If you were looking for more action in the first book, I think you'll be rather pleased with Rhapsody. There are gun battles and explosions and all kinds of action-packed fuckery to be had. Plus, Rhapsody has a lot more of one of my favorite characters, Michael Kincaid. If you like your bad boys mouthy and hysterically funny, he's definitely for you. Rhapsody will release sometime in October.
Someone tapped on the back door.
Lillian jerked in her chair, nearly falling out of it as she attempted to get her feet beneath her. Her bad leg protested, the aching muscles knotting painfully. She ignored them, her heart thumping loudly as she pressed her body against the wall, the gun Tristan had bought for her clutched in her trembling hands.
"Lillian Maddox?" a voice called through the door.
She'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't place it. Lillian bit her lip hard, fear running like a current through her. She was alone, defenseless. Where the hell was Tristan? Or Jason? Or anyone who could keep her safe if whoever stood on the other side of the door came from Teplo?
"Jason Ames and Tristan Riley sent me," the voice called again.
Lillian said nothing, barely daring to breath. She fumbled with her phone, gritting her teeth when it knocked loudly against the weapon in her hand. With stiff, trembling fingers, she tried to dial Tristan's number, only to have to backspace and enter it again.
"My name is Michael Kincaid. I promise you I'm one of the good guys," her unexpected visitor called out again. "Can you please let me in before someone across the street realizes I'm out here and Riley kicks my ass for putting you in danger?"
The line rang before going straight to voicemail.
Tristan still had his phone off.
Lillian hesitated for long moments, terrified to open the door, but unsure what else to do. She couldn't reach Tristan or Jason to confirm that the guy on the other side of her door really was Michael Kincaid, one of the agents helping Tristan with the investigation into Teplo.
"I have a gun," she warned him.
"Awesome," he said, his tone laced with dry amusement. "I'd really prefer not to be shot, so if you'll step up to the door, I'll show you my badge."
Reaching deep for a little courage, she shoved her phone down her bra and aimed the gun at the door. Taking a step in that direction, she sent up a prayer that she wasn't being a complete moron for trusting that Tristan really had sent Kincaid.
A bolt of relief wound through Lillian when she saw the silver badge held against the window pane of the door. And then wariness whispered right on its heels. "Put your face to the door, please."
A loud sigh sounded from outside before the badge disappeared. "If you shoot me, I'm going to haunt Riley for the rest of his life," Michael muttered. Despite expecting it, Lillian still reeled backward when he shoved his face against the window, offering her a cheeky smile.
Lillian had only seen him once, but a flash of recognition shot through her at the sight of his familiar close-cropped blond hair, hard blue-gray eyes, and disconcerting dimples. Letting the arm holding the gun sag, she reached out and quickly flipped the deadbolt.
Michael Kincaid stepped away from the door long enough for her to pull it open and let him in. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Lillian took a quick step away, eyeing him nervously. He wasn't quite as tall as Tristan, but he was as overwhelming. Tristan was a solid wall of lean, contoured muscle, raw emotion, and piercing good looks. With dark hair, olive skin, and scorching blue eyes, he looked exactly like the fierce, intelligent man he was.
Kincaid looked nothing like she expected a DEA agent to look. He had a piercing in his eyebrow, and small gauges in his ears. Dressed in faded jeans and a white tank that stretched across his defined chest, he looked dangerous even without the gun tucked into his pants. Vivid tattoos ran up and down his muscular arms, bold words inked in flowing script amid tribal designs and what looked a lot like the gang graffiti sprayed across parts of the city. He was beautiful in a way that screamed trouble.
He flipped the deadbolt and stepped further into the room, his eyes roving over her. Lillian tugged at the hem of her skirt, trying to make it longer, when his eyes lingered on her legs before raking back up her body.
Heat suffused her cheeks, his blatant perusal unnerving her.
"Damn, Little Mama," he whistled, one brow arching and an appreciative smirk lifting the corners of his lips when his gaze met hers again. "No wonder Riley's all messed up over you."