Sunday Snippet: Need

Hi,

I'm going to bore everyone with all my Strike Back talk, but holy hell, the hits keep coming. Poor Scott can't catch a break. I do have one wild hair theory of what I want for him at the end of the show's run, but I'll keep mum so I don't jinx it. :D

Tonight's post is from a manuscript that's a bit of a departure for me. It's got an omniscient narrator. I'm not completely sure it's going to work, but I love the flow so far. Need dives into how two people end up gravitating toward each other, almost in an inevitable way, because their need outweighs standard operating procedure, frat regs, and just about everything else. Very fun to write. :D

Here's the tagline:

Circe Nash and Oz Paterson, two top notch pilots, have the strangest courtship in the galaxy—one they swear doesn't even exist. But when the need to be together hits them, they inevitably find themselves in the same place at the same time, with a little help from their crewmates.

And the sneaky peek…

Circe Nash and Oz Paterson had the strangest courtship in the galaxy.

Sometimes the need to see each other hit them at exactly the same time. Sparks usually flew and they weren't the only two who noticed. The entire crew could pinpoint the exact moment it happened. And they had front row seats to the bizarre mating dance Circe and Oz would swear never actually took place.

Oh, but it did.

A top notch pilot, Circe could be out flying CAP, chattering away with the other pilots. She'd tease and lob insults and take her fair share of ribbing. Never one to dish out more than she could take, Circe usually kept the conversation going between the squad for the whole patrol.

But every once in a while, she'd go dead air silent for a few beats.

It happened to be one of those moments.

Oz would be deep into work on the comm deck, plotting courses, running coordinates and monitoring engineers and the deck crew. He'd be in the thick of his duties and stop, mid conversation with the landing station officer or keying in data, and go silent, like he'd heard something no one else did.

He'd get up, grab a headset and enter the discussion with the CAP. He could do that. As CAG, no one questioned his actions. It never took long for Circe to get back in the game and start trading barbs with her immediate superior.  

The over the air banter would take on a sharp-witted edge and everyone else would go quiet until end of shift, letting Circe and Oz carry out their weird brand of foreplay. Once the CAP landed, Circe met Oz or vice versa. Oddly, no words necessary, they'd exchange a look or a glance and fall into step beside each other then disappear. Or with a weird, silent communication make plans to meet without uttering a sound. The crew got used to the crazy interplay. They also knew not to go anywhere near Oz or Circe until both had laid-back smiles on their faces.

The two didn't start out so much in sync. In fact, Circe and Oz began their journey on opposite ends of the galaxy. Oz grew up on the central planet in their solar system. Commerce, education, and culture abounded in the primo location. A wide cross-section of every world shared the wealth of their knowledge and experience. Oz soaked it up and developed an appreciation for diplomacy.

Circe didn't leave her home world until a recruiter visited and offered her a chance. Street smart, she lacked discipline, but showed an aptitude for strategic planning. Razor sharp instincts kept her safe on the rough and tumble streets where gang law often trumped everything else.

She spoke her mind with fearless confidence and didn't suffer fools at all. She had some adjustment issues when she entered the military, used to living fast and free, coming and going as she pleased. But she quickly learned her natural ability to fly would buy lots of wiggle room. She also figured out how to walk the very fine line between skirting regulations and insubordination.

Their differences made things very interesting when Circe met Oz under less than stellar circumstances. She transferred in from a battle frigate, the Cyllene, and arrived during last dog watch. She discovered her tradition of entering the landing bay in an inverted position did not go over well with the CAG of the Titan.

Oz ordered her—from his bird out on CAP—to remain with her ship on the hangar deck until his shift finished…in two hours.

When he finally landed and the crew towed his plane to the hangar, he found Circe sitting on the wing of her ship, enjoying a meal from the galley. He completed his post-flight checklist in cold silence, giving the crew ample time to feel his wrath. Their always solid efficiency increased to superior levels and everyone gave him wide berth when he strode, slowly and with great purpose, to Circe's location.

Circe finished chewing her mouthful of food and washed it down with a long swallow of water. She slid off the wing, grabbed hold of the ladder and swung down to calmly wait for the CAG.

Everyone held their breath when Circe and Oz stood toe to toe for several long moments, taking each other's measure. No one knew what to expect when the CAG's gaze met the pilot's and sparks literally flew.

Circe gave Oz a cocky salute. "Lt. Circe Nash, callsign Trickster, reporting for duty." She waited a beat then added. "Sir."

Oz worked his jaw, silently clenching his teeth. "Wanna tell me why you disobeyed a direct order?" He completely skipped SOP and didn't offer the formal acceptance of her arrival.

Circe gave him an innocent gaze. "How do you figure I did that? I'm with my bird on the hangar deck…exactly as ordered." A slow smirk spread across her lips. "You didn't say anything about rations." She dragged the sleeve of her flight suit up and checked her watch. "And I hadn't anything to eat for ten hours."

Oz cocked his head to the side, silently regarding his new pilot. "You're gonna push the rules to the limit, aren't you?"

Circe's lips quirked and her eyes lit up. "That's what they're there for…Sir."

The deck crew waited for an explosion. The CAG's callsign of Wrath had been well-earned. He had a short fuse sometimes, and Circe all but lit the wick with her cheeky response.

The blast never came.

Instead, the CAG calmly responded. "I can see things will be a whole lot livelier with you around." He looked up, glancing at everyone on the deck. "They'll also be a lot cleaner." He shifted his gaze back to Circe. "You get to begin your tenure here with a week of detailing work on the planes." He turned and started for his office.

Circe grinned and called out. "Think I'm gonna like it here, Sir." When Oz angled his head around, she snapped off a crisp and precise salute, respect for the CAG clearly defined in her posture.

Oz snorted and shook his head. "We'll see about that, Lieutenant. We'll see."

Seriously, Circe and Oz's relationship has been so much fun to write through the narrator's eyes. I hope I can keep the flow going and finish it up soon.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip!

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Napalm at Night

Hello,

It's back!! Strike Back premiered Friday night and had me ready to throw things in the first two minutes of the episode. THAT'S a good show, folks. LOL

Tonight's post is inspired by soldiers Stonebridge and Scott. Rip Rafferty is a man who gets shit done, and Jensen Wallis falls hard for him. Napalm at Night is set on a different planet, but hopefully has something of a Vietnam War feel to it. I really wanted the vibe of not knowing exactly why the fight is so important.

Here's the tagline:

Napalm at night is dangerous stuff. Jensen Wallis, an extraordinary helicopter pilot, makes her fair share of early dawn rescues after enemy forces unleash the potent explosives on her fellow soldiers. She comes to the aid of Rip Rafferty's squadron and gets them to safety, but not before the enigmatic man sets her curious nature on fire.

And a sneaky peek…

Jensen landed the chopper, eyes scanning the dense underbrush for signs of life. Freaked her out when a head popped up in the open side door.

The mud-covered face spoke. "I've got five wounded. We have time to get 'em all loaded?"

She stared into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, made more so by the dirt and caked on moss adhered to his skin. Even under all the grime, his chiseled features stood out.

"Lieutenant? Are we clear? Can I start bringing my men in?" He used her rank, snapping her back to the matter at hand.

She gave a jerky nod, trying to calm the rapid staccato of her heart. Good God, five wounded.

He took off, melting into the foliage, disappearing. She lost track of him completely until he trudged out, carrying a fallen comrade over his shoulders. She wanted to help get the guy in, but couldn't leave the controls. If they had to cut loose in a hurry, she'd be more useful if she stayed put.

A soft thud sounded behind her and she scanned the area, looking for the soldier. Again she couldn't find him, his stealth skill better than any she'd ever seen. Blinking, she shook her head. The guy had two more men, dragging them through the tall grass by their shirt collars. How the hell he managed when both were prone, she had no clue. Twisting around, she tried to get a closer look, but could only hear the rustling sound and grunt when he hefted first one, then the other up into the chopper.

Quickly facing forward, her gaze met empty field again. How did he melt into the surroundings? Narrowing her eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief when he emerged from the shadows, helping two more soldiers make their way to the copter. Neither looked completely conscious, but when she glanced back, one got in under his own steam and the other with a little assistance from his commanding officer. Each man sprawled where they landed and stayed put.

Her marine climbed up into the second seat and put the headset on. He winced and dropped his right hand.

She leaned forward and made an adjustment, catching sight of his wound. "You okay? You're bleeding a lot."

His fingers went to his shoulder. "It went through. I'll be fine."

He looked pale and winded—definitely not fine.

She eased the copter off the ground and headed for the MASH unit. "What the hell happened?"

He stared straight ahead. "Ambush. We spread out and got caught from both sides." A hard edge crept into his tone. "Napalm. Got cut off from the rest of the platoon."

Jensen wanted to hurl after catching a faint whiff of the unmistakable aroma. "Fuck." She jerked her head toward the back. "The first one you brought out? He gonna make it?"

The marine shook his head. "He's already gone. But I couldn't leave him behind. We were on the other side of the line."

Her eyes widened. "How far over?"

He shot her a sideways glance. "Three clicks."

She barely kept her mouth from dropping open. "You drug him all the way back?" The guy had to have a streak of insanity running through him.

He shrugged. "Him. Jeffs, Martinez, and Lambert. Dobbie crossed under his own steam, but dropped half a mile back." He winced and applied pressure to his wound.

Jensen huffed out a harsh breath. "Jesus. Are you human?"

His lips quirked. "I don't know." His mouth thinned and the life went out of his gaze. "Not sure I know what that means anymore." He leaned back, his eyes sliding closed.

Jensen concentrated on flying, leaving him to rest and maybe find some peace.

When she landed, she stayed out of the way while the men got unloaded. Her marine staggered out of the helicopter and started heading for the triage unit.

Jensen called out. "Hey, marine. Didn't catch your name."

He paused and angled his head around. "Rafferty. Rip Rafferty. Thanks for the lift." He touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute.

She nodded. "Jensen Wallis. And you're welcome." She swung back up into the pilot's seat. "Hope you don't have to hang out here very long."

He lifted a hand and turned back toward the mobile hospital. Jensen got another call and lifted off to head out for another run.

She had an eerie feeling she'd be seeing Rafferty again.

And she totally will be seeing him again and not under the best circumstances. L

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Midsummer Mayhem

Hi!

I gotta say we're having the most incredible weather right now. August in Ohio tends to be hot, sticky, humid, sweltering, and generally horrible. We're four days into the month and haven't hit above eighty degrees. It's honestly been the most pleasant summer I can remember, even with a buttload of rain. J

On a more random note, I'm actually rather 'meh' about the choice for the twelfth doctor. In all honesty, it's going to be hard for me to picture someone who had a prominent role on Torchwood—a sister show of Who—as anyone BUT that character. And the guy had a featured guest role in the Pompeii episode, so again, it effs up my continuity. And yeah, yeah, Eve Miles had a featured guest role on Who and went on to play Gwen, so what the hell am I bitching about, right? I guess it's because she didn't end up playing a third role in both shows.

Enough about television. LOL

Tonight's post is from Midsummer Mayhem, a novella set in the Capital City Seasons series. Murph and Jess play a role in the story, but Jess's boss Chris Renfer takes center stage as the hero. And he's been very fun to write. J

Here's the tagline:

Chris Renfer, Alpha Team Leader for the Strategic Tactical Unit, falls for Melanie Pramble at first sight, but she's new to the city wants to get her bearings. But when a Renfer's team is stuck in a bad situation, Melanie is the go to person for negotiation and Chris can only hope their beginning doesn't end before it makes headway.

And a sneaky peek…

Jessa Muldoon had a very distinctive laugh. Chris Renfer, Alpha Team leader, looked up from his desk when it rang out across the hall. She stood outside the briefing room with her significant other, Ben Murphy, and leaned in to plant a huge, smacking kiss on his lips. Chris grinned. Jess definitely needed Ben in her life. She'd found her groove again, now that they'd patched over their differences.

Chris leaned back in his chair and watched the two lovers talk quietly in the corridor. Two people made for each other, they wouldn't suit anyone else. When they split up, Jess tried—with a marksman who'd come in to train with STU, the Specialized Tactical Unit of Capital City Police—but no one clicked with her the way Murph did. Chris couldn't be happier they'd found their way back together.

Except when his gut burned with envy. He wanted what they had, to find the other half of himself. He couldn't manage to make a relationship last longer than a month or two. Not that he didn't try. He gave each one his best go.

What he did for a living tended to be the first bone of contention. Heading up the Strike Unit, he led Alpha Team. His squad went in when a situation required armed response. A nation wide ban on firearms didn't do much to deter anyone determined to cause harm. What it did do? Made people get creative. So many interesting ways to hurt someone. Poison. Blades. Sharp and/or blunt objects. And last but not least…bombs. And just because guns were illegal, it didn't mean they couldn't be purchased. Cash talked, and enough of the stuff could make even the most restricted weapons available.

For some reason that seemed to be a huge turn off and a cause for concern. And he couldn't be anything but honest when he clicked with someone. He never hid what he did for a living or lied about the sometimes intense schedule he had to keep. And even when he explained he rarely ended up in the thick of the action he discovered it didn't make much difference to a woman who wanted attention.

His last relationship ended because he got called out twice during important moments. The dinner date hadn't been a big deal, but the anniversary party for her parents pissed Winnie Caldwell off and did not go over well. Criminals and insane people didn't work a regular schedule. They struck when the mood took their fancy.

And he had apologized profusely when his emergency unit went off in the middle of the congratulatory speech. The angry glare Winnie sent his way should've been his first clue, but Chris held out hope she'd forgive him. They got along so well and both had demanding careers. Her work as a midwife meant she often got called out at strange times, too.

She'd understand, wouldn't she?

Not so much. After STU contained the situation, he'd dropped by her place with takeout and a good bottle of wine. Ended up stowing both in the box she'd left outside her door. A few shirts, a pair of jeans and some toiletries marked the end of his relationship. No screaming match or giant missive…just a silent 'fuck you', no note required.

Chris made his way home and decided to stick to a friends with benefits deal, until he could find someone who truly got what he did for a living. One of the nurses at the hospital, Angie Malcolm, had given him a standing invitation and he'd taken her up on the offer. They enjoyed each other when their schedules allowed, but neither sought more than sex. Made Angie's decision to rekindle an old flame less of a burn.

But three months of zero sex sucked. And it showed in his mood. He'd been snappish the past week and Jess would be in his office to find out what the hell as soon as Murph took off.

Like Renfer wanted to share the reason with her…but he would. She'd drag it out if he didn't volunteer the information. Jessa could be like a dog with a bone, gnawing away until she hit the marrow. Chris didn't have the fortitude to fight the tide.

And Jess would feel like it she owed it to him. Why not unload and let someone listen to his restless ramblings. He itched for something permanent. He wanted what Jess and Murph had. The ups and downs of a relationship…he yearned for them. Sitting back, he heaved a sigh.

"That sounded frustrated." Jess strode into his office and made herself at hom, pouring a mug of coffee and dropping down across from him. "Spill it, boss."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm not your boss anymore." He leaned forward and busied himself by shuffling the files on his desk.

Jess halted his movements. "Bullshit. You run the place. I just head up the second team." She waited until he met her gaze. "Something's bothering you, Chris. We've all noticed." Her eyes narrowed.

Renfer frowned. He figured Jess would pick up on it…he didn't count on the others catching on. Thought he'd controlled his mood better.

Jess nodded. "Yeah, you need to unload." She sat back and kicked her feet out. "And I've got all day."

Renfer raised a brow. "What? No nooner with Murph later?"

Jess sputtered and choked on the coffee. "Oh hell, give me a warning next time." She swiped her hand over her mouth. "How did you know?"

Geez…she and Murph couldn't be more obvious. "The 'I just got laid' glow is pretty much a dead giveaway…and hard to miss." God, did his tone have to sound so jealous?

Jess chuckled. "Damn. I'll have to remember that." She settled back. "But no, won't be hooking up with Murph. He's meeting a prospective new partner today." Her lips quirked. "Over lunch…at noon."

Renfer cocked his head back. "Ahh. The final member of the team. Should I prepare to break in a new talker?"

Jess smiled. "If all goes well—and it will—yeah." She drained her mug. "We'll probably have some kind of get together to make introductions." She leveled her gaze on him. "Enough about Murph and Jess. What's up with you?" Her tone suggested he'd better quit stalling.

Chris shrugged. "It's nothing, really. Just restless, I guess."

Jess pushed, not satisfied. "You know you can tell me anything, right? You've listened to me how many times? And helped get me through a major rough patch." Jess leaned forward again. "Let me be here for you."

Chris considered the offer, knowing Jess wouldn't relent. He bought some time. "I will. Over drinks later?" He grabbed the top file and flipped it open.

Jess saw through him, but agreed. "Yeah, okay." She nailed down a time. "Seven pm. Come to my place."

Little does Chris know, but he'll be very, very happy he went to Jess's for drinks. J

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Mia's Choice

July 28, 2013

Hello!

It's been a great writing week…for organizational stuff. LOL I've spent almost every day working on taglines, plotting story ideas, adding to characterization charts, and fixing small details in several thisclosetobeing finished manuscripts.

I feel so productive!!

Tonight's post is from one of those almost there stories. Mia's Choice is stretching into a something close to a novel, but I think it'll remain a novella. Especially after I get through the final round and ruthlessly edit unnecessary stuff. J

Here's the tagline:

Mia Sinclair finally got her doctorate and embarks on a work trade assignment to a new space station. But when she runs smack into Hal Manning, and her past, she has to face her demons, which isn't easy because she promised she'd never be under any man's control again.

And a sneaky peek…

Hal Manning sat behind his desk and heaved a sigh. Dealing with a mix of military and civilian crew gave him the worst headache. He wondered, not for the first time, whose bright idea it had been to combine the two and send them out into deep space to construct a new outpost.

Probably someone with a pay grade much higher than his.

He pulled out the log reports and sifted through the pile of complaints. Could the commandos do their drills somewhere else? Could the science geeks conduct experiments that made the ship reek of indescribable aromas in the hold instead of on the same level as living quarters? And could they both just stay out of each other's way?

Maybe he should lock everyone in the cargo hold and let them duke it out.

Better yet, barricade him in and let the inmates run the asylum.

Yeah, wouldn't happen.

Hal worked steadily for the next hour on the logs, writing orders, confirming information and filing memos. The name on the last report caught his attention.

Mia Sinclair.

Check that. Doctor Mia Sinclair. The woman took every opportunity to remind him and his crew of the fact. She had zero appreciation for the common use of last names as a greeting or acknowledgement of presence.

So very different from the girl he used to know.

When she boarded the Queen Amalie he'd been stunned stupid. Sinclair happened to be her married name so it hadn't pinged for him on the manifest.

Hal sat back and let the memories roll through his mind. They'd grown up together. Dated. Fallen in love. They'd had a chance once…a long time ago. But Mia cut it short. Carved him out of her life and sent him packing.

Okay, not entirely true. More like she'd boxed up and checked out.

He'd known her as Mia Furlough. Way back when they'd been wet behind the ears and barely out of primary school. She'd been vibrant, lively, and fun. He'd fallen for her completely and without reservation.

Thought it had been the same for her. But he'd been so very wrong. She didn't come close to being the person he'd thought she'd been. Not after her grandfather died.

Mia went from free spirit to gilded bird in a matter of weeks. She cut herself off from everyone, stopped hanging out with the kids after classes and refused to see Hal or return his phone calls.

A couple of months later, she disappeared. Moved away. Didn't come back. He finally heard she'd left for a position in the prestigious Academy of Science on Mars. Her father pulled some strings to get her in. Or so Hal had been told.

The hometown connection kept him sporadically up to date on Mia. She'd graduated with her degree later than expected due to her marriage to a top scientist. She'd cared for both ailing parents until their deaths three years ago. The nasty divorce that followed apparently set the social and scientific communities on their ears.

He'd been bowled over when she boarded his vessel as the science liaison, newly assigned to Space Station Alpha.

Hal shook his head, clearing the memories, and leafed through Mia's report. About halfway through, he sat up straight in his chair and re-read the last two paragraphs. The ship had what wrong with its water supply? Three weeks into their journey and a major cock up like this?

A bunch of scientific terms he'd probably need a translator for muddied up the page. The part he didn't need a degree to read simply stated one of the reserve water containment tanks had been contaminated and could not be used. How in the hell had that happened?

Could she be wrong?

Hal doubted it. Doctor Sinclair had meticulous down to an art form. She filed her reports on time. Showed up for the daily briefings precisely five minutes before they started and from what scuttlebutt he heard about her, ran a tight ship in the lab.

He sighed. He'd have to talk to her about the contamination. He considered the subject too important for him to delegate. The fact he found himself avoiding her whenever possible didn't sit well with him anyway.

Combing his hair back from his face, he rose, gathered the report and exited quarters.

Might as well get the good doctor in for a visit and get it over with. He was pretty sure he knew where she'd be. Holed up in her quarters or working in the lab. She rarely went anywhere else. He'd find a junior officer and have them escort Mia down from the lab deck.

Wouldn't she just love that?

Heh. Nope. Mia is not going to be thrilled she has to meet Hal in his quarters, but she'll deal. J

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Matchmaker's Men

July 21, 2013

Whew. Whirlwind weekend in Columbus, Ohio. My husband's region won their company's highest honor and we got a lovely dinner with fun entertainment and a night in a downtown hotel. Caught up with some old friends and finally, finally got to see my brother's house just south of the Brewery District. He's only lived there ten years and it's my first visit. LOL

Tonight's post is from Matchmaker's Men, a short, sexy story about two pilots who really need to be together and how the crew makes it happen. So much fun to write. :D

The tagline:

Nova Anell and Matz Yarmacher belong together, but neither wants to be the first to admit it. But when their crew mates start working behind the scenes to put Nova and Matz together, they have no choice but to face what they feel and decide what to do next.

And the sneaky peek…

Standing outside the head, waiting on Matz to arrive for his post-CAP shower, Nova verged on thinking the whole thing beyond a bad idea. On a good day she could cut the sexual tension between her and Matz with a knife. Gods damn Hot Sauce for recognizing the pull and running with it.

She shouldn't be tense with anticipation. Nothing would happen between her and Matz, right? She shouldn't be this anxious over a shower, should she?

A small sigh escaped before Nova could stop it. She shouldn't be…and she knew it. She didn't want to screw things up with Matz…they were at a great place. If only she could convince her body it would only be a shower—things would be peachy. And yet, she had a standing on a bunch of hot coals feeling—jittery and jumpy.

Pacing back and forth only added to the anxiousness, but standing still proved worse. It gave her brain too much time to conjure up images she didn't need to have in her head. Argh!

Turning to walk the short distance back across the corridor, she smacked directly into Matz, muttering a startled curse. "Shit, sorry about that." Backing away, she noticed he had his shower gear in hand. "'Bout time you showed." She didn't mean it to sound bitchy, but it did—even to her own ears.

Gods, she needed to get a grip.

Matz's quick smile of greeting faded to a questioning glance.

Nova made another hasty apology. "Sorry." She spun around and entered the head, not relishing the idea of having an audience watching her come completely unglued.

Having no choice, Matz followed her in, dogging the hatch behind him. It took Nova a few moments to realize he hadn't started undressed or anything to get ready for a shower. In fact, he hadn't moved at all, except to lean back, his shoulders braced against the bulkhead.

The bland look on his face only irritated her more. "What? Do I really have to undress you, too?" She took a step toward him, but stopped when Matz held up his hand.

I always enjoy writing characters that fight their attraction and get help from others to move things along. :D

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip!

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Luck Runs Out

Howdy!

After crap tons of rain, we got a really steamy, summery day today. I forgot how the humid air can blast you in the face when you go outside. LOL Relearned very quickly today. J

Tonight's post is from Luck Runs Out, a short novella with characters from Queen City, Mars. This location also features briefly in the Furlough 99 story, Shyler: Finding Home. The sages are whispering they'd like to see Shyler and Marsh, but the story hasn't lent itself to having them make an appearance yet. Maybe a bonus scene/free read can bring the couples together. J

Here's the tagline:

Domino Montgomery and Webb Wellesley are totally different personally and professionally, but they work seamlessly together. When they land an off world transport assignment, they have to babysit a condemned prisoner and deal with an impish captain who's hiding a wee bit of a secret of his own.

And the sneaky peek…

"Wellesley! You got a minute?"

Webb ducked into his captain's office. Even if he didn't have time, he'd make it. He owed the man a debt for choosing Webb's name from the long list of personnel waiting to get into one of the busiest station houses in Queen City.

Captain Bilar Christian sat behind his desk and looked up from the ream of paper, pointing to a chair, indicating Webb should take a seat.  

Webb dropped down and nodded. "What's up, Captain?" His eyes noted the large file and Webb hoped it meant they'd get a new recruit in soon.

It sucked being the new guy for two years running.

Christian leaned forward and got right to the point. "We just received notification regarding a prisoner transport to Venus."

Webb groaned. He'd rather spork his eyes out than spend several days babysitting a criminal on a drop run. He wouldn't be the only one either…no one like making them.

Maybe the captain wanted him to take over as shift supervisor. "And?" He wouldn't voice the question, might jinx himself.

The captain gave it to him straight. "You're going."

Webb leaned back in the seat. "Shit." He sat forward again. "Did I do something to piss you off, Captian?"

Bilar laughed. "No, Webb. You're name popped as next up for the haul. Luck of the draw, I'm afraid."

Webb sighed. "Who's my lucky partner?"

The captain sat back in his seat. "Montgomery."

What? No way.

Webb gave his superior officer a sharp look. "Now I know I did something to make you mad." A thought occurred. "Wait, isn't she on leave?" Anyone would be better than Domino for a transport run.

The captain gave him a grim smile. "Just got back a few hours ago."

Well, shit. Webb made an attempt to squirm out of the detail. "Are you sure someone else—"

Bilar interjected. "Already told her, Webb. She's packing, check that, repacking, as we speak." He rose and gathered the stack of papers. "Go grab her and we'll have a briefing in fifteen."

Poor Webb. He's actually got it bad for Domino…he just won't admit it. LOL

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippets: Lover's Day

Hello!

I hope everyone enjoyed the Fourth and got to see incredible fireworks and eat great food. I'm lucky enough to have another grand extravaganza to attend next weekend. Really looking forward to an awesome show.

Tonight's post is from the short story, Lover's Day. In sticking with the fireworks theme, the main characters have been friends forever and finally have a chance to make some sparkly firecrackers go off. J

Here's the tagline:

Maxie Yearns is a woman on a mission who wants things with Nate Northampton to go back to normal. Without Martin Comico to act as their buffer, they struggle to find their footing again, but with Lover's Day fast approaching and a lucky draw at the card table, Maxie has just the plan to test the waters with Nate.

And a sneaky peek…

Nate Northampton couldn't believe his rotten luck. His four on a quad had been trumped by Maxie Yearn's full ride. He pulled the most incredible hand he'd had in years and his best friend, otherwise known as the new bane of his existence, topped it.

Seriously, how did she do it?

Maxie had a nasty habit of always ending his hot streaks. Until she'd entered the game, he'd been up over everyone. At least he'd achieved his main goal of letting off steam. He'd accomplished that and then some. The fact Maxie now had every last bit of his bounty couldn't take that away.

He watched her scoop up her winnings, accept a round of congratulations, and down a freshly poured shot. Nate decided to take his leave before she started crowing about coming out on top. They'd both had enough to drink that the innuendo wouldn't stop if it got started. And that could take them places they didn't need to go. They didn't have Martin to keep them on the straight and narrow anymore.

He'd learned that lesson a long time ago. Never get started with Maxie if Martin didn't have his back. One would think he'd have remembered the other important bit…never, ever bet against Bombshell…no matter how great the cards in his hand.

The woman had more good fortune at wagers than anyone he'd ever met. Whatever looked out for her in the universe did a damn fine job. Nate almost wished she didn't have a buttload of skill to back up the rest.

He'd almost escaped to the hatch when Maxie cleared her throat to get his attention. "Hey Slapshot…you still have to pay up."

Damn. He'd almost made it out, too.

Turning around, Nate raised an eyebrow. "You're wanting all ten favors now, then?" He had a sinking feeling she'd be very creative with the debt he owed her.

Maxie pretended to ponder the thought then smirked. "Nah, just making sure you didn't forget what the bet was." She grinned, listing out the terms. "Anytime. Anyplace. Anything."

Nate snorted. "Don't worry. I won't forget." As if she'd let him.

Turning, he made his way toward the hatch. He needed to get out while the getting was good.

~:~

Maxie grinned at Nate's retreating back. She could have so much fun with the wager. Poor Nate. He'd bet against her with a kick ass hand and lost. How she ended up with a full ride, she'd never know. Possibly some type of divine intervention.

Chuckling, she waited until someone topped off her glass again and Nate had just reached the exit before delivering a parting shot. "Be prepared, Nate. Remember, you have to do anything and everything I ask." He raised his hand in acknowledgment, but didn't look back.

Maxie tossed the shot down, a thoughtful look on her face. She and Nate had been doing a slow tug of war for equilibrium since they'd lost a third of their trio. Martin Comico used to act as a balance beam between her headstrong impulsiveness and Nate's stubborn fastidiousness. Without him, she now tended to bump heads with Nate and didn't like it.

They'd lost the intimacy they used to have. Sure, they were still friends. Not like Nate went out of his way to avoid her. But he held back and Maxie missed having fun with him. She'd given him ample opportunity and openings for the banter they used to toss back and forth, but he didn't even nibble at the obvious bait.

And she knew why. Martin wouldn't be there to rein them in. He'd always kept her and Nate from doing or saying anything truly stupid or irrevocable. But there had to be a way to draw Nate back, get closer with him again. Sometimes it felt like she'd lost two friends, instead of one.

She wouldn't be above giving him a big ass nudge. But she'd have to use a soft touch. Nate did not appreciate a hard approach. No, he always went for subtlety if he could. Finesse, he called it.

Not really her thing, but she could probably pull it off.

Ten favors wouldn't be a bad way to start. 

Maxie and Nate get to discover what crossing the line from friends to more can do for them. Let the fireworks begin!!

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye