(Excerpt from "Unexpected Love")
It’s a particular feeling, being followed. It starts with a prickle of awareness and then gains power until it’s like the slow squeeze of pliers to the gut. Trusting his instincts, Chase kept his pace unhurried and slowly scanned the area.

The sun fought with the Houston cityscape making the horizon a vivid color of orange and yellow mixed with the drab gray and black of the buildings. The streets were semi-deserted; the only sound a hiss and chunk of an early morning bus stopping to pick up one lone passenger. A slow rolling paper cup bumped against the curb and a few loose newspapers danced with the morning breeze. 

Slipping into a dark alley, where Houston’s sunrise couldn’t reach the dank passage, Chase pressed against the building’s cold brick surface. 

A few moments passed before he heard the distinct crunch of footsteps. 

With a slow turn, Chase pointed his Glock at the man standing a few feet away. 

      “You’re slipping,” Chase said putting his gun away. 

      “No, I’m not,” The man smirked  tucking his weapon beneath a leather jacket. 
     “If I were a trigger-happy sort, you’d be dead,” Chase pointed out.  
    “If I didn’t want you to hear me I wouldn’t have made a sound,” The man countered.

Chase grunted, but knew the statement was fact. The man standing before him was one of the most lethal men he knew.
"Why the cloak and dagger bullshit?"        

(Excerpt  from "Secrets")

His mother went all out with this one, the man was stunning but beneath the exterior, Brell saw an underlying cunning and somewhat calculating look in the eyes staring back at him. 

“You startled me,” The apprentice gave a seductive smile and moved to hold out his hand. 

When Brell didn’t move from the doorway, the man’s smile wobbled and his hand fell. “I’m Trace Samson, a friend of your mothers,” The man said as if that would give him an in. 

“Good bye Mr. Samson,” Brell said and held the door open. “Please tell my mother that I’m not interested. Perhaps she’ll take you to lunch for your trouble.” Brell turned dismissively away from the man. 

“Who told you what I’m here for?” The brunette challenged.

Stretching to his full height, Brell shifted his stance. His back ached and his head ached, he didn’t need this bullshit. “I don’t need to guess, you’re exactly the type my mother has been throwing at me for years.”

The man ran his gaze suggestively over Brell. “But not your type apparently.” 

“No,” Brell said striding into his bedroom and slamming the door.

Pissed that his sanctuary had been violated, Brell yanked on a shirt, shorts, and slid into a pair of beach sandals. 

Snapping his fingers, a rolled-up set of plans suddenly appeared in his hand, and Brell grabbed his house keys determined to lock the house and toss up some protection wards. 

Coming back out a minute later he found the novice, Trace Samson, standing in the open doorway. 

“I’m going out to get something to eat now, and you’re going to leave,” Brell said advancing to the doorway and effectively crowding the other man back so that he had no other choice but to stepped outside of the house. 

Locking the door, Brell took off down the beach. 

“Wait! Can you give me a ride into town?”

“There’s a bus about a mile down the road, I’ll help you along.” With a snap of Brell’s fingers, the young man disappeared from the spot and appeared abruptly on the side of the road. “If you hurry you’ll catch the last one,” Brell called back before walking the distance down the beach to his favorite beach bar. 

Transporting to just inside the brown wooden door, Brell moved across the sandy floor and took a seat at the bar that ran the length of one wall.

Ryan, his best friend and a lineal Sorcerer, gave him a wave and set a cold bottle of beer in front of him with a smile. Brell had known the man for years. Ryan owned the Sea Shell Bar and Grill but rarely tended the bar unless he was shorthanded. 

“So… I see the bombshell found you?” Ryan said. 

Brell took a long swallow of his drink. “Bombshell?” Then it dawned on him. “Oh yeah,” 

Ryan laughed. “He came by here before he headed over to your house.” 

“And, you couldn’t have warned me?” 

“Now where is the fun in that?” 

“Prick.”

“Yes.” Ryan leaned against the bar and gave him a smug smile.

Reluctantly Brell smiled and then suddenly found himself laughing along with Ryan.  

“You never know man, that could have been the one. Then all your mommy issues would be solved,” Ryan teased. 

“Fuuuck you,” Brell snorted. 

(c) Reese Knightley Author 2017