Renegades Series

Concept art property of Brenna Lyons! I DO love making art for books. Note to my readers back home, TYGERS is set almost entirely in Pittsburgh, and Renegade's Run is set about half there and half in Virginia Beach.

Renegades Series cover art created by Sam Pray

 

TYGERS-  If Katheyn O'Hanlon had one wish, it would be to lead a normal life.  If she had a second, it would be a memory of her childhood and the source of her nightmares.  Psi-linked to her four-year-old nephew, Kyle Thompson, she is dragged back to the city of her nightmares, Pittsburgh.  Kyle's father has been brutally murdered, and Kyle claims his toy tigers have done the deed led by Ty, the Siberian.  It is up to Katheryn to remember where Tiberius Matthews is and how to destroy him before he destroys everything she cares about.  Is Kyle haunted by the homicidal family ghost or being driven insane by the horrorscope trapped in the depths of Katheryn's mind?  And, can Katheryn keep Keith Randall, an old flame who takes the job of Kyle's counselor, out of the line of fire while she does her work?

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-graphic, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-erotic 

To purchase TYGERS from UTM...in e-book and print...
To read an excerpt

Ready to be amused? Read the major outtakes and deleted scenes from TYGERS!

 

 

Cover art is property of Sam Pray and Under The Moon.

 

 

RENEGADE'S RUN- EPPIE finalist 2005- The Randalls and Thompsons are back in the follow-up to TYGERS.  In a world where the type of power Katie and Kyle possessed is now commonplace, psi-gifted are urged to serve the government.  The Supreme Court has ruled that forcing compliance is unconstitutional.  Thus, major powers like our old friends are free to live in peace as long as they don't use their powers for illegal gain.  Jonas Paige was sent into service at ten, when his family decided that they didn't want a freak in the house.  Now, he is given what sounds like a simple assignement.  He has to get close to Sarah Randall, the untalented member of the great free family to get the others to come into service.  No one has managed to do that so far, but Jonas is the best.  But, is Jonas willing to accept that his bosses are using a threat to Sarah to ease his way in?

Includes the prologue short story "Renegade"
Renegade- Set twelve years after TYGERS and fourteen years before RENEGADE'S RUN, we see Jonas Paige at the beginning of his DoPT contract.  He's a seventeen year old powerhouse under the thumb of Andrew Baker.  Even then, Baker is plotting to use Jonas' weaknesses against him, if a renegade doesn't get to him first.

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-moderate, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-highly sensual/erotic
To read an excerpt

To purchase Renegades Run from UTM...in e-book...

 

 

 

 

 

Max Sec-- Once, Ginny was the only human contact Alex had. Now, she’s the only chance he has to be free of his past. Ginny only wants to help – and to find out where their relationship might have gone. Alex is the most powerful talent she knows. He’s deadly, unstable – and sexy.

Cover art created by Sam Pray

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-mild, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-erotic

To purchase Max Sec from UTM...in e-book...  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still to come from the RENEGADE series...
ALPHA HOUSE- "He will always be hunted."  When Sarah Paige spoke those fateful words about her son, Julian, she couldn't have known how right she would be.  But, the enemy doesn't know what is coming for them.  The DoPT learned not to cross the Randall-Paige family.  The world hasn't seen the power that will be unleashed when they take on Alpha House, the experimental halfway house the Paige family runs.  Populated with the worst of the worst from the academies, these reformed renegade children are a renegade force's worse nightmare come true.

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-moderate, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-erotic 

 

Excerpt from TYGERS
PETER glared at Tasha Sterns.  “Out!”

“But Carol-”

“Dammit!  I said get outta my haus!  He’s my son, and he’s staying with me this afternoon.  Is that a problem?”

“No, of course-” she stammered.

“Then, get out!”

She nodded and grabbed her purse and raincoat.  “He’s down for his nap.  Snack is at four.”  Didn’t she ever shut up?

“Do you think I don’t know how to take care of my son?” he asked dangerously.

Tasha shook her head and ducked toward the door.  Peter grinned in satisfaction as it closed behind her.  “Good riddance!”  It was a good thing for Tasha that she had this cozy job watching his kid.  She certainly didn’t have anything else to recommend her.

Never before had Peter encountered a woman with nothing going for her.  Even his wife had her looks.  Carol was a nagging bitch and too smart for her own good, but she was a fine piece of work and damn good in bed when she wasn’t pissed off.  Of course, she was always pissed off these days…

Everything was the kid, now.  She went back to work, because Peter didn’t provide enough for the kid.  He needed clothes and child care.  Now, Carol claimed that the brat was having emotional problems.  Predictably, that one was pinned on Peter too!  Everything was his fault as far as Carol was concerned.

Problems?  If Kyle had any problems, they stemmed from all the damn coddling the women heaped on him.  From his mother-in-law to his wife to that mousy, useless woman Carol hired to watch him without even consulting Peter; everyone walked on eggshells around the kid.  All he needed was a firm hand.  It worked for Peter, and it would work for Kyle.  They would see.  Today was the start of his son’s new life.

Resolved, he walked up to Kyle’s room.  He could hear him in there talking to himself.  No, not talking to himself…  He was talking to that damn toy!  Of course, Kyle loved that damn tiger.  After all, she gave it to him.  The tigers would be the first things to go, he decided.

Kyle looked up as the door opened.  His smile disappeared, and he launched onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the white tiger.  “Come over here,” Peter ordered.  Kyle looked around with wide, frantic eyes.  “Dammit!  I said, come here.  I’m your father.”

Kyle hugged the tiger closer to his chest, and Peter growled his frustration.  He wrenched the toy from his son’s hands and silenced his wail of protest with a slap across the face.  Then, he threw the tiger into the far corner of the room and grabbed the sniveling child by his arms.  “You do what I say!  You don’t ignore me!”

Kyle’s eyes flicked away and widened in shock.  A flash of movement caught Peter’s attention.  He turned his head to look, but there was nothing there.  Just the pile of toys tossed haphazardly around the room. He shook his head and turned back to Kyle. “Now-” The movement was there again.  Peter shivered as he glanced at the toys out of the corner of his eye.

“No, Ty!” Kyle cried out.  Peter looked at him in confusion, then jumped back in shock as he heard the deep growl behind him.  The tigers were lined up across the room, and the albino one was up front.

“He’s not albino,” Kyle whispered.  “He’s Amur.  Other tigers can be white, but he’s Amur.  If he was albino, his stripes wouldn’t be black.  He wouldn’t have stripes.”

Peter looked at him in confusion before realization set in.  His rage spiked, and he lunged at Kyle again.  “You’re like her!  She can do that, too.  She can eavesdrop on thoughts like that.  I won’t allow it, Kyle!  Stop this!  Stop it now, or you’ll be sorry.”

Kyle’s smile was sad and serene.  “I’m not doing it, Daddy.  Ty is.”

His mind froze for a moment.  “Ty is a toy, Kyle.  He’s not real.  You’re doing this, now stop it!”  He added a shake to snap his son into compliance.

Peter dropped his son and backed away as an ear-splitting roar cut the air in the room.  He clapped his hands over his ears as the room shook with the force of the sound.

In the silence that followed, Kyle laughed in delight.  “You can hear a tiger roar for more than two miles.”

Peter’s mouth went dry.  His eyes locked on the tigers.  “Good God,” he breathed as they stalked toward him.  The white one pulled back his cheeks and bared impossibly long teeth.  Peter backed to the wall and shook his head painfully, trying to banish the sight.  Long claws sank into the carpet as they moved toward him.

“Call them off, Kyle.  For the love of God, call them off.”

“I can’t.  Tigers are solitary.  They don’t have an alpha.”

Peter looked at his son in shock and dismay.  “How could you learn that?  You’re only four years old.”

“Ty told me.  Ty doesn’t like you, Daddy.”  Kyle didn’t seem to be seeing anything anymore.  He sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around his legs and rocked, looking through the advancing tigers.

“No.  Don’t do this, Kyle.  Please, don’t.”  Kyle didn’t answer.

The tigers pounced.  Fire trails of pain branded his body in eight different locations at once.  “Tigers have three to four inch claws on each toe and five toes on their forepaws,” the child offered quietly.

New fire trails snapped Peter into focus.  He bellowed in rage and pain, but the scream was cut off as it started by crushing pressure at his throat.  “Large prey is brought down by suffocation by biting the front of the neck,” Kyle informed him.  A new set of fire trails appeared.

The pressure disappeared, and Peter collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.  The tigers were scattered back in a heap where Kyle had discarded them earlier.  Nothing moved.  Nothing changed from before the attack.

His hand ached and he looked down at himself.  Red, raised ridges like scratches covered his hands and arms.  From the feel of it, they also covered his legs, chest, face, and back.  He swallowed painfully and pushed to his feet.  “I’ll leave now,” he whispered hoarsely.

“No, you won’t.”

Peter backed toward the door.  Tears pooled in his eyes as he shook his head.  Whatever Kyle was about to do would surely be worse than a simple death.

Kyle locked on his father’s eyes, and an angry light burned out from what was typically a friendly blue.  A spike of pain gripped Peter’s mind.  Through the haze of it, he could see Kyle’s mouth moving, but the voice was that of a strange man.  “I’m not Kyle.”

“Ty?”

“Yes.” He heard the voice deep in his mind.  A fresh pain gripped him, and a sudden calm passed over him.  The welts burned while the rest of his skin cooled.  “You know what to do,” the voice continued in an eerie, soothing tone.

He turned and walked out into the hall.  In the bathroom, he pulled out a razor blade from the pack.  He traced the line of one of the welts and the burning eased.  He traced a second one.  A third.  The effect was a cool calm.  He worked furiously; eradicating the painful sites one by one until his entire body was blissfully cool and comfortable.

Peter sank to the floor, abruptly exhausted from his healing efforts.  Beautiful colors danced before his eyes and red silk brushed over his body.  As he closed his eyes, he heard vicious laughter.

Pain gripped his entire body at once and he spasmed to the assault, landing awkwardly on the tile.  Tears fell from his eyes and burned over the cuts on his cheeks.  Then, blessed unconsciousness obliterated everything and silenced Ty’s awful laugh.
 Return to top

Excerpt from RENEGADE'S RUN
December 21, 2014

Jonas groaned as the pounding on the door started.  He recognized Markham’s shield from three rooms away.  He’d recognize it from a mile away if called to.  He dragged himself from the bed and started pulling his clothes on with a series of curses.

Valerie rolled over in her bed, wincing at the sound.  Ouch!  Her hangover was severe.  “What the hell is that?” she groaned.

“I’d guess it’s my brother rolling me out for work.”  He glanced at his watch as he buttoned his jeans.  Three hours early?  Markham better have a damn good excuse!

“How would he know you’re here?”

“He saw us leave together last night.  You go to that bar often?”  He knew she did.

“Yeah.”

“So does he.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Jonas shrugged.  “Maybe, he knows you or knows someone who knows you.”

She nodded sleepily as Jonas pulled his running shoes on without untying them and dragged his t-shirt over his shoulders.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.  “Gotta go.”

He sprinted to the door as Markham pounded again and dragged it open, glaring at his keeper.  Jonas pulled the door shut and walked down the hall without greeting the other man.

Markham fell in beside him--not smiling, not frowning.  Just Markham, as unreadable as always.

“I wasn’t scheduled, and it’s five-thirty.  This better be good.”

“Did you use protection?”

“What do you think?”  It was in the contract--no unprotected sex unless it was with a spouse.  The DoPT wasn’t worried about HIV.  Okay, maybe they were, but they were more worried about tracking his children all over creation.

“It’s my job to ask, Paige.”

“Yeah.  I used it.  No little talents from me, just like a good operative.”

“All four times?”

“Christ, Markham!  Where’s the mic?”

“No mic.  You emit a spike over your sensor when you come.  Every time?”

“Yes, every time.  No visible leaks or tears.  That’s the next question, right?”  Jonas wondered at the fact that he wasn’t required to take the used condoms with him.  Other women had inseminated themselves that way in the past.

Jonas figured it was one of three things.  Either the DoPT secretly wanted a few little screw-ups created by their best or they figured any woman stupid enough to take that chance with unknown sperm these days deserved what they got.  Or maybe, it would just look suspicious.

Markham sighed.  “It’s my job.”

Jonas grumbled a curse as he pushed open the security door and headed for Markham’s SUV.  The lock popped as he reached the door, and he opened it and dropped into the passenger seat.  Markham sat in the driver’s seat and eyed him.

Jonas nodded and pulled his seatbelt on.  “I fight renegades and terrorists, and you’re worried about my seatbelt.”  He put up his hand before Markham could say it.  “I know.  It’s your job.”

Markham nodded as he started driving.  At the first red light, he grabbed a bag from behind the seat and tossed it to Jonas.  “Get suited up.”

Jonas glanced over his shoulder and noted the two suitcases.  “Where are we going?”

Markham motioned for him to dress and waited for him to open the bag before answering.  “Lauderdale.  Al Qaeda terrorists have a cell gearing up for something big there.”

Jonas dropped his t-shirt on the floor and pulled on his Navy blue DoPT t-shirt with the kevlar silk lining.  It was required travel gear when they might be needed for a terrorist in the air or in an airport.  “Why me?  There are other agencies that handle this stuff.”  He pulled on his gray sweat jacket and zipped it to high on his chest to cover the white DoPT logo front and back on the t.

“They’ve hired a talent.”

“Ah.  Renegade.  That makes more sense.”  He did terrorists when necessary, but it wasn’t his first duty.

“This comes at a bad time, Paige.  With the new recruiting measures--”

Jonas nodded.  “You’re preaching to the choir.  I had this briefing days ago.”

Recruiting?  Why didn’t they just call it what it was?  People were being forcibly relocated to the training academies.  After his demonstration in October, certain factions decided that talents without keepers and registration were too great a danger.  A charter of emergency powers was created.

It had been a week since the forced round-up began.  Norms were up in arms and screaming at their congressmen and senators.  Half of them seemed to fear an uprising of angry talents, and the other half were debating talent rights and the constitution.

Talents were understandably irate.  Taken from their homes, jobs and families to be indoc-ed like prisoners, tested, and drafted into service, there were already petitions to the Supreme Court on the constitutionality of the entire thing.  Jonas secretly hoped that the talents would win.

He rubbed his chest distractedly.  They’d be restrained when necessary.  That was the part Jonas had hated worst when he was sent to Clinton.

He hadn’t wanted to be sent to the training center, but he hadn’t been drafted.  Before the original draft of the Renegade Act in 2010, people didn’t bat an eye at anything done to talents.  They barely did now, but the Act did give some guidelines, though not much.

When Jonas was a child, parents routinely sold talented children as property to people who would use them illegally or abandoned them when they learned the child was a talent.  Or--like Jonas--they simply signed away their parental rights and made their children wards of the government at Clinton or one of the other nine academies.

It was still common practice to make a child a ward, and no questions were asked as long as the child passed the tests that proved he or she was a talent.  The government rationalized that the children were better cared for in the training academies than with parents who would abuse or abandon them.  Jonas wasn’t so sure about that.

Jonas had been ten when his parents decided they didn’t want a “mind-crushing freak” in the family.  He had been understandably upset.  Jonas played around with his talents a little, but he never did anything hurtful or cruel with it.

He didn’t hide his anger well, and the staff at Clinton had restrained him more times than he cared to remember, the steel bands almost crushing his ribcage while the web bands held his extremities.  Worse, the backboard was placed in an isolation room with an electronic psi wave signature humming in the walls to keep the prisoner from using his talents.

Markham’s hand closed on his shoulder.  “It’s over.”

Jonas nodded and fought to draw a deep breath, still feeling the pressure of the bands.  “You always know.”

“Your hand and your breathing are dead giveaways.  You know you’re auto-stimulating the illusion of pressure.”

“I know.”  He did know, but it was something the psychologists couldn’t break him of.

“You’re worried about the talents they’re rounding up, aren’t you?”

Jonas nodded.  “All those broken families.  At least mine chose to dump me.”

“But, you didn’t choose it.  That’s why you empathize.”

Jonas nodded and forced his hand into his lap.  Don’t get involved.  Don’t appear involved.
 Return to top