Title:
Chain Reaction
Series:
Phenom League, Book 1
Author:
T. C. Archer
Genre:
Romance
Publisher:
Silver Publishing
Ebook
Words:
65,000
Book
Description:
Former
Chicago Detective Jordan Pierce put his life on hold in order to
protect America's secret weapon against the Nazis, The Manhattan
Project. But he can't protect himself as his humanity is eaten away
by a mysterious disease that destroys him, while at the same time
makes him more powerful than any man he's ever known. Jordan finds
out how much the disease has devoured his soul when he falls in love
with the woman who might destroy America and tear apart his last
shred of humanity.
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Excerpt:
A moment later, I halted in front of
the closed door where Dr Nichols waited. The name painted on the
glass read: Dr Enrico Roma, the alias of the great scientist and
Nobel Prize laureate Enrico Fermi. The alias didn't fool anybody but
the ignorant. Light shone through the milky glass window. I blew out
a breath. The last thing I wanted to do was interrogate a hysterical
woman.
I opened the door and stopped dead at
the sight of a shapely blonde leaning against Fermi's mahogany desk.
I stared as realization sunk in that the Veronica Lake look-alike
standing there was the same egghead pictured in her personnel file.
The glasses she'd worn were absent and, despite the red-rimmed eyes
and drawn expression, the single overhead light warmed the creamy
complexion that had looked bland and colorless in the photo.
Thick blond hair slid across her face
in a broad wave and flowed down slim shoulders. Suddenly, I
understood the reasoning behind the functional bun in the picture.
Despite the legs that mesmerized a man all the way down to the high
heel straps, the tweed skirt and blazer she wore emphatically stated
the bombshell figure was off limits. But the moment a man laid eyes
on her luxurious hair all bets were off. My breath caught with
bloodlust as I drew in her scent from across the room.
Gray-blue eyes stared from behind the
drape of blond hair. Her gaze flicked to my waistband and I realized
she'd glimpsed the colt holstered beneath my suit jacket.
"You wear your gun like a
gangster," she said.
I startled. Her voice, low and sultry,
held a shaky note, but I knew the remark was payment for my staring.
"This incident requires I carry a
weapon." My drill sergeant used to berate any reference to the
word gun. "Your gun is
between your legs, son. Your pistol or rifle is
called a weapon."
She continued to stare and guilt
stabbed at me. She'd discovered a colleague who'd been brutally
murdered, and I stood in the doorway gawking at her. I swallowed,
feeling like a school kid.
"Dr Nichols, I'm Agent Pierce,
head of nightshift security." Her fingers tightened around a
lace handkerchief gripped in her right palm. I didn't want to step
closer, but had to. Her pheromones were making my blood, or what was
left of it, crave an infusion from her veins. "What happened?"
Her gaze dropped to the hankie and she
began working the fabric with both hands. "I was working late
and needed Leon to come to the lab. I couldn't get the Geiger counter
to calibrate. I knocked. When no one answered, I opened the door
and…" Her eyes swung up to meet mine. "So much blood."
Her gaze remained locked with my eyes as if demanding a response.
"I'm sorry," I offered. "I
thought you were assigned to dayshift."
She swiped at the corners of her eyes
with the handkerchief. "I switched shifts yesterday so Leon and
I could calibrate the new equipment."
I nodded. The scientists worked a
twelve hours on, twelve off schedule seven days a week. We were in a
race against Nazi scientists while men died in Europe, North Africa,
and the Pacific. "Did you notice anything unusual tonight?"
I asked.
"Nothing."
"Hear anything strange on the way
to Dr Heinrick's office, pass anyone in the hall?"
She shook her head. "Maybe he's
still here." Something in the way she stared at—through—me,
searching for answers and fearing what
she might find, threatened to tip me off balance. "The murderer
is gone," I replied in a level voice.
"How do you know?"
"A hunch," I said, and meant
it.
"Why kill Heinrick?" she
said. "Why not Compton or Fermi? But Heinrick…" Her voice
trailed off.
"Are you saying Heinrick didn't
know anything worth killing for?"
"I suppose we all know something
worth killing for. Each scientist on this project is top in his or
her field. But the project will go on without Heinrick. If we lost
Oppenheimer, or Fermi, the project would be delayed, if not brought
to a standstill."
"Did you enter Heinrick's
office?" "No, I took one look and ran."
The response, given without
hesitation, or guile, made me wonder if this woman ran from anything.
"This was the first office I came
to," she said.
Her story made sense, and my instincts
said she was telling the truth. I had learned to trust my sixth
sense, especially the last eight months. This ability was another one
of those things I couldn't explain, like being conscious of the way
her pheromones where working on me double-time.
"Are you staying in the dorm?"
I asked. She nodded.
"I'll have someone escort you
there."
Desire to go with her shot to the
surface with the heat of a volcano. I pictured white skin, full
breasts, and blond hair between perfect thighs. I forced my breathing
to remain even, and the swelling in my shorts abated. I'd never
experienced such sudden, intense lust. If I escorted her back to her
room I would drink her blood—and God only knew what I would do to
her afterward. My pulse jumped with the thought of her warm blood
flowing past my tongue down my throat… and her tight walls closing
around me as I entered her.
"I have to complete my
measurements before the day shift," she said. I jarred from the
erotic thought. "There's not enough equipment to go around,"
she added.
I nodded. "Of course."
Clipped footsteps sounded almost
noiselessly on the linoleum floor of the hallway and I recognized
McHenry's walk two seconds before Dr Nichols's eyes shifted over my
shoulder.
"Pierce."
I glanced back to see him standing in
the open doorway.
"The general wants to talk to
you."
A measure of sanity reasserted itself.
I had to get away from her, now.
"Could you escort Dr Nichols back to the lab?"
His expression lightened. "No
problem." He stepped aside and motioned toward the door with an
open hand. "Dr Nichols."
She cast me a farewell glance and
headed toward the door. I tried tearing my eyes from the gentle sway
of hips as she walked past, but couldn't, and felt the heat swell to
the surface again. I had to find one of the small rodents whose blood
I drank to keep my thirst for human blood at bay, or go back to
Heinrick and hope the congealed blood in his decaying body would make
me forget the craving. Rising desire twisted my insides and I feared
even Heinrick's dead blood wouldn't work against the warm, pulsing
blood of Dr Nichols.
About
the Author:
T. C.
Archer is comprised of award winning authors Evan Trevane and Shawn
M. Casey. They live in the Northeast.
Evan
puts his Ph.D. to good use by writing about alternate realities, and
Shawn channels the mythology and philosophy she studied during her
wasted youth into writing about exotic places and times.
Evan and
Shawn write romantic sci-fi, paranormal romance and romantic
suspense.
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the Author:
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