Summary
Attorney Sara Constantine is thrilled with her promotion--until she finds out that she must now prosecute vampires and werewolves. The first defendant she'll be trying to put away? Lucius Dragos, the sexy stranger with whom she recently shared an explosive night of ecstasy.
When Lucius kisses a beautiful woman sitting next to him at the bar, he's hoping only to avoid the perceptive gaze of the man he's planning to kill. But what starts as a simple kiss ignites into an all-consuming passion. Charged with murder, Luke knows that Sara is determined to see him locked away--unless he can convince her that he's not a monster. And that might mean making the ultimate sacrifice.
Author Notes
J. K. Beck spent more than ten years as a litigator in Southern California and central Texas, using her rare free time to indulge her passion for writing. Now she uses her legal background as inspiration for her paranormal romantic suspense series the Shadow Keepers, set in and around a secret judicial system hidden within and mirroring our own. California-born, J. K. Beck lives and writes in Texas, where she hangs out with her husband and daughters and drinks far too much coffee.
Excerpts
Chapter One "Rain," Tucker said. "You wanna tell me why we're always getting called out in the goddamn rain?" "Clean living," Ryan Doyle answered, eyeing his partner with amusement as he slid his '63 Pontiac Catalina in beside an LAPD black-and-white. The flashing lights cast eerie shadows over the thickly wooded park, illuminating an ambulance and two unmarked piece-o'-shit vehicles that had homicide written all over them. "And that," Tucker said, pointing to the nearest patrol car as he continued his diatribe of bad fortune. "We got cops coming out our a-holes. Now we gotta deal with the whole f-ing system." Doyle slammed the gearshift into park. "I'm gonna assume you didn't get laid last night, and temporary celibacy has soured your mood. 'Cause if this is going to be your attitude for this entire investigation, I'm putting in for a new partner." Beside him, Tucker spread his arms wide, then flashed the smile that had made him a celebrity among all the Division 6 females. "I'm good, man. Don't get your panties in a wad." Doyle grabbed his umbrella off the floorboards and shoved open the Pontiac's door. "Let's do this thing." Tucker fell in step beside him, and they slogged toward an officer in a rain-soaked slicker who was currently roping off the area with crime scene tape. The officer stiffened as they approached, his eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights. Rookie, Doyle thought, as the officer held up a hand. As if that could keep them out. "You might want to step aside, junior," Doyle said, flashing his badge out of politeness, but not bothering to slow as he lifted the tape and started to slide under. "I'm sorry," the officer said. "No one passes." "We got authority here," Tucker said, staring hard at the guy. "So come on, rookie. Get off our backs and let us through." The officer's face went through the usual jumble of confusion before smoothing out. He smiled, all polite cooperation. "Absolutely, sir. Detective Sanchez is right over there." He pointed to a woman with a heart-shaped ass. "She's in charge." "Not anymore," Tucker said. Doyle followed his partner inside the crime scene tape, unable to stifle his grin. "One of these days, you gotta teach me how you do that." "It's a gift," Tucker said. "Comes in handy with the ladies, too." "I bet it does. Doubt you could get the ladies any other way." "You wound me, man," Tucker said, pressing his palms over his heart. "I'm seriously wounded." Doyle shook his head at his partner's antics, but didn't bother to respond. Sanchez had already spotted them and was on her way over, her Noxzema-fresh face pinched. "Hold up, hold up," she said. "You want to tell me who you boys are and what you're doing at my crime scene?" "That's just it," Doyle said, pulling his shield from the pocket of his raincoat. "I'm not so sure it's still your crime scene. I'm Agent Ryan Doyle." He nodded at Tucker. "My partner, Agent Severin Tucker." She peered at his shield and ID, then met his eyes, her own filled with confusion. "Homeland Security?" Doyle nodded. Technically, it was true. With the passage of the Patriot Act, his employer--the American arm of the Preternatural Enforcement Coalition--had been formally set up as a division of Homeland Security. A secret division, but there nonetheless. And considering the type of terror the PEC chased, there was Excerpted from When Blood Calls by J. K. Beck All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
