Grabbing the door to keep it open, he gratefully realized no one seemed to have noticed. I need to go home and start working on the end table for Mama and try to forget that I’m the only one who knows we’re balancing on the verge of some kind of superpowered apocalypse.
“Detective Cabrera!” his sergeant, Fran Modnik, called out before he could escape, her blond ponytail swinging like a hangman’s noose as she stalked across the lobby.
Shitshitshit. “Sergeant,” he replied politely.
“We need your help on something.” Modnik passed him, her sensible flats squeaking softly against the linoleum. She didn’t bother looking back to see if he would follow her as she made her way to the tech department without a single wasted step. A great believer in efficiency, Modnik didn’t use makeup or wear fashionable clothes or indulge in idle chitchat. Dark slacks and a department T-shirt were her uniform unless she was forced into something else by political necessity. Some cops didn’t like working for her, finding her cold and unforgiving. But Cabrera was impressed by her Sherlock-worthy detective skills and hoped the department would continue to recognize her incredible potential.
I was almost home free. He kept a discreet distance behind the sergeant. As they opened the door, the temperature rose—too many machines and too little air conditioning. The sheer number of storage units, tables, and monitors made Joe twitchy. They blocked his lines of sight and could potentially hide a half-dozen intruders.
“You’ve heard about the series of break-ins at data-storage facilities across the state?” Modnik logged into the main terminal, powering up the large central screen.
“It was in the morning briefing,” Joe said cautiously. The higher levels were frustrated and spreading a wide net, asking local cops to keep an eye out for anything that might be connected.
Modnik nodded. “Lockbox here in Perdition got hit yesterday. The thief is a pro—set the cameras on a loop, disabled the alarms. The only thing she tripped was a routine maintenance alert, which noticed the missing file.”
“She?” Joe’s interest perked its ears. His sergeant didn’t drop details like that by accident.
“Thanks to the alert, we knew the file was removed at 2:13 a.m. The security cameras at Lockbox were affected but not the street cameras.” Modnik delivered the news with grim satisfaction. She always told her officers to be patient because criminals were invariably sloppy. They made mistakes and then the cops could reel them in.
“A big oversight for a pro to make.” Joe frowned. After the last few months, what others called “easy” smelled more like a trap to him.
“She didn’t know about the red-light camera at the intersection of Roosevelt and Third. Tourist blew through the light at 2:16, and look what we found.” Modnik pointed at the high-resolution traffic photo. The prominent feature was a grey sedan midway through the intersection, but Joe focused on the area behind the car.
The steel doors to Lockbox had the company name and logo clearly stenciled on them. A woman wearing a long, cream-colored designer coat over a grey business suit held them open. The photo resolution was sharp enough that Joe could see a flash of coral pink on her painted nails and the heavy stitching on her slim leather briefcase.
“Any chance she’s an employee working late?” Joe asked.
Modnik shook her head, a smirk curving her pale lips. “Nope. Checked the employee records, and there’s no match. And no record of anyone in the building either. That’s our thief.”
“It’s a nice clear shot of her face.” Joe leaned in. She’d be easy to identify. She looked more like a model or actress than a criminal. Her makeup and dark hair were even done up like one of those fifties pin-up girls, emphasizing big eyes, pouting lips, and sharp cheekbones. “Were we able to track her movements?”
“The bank on Roosevelt has twenty-four-hour coverage of the street. Same with the drugstore on New Orleans Ave.” Modnik began typing again.
“Then we’ve got her.” Joe started to warm up to his sergeant’s enthusiasm. The two streets were a block apart and close enough to Third to have partial coverage of the area in front of Lockbox, although they were at the wrong angle to see the actual building.
“You’d think so.” She split the screen into two views, one from the bank and one from the drugstore. As the timestamp crawled from 2:10 to 2:25, the streets remained deserted except for the grey sedan roaring through the light and a homeless couple, both bundled so heavily against the cold that their features were impossible to pick up. The man was definitely African-American with a worn knit cap pulled low over his forehead. The woman was dark skinned as well, possibly Latina, with filthy bleached-blond hair. They meandered over to the dumpster in the alley across from the drugstore and picked through it. Modnik paused the playback. “They go through the dumpster for another half hour and then wander off. No sign of our Jane Doe.”
“How?” Joe’s mind began to click through possibilities. “She’d have to pass at least one of the cameras. Could the feeds have been tampered with?”
“No. The sedan confirms the recording isn’t from a previous night. I’m still having tech go through it to make sure, but it looks clean. Our mystery lady simply vanished into thin air.” Modnik clicked off the screen and faced her detective. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” Joe tried to keep his voice nonchalant while his heart sank deep below his belt. Another weird case for Creepy Cabrera.
“Too many cops get focused on what they expect to see. You keep an open mind and follow the evidence. I don’t need someone screaming ghosts or conspiracies. I need someone to find out what happened. The truth, no matter how strange.”
His reluctance seeped through his professional mask. “I’m not sure I’m the best choice.”
“Because they call you Creepy Cabrera?” Modnik hit the nail with a blunt-force sledgehammer. “I don’t care about a bunch of status-happy idiots poking at you because they haven’t heard a good joke in a while. You’re a good detective, Cabrera. You find the connections—you find the bad guys.”
“And what about the other stuff? This isn’t going to help my reputation, Sergeant.” Joe decided to be equally blunt.
“Trust me. You want this case.” Modnik paused, glancing around the room to make sure they were alone. “The data firms that have been hit all have a client in common: Dalhard Industries.”
Joe’s head snapped up. He wanted to ask if the sergeant was sure, but she’d take it as an insult. Careful. Dalhard’s lawyers had already slapped Joe with a police-harassment suit.
“I see I’ve piqued your interest,” Modnik said dryly.
“Hampton is the lead officer for the Dalhard investigation.” Joe forced his shoulders down, trying to appear relaxed.
“Officially, that’s not going to change.” She held up one finger to forestall any reply from Joe. “I’ve known you long enough to trust your gut instincts. This is too big a coincidence to leave unchecked, and I’m offering you a chance to prove what you’ve been saying. Find this thief, and you might find your evidence against Dalhard.” She offered him the slim file.
“Find a thief who disappears without a trace. Easy. And what should I do after lunch?” Joe accepted the file.
Modnik smiled briefly, and the weary sergeant morphed into an attractive woman. “Could be worse. The department is also asking for someone look into that shapeshifting viral video.”
No need to ask for details. Joe suppressed a wince. He’d caught the live version of the event during his trip to Alaska. “It’s fake. Probably a publicity stunt for some movie.”
“It’s caught the attention of some very prominent people. All sorts of experts are insisting the footage hasn’t been tampered with. Now I’m having to field ridiculous calls asking what I plan to do if we catch a suspect with unusual abilities.” She rolled her eyes. “If they find out about our mystery thief, I could end up having to handle a crackpot task force. So don’t thank me yet.”
“So you need me to keep this quiet.” Could their target be one of the lalassu? Was invisibility one of the possible powers? Joe made a mental note to get in touch with his best friend, Michael, to ask. After years of bringing Joe useful tips, Michael had found the secret society of people with an astonishing variety of supernatural gifts, and he’d dragged Joe down the rabbit hole after him.
Modnik nodded. “Whatever you find, you bring to me. And one more thing—stay away from Otisville.”
That was the prison where Dalhard currently lived. “Understood.”
“I mean it, Cabrera. This is your one chance, and you have no margin for bullshit. You don’t talk to Dalhard again until you have enough to hang him with.” Modnik delivered her final orders and stalked into the hall, ready to take out her irritation on the next hapless victim who crossed her.
Enough to hang him with. Only a figure of speech, but the words echoed what the other lalassu had suggested for Dalhard back in Alaska: a summary execution. Joe had stopped them, but lately, he wondered if his ethics had trapped him into making a fatal mistake.
The newbie’s words caught the attention of the other Perdition police officers bustling around the bull pen. The rustle of paperwork and murmur of conversations dropped, leaving an eager silence.
“Thanks…” Joe Cabrera let his voice trail off, unsure of the kid’s name. He knew he should walk away rather than risk tainting this kid’s career with his presence. The guy was so new he was practically quivering in his crisply pressed uniform and glistening shoes.
“Rob Salazar.” The rookie held out his hand. “If you have a minute, I’d like to talk about the case. How did you track down the firm that makes the weighted dice?” He’d probably read a book on how to introduce himself and create a presence at work. Joe’s own eager rookie days were too distant to dig up from his memory. These days, he was too tired and cynical to even try.
“I just followed the leads.” Dammit, it was a good catch. But he didn’t dare brag about the work he’d done to track down the trio of scammers who’d been counting out cards and swapping out dice at the local casinos. He’d managed to catch them before the organized-crime family who ran the place caught up to them. “Nothing special.”
“How did you know that one guy would go back to his ex-girlfriend’s to hide out?”
The other cops in the precinct were starting to snicker. Joe shook the boy’s hand as quickly as he could. Time to bail. “Another time, Salazar.”
Joe turned and found himself blocked by a tall man whose girth ensured there would be no convenient retreat. Detective Dave Hampton carried a grudge stretching back to when Joe made detective first. Staring at the flecks of crumbs and lint dotting the man’s once-expensive wool trench coat, Joe reminded himself not to react and give Hampton the satisfaction of knowing his blows had struck home.
“Don’t waste your time, Salazar.” Hampton gave a broad grin, clearly eager to delve into old ground with a fresh audience. “Not unless you want a front-page story for the tabloids.”
“I don’t understand.” Salazar glanced between the two of them, eyes round and uncertain.
“Tell him what they call you.” Hampton smirked, his grin displaying yet more crumbs caught in his sandy-blond beard. Joe despised the man’s slovenliness, especially since it carried over to his police work. Hampton never bothered finding the right suspect if he could beat a convenient one into a confession.
“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the pleasure.” Joe gritted his teeth in a pleasant, professional smile. Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Creepy Cabrera.” Hampton should bein charge of crowd control. He didn’t need a megaphone to project his voice. “Guy’s a regular X-file.”
Salazar shook his head, confused. Joe tried not to roll his eyes. The kid probably didn’t even remember The X-Files.
“Once they figured out you were loony tunes, they took away the Dalhard Industries investigation and gave it to a real detective.” Hampton puffed himself up, tucking his thumbs into the nonexistent gap between his paunch and his belt.
Joe pushed past the bully, not trusting his temper to remain under control much longer. Obedient chuckles echoed down the hall as Hampton proceeded to loudly explain the facts to Salazar. “Creepy Cabrera used to be a hotshot, but no one trusts him since he started spouting off about the little-green-men brigade.”
It was psychics, not aliens, you moron. Try to keep your prejudices straight at least. Joe’s jaw tightened, and he ground his teeth hard enough to squeak.
The elevator doors slid shut, and Joe let himself slump. If only he’d kept his mouth shut this winter. The ancient machinery whirred in the walls as the elevator ascended slowly, giving Joe plenty of time to brood about what went wrong.
He was open-minded, willing to believe that the universe still held plenty of surprises. Tía Agata was always babbling about positive and negative energy, blessings and curses. He didn’t put much stock in such things himself, but he didn’t dismiss them either. But what had happened went far beyond a mere surprise.
Seven months earlier, he’d discovered that there were people walking around with the sort of superpowers that belonged in comic books and movies. The discovery hadn’t just yanked the rug out from under him—it had shattered the bedrock of his beliefs about the nature of the universe. He’d been doing all right with it, managing to pick up the pieces and fit them back into some semblance of order, until his so-called friends dragged him out to Alaska to hunt down André Dalhard, a man who could control people by touching them. Dalhard had used his skills for murder, kidnapping, extortion, fraud, and any number of other crimes. None of which Joe could prove.
Why did they even bother? He knew the reason. They’d needed his help to track the man down, but then they’d expected him to turn his back while they took care of the problem. Instead, Joe had insisted that even a man like Dalhard deserved due process, and he’d brought him back and put him on trial.
That was when the trouble started. Other officers could mock the tin-foil-hat crowd, but Joe knew that at least some of those dangers were real. He’d begged for enhanced security precautions to keep Dalhard in jail. But he hadn’t been able to come up with a rational explanation for why staff should avoid all skin-to-skin contact with the prisoner. Joe had gotten frustrated one day, and it all came spilling out. Two minutes of babbling had ruined ten years of his career and reputation.
His sergeant insisted on Joe seeing a psychologist. He’d gone, and he’d made all the right noises, claiming stress, bad medication, and whatever he thought might make a difference. Of course he understood that psychics weren’t real, and he’d been tired and had made a little slip while joking. No big deal.
His verbal footwork had kept his badge safe but hit his pride hard. Cops were worse than frat boys for holding on to an embarrassing joke. At least frats only lasted through college, though. He’d be Creepy Cabrera until the day he retired. Especially with Hampton stirring the pot at every opportunity.
Even worse was the knowledge that his brothers in blue were walking out there, ignorant of the dangers that Joe now knew existed. Keeping it to himself made him feel like a traitor, but how could he convince them of the truth if they hadn’t seen it for themselves? Joe’s eyes had been forced open, and slipping back into the shadows of ignorance wasn’t an option any longer.
The elevator doors dinged as they began to close, and Joe realized he’d been standing there, staring into space like a shell-shocked trooper from World War I. Grabbing the door to keep it open, he gratefully realized no one seemed to have noticed. I need to go home and start working on the end table for Mama and try to forget that I’m the only one who knows we’re balancing on the verge of some kind of superpowered apocalypse.
“Detective Cabrera!” his sergeant, Fran Modnik, called out before he could escape, her blond ponytail swinging like a hangman’s noose as she stalked across the lobby.
Shitshitshit. “Sergeant,” he replied politely.
“We need your help on something.” Modnik passed him, her sensible flats squeaking softly against the linoleum. She didn’t bother looking back to see if he would follow her as she made her way to the tech department without a single wasted step. A great believer in efficiency, Modnik didn’t use makeup or wear fashionable clothes or indulge in idle chitchat. Dark slacks and a department T-shirt were her uniform unless she was forced into something else by political necessity. Some cops didn’t like working for her, finding her cold and unforgiving. But Cabrera was impressed by her Sherlock-worthy detective skills and hoped the department would continue to recognize her incredible potential.
I was almost home free. He kept a discreet distance behind the sergeant. As they opened the door, the temperature rose—too many machines and too little air conditioning. The sheer number of storage units, tables, and monitors made Joe twitchy. They blocked his lines of sight and could potentially hide a half-dozen intruders.
“You’ve heard about the series of break-ins at data-storage facilities across the state?” Modnik logged into the main terminal, powering up the large central screen.
“It was in the morning briefing,” Joe said cautiously. The higher levels were frustrated and spreading a wide net, asking local cops to keep an eye out for anything that might be connected.
Modnik nodded. “Lockbox here in Perdition got hit yesterday. The thief is a pro—set the cameras on a loop, disabled the alarms. The only thing she tripped was a routine maintenance alert, which noticed the missing file.”
“She?” Joe’s interest perked its ears. His sergeant didn’t drop details like that by accident.
“Thanks to the alert, we knew the file was removed at 2:13 a.m. The security cameras at Lockbox were affected but not the street cameras.” Modnik delivered the news with grim satisfaction. She always told her officers to be patient because criminals were invariably sloppy. They made mistakes and then the cops could reel them in.
“A big oversight for a pro to make.” Joe frowned. After the last few months, what others called “easy” smelled more like a trap to him.
“She didn’t know about the red-light camera at the intersection of Roosevelt and Third. Tourist blew through the light at 2:16, and look what we found.” Modnik pointed at the high-resolution traffic photo. The prominent feature was a grey sedan midway through the intersection, but Joe focused on the area behind the car.
The steel doors to Lockbox had the company name and logo clearly stenciled on them. A woman wearing a long, cream-colored designer coat over a grey business suit held them open. The photo resolution was sharp enough that Joe could see a flash of coral pink on her painted nails and the heavy stitching on her slim leather briefcase.
“Any chance she’s an employee working late?” Joe asked.
Modnik shook her head, a smirk curving her pale lips. “Nope. Checked the employee records, and there’s no match. And no record of anyone in the building either. That’s our thief.”
“It’s a nice clear shot of her face.” Joe leaned in. She’d be easy to identify. She looked more like a model or actress than a criminal. Her makeup and dark hair were even done up like one of those fifties pin-up girls, emphasizing big eyes, pouting lips, and sharp cheekbones. “Were we able to track her movements?”
“The bank on Roosevelt has twenty-four-hour coverage of the street. Same with the drugstore on New Orleans Ave.” Modnik began typing again.
“Then we’ve got her.” Joe started to warm up to his sergeant’s enthusiasm. The two streets were a block apart and close enough to Third to have partial coverage of the area in front of Lockbox, although they were at the wrong angle to see the actual building.
“You’d think so.” She split the screen into two views, one from the bank and one from the drugstore. As the timestamp crawled from 2:10 to 2:25, the streets remained deserted except for the grey sedan roaring through the light and a homeless couple, both bundled so heavily against the cold that their features were impossible to pick up. The man was definitely African-American with a worn knit cap pulled low over his forehead. The woman was dark skinned as well, possibly Latina, with filthy bleached-blond hair. They meandered over to the dumpster in the alley across from the drugstore and picked through it. Modnik paused the playback. “They go through the dumpster for another half hour and then wander off. No sign of our Jane Doe.”
“How?” Joe’s mind began to click through possibilities. “She’d have to pass at least one of the cameras. Could the feeds have been tampered with?”
“No. The sedan confirms the recording isn’t from a previous night. I’m still having tech go through it to make sure, but it looks clean. Our mystery lady simply vanished into thin air.” Modnik clicked off the screen and faced her detective. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” Joe tried to keep his voice nonchalant while his heart sank deep below his belt. Another weird case for Creepy Cabrera.
“Too many cops get focused on what they expect to see. You keep an open mind and follow the evidence. I don’t need someone screaming ghosts or conspiracies. I need someone to find out what happened. The truth, no matter how strange.”
His reluctance seeped through his professional mask. “I’m not sure I’m the best choice.”
“Because they call you Creepy Cabrera?” Modnik hit the nail with a blunt-force sledgehammer. “I don’t care about a bunch of status-happy idiots poking at you because they haven’t heard a good joke in a while. You’re a good detective, Cabrera. You find the connections—you find the bad guys.”
“And what about the other stuff? This isn’t going to help my reputation, Sergeant.” Joe decided to be equally blunt.
“Trust me. You want this case.” Modnik paused, glancing around the room to make sure they were alone. “The data firms that have been hit all have a client in common: Dalhard Industries.”
Joe’s head snapped up. He wanted to ask if the sergeant was sure, but she’d take it as an insult. Careful. Dalhard’s lawyers had already slapped Joe with a police-harassment suit.
“I see I’ve piqued your interest,” Modnik said dryly.
“Hampton is the lead officer for the Dalhard investigation.” Joe forced his shoulders down, trying to appear relaxed.
“Officially, that’s not going to change.” She held up one finger to forestall any reply from Joe. “I’ve known you long enough to trust your gut instincts. This is too big a coincidence to leave unchecked, and I’m offering you a chance to prove what you’ve been saying. Find this thief, and you might find your evidence against Dalhard.” She offered him the slim file.
“Find a thief who disappears without a trace. Easy. And what should I do after lunch?” Joe accepted the file.
Modnik smiled briefly, and the weary sergeant morphed into an attractive woman. “Could be worse. The department is also asking for someone look into that shapeshifting viral video.”
No need to ask for details. Joe suppressed a wince. He’d caught the live version of the event during his trip to Alaska. “It’s fake. Probably a publicity stunt for some movie.”
“It’s caught the attention of some very prominent people. All sorts of experts are insisting the footage hasn’t been tampered with. Now I’m having to field ridiculous calls asking what I plan to do if we catch a suspect with unusual abilities.” She rolled her eyes. “If they find out about our mystery thief, I could end up having to handle a crackpot task force. So don’t thank me yet.”
“So you need me to keep this quiet.” Could their target be one of the lalassu? Was invisibility one of the possible powers? Joe made a mental note to get in touch with his best friend, Michael, to ask. After years of bringing Joe useful tips, Michael had found the secret society of people with an astonishing variety of supernatural gifts, and he’d dragged Joe down the rabbit hole after him.
Modnik nodded. “Whatever you find, you bring to me. And one more thing—stay away from Otisville.”
That was the prison where Dalhard currently lived. “Understood.”
“I mean it, Cabrera. This is your one chance, and you have no margin for bullshit. You don’t talk to Dalhard again until you have enough to hang him with.” Modnik delivered her final orders and stalked into the hall, ready to take out her irritation on the next hapless victim who crossed her.
Enough to hang him with. Only a figure of speech, but the words echoed what the other lalassu had suggested for Dalhard back in Alaska: a summary execution. Joe had stopped them, but lately, he wondered if his ethics had trapped him into making a fatal mistake.
❤️ Only 99¢ ❤️  ❤️ Only 99¢ ❤️  | For millennia, the lalassu have existed at the fringes of society, hiding in the shadows. But someone is determined to drag them into the light. Dani has spent years fighting against her family’s urges to take on the mantle of High Priestess for the lalassu. Stronger and faster than any ordinary human, she has no interest in being a guide for her people. She likes being independent and enjoys her night-job as a burlesque dancer. But a darker secret lurks inside of her, one which threatens everyone around her. Isolated and idealistic, Michael works as a developmental therapist for children, using his psychometric gifts to discover the secrets they can’t share with anyone else. When one of his clients is kidnapped, he will do almost anything to rescue her. The investigation leads him to a seedy little performance club where he is shocked and thrilled to discover a genuine live superhero. Michael and Dani must join forces to save those they care about from becoming the latest victims of a decades-long hunt. But the fiery chemistry between them threatens to unlock a millennia-old secret which could devour them both. The clock is ticking and they will be faced with the ultimate hero’s choice: save the world or save each other?   This was such a cool, sexy read! First of all, this book really appealed to me because it has sort of an "X-Men/Avengers" sort of feel to it, and that is unlike any romance novel I have read before! And I'm kind of a big super hero fan :) Jennifer created a world in which people with extraordinary powers and abilities walk among us, and no one is the wiser. Well, maybe a few people are...and they try to capture aforementioned extraordinary people. The imagery and descriptions in this book are phenomenal, and I was on the edge of my seat with, "Oh my gosh, WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!" almost constantly coming out of my mouth. The super-hero-ness had a unique spin with Dani, who was actually battling to control a separate being that dwelled within. And Michael, well, he's just almost too perfect; sensitive, great with kids, is able to sense what you want just by touching you... All in all, this was an excellent adventure that I will be reading over again. And if a movie ever gets made based on this book, because one should, I would be first in line at the ticket booth! ***I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review*** |
 | Ron McBride thought his life couldn't possibly get any worse. He's been physically transformed, hunted across most of North America and is haunted by the failures of his past. Now it looks like he's about to die in the Canadian wilderness. When he wakes up in the tiny community of Bear Claw, he thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Particularly when he meets Lily Charging Bull, a beautiful young woman whose family runs almost everything. But there's a reason why no one has found Bear Claw before. Lily and her family are skinwalkers, able to shift between human and animal form. For generations, they've protected the lalassu who can't blend easily with human society, often lethally. The question is, will they offer Ron sanctuary or will he vanish like last year's snow? PHENOMENAL!!! This was one of those books that had me staying up late, neglecting my household chores and stealing every extra minute I could to read it. It has a little bit of everything: Magic, mystery, love, action, suspense. I was personally interested in the main topic of the story; skinwalkers. These are similar to the shifters featured in paranormal romance novels, except these have a noble and sacred purpose: To protect and guard those who need it. The mystery surrounding Ron was so intriguing. From the very beginning when I was introduced to his quest to wondering what evil force kept him on the run, the entirety of it kept me glued to the pages. I enjoyed reading Lily and her interactions with her family members. She has a few exchanges with her grandfather that had me chuckling. The love that developed and the connection between Lily and Ron was so endearing. I especially liked when Ron confided in a very special four-legged friend. The writing was spectacular, and the story flowed smoothly and without any of the usual cliches I see being used over and over again in many romance novels. All in all, this is an amazing read, and I cannot wait for the next book by Jennifer!!! ***I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review*** |
She is a member of the Ottawa Romance Writers’ Association and the Romance Writers of America. Without them, she would still be dreaming about being a writer rather than sharing her books with readers. She believes in conspiracy theories and happily-ever-afters, which makes for some interesting dinner time conversations.
She is a devoted comic book geek and Marvel movie enthusiast. She spends far too much of her precious free time watching TV, especially police procedural dramas. Her enthusiasm outstrips her talent in karaoke, cross-stitch and jigsaw puzzles. She is a voracious reader of a wide variety of fiction and non-fiction and always enjoys seeking out new suggestions.
Win a $25 Amazon gift card or an eBook bundle of the series (1 winner each)!
Thank you for featuring INQUISITION!
ReplyDeleteI would like to learn more about World War II. Thank you
ReplyDeleteCool. I've actually been doing some research on the internment camps for book 4. :)
DeleteI want to learn more about my ancestors.
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like a great project. I love hearing old family stories.
DeleteI learned a single bluefin tuna sold at auction in Japan for $400,000.
ReplyDeleteThat is one expensive fish. :)
DeleteI would love to learn more about where I come from
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like a great project.
DeleteThanks, Lauren, for your review. Your support has meant a lot to me, right from book one. :) There will be more books in the lalassu series. If anyone wants to be the first to know when Book 4 is ready, they can sign up for my mailing list on my website: www.pastthemirror.com.
ReplyDeleteGood luck to everyone for the giveaway!
I would like to give thanks for all your really great writings. I wish the best in keeping up the good work in the future.
ReplyDelete