Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1) Read Free

she?” Dan asked. The idiot hadn’t really harmed her, had he?
    Patrick grunted. “Closet.”
    Shana lay on her side, duct tape on lips, wrists, and ankles. Dan scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and called out, “We’ll disappear for a couple hours. Get it together, man.”
    The odometer rolled as Dan meandered through the predawn mountains. If Shana refused to take those twelve steps, her dysfunctional marriage would end. A mere hundred pounds, packaged in a hot little body that could hurl a stereo across the room, she never remembered her violence once she sobered.
    At 5:30 AM, he slammed to a stop along the shoulder. He removed the tape from her lips last, twisted the top off a bottle of water, and handed it to her.
    The plastic bottle smacked into his chest.
    He wiped droplets from his face. “Settle down, luv.” He tugged his sopped shirt over his head, flung back his long tangled hair, and grabbed her. “Do I need to tie you up again?”
    “Dan…ny.” Hiccup. “Patrick’s gonna leave me?” Hiccup.
    She wilted in his arms, and the waterworks started. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
    “Sleep it off, before I strangle you for him.”
    A murmuring eternity later, he settled her on her stomach on the backseat. He’d take a leak, truck back, and leave Shana snoring on the doorstep at St. Mary’s. Nothing like some quality time with the nuns. He left the keys dangling in the ignition, his sandals under the seat.
    He jogged a quarter mile, uncoiling his rage. Another beautiful dawn, the dry air smelled thick with fire.
    Daniel Connor had a second to register the flash across the horizon before he hit the ground.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Pine, Arizona
    5:56 PMT
    Friday, July 8th
     
    Black sucked. The pines should be lovely shades of emerald, not stalks of charred ash.
    Shovel in one hand, depleted source of caffeine in the other, the firefighter was the last volunteer to exit the bus. Early dawn slapped him in the face, but as the heat of the day progressed, it’d become intolerable in his heavy orange jacket. Without much talk, the group shuffled toward the glow to continue the firewall.
    He wadded his coffee cup, shoved it into his pocket, and stooped to tighten his bootlace. He straightened. What…the —? His shovel fell to the side, and he ran.
    Sprawled on his stomach under a dead pine, the soot-covered man wore only black jeans. His long unruly hair was fire engine red, and the skin on his back appeared to be burned a painful shade of crimson. The fireman placed a gentle touch on the man’s shoulder, and muscles flowed under his hand.
    A red fist swung—pain slammed through the fireman’s jaw—black filled his vision.
    Smelling salts jarred the fireman back to reality. He gaped up at his coworker.
    “You must have tripped, bro. You were knocked out.”
    “No, he hit me. A red…haired…man?” The fireman licked his cracked lips. Jaw intact, but it damn well throbbed.
    They searched for a half hour before calling it quits. He spoke little. The excitement of a power outage, grid down on the western seaboard, stalled the teasing that continued throughout the day. Satellites had realigned in minutes. Restoring electricity took most of the morning. No way would he confide in that macho lot what he’d really seen. Only that evening did the words tumble out to the trusted woman in his bed. “Beams of red fire came from his eyes.”
    “Maybe you fell and dreamed it.”
    “Yeah.” Some dream . Demonic laser eyes filled with rage. There wasn’t a boxer alive or dead that could swing at the speed of light. And yet, he’d had the distinct impression Red had held back his wallop.
    Long after she fell asleep in his arms, he lay awake. He kept feeling the tap of the fist sending shards of heat into his face. Had that power failure unleashed hallucinations for anyone else? He needed to attend church, get a shrink, carry a stake…something.
     

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
    Pine, Arizona
    5:57