HUNTED BY THE PAST: PSY-IV Teams book 1
Sometimes death is the only way to out run the
past…
A reluctant psychic who can relive the past, a
man well versed in keeping secrets, and a psychopathic killer enter a deadly
game where the past determines the future.
Changing the past is an impossibility ex-Marine,
Cynthia “Cyn” Arden, understands all too well. Struggling in the aftermath of a
botched mission, which cost her two teammates, her military career, and a
fledging relationship, she’s brought home by a panicked phone call. The psychic
killer behind her nightmares has escaped military custody to hunt down the
remaining teammates, one by one. Next on his murderous list--Cyn. Her only
chance at survival is to master the psychic ability she’s spent years denying.
The killer’s game brings her face to face with
the one person guaranteed to throw her off kilter—the unsettling and
distracting man she left behind, Kayden Shaw. Once she believed he’d stand by
her side, until he chose his job and his secrets over her. A choice that’s left
the scars of the past etched deep on her mind and heart.
To survive this twisted game, Cyn must risk
trusting her heart and accepting who and what she is, or lose not only her
life, but the man she loves.
READ AN EXCERPT
Since I didn’t want to touch him,
much, I poked a finger against his chest, ignoring the unexpected zap of
awareness. “I don’t know how you found me or why, but right now I have other,
more important things to do. So, why don’t--”
The ringing of the phone
interrupted my tirade.
I shot a look at the phone sitting
on the counter to our left, and then narrowed my gaze at Kayden.
He quirked an eyebrow.
The phone rang again.
“You going to answer it?” he
drawled.
Stepping back, I plucked the
receiver off the cradle. “Hello?”
“Cyn?” What do you know, it was
Thomas Anderson Gunderson, A.K.A. Tag.
I stared at the man standing across
from me. “Yeah.”
“Where have you been? And why the
hell won’t you answer my calls?” Despite his questions, there was a thread of
relief in my friend’s voice. Ex-friend, I reminded myself.
“Why would I?” I gave my answer
absently, watching Kayden make his way over to the other side of the counter
and take a seat on a barstool.
In my ear, Tag cursed. “Dammit,
Cyn. I don’t have time to explain shit now— ”
“Why are you calling me?” I cut him
off, ice coating every word.
“Why are you in Sedona?” he shot
back, his voice hard.
“I’m more concerned with how you
got this number and why everyone seems determined to turn my cabin in to Grand
Central Station.”
Momentary silence filled the line.
“Shaw’s there?”
“Got it in one.”
“Thank God,” Tag muttered. “Be as
bitchy as you want, Cyn, but tell me you’re okay. You ran away—”
“I didn’t run from shit, Tag, I was
kicked to the fucking curb as soon as you and everyone else got what you
wanted.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Really? Because from where I stood,
it sure as hell looked like it.” Silence answered. Turning away from Kayden’s
too avid gaze, I tried to regain control so I could kick both of these men back
out of my life. “I’m fine, but I’m little busy dealing with my own situation.”
“What kind of situation?” It
actually sounded as if he gave a damn.
Closing my eyes, I tried to shove
aside the urge to bang my head against a wall at the single minded intensity of
the male gender. “My sister is AWOL. Now, can we just focus on why you’re
bothering me and Kayden has decided to pursue a career in B&E?”
“How long has Kelsey been missing?”
The urgent note underlying Tag’s
question reignited my earlier sense of unease, as if there was something bigger
at play here. Worry about Kelsey trumped hurt feelings, so I answered. “Not
sure, a couple hours maybe. Her car is here.”
The string of oaths spewing over
the line from Tag proved no one could swear like a Marine. “Son of mangy
bitch,” he muttered, then he took a deep breath. “The cabin’s an hour and half
outside of Phoenix?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “I’ll meet you up there.
Stay with Kayden.”
“Tag,” his name came out as a
warning of my waning patience. My fingers tightened around the phone, and it
took an amazing amount of will-power to not share my own colorful vocabulary.
“You need to tell me what’s going on. Right. Now.” The last two words emerged
around gritted teeth.
“It’s about Flash. His killer is
out.” His unexpected answer stabbed deep, drawing blood under my skin. Brutal
memories boiled up and I almost missed his, “Stay with Kayden, Cyn.”
The drone of a dial tone filled my
ear. My world spun. I concentrated on setting the phone back in the cradle. My
legs were doing a great impression of spaghetti noodles, so I let them fold
under me and sat on the cool tile. Six months, I’d run as hard, as fast and as
far as I could, but in a matter of minutes I was right back where I started,
trapped in a never-ending nightmare.
You have to wonder which fickle
fate decided to dump everything on me at once. If I ever got my hands on her,
I’d beat her to a pulp. Damn, damn, and triple damn!
The past surged, breaking through
to rise in a swamping wave of ghostly screams and the stench of burnt flesh. I
dug my fingers deep into my thigh muscles in a desperate attempt to stave it
off. No such luck. Greedy memories sucked me down.
My kitchen disappeared, replaced by
a fetid alley behind a dive in Where-the-fuckistan. Sprawled on the ground, my
head spinning with dizzying sickness and my leg screaming with agony, all I could
do was watch and listen. Watch the spreading pool of blood and brains seep from
Ortega, his sightless eyes staring past me. Listen to the snap and crackle of a
raging fire hissed through the night while the smell of burning flesh wrapped
around me. Behind me, someone screamed, his wail high-pitched and full of
hopeless agony.
I knew that broken voice.
Even as excruciating pain beat
inside my skull, I turned my head, recognizing the figure in the midst of the
hellish scene. Searing loss, rage, and fear rose to a scream. My mouth opened
and the stench coiled down my throat, blocking the air in my chest. No, no, no!
The shocking feel of hands against
my face snapped my paralysis, bringing a touch of the present into the past.
Desperate to escape, ignoring the pain radiating down my leg and through my
head. I struck out, my hand connecting with flesh. “Don’t touch me!”
Harsh breathing filled the air
around me. It took a few seconds to realize it was coming from me. A few more
before the low soothing voice penetrated the layers of the past. “Come on back,
Cyn. You’re safe.”
Shadow’s Edge 
Shadow’s Soul 
Shadow’s Moon 
Shadow’s Curse 
