Before I can recover, I’m picked up and shoved into the back seat of one of the SUVs, so hard I fly all the way across the seat to the opposite side of the car. My head hits the window with an alarming crackling splat, like a hard-boiled egg thrown against a wall.
I see stars.
The world slips sideways.
Guns are still firing.
I hear Mojo barking, but the sound grows fainter, drowned out by the engine gunning and the squeal of tires against the ground as the SUV rockets forward.
I try to sit up, but can’t. Something isn’t working right. My brain isn’t communicating with my muscles.
A face materializes in my line of vision, swimming into focus.
A man leans over me. He’s mid-thirties, with jet black hair, a hard jaw, and eyes the color of the Caribbean sea. They’re such a vivid blue it’s breathtaking.
In a low voice lilting with an Irish accent, he says, “So this is the woman who got two of my men killed.”
His gaze drifts over my face. It pauses on my mouth, where it lingers. “Can’t say I see what all the fuss was about.”
I’d punch him, but it’s impossible at the moment. Maybe later, when my brain isn’t sloshing around inside my skull like a guppy in a gyrating fishbowl.
After some concentrated effort, I manage to form words. “Who are you? Where are you taking me?”
“I’m Declan. I’m taking you to Boston to speak with my boss. As for what happens when we get there…that’s not up to me, pet.”
The blue-eyed stranger pauses, leaning closer. His voice drops. “But you did start a war, so I’m guessing you won’t like it.”
Flying out of the parking garage, the car lands with a lurch so jarring my woozy head smacks against the door handle.
The last thing I see as the world fades to black are Declan’s piercing blue eyes gazing down with searing intensity into mine.
Thank you for reading Ruthless Creatures! Continue with Sloane and Declan’s story in CARNAL URGES, book 2 in the Queens & Monsters series.
Acknowledgments
Whew! That was intense. Please excuse me while I go pour myself a drink and replace the batteries in my vibrator.
（Just kidding, any relative of mine who’s reading this.）
Can you believe this is my twenty-sixth novel? I can’t. Normally, I have the attention span of a squirrel. Most of my life has been spent going from one thing to the next, following whatever shiny object catches my eye. I’m the queen of passing phases. But number twenty-six it is, and now that I know I’m capable of at least one kind of sustained concentration, my career goal is one hundred novels.
Thank you to my husband, Jay, for doing all the dishes from now until then.
Thank you to my cover designer, Letitia Hasser, for your patience with all my changes, suggestions, and tweaks. Only you know that once I’ve approved a cover and paid you for the final files, that’s just the beginning of what will surely be a barrage of unexpected emails at three in the morning, wondering if we couldn’t fix just this or that tiny thing that no one else in humanity will ever notice.
Thank you to Linda Ingmanson for catching my multitudinous snafus.
Thank you to the universe for giving me a career where I can legitimately use the word “multitudinous.”
Thank you to Daniela Prieto Cereijo and Anait Simonian for the Russian translations! You guys are the BEST. Google translate needs to hire you.
Thank you to my fifth-grade English teacher, Mrs. Prouse, for dealing with my fifth-grade self, and also instilling in my youthful brain a love for language so devout, it’s almost a religion. Along with a flair for exaggeration so pronounced, it made my father roll his eyes and sigh heavily on many occasions. （He was an engineer. He disapproved of exaggerated speech. Which is a bit of a mystery, because my mother never missed an opportunity to make any story more interesting with the addition of at least a few embellishments that were not based in fact.）
Thank you to my cat, Zoe. Next to Jay, you’re my best friend. I don’t even care if that’s weird. Mommy loves you.
And finally, thank you to my wonderful readers for reading my brain droppings and sending me such fantastic emails about how I’ve improved your sex lives. I’m honored. The next time a stranger asks what I do for a living, I’m going to say I’m in the public service sector.
It’s my duty and pleasure to write stories for you.
Stay well.
About the Author
J.T. Geissinger is a #1 internationally bestselling author of twenty-six novels. Ranging from funny, feisty romcoms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold millions of copies and been translated into more than a dozen languages.
She is a three-time finalist in both contemporary and paranormal romance for the RITA? Award, the highest distinction in romance fiction from the Romance Writers of America?. She is also a recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book and the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy.
She’s a Southern California native currently living in Nevada with her husband and rescue kitty, Zoe.
Find her online at www.jtgeissinger.com