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Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Guest Author, P.J. O'Dwyer: FORSAKEN, Book 3 Fallon Sisters Trilogy


Like a rabid dog, she clenched onto him, sinking her teeth into the sensitive area near his pulse.

Kevin let go. Couldn’t help it—hurt like a bitch.  She took off, and the chase was on.  Kevin slammed into her back, taking her down to the gravel drive. She hit hard, a soft, feminine moan escaping her mouth, and he didn’t give a shit. If she wanted to go the hard way—her choice.  He was more concerned whether she’d gotten her rabies shot. He whipped her arm back and slammed the cuff around her wrist. She struggled beneath him. Kevin tightened his thighs. Her other hand dug into the gravel. Before she could arm herself, he grabbed her hand and shook it until she dropped every last stone then cuffed her.  Kevin placed his hand on her back and sat up.  “You ass.  Get off her.”  The voice, he recognized.  “She can’t breathe, Kevin.” Fingers dug into his shoulders. “Get up. You’re hurting her.” Another familiar voice.  He glared up at Bren and Kate—both standing bare legged in slippers, their arms crossed over their chests, eyeing him with disdain.

His youth flooded back to him.  He didn’t have a chance.  Still breathing heavy, his words came in a rush. “Let me do my job.” Kevin ran his hands up the back of her legs. They were stiff and glued together. “Spread them.” Nudging her legs apart, he finished patting her down. He reached in the back pockets of her jeans, then the front. Nothing. He rolled her over and dug into the large sweatshirt pocket. Empty. “You have ID on you?”  She only lay there, her hair a tangle hiding her face. He pressed her hair back from her eyes, and he hesitated. Tear-filled orbs glistened in the moonlight. Damn it. She’d asked for this. He’d offered to help her. He wasn’t the bad guy here.  Kevin pushed up and stood, taking his prize of a prisoner with him. “Her chin.” Kate’s lips thinned, and she moved toward her.  Kevin moved to block Kate. “She bites.”  “I’d bite you, too.” Bren brushed by Kate and took a strategic position between Kevin and the woman. “I want you to un-cuff her.”  “No way in hell, Bren.” He pulled his prisoner toward his patrol car. His leg stung where the nail had gotten him, his pants were still wet along with his underwear, which, at the moment, rode up his ass compliments of Little Miss Innocent, and his wrist throbbed where she’d taken a chunk out of him. “She’s spending the night in the county jail.” 

Bren and Kate blocked the passenger door of his patrol car.  Kevin shook his head. “You two called me, remember?” Keeping his hand around his prisoner’s arm, he unlocked his door and motioned for the two of them to step aside.   “I’ll drop the charges,” Bren said.  Kevin laughed. “I don’t need you to charge her. Trespassing is the least of her worries.”  Kate grabbed his arm. “What do you have on her?”  He locked in on Kate. “I thought you gave up practicing law.” He cocked his head. “In fact, as I remember, you were disbarred.”  She nailed him with unsmiling eyes. “Fine. Have an attitude. I’m charging her with assault on a police officer.”  Bren’s lips sputtered. “You’re a big sissy.” She grabbed his wrist, eyeballing it, and cast his arm away, giving him a less than sympathetic face. “She broke the skin. Big deal.”  He had a head for people, especially these two. They weren’t going to let it go. He also had a fair indication the mute leaning up against his patrol car would remain that way.  “I’ll make you two a deal. You get her to talk. Tell me her name and where she came from, and she’s all yours. But that means you have to take her in for the night.”  He beaded in on his prisoner. Dirt smudged her cheeks. Grass and maybe a crunched up leaf stuck out of her hair. If she came to the height of his shoulders, he’d be surprised. But for such a delicate-sized woman, she could put up a fight.  He connected with her eyes. They flickered with something akin to curiosity. 

Curious as to whether he’d let her go.  He was a man of his word, except she didn’t know that.  She wet her lips and glanced warily at Bren and Kate, then back to Kevin, and the eyes that drew him in with all their uncertainty hardened. “I’m Dani Flynn. I’ve come from Ireland to find me da.”  Son of a bitch. He didn’t doubt it—she had the accent, too.  “She’s ours.” Bren and Kate chimed in unison, throwing their hands up. A familiar smile tugged at Bren’s mouth, one that effectively said, You lose. He clenched his teeth. When he had the chance, he should have kicked the small town dirt from his shoes and taken the FBI’s offer of employment and moved his ass to L.A.  Bren held out her hand in a gimme kind of way. “The key.”  He shook his head and moved toward Bren. Bending slightly, he whispered in her ear, “I guarantee you, she’s illegal.”

Kevin moved past and grabbed Dani Flynn’s wrists. Her tiny hands curved inward. Didn’t matter. He’d felt the wounds, had already deduced she had a story. He’d oblige the Fallon sisters tonight. But if Flynn remained in his county tomorrow—which was a big if—she’d be answering a few questions. He wouldn’t be surprised if she robbed these two of everything valuable in the meantime.  He angled his head to get a better look at her and let her know in no uncertain terms who she was dealing with. “And it’s Sheriff Kevin Bendix.” He removed the cuffs and placed them inside the case on his hip. He held her hands behind her back, completely hidden in the width of his own. Small, vulnerable, and completely female, he ignored the dip in his gut. “I’ll be by tomorrow to check on you, Miss Flynn.”

P. J. O’Dwyer donates ten percent of all book and jewelry sales to horse rescue to help in their mission of rescue, rehabilitation, and education.  

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