Winning Glory
GenTech
Rebellion, Book 1
By
Ann Gimpel
Genre:
Romantic suspense with a science fiction overlay
The
line between hunter and hunted thins, blurs, and finally disappears.
Nominate Winning Glory Kindle Scout Link –
Active from 10/29-11/28
Blurb:
Black
ops CIA Agent, Roy Kincaid, hunts genetically modified humans who escaped from
the labs that spawned them, savaging their keepers. When a striking woman
crosses his path on a bitterly cold night, he never imagines she’s one of the
rebels. Part waif, part runway model, she arrows straight into his heart.
Injured
and freezing, Glory’s flat out of options. Sensing Roy is dangerous, she pushes
into his mind and discovers he hunts those like her. Maybe she can fool him,
just for tonight. If she’s lucky, he’ll never find out she’s on the run from
the same people he’s targeted for death.
Excerpt:
…“Dessert, hon?” The waitress sidled back
over to him, and Roy realized he was her only customer.
“Sure. What do you have?”
She rattled off a series of pies and
cakes. He chose apple pie with a scoop of ice cream, and she left with his
dinner plate. Roy slumped against the chair. He had to keep going. No choice.
Not really. A good night’s sleep, coupled with the first adequate meal he’d had
in a couple days might make a big difference in his attitude. At least he hoped
they would.
He’d just begun on the pie, which had a
surprisingly flaky crust, when a rush of cold air yanked his attention toward
the door. A tall woman walked in. Long, dark hair caked with snow swirled
around her, and she held her body tightly as if she were really cold. Roy
glanced at her feet and was shocked to see a pair of tennis shoes with holes in
them. Good God, had she been outside with such inadequate footwear? Didn’t she
understand she could freeze to death? Even his stout boots didn’t do much to
divert the cold.
Keeping her gaze downcast, she made her
way to the counter and sat.
“Coffee, hon?” The waitress asked.
“How much is it?” the woman inquired.
“Two bucks.”
“Oh.” The woman’s shoulders drooped, and
she swiveled the stool around, getting ready to go back out into the storm.
“No, you don’t.” The waitress’s voice
sharpened. “I’ll stand you a coffee. You look about done in.”
The woman’s even features melted into
what looked like relief before she turned back to face the counter. “Thank you.
That’s really kind and I appreciate it. My wallet was stolen, and—”
“Never you mind.” The waitress patted the
woman’s shoulder. “Bet you’re hungry too.” She poured hot coffee into a mug and
handed it to the woman, who drew the steaming liquid to her lips.
“Maybe a little,” the woman ventured. She
clasped the cup with fingers white from cold.
By now, Roy knew he was staring, but he
couldn’t make himself turn away. There was something waiflike and alluring
about the tall woman with long, black hair. Snow dripped off her, creating
puddles around her stool. All she wore against the winter weather was a thick,
gray sweater and worn jeans. No scarf. No gloves. No hat. He was close to
certain her wallet hadn’t been stolen. She looked more like an abuse victim on
the run to him. Maybe he could help her get to her intended destination, if it
wasn’t too far out of his way.
He pushed his chair back and made his way
to the counter. “Say—” he began, but she started and drew away as if she
expected him to hit her.
I
was right. Abuse victim for sure.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He kept his
voice low, soothing. “Order whatever you want, and I’ll pay for it.”
She kept her gaze on her hands clutching
the coffee cup. “I can’t let you do that, sir. I’m all right. Truly I am.”
Without waiting for an invitation, he
took the stool next to hers and called to the waitress. “Bring her the same
meal I just had.”
“You got it, hon,” rang from the
direction of the kitchen.
“You are not all right,” Roy said.
“You’re thin as a rail, and you were shivering when you came in here. In fact,
you still are. I’ll bet your shoes are wet clear through.” When she didn’t
respond, he ploughed on. “Let me help you.”
She shook her head. “Don’t want your kind
of help. It always comes with strings.”
“Mine doesn’t.”
He pushed a little with his enhanced
mental ability to get her to look at him. If she did, maybe she’d see truth in
his eyes. A shudder ran down her thin frame, but she dragged her gaze upward
reluctantly. Roy felt bad for forcing her, but he didn’t have time to soothe
her wounded places, which he suspected ran deep.
Eyes a shade of green he’d never seen
inspected him. Long, thick lashes framed those eyes, and they were set in a
face with high cheekbones, a high forehead, and black eyebrows winging a track
over porcelain skin.
“Who are you?” The words tore from him.
He hadn’t meant to say them. She was nervous as a feral cat as it was.
She shook her head sadly. “No one. I’m no
one. You’ll forget all about me when you leave here.”
Something shifted in his mind, but he
fought it. Before he could determine if something real had just happened or if
he were imagining things, the waitress showed up with the woman’s dinner.
“Here you go, hon. Hope medium’s okay for
that steak?”
“Fine, thank you.” Before the words were
out, the woman picked up the fork and knife and shoveled food into her mouth.
Roy congratulated himself on a good call.
Even though she’d been reluctant to admit it, she really was starving. He had
no idea what she’d do tomorrow or the next day, but it wasn’t his problem.
While she ate, he observed her from the corner of his eyes. In addition to
being hungry and underdressed, she looked young. Maybe twenty. He’d be
surprised if she were much more than that.
He shook a mental finger at himself. The
country was full of abused women running from the men who used them as punching
bags before they raped them. It was one part of law enforcement work he’d never
understood: why the women kept going back for more.
“There are safe houses for girls like
you,” he said, and could’ve kicked himself. What the hell was wrong with his
mouth tonight? He couldn’t seem to keep words on the other side of it.
She stopped chewing long enough to glance
at him. “What’s a safe house?”
“A place where women like you can go so
whoever’s after you can’t get to you.”
“What makes you think someone’s after
me?” Color splotched across her white cheeks.
Roy took a deep breath. “I was a cop for
a long time.”
Her entire body tightened, and he
wondered if he’d been wrong about why she was out in the storm. “You said was.”
She swiped a paper napkin over her lips. “Are you still?”
“No. Not anymore.”
She took another bite, clearly thinking
about what he’d said. “These people you think are after me. Could they still
find me in a safe house?”
He wanted to lie to her, but didn’t.
“Sure. Anyone can find anybody with the Internet and all, but the people who
run the safe houses won’t let anyone who might hurt you inside.”
She drew her arched brows together and
drank some coffee. “I’d have to go outside sometime. Work. Earn my way.”
He nodded. Those things were all true. He
scratched his head and pushed too-long hair out of his eyes. “Sometimes, when a
man is really persistent, there are ways of setting you up with a different
identity in a different part of the country.”
Interest lit her features, and she cut up
the last of her steak. “Where would I go to have that happen?”
“I’m not sure, but we could check with
local agencies in the morning.”
A blank expression washed over her face,
as if someone had shut out a light. She shot him a look she might have given
yesterday’s overripe trash. “Morning, huh? You’re just like all the rest of
them, mister. Means I’d have to spend the night with you.”
Roy winced. He hadn’t been thinking. Of
course she’d make that connection. “No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I’d
buy you your own room for the night. You can clean up, get some sleep, and
we’ll regroup in the morning after breakfast.”
She narrowed her eyes and he felt himself
drawn into their depths. “My own room with a locked door?”
He nodded solemnly, willing her to
believe him. If he could just do one decent deed, it would make up for the last
two weeks of beating his head into a brick wall. Maybe it would give him enough
juice to keep hunting for the scientists who were a bunch of Houdini fuckers.
“Mmph.” She started on her potato, taking
large bites. In between them, she said. “I’m trying to figure out your angle.
If I’ve worked my way around to believing you won’t hurt me by the time I’m
done eating, I’ll accept your offer.”
It was the best he was likely to get. Roy
stood. “Fair enough. I’m going to finish my pie.” It was sitting in a pool of
melted ice cream, but he didn’t mind. “If you’d care to accept my help, just
stop by my table on your way out. If you walk past, I give you my word I won’t
bother you.”
“Deal.” She said around a mouthful of
food. Swallowing, she twisted to look at him.
It felt as if she were staring straight
through him, but Roy held his ground even after he identified a zing of power
withdrawing from his mind. What the hell was she, anyway? When she returned to
her dinner, he retreated to his pie, thoughts racing a mile a minute. What the
fuck was he doing? If he were smart, he’d forget his offer, throw enough money
on the table to cover both meals, and run like hell for his car.
There was something about the woman,
though, an appeal that drew him, snared him, and wouldn’t leave him be. He ate
mindlessly, not tasting the pie. He knew the feel of freak mind control. Was
that it? Had he inadvertently stumbled onto one of them?
Impossible.
They’re never by themselves, and whatever she examined me with didn’t feel
quite right.
Plus, she didn’t resemble the ones he’d
killed before. They had dark hair, but animal eyes. Amber, not green like hers.
Of course they’d been men, but simple genetics argued they’d all look much the
same if they came out of the same petri dishes.
Were there other augmented humans beyond
those he already knew about? The thought fascinated and chilled him at the same
time.
He scraped his fork over the plate and
realized it was empty. Slugging back long-since-cold coffee, he dug for his
wallet and extracted what he was certain would cover dinner, laying bills on
the table and placing his empty mug atop them.
The woman looked almost done with her
meal. What would she do?
What would he do if she walked by him and
out the door? Would he be able to keep his promise and not go after her? …
Short Bio:
A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids
round out her family.
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)
Thanks so much, Melissa! Off to share your blog.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome! Best of luck! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you.
ReplyDelete