Book Excerpt

“You left a desk job in a suit and put on sneakers to hit a house you hadn’t even cased properly?”

The teasing curl of his voice insulted her, but Terri was beginning to feel better about getting out of this little mess she didn’t want Brady, BAD or NOPD to find out about. If this guy had been a serious whacko he probably would have hurt her by now or said something creepy.

“Okay, I admit I suck at B&E,” she pandered. Not really, but he might take pity on a novice. “I may just give it up after tonight. I’m embarrassed. Can I go…please?” She smiled, working the whole blonde act to the hilt.

“Not yet. You owe me for stepping on my turf.”

Terri stopped smiling and held her breath, assessing what he meant. Her throat tightened at the first images that popped in her mind. How was she ever going to trust her instincts around a perp again if she’d pegged this guy so wrong from the start?

“Wh-what else do you want?” She ground her teeth at her jittery words and swallowed against the lump of fear crawling up her throat. Her heart thumped so hard he had to feel the pounding beneath his forearm wrapped across her chest.

“Take it easy. I. Don’t. Hurt. Women.”

She would have dismissed his words outright if not for the profound tone of insult behind them. The pressure of his grip eased as if he wanted to prove his words by lessening of threat.

Or was she just trying to convince herself she could handle this? In fairness, he hadn’t flexed a muscle, hadn’t made a forward move of any sort on her.

She felt a little better, but not enough to give him any more leeway than she had already.

“Okay, so what do you want?” she snapped.

He shifted.

He leaned closer until his warm breath feathered against her skin. She tensed. Scream for help and risk a backlash or hold still and be patient?

While her brain churned with the frantic debate, he inhaled deeply. Then he breathed the air back out slowly as he whispered against her skin.

“You smell good. Damn good.”

That was it?

Smelling her should freak her out and did on some level. But for some reason his words filled her with a deep sadness. He hadn’t put a hand on her except to stop her from attacking him. If she allowed him this concession, would he let her go?

He inhaled again, slowly as if he savored the breath, and whispered, “You smell the way a woman should. Nice.” His husky voice added to the simple action of breathing in her scent had a strangely erotic appeal. He nuzzled her hair and she went perfectly still. The movement brought them close. Rogue hormones started setting up camp.

Her DEA contact was right. She needed to get laid if a thief could raise a sliver of sexual interest in her. Bad as it sounded in her mind right now, she was sort of turned on. Had the attack three months ago distorted her emotions to the point she needed to be in danger to feel excited? With all the emotional baggage she already toted around after that night she hoped not.

Nightmares of knives, screaming and blood.

The blood.

She’d been so sure she would die that night.

Buried terror of fighting a man armed with a razor-sharp blade who outweighed her by a hundred plus pounds burst alive in her mind. She shut her eyes against the images and the sound of her voice screaming when he stabbed her leg, yanking the knife and ripping flesh.

“You’re trembling.” The perp holding her cursed something in Cajun and physically withdrew from her without releasing his hold.

Damn him for unleashing the vulnerability she’d chained down so she could face the world again and function like a normal woman.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, irritated.

She couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in her ears.

Her chest rose and fell faster with each breath. His assurance meant nothing to her. The last criminal she’d believed had led her into a deadly ambush.

“I’m going to let you go. Get the hell out of here and don’t come back.” All joking was gone from his voice. He sounded as cold and heartless as he had when he’d first spoken.

She started to say she would be happy to vacate the premises, but his arms released her so quickly she just stood there for a second regaining her bearings.

Terri snatched at her purse, digging out her weapon. She spun around to the door and carefully checked the hallway.

Empty in both directions.

No time to waste when she’d been given a break. She hurried back through the house, more than happy to get the hell out.

On her way through the kitchen, she glanced at the refrigerator out of reflex to check the note once more.

The pale yellow paper was gone.

“What the..?”

Why would a thief take that note?

“Leave now and don’t come back,” whispered eerily from the hallway behind her like an unearthly warning.

She ran to the front door and scooted outside, down the porch and across the street before reminding herself to breathe.

Who was that guy?

She had no idea, but one thing was clear. He sure as hell wasn’t a thief.

Book Synopsis

Setting: New Orleans

Terri Mitchell dedicated her life to justice after losing her mother to a vigilante killer, but she left the DEA under a cloud of suspicion that won’t clear without finding who set her up. While working covertly for the Bureau of American Defense (BAD) agency, she’s consulting with the New Orleans Police Department to bust an organized crime ring suspected of funding terrorism when rumors surface of a phantom ghost terrorizing the very felons she’s investigating and jeopardizing BAD’s mission so Terri goes on the hunt for this unknown player.

Nathan Drake has spent his life protecting his family, the only thing that mattered to him before the most feared drug lord in the southeast took all he held dear. Now, he’s a man on a mission with nothing to lose…until meeting Terri Mitchell. Seeking a similar goal by different means, Terri and Nathan are drawn deep into an evil underbelly the cuts through all levels of society and rivals terrorism as a new threat to the world.

Two people on opposite sides of the law must risk trusting in each other or die,and if they die, a deadly attack will be unleashed on a city of innocent people.

The Story Behind the Story

On Collaboration:

Sherrilyn – Having grown up sandwiched between eight boys, I’m a gearhead from birth. I told Dianna that Nathan had a classic Javelin (black). She had no idea what that was. I had to explain it wasn't a funky medieval weapon. But I can understand the confusion, only a handful were made in the seventies, and they were never particularly popular (It's a similar AMC Javelin Aussie car that Mad Max drives, hence my obsession). Still, they are a rare beauty. She's a bad-ass ride that Nathan would have pumped to the prime. There is nothing in the world more incredible than that deep, throaty growl of a V8+ engine about to take flight... BTW, this is long before Burn Notice came out so there's no relation to Nathan's dad leaving him his car and Michael's. Just a weird coincidence.

During the draft of PHANTOM, we made notes and comments to each other in brackets.

When Dianna was working on a chase scene, she sent over – [I researched the Javelin. It came with either a standard or automatic transmission. Which was it?]

I wrote back – [Only a p***y would drive an automatic.] Remember, I was raised with heavy alpha males so tough that at age fourteen, one of the guys was in a backyard football game when a nineteen year-old boy pulled a knife on him. As calm as you can imagine, my guy snatched his shirt over his head and used it to disarm the bigger/older boy, then proceeded to beat him to a pulp.

Dianna was in another room at my house at the time and I knew the exact moment she read my comment. I heard, “bee-yatch” and a laugh.

Dianna – All true. Thank goodness we erased all the bracketed comments before sending in the pages. When we were in the polish phase of the manuscript, I walked into Sherri’s office and looked down at her where she sat in her chair. She looked up with “what?” and smiled innocently. I said, “Wretched? Our contemporary Alpha male used that word?” She said, “I fixed where you had him chatty.” We snarked and laughed our way through that book, but never pulled a punch with each other.

Sherrilyn – That’s because we had one agreement from the beginning – the story comes first and is most important. We swapped the story back and forth, both writing at different times, both writing in all characters’ point of views, then we both edited each other’s words. We didn’t want to each take a character or a scene, because we wanted the feel of one writer. Our editor – who was familiar with both of our styles – said she can usually pull each voice out of a collaborative story but not in ours. Thank goodness the readers agreed. We appreciate everyone who took the time to email or attend a book signing to tell us they never got pulled out of the story by two people writing. Hearing that and being asked when the next one is coming was the best confirmation that we had a good collaboration going. Thank you, all.

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