First Snippet for Dwarf Bounty Hunter

Get ready for an exciting new Oriceran journey! This new book will release sometime Sunday afternoon, October 4!

Snippet #1

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll—” Johnny grunted, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips beneath his thick, dark-red mustache. “Who am I kidding? Of course it’ll work. I made it.”

He inserted a tiny metal pick into the side of the device set on a black leather collar to activate the translator. Then he did the same with a second device on a brown leather collar and lifted both from the worktable in his dining room turned workshop.

“All right, boys. Time for a test drive.”

The dwarf’s size-ten boots clomped across the wooden floor of his small, tidy cabin until he reached the living room. His two black and tan coonhounds lay sprawled out on the rug in front of the dead fireplace Johnny hadn’t used since he’d bought the place. Both dogs lifted their heads at his approach, droopy ears perking up as they eyed the collars in each of their master’s hands.

Johnny glanced at the boar’s head trophy mounted above the fireplace and the collection of old hunting rifles on the mantle—two of them from the end of the sixteenth century—and smirked. This’ll be the cherry on the swampy damn sundae.

“Rex.”

The coonhound lying closest to the fireplace sat up and stared at the dwarf. His tail thumped once on the rug.

“You first, boy. Come here.” Johnny held out a hand toward the slightly larger hound, and Rex obediently trotted toward him. Sticking the brown leather collar between his teeth, the dwarf fastened the black collar around Rex’s neck, then lifted his index finger. Rex sat immediately, and Johnny took the other collar out of his mouth to call to the hound’s brother. “Luther. Let’s go.”

Luther scrambled excitedly to his feet and practically leapt across the room toward his master. His tail wagged fervently as Johnny fastened the brown leather collar around his neck, but the dog sat just as obediently as his brother when the dwarf raised his index finger one more time. Neither hound made a sound as Johnny pulled a small metal tube the size of a .44 Magnum shell from his pocket. But they’re about to make a lot more noise now.

“See this?” Johnny held the tube between thumb and forefinger, showing his hounds the last piece of his newest magical-tech invention. “We’re about to take this to a whole new level. Only took me four years to realize we needed it, but you boys won’t wanna go back. Just watch.”

He stuck the end of the tube against the side of his neck and pressed down on the top end with his thumb. A sharp jolt shot through Johnny’s neck, and he grunted, blinking quickly before wiggling his nose under the intense but short-lived itch.

“Damn. Shit packs a punch and tastes like… is that onions?”

“Onions?” Luther’s tail thumped wildly against the floor as he stared up at his master. “He said onions, right? I want onions.”

Rex didn’t move. “We can’t eat onions. He dropped one off the grill last summer, remember? I spent the rest of the day shittin’ in the swamp.”

“Ooh. The swamp. Let’s go.”

Johnny chuckled and folded his muscular arms covered in a thick layer of the same wiry red hair as his mustache and beard. “We’ll head out in a little bit, boys. And Rex is right. No onions for dogs. Though at this point, I reckon both of you’ve eaten twice your own weight in shit you shouldn’t’ve.”

“Hey.” Luther’s higher-pitched voice filled Johnny’s mind as the smaller hound cocked his head and let his tongue flop out of his mouth for a quick pant. “He heard you say onions.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.” Johnny spread his arms. “Look at this, huh? I can hear you, you can hear me. I’d call that a hell of a success.”

“Cool.” Luther lifted his back legs for a brief moment before a quick glance from his master forced him back down onto his haunches again. “So let’s go. It’s been a little bit, right? Swamp time.”

Rex licked his muzzle and let out a low chuff, even as he stared up at Johnny, waiting for his master to his release him from sitting there at the edge of the area rug in the living room. “Wanna eat?”

Luther’s tail thumped wildly against the rug. “I could eat. Do we catch it? I could catch it too.”

“Hey, chill out. There’s an easier way to get what we want now.” Rex’s droopy eyebrows lifted as he tilted his head at Johnny. “Just ask him over and over to let us out or feed us until he gives up.”

Johnny grunted. “That’s your smart idea?”

“Johnny.” Luther let out a low whine. “Johnny. Johnny. Let’s get some food. Hey, Johnny. Come on. Food time. Swamp time.”

The dwarf took two steps back and smirked at his hounds. “All right. Go on, git.”

“Yes!” Luther kicked at the rug to get back on his hind legs before leaping around to scramble toward the dog door at the back of the house.

Rex shot up and trotted after his brother. “Yeah, we’ll catch it. You want us to bring you something back for fun?”

“Not if you eat it first,” Johnny called as the dog door clicked shut again after both of his retreating hounds.

A loud, coonhound bay rose from behind Johnny’s cabin, followed by the dogs’ shouting voices diminishing as they raced off across the yard at the edge of the swamp.

“It went this way.”

“Get it! Faster!”

“Oh, man! I’m gonna rip its tail off!”

Nodding in satisfaction, Johnny ran a hand through his thick, dark-auburn hair and turned back toward his workshop. That’s how you get shit done. Screw man’s best friend. I’ve got dwarf’s best huntin’ dogs and two extra pairs of eyes. See if we don’t just triple the game we bring home after this.

Walking back into the workshop, Johnny paused to eye the taxidermized alligator mounted on a well-oiled plank of oak right off the small kitchen. Better’n this gator. I wanna trade this one out for a fifteen-footer.

He stopped at his worktable and sniffed, smacking his lips against the slight aftertaste of onions, and got to work cleaning up after finishing the translating dog collars. That was part of his number-one rule: Keep it simple. And simple meant cleaning up after himself, everything in its place, no matter how happy he was with the way the collars turned out.

As he closed the jumbo-sized tacklebox where he kept his magical tools, both hounds bayed wildly outside, followed by the clack and scrabble of the dog door whipping up and clapping back down again. Claws clicked across the floor toward the dining room.

“Johnny! Johnny, open the door.” Luther raced past his master and skidded to a stop inches from the front door. “Open it.”

Rex trotted after his brother and shot Johnny a quick glance. “Someone’s here.”

“No kiddin’.” Setting the tacklebox on the floor and shoving it under the worktable with the toe of his boot, Johnny hiked up his black Levi’s and headed after his hounds toward the door. “Anyone we know?”

“Black SUV,” Rex said, stopping behind his brother and shifting sideways as Luther’s tail threatened to whack him in the face.

“It was blue,” Luther added.

“Black.”

“All right. Back up.” Johnny trudged toward the front of the house as the hounds stepped backward, tails wagging, and stopped in front of the small square window beside the front door. He swept aside the plain gray curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, a black SUV rolled up along the dirt road and stopped in front of the folding lawn chairs at the end of the drive.

“Black.” Johnny frowned at the hounds. “Luther, what color are my boots?”

“Blue.”

Rex stepped sideways again to avoid his brother’s tail. “They’re black.”

“Huh.” Johnny snorted and returned his attention to the sliver of window behind the curtain in his hand.

The driver-side door of the SUV opened, and a nondescript man in an equally black and boring suit with a receding hairline stepped out of the car, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the dust cloud he’d stirred up with his vehicle. But he wasn’t nondescript enough for Johnny not to recognize him.

“What’s this bastard doin’ here?” Johnny shook his head. “Same black sunglasses and everything.”

“Let us out, Johnny.” Luther let out a sharp bark. “We’ll go see what he wants.”

“Nobody’s gonna answer your questions when they can’t hear you. That’s just me.” The dwarf frowned when the passenger-side door opened too and a tall, slender woman emerged. His left eye twitched, and he tugged the curtain back into place over the window. “And he brought a friend. I don’t care how long it’s been. He knows I don’t like him bringing friends.”

“We like friends.” Luther’s tail wouldn’t stop, and he stepped toward the door and away again in excitement.

“Is it a dog friend?” Rex asked.

“No, she’s a ten all around.” Rubbing a hand over his mouth, chin, and beard, the dwarf headed toward the front door and folded his arms. “Whatever he wants, he’s shit outta luck.”

“Johnny, open the door.”

“Open it. We’ll tell ‘em to go home.”

Johnny snapped his fingers, and both hounds sat. “He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Then he turned around and headed back into his workshop to finish cleaning up.

“They’re coming.”

“They’re here.”

“Johnny, open the door.”

The screen door creaked open, followed by three sharp, solid knocks on the front door. Both hounds barked once in reply.

“Leave it alone, boys. We’re not entertaining guests.”

The knock came again, followed by another sharp bark from each hound.

“Johnny Walker. I know you’re in there. Open up. It’s Tommy Nelson.”

“Tommy.” Luther backed up with a low whine. “Who’s Tommy?”

Johnny grunted. “Salesman.”

“Johnny?” The man outside paused, then grabbed the door handle. “If you don’t open this door, I will.”

The dwarf shook his head and swept the stray metal bolts and scrap pieces off the table and into his wide palm. “Go ahead. I didn’t have dogs the last time.”

“Want us to rip off his hand?” Rex asked with a low growl.

“Not yet.”

“All right, Johnny. I’m coming in.” Tommy cleared his throat. “Last chance if you wanna start this off by not being a dick.”

Johnny snorted. Like that’s even an option.

“Fine.” Tommy muttered something under his breath and turned the door handle.

Rex and Luther each barked once and stayed where they were as the front door swung open.

Tommy Nelson removed his black sunglasses and paused when he saw the two fifty-five-pound coonhounds greeting him at the front door. “Hey, pups.”

Rex barked, and the man jumped. “I’ll knock him over if you want.”

Luther whined, his tail wagging furiously as he panted and stared at the newcomer. “You think salesman tastes better than squirrel?”

Johnny shook his head and called from his workshop-dining room, “Whatever it is, Nelson, I’m not buying.”

“Well good thing I’m not actually selling anything.” Tommy inched through the front door, eyeing the dogs and trying to stay calm and relatively friendly—or as friendly as a government liaison to monsters and magicals could ever get. “I’m the one paying you, remember?”

“Not in a long time.” Johnny sniffed and dropped the handful of metal scrap into the tin pail beneath the worktable. “And not anymore.”

Tommy glanced around the entryway of the dwarf’s house and skirted around the dogs. “I see you got yourself a few partners since the last time we talked.”

“Yeah, and they’re better company since the last time you were here too.” Dusting off his hands, Johnny finally stepped into the front hall from his workshop and hooked his thumbs through the beltloops of his jeans. “Feel free to turn around and head out again.”

“Can’t do that, Johnny. Not without laying everything out for you to see.”

“Ooh! A lady!” Luther whined again as the tall, smoking-hot woman with long dark hair spilling over her shoulders stepped through the front door. “She smells good, Johnny.”

The dwarf glanced briefly at the woman, who wore the same black suit as Agent Nelson but looked a hell of a lot better in it, and shook his head. “I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even seen the—hey!” Tommy lurched away from Rex’s snout nudging into his backside, then turned and pressed his back against the entryway wall. “You got some friendly hounds here.”

“Only if I want ‘em to be.”

The woman smirked and held out her hand toward Luther as his back half wiggled. “They’re beautiful.”

Johnny snorted. “They’re dogs. Pick of the litter, but still dogs.”

Luther ignored the woman’s outstretched hand and waited for her to shut the front door before sneaking around to sniff at her legs and backside. “Whew. I knew she smelled good. Whad’ya think, Rex? Lunch an hour ago?”

Rex moved his nose up and down Tommy’s pantleg and snorted. “He had the Rueben.”

“Yeah? I’m gettin’ shrimp.”

The woman stepped tentatively away from the over-excited Luther and glanced around the inside of Johnny Walker’s home. “You’ve got some place here.”

Johnny ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I’m not a fan of words that don’t match facial expressions. Even when they’re a compliment.”

She looked quickly down at him, gazed him over from head to toe, and smirked without another word.

Tommy stared at her, a small frown flickering across his eyebrows, then cleared his throat. “Just hear me out, okay? Let me show you what we’re lookin’ at.”

“I don’t need to see it to tell you no, Nelson. You’re wasting your time.”

“Then what if I started by telling you the US Government’s willing to double your normal fee for this one?”

Johnny shook his head. “Still wasting your time. And mine.”

“Come on, Johnny…”

“Fifteen years, Nelson. I’m outta the game. You know that, and you know why. Things are simple here for me now. All I need is Sheila and two coonhounds and my guns.”

“There’s the crossbow too.” Rex panted heavily and stalked after Tommy as the man inched his way down the hall. “Tell him about the crossbow.”

“I like the grenades.” Luther circled the tall woman two more times before joining his brother in sniffing Agent Nelson up and down.

The dark-haired woman cocked her head. “Sheila?”

Tommy shot her a brief glance with a barely perceptible shake of his head. “His Jeep.”

She looked Johnny up and down one more time and raised an eyebrow.

“And I don’t need to explain myself,” Johnny added. “The answer’s no.”

“Good leg.” Luther nudged his wet nose against Tommy’s pantleg. “Smells like it needs a good humping to go with it.”

“Yeah, you test it out and let me know,” Rex replied.

Johnny smirked, and when he caught the tall woman’s gaze, he wiped the expression off his face completely.

“Well then maybe you’ll…” Tommy jerked his leg away from Luther at the first sign of the hound getting too close and sidled toward the dwarf again. “Maybe you’ll be more interested in the nature of this case, Johnny. It has your name written all over it.”

“Because you think I’ll enjoy myself or because you can’t find anyone else to take it?”

Tommy shrugged. “A little of both.”

“Well go somewhere else and find a bounty hunter who isn’t retired and who actually gives a shit.”

The woman clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. “I think you’ll give a shit about this one, Mr. Walker.”

“Naw, I don’t do that Mister crap. Just Johnny.”

“Of course.”

“You should take the job, Johnny.” Rex sat beside the uncomfortably sidling Agent Nelson, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he waited for the man to step away from the wall. “You need to get out more.”

“Hell, we get out more than you do.” Luther sniffed again at Tommy’s pantlegs and made one more half-assed attempt to climb up on the man’s leg before Tommy jerked his foot away again. “We’re all the way out here in the Everglades, and you have nothing to do when you’re not hunting.”

That’s how I prefer it.

“We get laid more than too,” Luther added, panting now and sizing up the government agent who refused to let his leg be objectified by either hound. “That’s just sad.”

“Yeah, but the ladies he brings home aren’t.” Rex eyed Tommy up and down, then took off to go give the woman a good once-over too. “Come on, lady. Quit turning around so I can smell you. Oh, yeah. You were right. Definitely shrimp.”

Johnny snorted and looked up at Tommy Nelson. “If I take a look at your file, will it get you and the shrimp—uh… your friend off my property?”

“Nice one, Johnny.” Luther panted and turned in a tight circle as an energetic chuckle filled the dwarf’s mind.

Tommy grabbed the manila folder from under his arm and nodded. “Just take a look, yeah. That’s all we’re asking.”

Wrinkling his nose, Johnny gave the tall woman one more brief glance, then raised an eyebrow at Tommy. “You get five minutes, Nelson. Then I want you and your wannabe badass SUV off my property.”

“You got it.”

Johnny jerked his head toward the workshop. “Table’s over here.”

___________________________

Come back tomorrow and get the next chapter. But be warned, I wouldn’t drink any coffee when you read it. Or, you might want to make sure you have plenty of paper towels if you do!

A Gilded Cage Snippet #2 is here!!!

Have you been wondering what was going to happen? Hehehehe, well here you go! And man, I can’t wait for this book to launch this Sunday! A Gilded Cage is the first book in a new series by Auburn Tempest and Michael Anderle! Woot Woot!!!

“What? And I’m hearing about it now!” My father’s voice booms up the heating vent on my bedroom floor, and I track the sounds of his approach through the creaks of our old Victorian house. Depending on how mad he is, and how many stairs he skips, Da can make it from the kitchen to my room in anywhere from twenty-five to seventeen thundering footsteps.

It’s a seventeen morning. Oh goody.

“Fiona Kacee Cumhaill!”

I stiffen in my bed and pull my covers over my head. It doesn’t matter that I’m twenty-three and an independent woman. When he yells my full name, I’m back to being an eight-year-old girl caught red-handed, shearing Dillan’s hair while he slept.

Well, he deserved it. He did the same thing to Walks With No Legs, my fancy-haired Guinea pig.

My door flies open and Da busts in, followed by Aiden, Calum, and Emmet. Aiden takes one look at the gauze wraps on my hands and curses. Da’s expression darkens.

Calum and Emmet look whipped and contrite. I imagine they got a fair dose of our father’s fury for not waking him up last night when we finally finished giving our statements and arrived home.

Before I get a word out, he erupts. “Are ye off yer gob? Ye stubborn, foolish wee girl. Ye coulda been killed.”

When my father gets like this, it’s best to let him have his say before trying any form of reason. It’s a Borg “resistance is futile” thing. I sit up, nod when appropriate, and prop my pillows to await my turn to speak.

“—and then to learn that the boys found ye unconscious. What if that sonofabitch got ye into a car and made away with ye, or had a weapon? Have ye any idea…”

Now that I’m awake, I have to pee. I slide off my bed, shuffle into the ensuite that joins my room with Dillan’s and Emmet’s and close the door all but an inch.

Da doesn’t miss a beat. Dressing-downs like this are a common enough occurrence that he knows I can still hear him. The onslaught continues while I empty my bladder, unwrap my palms, wash up, and rejoin them.

“—enough to worry about with yer brothers in danger every goddamn day, do ye think I need more on my mind? After yer mother…”

I sit on the edge of my bed and examine my scraped hands in my lap, biting my tongue.

He’s winding down. My time is coming.

Auntie Shannon says I inherited the “can’t be told” gene from my mother. I don’t know if that’s true, but if Ma was considered more stubborn than Da…well, that’s saying something. I do remember she could give it as good as she got.

Yeah, maybe I am like her in that way.

“Da,” I say when he’s had the floor long enough.

“—brothers and I would do if he’d killed ye. Yer the feckin’ glue that holds us together, Fi.”

“And a person in my own right.” I break his rhythm. “You forget that sometimes. Yes, I’m the keeper of the house, and it takes most of my time to sort you and the boys out, but I’m more than that. I’m tough and smart and as much a Cumhaill as any of you.”

I point at Aiden, Emmet, and Calum, leaning against my dresser and door to ride out the storm. “You trust that they can take care of themselves in a scuffle, but I can too. I’ve got a stone fist and a fighting spirit the same as them. My instincts are sharp and my reflexes quick. And I’m smart.”

“That’s just it,” Da snaps and scrubs a hand over his morning stubble. His hair is sticking up all cockeyed and at odd angles like a crazy russet rooster. “Yer too smart fer yer own good. Ye can take care of yerself, but yer too sure of it. Ye have no fear, and that’s not good. Ye’ve never respected danger, Fi. It’s like yer temptin’ the Fates to test ye.”

“I am not.” I’m pissed at how blind he is. “I assessed the danger to Kady. There was no time to get help, and the man was unarmed.”

“Ye assume the man was unarmed,” he snaps. “He held Kady as a shield between ye. He coulda had a gun at his back or a knife in his pocket, but ye were so damn sure ye could handle things yerself, ye rushed him like a novice fool.”

I jut my chin as his disapproval hits. “And if it had been Calum or Emmet in that alley instead of me, you’d be whistling a different tune. You’d be patting them on the back saying, ‘Good on ye, boyo. Ye got the girl safe home. We’ll catch the man responsible in the days to come.’ But because it was me, I’m an eejit to think I could do the same.”

Da’s finger comes up in the air between us, and his cheeks flush red. “Don’t throw yer feminist shite at me, Fiona Kacee. I work with women in uniform every day and trust them in any situation. They’re trained and competent and know what they’re up against.”

“But I don’t? Da, I grew up in this house. I’ve seen the horrors you face and heard the stories the boys tell of their shifts each day. Hell, I learned enough working behind the bar at Shenanigans to write fifty true crime novels.”

“Hearin’ and knowin’ are different, mo chroi.” He loses steam by calling me his heart. “Ye take care of yerself better than most, I’ll not argue that. Because of it, Kady is safe home. I’m proud as blazes of ye for lendin’ her aid, but no matter how sexist or unjust it is, yer a wee thing in a world of monsters—a Chihuahua ready to take on Rottweilers. If ye don’t learn to respect the danger, it’ll get ye. Like it or not, that’s the truth of it. There is always someone bigger and better prepared for the fight.”

“So what?” I launch to my feet and throw up my hands. “I should don my apron and resign myself to cooking and ironing for you lot the rest of my life? If Ma hadn’t died, I would’ve gone to college and struck my own path. Filling this house with a family to take care of was her dream, not mine. I’m capable of doing great things too.”

“Do ye think me daft?” Da drops his pointing finger and scowls. “It’s not fair that ye had to step in and take care of yer brothers and me, but it’s the way of it. Yer mam’s death left shoes to fill and broken hearts to mend. Ye’ve done better at both than any of us had a right to expect. If yer ready to take on the world, I’m all for it. Still, we need ye alive to do it.”

Not often does Da let feelings crack through his crusty shell. I’m not prepared for it. Angry I can handle. Sharp retorts, I’ve mastered. Admissions of his vulnerability after losing our mom has me looking at the door for a quick escape.

Only, there’s no escape.

Aiden is blocking the door with his muscled arms crossed over his chest. Emmet and Dillan are standing beside him looking as lost by the turn of conversation as I feel.

I can’t look at them or I’ll start crying, and I’m not crying because I’m mad. I step back and frown at my father. “I do see the dangers, Da—honest, I do—and I respect them. I can’t let that stop me. If you think honor and doing what’s right is only for the Cumhaill men, you’re cracked. The same blood runs in my veins as yours. The same teachings were drummed into me. I care about people as much as any of you.”

“More.” Emmet pushes off the dresser to straighten. “That’s what scares us, Fi. You care about people more than any of us, and don’t hesitate to stand as the shield between an innocent girl and her attacker.”

“We don’t want to see you hurt, baby girl.” Aiden comes over to squeeze my hand. “If you feel like life’s leaving you behind, carve out something for yourself. We’ll all pitch in to make it work for you. Just be safe about it.”

Calum pegs me with a look so haunted my chest tightens. “When Kady screamed for help, and we saw you lying on the ground by that tree so still…” He shakes his head. “Jaysus, Fi. You can’t put us through that shit again.”

Da nods. “After every shift, I come home knowing as soon as I see your beautiful face, the darkness of my day will dissolve. You’re our touch-stone, Fi.”

Emmet joins the love-in and kisses the side of my head. “Even though you’re a total pain in the ass.”

Calum nods. “Absolutely the worst.”

***

It’s close to one that afternoon when I hear the throaty rumble of my muffler grumbling along the back lane and pulling into my spot. It’s tough to find parking in the city, so by the time Aiden, Brendan, and Calum needed to get around, Da moved the back fence forward and paved a section of the lawn so they had space behind the house.

We’re luckier than most. Being the last house on the street before the ravine, we also have a little dirt lane that runs up the side of the house. It’s not for parking, but we often use it for short-term stops when friends drop by.

I finish with Emmet’s uniforms and hang them on the hooks at the bottom of the stairs. Our house, a quaint Victorian built in Cabbagetown in the 1840s, isn’t fancy but has character. It’s an old, brick semi-detached with four bedrooms upstairs and a basement finished with a pool table and enough workout equipment to open Cumhaill’s Gym if policing doesn’t work out in the end.

Who needs more than that?

“Fiona?” Liam lets himself in and is jogging up the back hall looking panicked when I step out to meet him.

“I’m fine—” I’m caught up in his arms as he gives me a quick hug, then eases back to take inventory. He touches the bruise on the side of my face and scowls at the road-rash on my palms. I regain possession of my hands and step back. “Seriously, I’m fine. Your mom told you I take it?”

He nods and pulls me into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Fi. If I hadn’t skipped out—”

I wave that away. “It’s nobody’s fault except the weirdo in the alley. Even if you were there, I would’ve still taken out the trash. S’all good.”

He sits me down at the table and busies himself at the counter. He’s as comfortable in our home as we all are in his. “I’m making hot toddies. Talk to me and keep talking until I believe you’re all right. Tell me what happened.”

I give him the full recap. Explaining everything for the eleventeenth time increases my sense that I’m missing something—something big.

“And you saw him inside earlier?”

“Yeah, a Tyson Beckford-type drinking Redbreast in booth nine.”

“Who’s Tyson Beckford?”

“Beautiful, black supermodel for Polo, piercing eyes, easy smile…ring any bells?”

He makes a face at me. “Sorry. I’m not up on male models, but I do remember a slick-looking black guy set up in nine. Pissed me off that we were busy and he sat alone and taking up a booth for six.”

“Yeah, that’s him. Hey, did anyone check on Kady?”

He grabs two glass mugs and the honey out of the cupboard. “Mom called this morning and told her to take the night off. She refused, of course. Dillan said he’d stay with her for the day and escort her in for the dinner shift.”

I picture how protective of Kady my brother got after hell broke loose. “While the two of us gave our statements inside after I came to, it was like a switch flipped for him. Kady was shaking and about to crumble into a heap of tears, and he finally saw her—like, saw her.”

Liam measures the shots of whiskey and mixes our drinks with a stick of cinnamon. “Mom said he volunteered to take her home and stay with her.”

I accept the drink and inhale the honey-lemon glory of it. “Yeah. D’s good like that. The patience of a saint, that one. He’ll play the part of her loyal watchdog for as long as she needs to lean on him. Then, it’ll be more, guaranteed.”

Liam settles across the table and smiles. “Thank fuck. That love match was a long time in coming. Every time Dillan came in the bar, Kady became half as productive. It had to happen sooner or later.”

“You’re not kidding. Hey, speaking of love matches, how was your night?”

Liam fills me in on the PG broad strokes of his evening, but the tension of his worry never eases. After our second round of restorative whiskey drinks, I can’t take it.

“Stop worrying. I am fine.”

He arches a brow. “That might work on your family, Fi, but I know better. Tell me what you’re not saying. You know I’ll keep your secret.”

I do. Liam’s good that way. I stare into those ice-blue eyes and my guts twist. “It’s going to sound crazy.”

He shrugs and leans back in his chair. “With our families, what’s not crazy?”

True. “Okay, so, last night, I thought it was simple. A crazy guy assaulted a pretty girl, and I got in the way.”

“But you don’t think so anymore?”

“I’ve been running it over in my head. I’m going into the station this afternoon to go over my statement and sign it. I was trying to remember every detail because more comes to you once you settle down and your mind unlocks.”

“And you remember something new?”

“A couple of things.”

“Like?”

“He never hit me or raised a hand to me. I punched him and sacked him and kneed him in the face and he never once returned the favor.”

“Maybe he was busy trying to subdue you.”

“Why not hit me? He had a foot on me and was strong. He pinned me against the tree out back for like, five seconds, then walked away. Why?”

Liam’s getting angry again. I watch the mottled flesh of his cheeks darken. “What else did you remember?”

“Not remember. Found.”

“Found? What do you mean?”

I get up from my chair, give him my back, and pull my shirt off. Clutching the fabric to my front, I swing my hair away from my shoulder blades.

“What the fuck is that?”

“My question exactly.”

The legs of his chair scrape on the floor as he gets to his feet. He’s taller than me—most people are—so when he takes a good look at the Celtic knotwork tattoo that spontaneously appeared on my back, he has to bend to do it.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but I feel it. It tingles like it’s squirming up from beneath my skin. Like it’s alive somehow.”

“That’s not gross at all.”

“Right? This morning when I had my shower, I saw the faint outline of the tree of life. The triquetra came around lunch. What does it look like now?”

Liam brushes a gentle sweep across my skin, and my cells light up inside. It’s the same sensation I got when the handsome weirdo in the alley pressed his palm there.

“The tree is a brilliant, shamrock green, the triquetra a shimmering royal blue, and circling the whole thing are the words, Glaine ar gcroi. Near tar ngeag. Beart de reir ar mbriathar.”

“Well, shit.” I flap my shirt in front of me and shuck it back on.

“You know what that means?”

“If you’d spent more time paying attention during Irish classes instead of flirting with the girls, you’d know what it says too.” I free my hair and face him. “It’s three sayings, and it means purity of our hearts, strength of our limbs, and action to match our speech.”

His gaze narrows on me. “That was your toast last night for Emmet. Do you think that has something to do with it?”

“Indirectly. It’s the three-part family motto of Da’s people back home in Ireland. How weird is it that a guy gets the better of me in a dark alley, presses his hand on my back, and leaves when I pass out?”

Liam crosses his arms and frowns. “I, for one of many, am damned thankful that’s when the asshole took his leave.”

“Me too, but how do you explain a family crest magically appearing on my skin hours later?”

“I don’t… I can’t.”

“Yeah, me either.” I’m still standing there thinking about last night when the man’s voice drifts into my head. It was right before I passed out. He leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Ye’ve got fight in ye, kin of mac Cumhaill. I’ll give ye that.”

I blink, and my entire body tingles. “I need to speak to my father right now.”

***

The Fifty-first Division Headquarters, where Da has served since he graduated from the academy almost thirty years ago, is a bustling, gritty old law enforcement center on Parliament a block south of King. It’s a heritage building, with decorative masonry, arched windows, and an interesting roofline that looks more like a turn of the century bank than a police station.

There’s limited parking in a public lot, which is nice, but what I love most about the place is that across the road there’s an original city fire hall complete with shiny brass poles and a Dalmatian named Pongo.

It’s hot—in fact, I’m cooking with a cotton shrug on and annoyed I have to wear one. With the foresight of not wanting to strip my shirt off at da’s station, I wore a strapless tank with an airy knit sweater. Even that’s too much.

“It never gets old, does it?” I lock my car and Liam and I cross in front of the fire station.

For once, I’m more interested in getting inside to the air-conditioning than watching the fireman with no shirts polish their trucks.

Liam follows my gaze and chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never gotten weak in the knees for a pec wink.”

I laugh. “Sucks to be you.”

I wave to Greg working the door and head straight up the staircase on the left. Da knows I’m scheduled to go over my statement, so of course, he’s working in-house for the afternoon.

“Hey, kiddo.” Da’s partner Marcus lifts his gaze over the monitor of his computer and gives me a once-over. “I heard about last night. How are you?”

I glance at the concerned faces of two dozen cops I’ve known my whole life and smile. “Right as rain, guys. Seriously. You know us Cumhaills. You might be able to knock us down, but you’ll never be able to keep us there.”

“Good girl.” Marcus points across the space. “You’re set up in meeting room two.”

I weave my way through the warren of cubicles with Liam on my heels. “Meeting room two is good. The walls are mirrored so I can read his reaction. There’s no way he can front when he sees the tattoo.”

“Do you hear yourself, Fi?” Liam casts me a sideways stink eye. “In what world would Niall Cumhaill be associated with a man who attacks his daughter in an alley?”

I pause with my fingers curved around the handle. “Only one way to find out.”

___________________________

So, are you going to grab your Pre-Order copy now? Read it the moment it goes on your ereader? Yup, me too!

Fi seems like she’s going to be a fun and snarky heroine! A little spitfire who won’t know when to stop! I love it. 🙂

A Gilded Cage, on pre-order now and goes live this Sunday on Amazon!