Sunday Snippet: Guarded Chance

April 16, 2017

Happy Easter to those who celebrate. I'm always down for baked ham, mashed potatoes, and noodles. Also, the weather couldn't be more beautiful today.

Thoroughly enjoyed Talking with Chris Hardwick last week. I truly enjoy his casual approach to interviewing. He's such a fan of everything and it shows.

Not much on television this week. I'm looking forward to the return of my lineup.

Riverdale had a great episode. Secrets and sins run deep in the small town and it's so cool to see the interesting ways both get exposed. It'll be fun to see how Archie's mom mixes it up with everyone.

Had a busy work week but had some time to look forward to some returning shows. It looks like Syfy on Fridays will be awesome this summer. Killjoys, Dark Matter, and Wynonna Earp all in one block? Doesn't get much better.

And that's it for television. Tonight's post is from Guarded Chance, a novella that started out as a "what it" scenario between two of my favorite characters. It kind of grew from there and became its own story.

Here's the tagline:

Echo Dart, a brilliant soldier but hot mess of a woman, becomes a captive of the enemy who try to recondition her for their purposes. During the process she realizes there's only one person who has every touched her soul, Race Markinton. But she's already burned the relationship bridge with Race and once she's free, she has to figure out how to make amends or lose him for good.

And a sneaky peek…

"Gah! We've been over this before, Wilson. We're not revisiting the topic." Echo Dart squared off with her significant other for the thousandth time.

Wilson Prewitt crossed his arms over his chest, his face stony. "Yes, we are. You have to stop working for the rebel alliance." His mouthed thinned to a slash across his face.

Echo heaved a sigh. "I'm not working for them, Wilson. Showing them tactical maneuvers and helping them plan raids puts me firmly in the camp of working with them." Why the hell didn't he get that?

Wilson blew out a slow breath. "And you know how I feel about that. We're in a good place here, Echo. They leave us alone."

"They" referred to the coalition occupying the rock of a moon they lived on. How Wilson thought she'd ever fall in and play nice with enemy combatants never failed to spike her ire. Now proved no different. The urge to bolt and run as fast and as far as possible boiled in her gut. She sure could pick the worst possible men. Not always. You had a good one once and blew it to hell. Right. Inner voice needed to shut the hell up.

Echo rolled her eyes heavenward. "Wilson, we're done here." Possibly for good this time. "I'm going out. Don't wait up for me." She grabbed her coat from the hook and started for the door.

Wilson, his voice desperate, spoke up. "I have a solution to our dilemma." He pushed away from the wall and strode toward her.

Echo paused then turned to face him. "What dilemma? This"—she gestured to him then her—"between you and me? It's not working out. And I'm sorry for it, because I wanted it to, but you're not what I need." One person fit that bill and he'd never come near Echo again.

Wilson's voice went eerily soft. "Not yet. But I will be." He grasped her shoulder, halting her progress toward the door.

Echo shook him off, not in the mood for crap. "What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" He rarely got aggressive, not even when she'd prefer it over the calm efficiency he loved to throw at her.

Wilson's lips twisted in a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Echo. But I can't lose you." He wrapped an arm around her, hauling her close, pinning her to his side. "I won't."

She didn't see or hear it coming… the jab of a needle in her upper arm and the fuzzy, gray haze that immediately followed. But she should have. Son of a bitch. A trained soldier had a sixth sense about danger. Or they should. She'd burnt the wick at both ends lately and her instincts were off kilter. Not a very good excuse, but lack of sleep and self-induced emotional turmoil had her tied up in knots. Race and the old man would take her to task for letting her reflexes go dull.

Well, the old man would. Race… would probably shake his head, curl his lip in a sneer, and walk away.

Two men moved into her blurry line of vision. Whatever they'd loaded the syringe with worked fast. Echo couldn't even put up a fight when they zip-corded her hands behind her back and threw a black hood over her head. But she caught the insignia on the shoulder of her captor. Coalition dogs. Enemy hands. Didn't that just fucking figure.

She resisted the pull of unconsciousness. Physically incapable, her body burned with a need to rebel. Her brain focused on using her other senses; hearing being the only one of use.

"You won't hurt her. I have your word on that, right?" Wilson's tone hovered between concerned and bitchy.

A gruff voice answered. "We said we wouldn't. Now get out of the way." Rough hands grabbed her shoulders and another set lifted her legs.

Oh, Wilson, you asshat. Only a truly stupid idiot would take the enemy's word on anything.

Movement followed and the sensation of drowning in darkness came close to overwhelming her. Outside, the sound of traffic greeted her ears. The scratchy fabric of the hood chafed at her cheeks and forehead. Shadows with brief patches of light were the only thing she could make out, her vision blurring further.

Echo would have never believed Wilson could betray her in any way. Another black stain on her current roster. Desperate men did stupid things, and handing her over to the enemy counted as supremely moronic. But the blame didn't belong solely to Wilson. Nope. Echo's self-destructive tendencies had finally reared up to bite her on the ass.

And she had no one in her corner, which rested squarely on her shoulders, too.

Unable to fight her captors, the inky blackness overcoming her, or the sluggish pull of the drug coursing through her veins, Echo's last thought went out to Race, asking forgiveness and apologizing for being such a constant screw up.

Darkness descended and, with no other choice, Echo gave in.

Honestly? This one is turning out to be more than I'd hoped for. I'm excited to finish it up and put it out for everyone's entertainment.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Good for the Soul

Ugh. This has been a rough week. A nasty stomach virus worked its way through the entire family. So glad we're all back to being semi-normal.

Looking forward to catching Talking with Chris Hardwick tonight. I'm excited to see what he brings to the screen each week.

Legends of Tomorrow had a solid finale. I look forward to seeing how the team deals with the time quakes. Awesome to see Mick pretty much choose his side.

Riverdale keeps getting better and better. I love this show. Watching Archie screw things up makes me happy. It's nice to have a character who gets to grow and change… as long as he actually gets to do both.

Finished up season three of City Homicide and got a start on season four. I'd forgotten how much I didn't like Rhys. Can't remember if he ended up growing on me or not. Took a small break to rewatch Pitch Perfect and do my happy chair dance while viewing.

That's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Good for the Soul, a novella where my main characters realize love is good for the soul.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Dex Thurgood has ideals he upholds and wants to keep it that way. But when he's forced to confront a sinister underground trade leader, he has to face his darker nature to bust up the extortion racket, which won't be easy because Ramsey Markum knows one of Dex's deeply buried secrets. Lana Denman steps up to help Dex deal with the fallout of not being perfect.

And a sneaky peek…

With his past staring him in the face, Dex dug in and refused to bend. Ramsey could do what he wanted with the information. Dex couldn't give a shit anymore. The guilt nearly ate him alive anyway. If Ramsey shared the information, maybe Dex could move the fuck on and put that dark decision in the past. He and Erica started out great. They had fun and enjoyed each other's company. And the sex couldn't be better.

Until Erica used it as a weapon.

By the time Dex realized he and Erica did not make a good fit, she told him about the pregnancy. He reacted to the news with stone-cold silence. A baby wouldn't fit in his life, and he couldn't be the type of father he'd want to be. Erica knew. They'd talked about it. She'd heard his deepest concerns about trying to raise a child, yet not being there due to deployment or getting stationed somewhere a family wouldn't thrive. Did Erica think he'd be overjoyed? Far from it, Dex had the horrible thought she'd done it on purpose, to bind them, and keep him in her life. Had she known he'd lost interest? That he'd found someone he wanted more? Did her instincts warn her or had he given her some kind of indication about his swiftly changing feelings?

Erica interrupted his stream of consciousness. "Dex? What do you want to do? About the baby?"

He honestly couldn't answer. He didn't have one. Erica laid a hand on his knee and he felt trapped. Smothered. Penned in.

"Dex? Did you hear me?" She punched his leg. "The baby? What should we do?"

Disentangling himself, he put some space between them. "I, uh, I don't know." He wanted to bolt. Run. Hop a transport off planet.

Erica frowned. "What do you mean, you don't know? You don't seem very happy."

His eyes widened. "Did you think I would be? I've got four more years in the service. You know how I feel about trying to raise a child when I'm active military."

Erica shrugged. "But, Dex, you could muster out. You don't have to stay in the service."

Her utter lack of comprehension made his head hurt. "Erica, you don't just leave the military. You have to have a reason, a damned good one, and a pregnant girlfriend does not qualify."

She frowned again. "But I thought—" She stopped, her gaze flying up to meet his.

She couldn't quite cover the flash of guilt.

Dex saw red. "Oh, hell no. You did it on purpose, didn't you?" How had he missed the manipulative side to her?

Erica tried to play her maneuver down. "Well, not really on purpose. I might've missed my birth control shot by a week, but I didn't plan it."

Dex shook his head. "Maybe you didn't plan to miss it, but you knew what could happen because you did. If you'd told me, I would've taken precautions." He shot her a look. "Or we could have skipped having sex until you were covered again."

Erica pouted. "But I didn't want to forego the sex." Her hand moved to his crotch. "I love your hard cock inside me."

Dex doubted it would ever get hard for her again. His dick certainly had no reaction to her current touch.

She jerked her hand away and he figured she realized the same. "I don't know why you're so pissy about it. It's a baby, Dex. You won't miss much. They don't do anything overly useful until they start school anyway."

Incredulous, Dex shook his head. A child amounted to a commodity to her. He'd rather not be involved at all.

Making a decision, he rose. "Do what you feel is best, Erica. If you continue the pregnancy, I'll support the decision and the kid."

Her lips thinned. "But you won't be around, will you?"

He held her gaze. "I'm deploying in two weeks. You knew that."

She stood up. "Not what I mean. You're not planning to be with me."

Dex gave a terse nod. "I'm sorry, but, no, I’m not."

Erica's eyes went cold and flat. "Nice. Knock me up and walk away. What a guy."

Dex didn't bother pointing out the flaw in her statement. He grabbed his hat and headed for the door. "Think what you want, Erica. I'll leave the base contact information with Smythe on my way out." He pushed the door open. "You can keep me informed via the main switchboard until I have a permanent post."

Erica lifted a slim shoulder. "Whatever, Dex. And by the way… your financial support won't be needed. You can't hold a stick to my father's money."

Dex snorted. "Never tried to, Erica. But I'll pay my fair share, either way."

She chose to ignore his assertion. Dex tucked his hat under his arm and left, wandering through the huge house to the butler's quarters. He left his military personnel details with the nonplussed man and took his leave.

Getting behind the wheel of his car, Dex breathed a resigned sigh. He hadn't expected the breakup to be easy, but the curve she'd thrown hadn't helped. By the time he pulled to the end of the drive, he questioned whether he'd made the right decision. A month after he deployed, he discovered he'd never find out. Erica had been killed in a car accident when she lost control of her vehicle. Smythe informed Dex she'd been driving at a high rate of speed and spun out around a sharp curve leading to the family's summer estate.

Dex's downward spiral will go out of control… unless someone checks his progress. Good thing there's a woman willing to do just that.

That's it for this week. Catch everybody of the flipside.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: A Gentle Valor

Well, the beginning of April is here and I've been bitten by the spring cleaning bug. This is not a bad thing. House, garage, and computer files are getting spiffed up and decluttered.

The Walking Dead finale is tonight and I'll be there. Not sure I'll pay a lot of attention, but I can't not watch.

The Flash introduced an irritating villain. Can't say I'm sad to see him go. Also really frustrated with the whole Savitar storyline at this point. I'm ready for the final end game and season finale.

Legends of Tomorrow rewrote reality and kept me entertained. Looking forward to the season finale to see how they resolve everything. Mick remains one of my favorite characters and it better stay that way.

Arrow's deft mastery of weaving Oliver's past into his present life will be missed. This isn't to say the writers won't continue churning out excellent fare. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing how the story continues. Something tells me Oliver's past will still come back to haunt him in many other ways.

Riverdale had a new episode and, wow, I wanted to get a better read on Alice Cooper… I got it. A little sad it's at the expense of Hal, but the interesting wrinkle might be worth it. FP's playing a sly game. He doesn't get near enough credit for being a true mastermind. Come on, people. He's Jughead's dad. The kid had to get his smarts from someone. Just saying.

I'm still binge-watching City Homicide, working my way through season three. The first season is probably my absolute favorite but I do enjoy the later seasons also.

That's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Gentle Valor, a novella that started as a sexy short but morphed into more.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Aggie Fyffe makes an impossible decision and survives a hellish experience. Haunted by her choice, she faces her demons with a little help from Zane Tetherson and earns a chance for redemption.

And a sneaky peek…

Aggie Fyffe stood, stunned, staring in horror at the sight in front of her. Women, so many women, hooked up to machines, tubes running to and fro like a spider's web. All in various stages of gestation, she had no idea if any could be saved. Swallowing down bile, she shuffled further into the lab on numb feet that tried to fight forward progress. She didn't blame them. Her brain might not be able to handle a closer look.

Give her a rifle, hell, any weapon, and she could shoot to defend, maim, or kill. The sight of blood didn't faze her. Gaping wounds, lost limbs, or severed arteries barely blipped in her mind. Combat had hardened her against it.

But the sight of the women?

Chilled her to her soul.

She edged closer to the first bed and bit back a curse. (Describe the visage. Unconscious, maybe comatose, her distended abdomen had to be in the final stages of pregnancy. Aggie had no idea how close to delivery the woman might be, but it couldn't be long off. What the hell happened to the infants? Aggie decided she probably didn't want to know.

Her eyes scanned the row of beds. Nine total. Logic suggested one for each month of pregnancy. Why? Again, her brain shied away from possible answers. Movement from the farthest bed caught her attention. Maybe she'd imagined it. She hoped so. Would be better for the women if they weren't awake and aware.

She slowly made her way to the last bed… oh, shit. The woman's eyes blinked, tears spilling out. Addie knew her, not well, but she ran one of the shops on their home world. Betsy Morehead, a nice lady who liked to sew.

Aggie eased up to the bed and Betsy's eyes met hers. Pain-filled and agonized, they beseeched Aggie to remove the tube so Betsy could speak. Aggie gingerly lifted the device and gently tore the tape away. Out of her element, she hoped she didn't cause harm. Putting a gun in the woman's hand would be easier.

Betsy gagged when the tube slid free, coughing and sputtering until her lungs filled with air. Aggie quickly loosened the wrist restraints, giving Betsy a little more freedom.

She grabbed hold of Aggie's hand, her grip weak. "Thank you." Her voice croaked, but she got the words out.

Aggie squeezed Betsy's fingers. "What's going on? Why are you here?" Stupid question, but if she didn't get Betsy talking, Aggie would freak out.

The machines and tubes pressed in on her like a weight, a sick feeling crawled up her spine, and her head didn't want to believe what her gut knew.

Betsy swallowed hard. "You have to know. Or guess." Her eyes slid shut and Aggie's heart went out to her.

"Why?" Aggie needed to hear it.

To have her suspicions confirmed. Aggie had been dragged from the battlefield wreckage of her downed hopper for a reason. She'd taken out a small outpost before enemy combatants shot her rotor up. Aggie should've hit intra-atmo as soon as the building blew, but she'd wanted to recon the area.

Stupid fucking mistake.

One that cost her lost time and brought her to the creeptastic, cluster fuck of a hellhole she'd woken up in. A shudder tore through her. Someone had patched up her wounds, but she had stitches she couldn't explain.

Her abdomen hadn't been affected by her crash-landing.

Betsy's mouth worked but only garbled mumbles came out. She pointed to the corner work station and Aggie made her way to the location and picked up a stack of lab notes. Neatly typed names filled the page and the roiling nausea returned when Aggie spotted hers at the bottom, the last entry.

Her gaze scanned the next several papers, words leaping out, punching her brain with trepidation. Experiment. The attempt to breed the perfect specimen.

"Dammit." Women were forcefully taken until they were with child.

When too many were lost due to abuse, insemination trials began. Once impregnated, the subjects ended up hooked up to machines that kept them nourished, sedated, and restrained so no attempt could be made to escape… or to abort the pregnancy.

Aggie read more, rage building with each new atrocity. Births were listed, results tallied, failures eliminated. Then the process started over again. And there were more. Lots more. At least a dozen facilities located across the country.

The freshly sewn area on her side throbbed. What the hell had they done to her? Flipping through the notes, she finally found her name. Something about her blood had no less than five doctors excited about using her as their next subject. She dropped the files.

Aggie bit back rising bile. "No fucking way." She whirled around, dizzy with dread and fatigue. "I'm not sticking around to let them have any piece of me." She went back to Betsy's side and grasped her hand. "I'm going to send help. As soon as I get back to base, we'll come with everything we have." Aggie turned to leave.

Betsy stopped her with a surprisingly firm grip. "Please, end this." Her voice croaked with agony. "None of us want to be here."

Other women were going through the same thing. A horrifying experience. No control, imprisoned, imperiled, dehumanized.

Betsy squeezed Aggie's hand again. "Disconnect the machine. I don't want to deliver this child into the world." Her voice wobbled and fresh tears leaked from her eyes.

Aggie recoiled from the idea. She couldn't kill nine women. They deserved a chance to live. She shook her head.

Betsy tightened her grip. "You have to. Please don't let them use us to further their cause. None of us want this." Her plea came out as a hoarse cry.

Aggie relented. She wouldn't want to contribute either. Had, in fact, decided not to.

She drew in a deep breath. "How?" A simple question with a terrible answer.

Betsy glanced across the room. "The big machine in the corner. Destroy it. It's the generator." A low moan sounded from one of the other women. "Please, hurry. Magda could start labor at any time."

Aggie made her way over to the corner and searched for a way to stop the monstrosity keeping the females prisoner. A carafe of coffee caught her attention and Aggie swiped it from the machine and threw it at the generator. The crash of glass followed by the sizzle and pop of the electrical reaction with the liquid made a booming sound in the otherwise quiet room. The lights went first, then finally, the respirators ceased their hissing noise. Aggie's action placed a heavy burden on her. It also made her determined to find the other locations and destroy them.

Aggie turned back toward the row of beds and gasped. Betsy had removed the tubes and wires and lay quickly bleeding out. Aggie made her way to the woman's side and waited until she no longer drew breath. Blinking away the sight, Aggie bit back a sob then paused at each bed, silently acknowledging her role in their deaths. She owed the victims that much.

Victims twice over. They'd become hers, too, dying by her hand. It hurt to breathe, but she dragged in a shaky breath. She had to focus… had to move… had to get out. An alarm would sound—soon—and she had to not be there, staring at the carnage she created.

The urge to heave overwhelmed her and Aggie made a slow dash for the door. She had to get out, get away before the need to expel her stomach contents couldn't be contained. Her head spinning, she weaved through the corridors. Her brain didn't want to wrap around everything she'd learned. Gah! The atrocities went way deeper than she'd thought. Than anyone thought.

The need to tell someone hit hard and Aggie used the adrenaline to wrench the heavy wooden door open and get outside. The cool, night breeze brought a chill to her skin, but filled her lungs with clean air, devoid of the stench and aroma of death. She slid her gaze sideways and scanned her surroundings. She had the cover of darkness and if she made the tree line before the alarm sounded, she'd never be caught.

Creeping stealthily toward the dense forest, Aggie decided she'd end her life like Betsy before going back to that place. Aggie would not be used as a breeding vessel.

She made it halfway to safety when the loud blare of klaxons screeched through the quiet. Her bare feel would pay for it later, but Aggie didn't care. She ran, as fast as her injuries would allow, and dived into the scraggy brush just when the flare of lights lit up the field. She rolled over brambles and briars, but dug her knees into the undergrowth and scurried until she felt safe among the tall pines.

When her body could go no further, she propped herself against fallen timber and scrubbed her hands over her face. Her fingertips came back wet and Aggie didn't know if blood or tears covered them. She'd find out at daybreak. For now, she had to keep going or risk discovery when they brought out the hounds.

A little longer than usual sneak peek but this scene ended up being so much more than I'd hoped.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Game of One

Some nice weather, not too hot or cold. No snow, which is always a bonus. Fingers crossed it stays mild. Of course, everyone knows not to hold their breath. It's still March.

Didn't pay much attention to The Walking Dead, but did catch The Talking Dead. Definitely going to have to check out Hardwick's The Talking because it should be loads of fun.

How much longer is the hiatus for Gotham? I'm missing the dark, crazy ride.

The Flash had another crossover with Supergirl and, I have to admit, the mash-up ended up being fun and worth the watch.

Arrow… wow. I guess I'm going to assume Oliver's last buried deep secret is finally out there for, well, the viewers at least. Kudos to that walk down memory lane. That said, I've got a crap-ton of questions and need to watch again with zero, I mean absolutely no interruptions or distractions. I do have a hope some of the bad guys are now going to ripple out from Oliver's past transgressions, especially Talia. I would love to see an Oliver / Nyssa / Talia meet up. That would be worth an entire episode, right?

Looking forward to a new episode of Riverdale. I've missed seeing my new favorite group of actors.

Finally finished Luke Cage and thoroughly enjoyed the first season. I'll admit I'm not thrilled with how it ended but I'm assuming all will be addressed soon. Continued the City Homicide rewatch and have most of season two out of the way.

Still need to catch up on a few other shows and might get to those this week.

That's it for television. Tonight's post is from Game of One, a sexy short that started with the idea of a couple bonding over a game of darts. Sexy fun ensues.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Lacie Brooks' annual Valentine's Day tradition of getting laid and letting off steam is cut short when she shoots her mouth off to the wrong superior officer. Stuck on base, she finds a way to pass her restricted time with Ren Blankenship by playing a Game of One. Too bad for Lacie, Ren decides to turn the tables on her and win for a change.

And a sneaky peek…

"I'm such a stupid moron." Lacie Brooks kicked off her boots and rolled up into her rack.

She should be out with everyone else for the Valentine's Day weekend, but nope. A nasty penchant for shooting her mouth off earned a three day restriction to base.

Note to self… Don't spout off on Thursday and lose weekend privileges.

Not that she had concrete plans like most of her unit. But getting laid had been at the top of her list. Valentine's Day… celebration for lovers. Flowers, drinks and dinner didn't exactly make her hot and bothered. No, for her, the couple's holiday meant finding a hot guy and having great sex—as long the process involved walking away the next day.

Lacie didn't want more. She'd had a great guy and lost him. Chuck Ashford died because of a stupid mistake, but he went down while seeing action. He wouldn't have wanted to go any other way.

They'd only seriously been discussing a lifetime together a couple of months before Chuck deployed. He'd known, on that last video call, something didn't feel right. Lacie foolishly promised him if something happened, she'd get back out, find someone else, and not be alone.

She couldn't do it. Why put herself out there again? She never lacked for willing partners if she had an itched that needed scratching and she always made her expectations clear. It saved a hell of a lot of heartache and drama.

So why didn't she hate missing her annual tradition more? A five-year streak of booty-calls. Shouldn't she be really pissed it would go unmarked this year? Apart from the yawning seventy-two hour stretch of nothing to do, she found she didn't care.

Maybe the whole deal had gotten a little old. The celebration for lovers marked an anniversary of sorts. Six months after Chuck died she'd found a guy on Valentine's Day, had crazy-mad sex, and decided it did the trick. But lately, she'd been feeling out of sorts, like she needed something more than a one-night stand or an occasional wild weekend.

She snorted. "Nah. Who am I kidding?" The whole off balance thing didn't mean she wanted a steady lover.

She could do without clingy, controlling, and constant contact. I never meet anyone I want to spend that much time with. Except Ren Blankenship… Chuck's best friend. Hers now.

A tuneless whistle greeted her ears and she scrambled off her bunk to spy none other than Ren, strolling toward the rec room, carrying two big file boxes. Probably looking for a spot to spread out all over the place. His desk rarely held the workload he took on.

She tilted her head to the side, admiring the way his fatigues clung to his ass. Maybe Ren would at least help break up the boredom this weekend. She could pull him away from his all work and no play, responsible to a fault existence.

A smile quirked. "He'd take pity on me and be the nice guy he is."

Only Ren would volunteer for duty the entire weekend devoted to lovers. Weird, because the guy wouldn't have trouble finding a willing woman. He had rank, chiseled good looks, a smokin' hot body.

But Ren steered clear. Not that Lacie blamed him this year. His last relationship tanked because Ren wouldn't play head games and his girlfriend could've gone pro on that front. Lacie heaved a sigh of relief when he'd escaped the potential nightmare. He deserved someone that would shoot straight and respect his great qualities.

In her book, being a kick ass friend topped the list, followed by loyalty and a sense of honor and duty. Also, in her case, putting up with a lot of bullshit and knowing when to call her on it or clean up the mess. Of course, Lacie had heard so much about Ren from Chuck, she'd been almost hard-wired to like the guy. Chuck and Ren grew up together, but Lacie didn't meet Ren until Chuck's funeral.

She turned and headed back toward her rack. "The guy walked into my life that day and never left." And she thanked the universe for him.

He didn't put qualifiers on their friendship and Lacie seriously appreciated the fact Ren never told her how to honor Chuck's memory—even if Ren didn't always agree with how she coped with her loss.

Grinning, Lacie no longer minded being stuck on base. She detoured to her locker and dragged some casual clothes out—a pair of soft workout pants, a fitted tank, and a zip-up sweatshirt. No need to stay in uniform—her restriction didn't include extra duty. For once.

Once dressed, she tidied up and bounced out of quarters to grab something to eat. "Ren, you're going to have some fun this weekend whether you want to or not."

Here's hoping Ren decides to play along. Well… of course he will. He's always down for having a good time with Lacie.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Follow Me

And we had about two inches of snow this week. Mother Nature is laughing her ass off right now.

The Walking Dead had another great episode. I always love Carol and I enjoyed Morgan's journey. The Talking Dead follow up made me happy, too.

The Flash took a turn I didn't expect and I like it. Looking forward to seeing what else the speed force comes up with to throw at Barry.

Legends of Tomorrow going to the moon proved a fun ride. Personally, I want a lot more Mick and Martin scenes. Their timing is so terrific. I'm also loving the Sarah / Rip dynamic. Love this show.

Arrow upped the tension by a zillion. His past keeps coming back to haunt him in huge ways. While I love how Adrian has everything twisted in his direction, I'll enjoy seeing him go down. At least I hope he goes down. Hard. And doesn't get back up. I'm also waiting for Felicity to land on the hot seat. Something tells me she's going to get into a mess she can't get out of.

Riverdale had a bye week, which makes me sad. No new episode this week either. Grr.

I finished up the first season of City Homicide and started Luke Cage. So far, I'm enjoying the Harlem vibe and look forward to seeing how Luke comes into his hero status.

Still need to catch up on Murdoch Mysteries and X Company. Possibly this week.

And that's it for television. This week's post is from Follow Me, an epic novel that I'm hoping to finally get finished up soon.

Here's the mini-blurb:

A 'will they' or 'won't they' wager spur Molly and Sloan to see how long they 'can' without getting caught.

And a sneaky peek…

The room plunged into darkness and Sloan finally staggered against the bulkhead. The pain slowly receded from his bruised shin and he chuckled… only quietly this time. "What the hell were we thinking… drinking that much during the card game?" At least in the inky blackness, the room didn't spin like the corridor had.

He could almost feel Molly roll her eyes before she answered. "Gee, Captain…" Her voice altered, she'd turned away. "Thought doesn't enter into anything when the booze goes down smooth."

Smooth? "More like it went down with a kick… followed by a bite." Then again, what the hell did he know? He still struggled to tell who from whom and what from what. He'd only been on board since the attacks four months ago and his brain was kinda fuzzy from the alcohol.

Damn… it had been a long time since he'd been this intoxicated. Over two years. And that had been with Molly also, but under very different circumstances. He didn't want to ponder those at the moment. In a round about way, they'd come somewhat full circle.

And circles were something else he didn't want to think about right now.

Being in the dark proved almost as bad as the brightly lit corridor. Sloan felt along the bulkhead, hoping to find the switch or a pull cord to a light. But his fingers met with smooth surface. "Dammit, I can't find the lights." He reached out again, but still came up empty.

Her head still fuzzy, Molly didn't mind the darkness. "Who needs them?" She leaned her forehead against the bulkhead. "Ah… nice and cool. Feels good against my head." She turned and propped her shoulders against the surface. "Never again, Sloan. I swear I'm never drinking this much ever again."

Sloan snorted. "You always say that, Molls." And she never stuck to it—one of the things he enjoyed about her.

Giving up finding a source for light, Sloan tried to get his bearings. "Where the hell are we?" The space felt familiar, but the walk to get there was all muddled in his head.   

Molly sighed. "Truthfully? I'm not sure, exactly. I kinda just picked a door to open." Thinking about it now, probably not her best move.

Sloan blew out an exasperated breath. "Geez, Molly, didn't you see the tag when you opened the door?" Not good. If she didn't have a clue where they were, they could end up locked in during a shift change. If they had to be rescued, so to speak, he wouldn't live it down. And he already had a hard enough time fitting in.

Molly couldn't hold back the drunken giggle. "Who can actually see anything? Er… any one thing, that is?" She giggled again even though it wasn't funny. Except it kinda was.

Sloan realized she was as bad off, or worse, than he was. And the humor finally struck him. "Uh… why do you think I was following you?" He didn't mention the fact that the view had been a thing of joy… the bits he remembered anyway.

Molly must've found that insanely funny; her bark of laughter rang out before she silenced it quickly. "Aww… I thought you were just trying to get close to me, Captain." She laughed again, quietly this time. "I think I'm rather insulted you were just using me for guidance." She heard Sloan move toward the sound of her voice then felt a heavy weight land on her foot. Ouch. "Uh, Sloan… that's me you're standing on." She dragged her foot out from her his.

Mortified, he apologized. "Damn… I'm sorry." Inching his way forward, he tried to be more careful. "I, um, was trying to get close to you…" He hadn't meant to admit that, but something about her teasing tone turned him on. Always had.

And since they were alone in a dark room, and he was just drunk enough to be brave, he decided to act on it. Regs be damned. "I still am… trying to get close to you… can't fucking see to do it though." No doubt about it, the alcohol played a big part in what he was doing, but he didn't care.

This is such a labor of love. I love my characters so much and with two follow-up novels, I've spent a lot of time with them.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Flesh and Blood

Seriously, the back and forth of warm then frigid weather is the one thing I hate about March. My sinuses rebel in a big way and it's never pretty. LOL

The Walking Dead had a great episode last week. Nice to see Rick and Michonne working together. Rosita on the warpath is also pretty great to watch.

The Flash is speeding along to the reveal of the big bad and I have a sneaky feeling I'm not going to like who it ends up being. We'll see what happens.

Legends of Tomorrow finally brought Rip back from the edge of evil… or did they? It's never one hundred percent certain with this group. Looks like a great episode coming up.

Arrow had the week off and I missed my Wednesday night fare. I'm not a huge fan of these stupid three-week hiatuses. Just show the damn episodes already.

Riverdale also had a great episode. This series is fast becoming my number two show. I loved getting some background about Fred and FP. That said, if Fred had a band in high school, why was he pretty much unable to connect with Archie about his music? Little things and details like this can make or break a show for me. Here's hoping there's some improvement there. I love sneaky Betty. Cheryl's right about Betty betting a terrible liar, but she's got some game with her clueless parents. On a side note, the seeds being planted for a messy situation with Betty, Jughead, and Archie make me happy. I'd like to see a little more Dark Betty emerge.

I finished up Jessica Jones and ended up loving how things played out. As hard as it is for my brain to wrap around David Tennant playing a raging asshole, I gotta give him kudos for being completely creepy. Started a rewatch of one of my favorite Australian series, City Homicide. I love that show. Also need to catch up on X Company and Murdoch Mysteries.

And that's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Flesh and Blood, a novella that started as a "what if" fanfiction and blossomed into its own story.

Here's the mini-blurb:

An AI that spouts philosophical mumbo jumbo, a past that may not be all it seems, and a link between both sends Peta Jones on a quest to figure out the truth. It's a good thing she's got Abe Cantrell along to act as her voice of reason.

And a sneaky peek…

"Are you insane, old man? Have you seen her?" Abe stalked after his grandfather, following the man to the back corner of his quarters where he kept an ancient desk. The old man sat down and thumped on the top twice, the bottom drawer slid open and he dug out the half full bottle of scotch.

He twisted the cap off and poured a healthy amount into two mugs. "I've seen her." The fuller of the two made its way in front of Abe. "Sit, take a drink, and calm down." He put the bottle away. "She's fine. Handled herself well under the circumstances."

Abe choked but didn't yell like he wanted to. Instead, he drained half the mug and calmly asked. "What the hell were you thinking? She almost died in there?"

His grandfather met Abe's eyes. "I'm aware of that." He heaved a sigh and Abe got it. Peta's injuries weighed heavily on the old man. And he would bear the responsibility, and the brunt of Abe's anger, because the guilt tore him up.

Williamson drained his mug. "Did you catch the footage around fifteen minutes into the interrogation?" His hand shook, only a little, when he set the cup on the desk.

Abe settled back and let the pissy attitude go. The commander didn't need Abe's antagonism right now. "The sentient stuff? Yeah. What of it?" The whole interrogation video creeped him out.

The old man pinned him with a concerned look. "It got to her there. That's when she let it in." He shook his head.

Abe thought about the tense exchange. He couldn't argue the point. Hell, even he'd been almost convinced by Bensalem One. He'd like to find the human who wouldn't be.

His grandfather heaved a sigh. "What happened to the days when the enemy was flesh and blood and bone?" He poured another finger of scotch. "I miss them."

The old man had a point. No one had seen the revolt of the AIs coming. But they should have. Complacency never won out over tech. The price paid in human blood already high, Abe couldn't see an end to it.

Peta almost became one of the casualties.

Abe leaned forward. "Peta didn't let it in, Pops. It barged its way past her boundaries." He leveled his gaze on his grandfather's. "The stuff about Peta's mom? That's not in any database in the solar system. The woman lived off the grid. How did it get that information?" Peta never volunteered personal details on official records.

Gib shook his head. "I don't know, Abe. But I'm going to find out." He laced his fingers together and studied his grandson. "The spiritual undertones of the AIs ramblings concern me. Maris Gradin-Jones was a grand dame in the guru community. Peta's well known in those circles, small though they may be, and someone could have been persuaded to provide personal details."

Abe didn't like the gut punch he got. "You think she's a target? That the AI went after her specifically?" His head jerked. "No. Not possible. It couldn't know you'd send her to interrogate it."

Williamson shrugged. "I don't know what I think, yet. But I know I don't like any of it." He leaned back in his chair. "This business about the AIs thinking they're sentient has been going on for a long time. The new twist about their Creator allowing the humans to construct them is a new avenue to explore."

Abe nodded. "What about the consciousness stuff? That they never really lose it unless they can't find something to download it into? We should have the tech crew run diagnostics on every single device that has memory, right? If you're looking for an inside source, I'd start there."

Gib agreed. "Already in the works. I'm also having everything scrubbed. If they think they come back stronger each time they download, we'll see if they can manage to get past a sweep."

Abe wondered aloud. "And if they can?"

Williamson confirmed Abe's fear. "Then we've already lost."

"Shit." Abe's shoulders slumped against the back of his chair.

Gib changed the subject. "Look, Peta got released from the infirmary half an hour ago. Go find her."

Abe already planned to do so. "And then what?" The old man had a reason, above and beyond concern for their girl.

"Just…" Gib paused and looked away. "Make sure she's not taking that thing's ramblings too seriously."

In other words, find out if Peta had bought into what the AIs wanted to sell.

Abe frowned. Spying on someone he cared deeply for didn't settle in his gut well. But his grandfather's concern might be warranted.

Abe sighed and stood. "Right. I'll track her down." He turned to leave.

Williamson called softly. "I wouldn't ask it of you if I didn't love her. And know you do, too."

Abe paused. He should've known the old man would pick up on it. And Abe would have said something if the discovery he really loved Peta hadn't just hit him. "I know, Pops. I'll watch out for her."

His grandfather nodded and poured another drink. The day's events finally catching up to him.

Abe exited quarters and headed for the bunkroom. Peta would head there first and if he got lucky, he'd catch her before she tried to hide away and lick her wounds.

Abe's not going to have an easy path in this story. Peta never makes anything simple.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Five by Five

If February in Ohio can be an angsty monster, March is its drama queen sibling. The wind is doing some wicked crazy things lately.

I'm kind of looking forward to The Walking Dead tonight. Of course, whether I watch the entire episode depends on if Negan makes an appearance. I really, really don't like him eating up screen time. No offense to the actor. He's terrific.

The Flash had another great episode. Dueling Harrisons is fun to watch. I'm truly wondering if Iris has a future on this show. I love the actress so I hope she does. That said, the CW isn't afraid to kill off favorites, so, yeah, there's that.

Arrow had another great episode. I had a sneaky suspicion about Adrian, especially after he mentioned Oliver stole his girlfriend back in the day. Season five is kind of up and down but the threads merge in ways I'm not usually expecting and I like that.

Riverdale is still holding my attention. I'm a little iffy on the jumbled up feeling I get, like there's not really a solid through-line, but I'm more than willing to hang in there and see where everything goes. I chuckle at their previously ons… I know a show that used to slip stuff that didn't make it onscreen into the previously ons… just saying.

Finished up season two of Daredevil and loved how everything came together. Looking forward to more with Matt, Foggy, and Karen. Started Jessica Jones and hit just over the halfway mark. It's not quite as great as Daredevil, in my viewer opinion, but I'm enjoying the acting and the characters. Okay, I'm not really excited about Hogarth, but eh, whatever.

And that's it in television this week. Tonight's post is from Five by Five, a sexy short that got a start with a fanfic challenge and turned into a story of its own.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Vasha Eick has everything she wants. Deke Vitali would be the cherry on top. An old rival shows up, shifting the dynamic and Vash has to stake a claim or get out of the way.

And a sneaky peek…

Deke had to walk off a hard-on.

'I'm human. I like to look.'

Did Vasha have any idea what her admission made him feel? Aside from the stiff dick thing?

Hell, no. If she knew, he'd never live it down. No way. She'd home in on it and make it a point to share with the world.

He needed a little time to get some perspective.

Saying she liked to look didn't mean she wanted to get hot and heavy with him. Not that he'd mind if she did, he had a bit of a thing for Vash. He tried not to take it too seriously. They flirted like mad, got along rather well. Okay, they got better than good—when Vash didn't try to pull insane stunts, which she tended to do on a frequent basis.

The thing with her, though—she flirted with everyone. They'd served together almost a year and Deke had never seen her go out with the same guy more than once.

She laid down the rules and everyone respected them. He had no clue why. Okay, maybe he did. She'd been burned and wouldn't let it happen again.

The story bandied about by the crew—and he'd checked the facts and believed them to be true—Vasha had come this close to handfasting with her longtime boyfriend. She got early leave, two weeks before the ceremony, and headed home to surprise Brad Boardman. Let herself into their flat and found him face down between the legs of her biggest rival, Sandra Faher.

Handfasting pretty much out of the question, Vash didn't stick around to hear Brad's lame ass excuses. She threw her keys on the bed and told Sandra to enjoy the biggest dick on the planet. And she did not happen to be referring to the size of Brad's cock.

Vash went back to base, signed on with the Erinome, and never looked back. She didn't look forward either. Vasha lived in and for the moment.

Deke got her reasons. But getting why she made the rounds didn't mean he'd fall in and enjoy his one time out and not expect more. Not in his nature.

He wanted to convince Vash he'd be worth more than a single date, or a quick one-night stand. And he could do it. Deke hadn't earned the highest marks in planning and tactics for lack of smarts.

Vasha would find that fact out soon enough.

I can't wait for Vash to get over drama and give in to Deke. Stay tuned!

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

ML Skye