I surveyed the tiny island and a shudder shook me. Except for the trees full of cane spiders
there wasn’t any place for me to change. I jerked my thumb at the warriors. “I don’t want to strip
down in front of all of them.”
Uncle Saul turned to the five Coletti warriors who had been following our conversations with
great interest. “Check the island for any signs of the Rodan.”
“As you command,” they said in unison, clamped their right arms against their chests and
vanished.
I smacked Hothar’s hands as he tried to unbutton my shirt. “I don’t need your help to undress. If
you’ll both turn around, I’ll get out of my fat suit.”
“As my lady wishes.” He obediently turned to face the ocean.
As soon as my uncle had his back to me, I kicked my boots off and stripped down. I tugged and
tugged on the fat suit’s zipper. The friggin’ thing was glued shut. I yanked and yanked and
yanked some more. Since Uncle Saul didn’t like me cussing, I went with, “Son of a monkey.
Mothersmucker!”
Hothar asked casually. “Do you need help?”
“I do, but don’t you dare laugh at me.”
“We wouldn’t think of it,” Uncle Saul promised solemnly.
“Fine. Get me out of this.”
Both men turned around. There wasn’t a trace of emotion on their faces as they studied the fat
suit.
“A very effective disguise.” Hothar glanced at my uncle. “Cut it off?”
Uncle Saul bobbed his head. “I agree.”
They pulled their knives and went to work.
I heard a muffled snicker and looked over my shoulder. Uncle Saul was grinning like a loon.
“You promised.”
“Sorry sweetheart, but you gotta admit this is pretty damn funny,” Uncle Saul said. “You
resemble the marshmallow man from that silly ghost movie.”
“How was I to know the suit ballooned up in salt water?” I expelled a long breath when the foam
rubber concoction fell away. The ocean breeze was pure heaven. “Thank you.”
“You are truly beautiful,” Hothar stated.
The naked desire in Hothar’s eyes had me blushing. “And you win the grand prize for awesome
dimples.”
“Knock it off you two.” Uncle Saul’s mouth tightened into a hard line. “Get dressed. The
Overlord will be here shortly. He’s anxious to interrogate Jarok.”
My eyes widened in horror. “Do I still look like I have the plague?”
“The Overlord won’t even notice,” Uncle Saul promised, refusing to meet my gaze.

Seriously? My skin was the color of a boiled lobster with pieces of white foam still stuck to it.
“What happened with the horrendous space battle?”
“The Overlord,” Hothar said and handed me my clothes.
“Right. The big scary came, saw, and blew them all to hell.”
Guttural screams rent the air.
I took one look at the horde of hairy spiders covering Jarok and scrambled up Hothar’s back like
it was the Matterhorn. Once I was perched on his shoulder, I cried, “You said cane spiders were
harmless.”
“Those are not cane spiders,” Hothar replied, endeavoring to loosen my death grip on his head.
“No shit!”
“Language, young lady,” Uncle Saul warned as he reached up to pull me off Hothar’s shoulders.
Immense power rippled the air around us as the Overlord teleported in.
We all froze.
Zarek’s cold amber gaze examined us and the pieces of my fat suit. He cocked a dark brow. “I
cannot wait to hear your explanation.”
“Spiders frighten my mate,” Hothar clarified.
“Mate?”
I smacked the top of Hothar’s head. “Am not.”
Letting out a sigh, my uncle pointed at Jarok. “Spiders.”
As if on cue, Jarok uttered a bone-chilling shriek.
Zarek took it all in and tapped his warrior’s bracelet. Ten seconds later, the spiders scurried
back into the monstrous web.
“You don’t think they ate the other warriors, do you?”
“They did not. I had them teleport back to the ship.” Zarek replied.
“Oh, that’s good.” I released my death grip on Hothar’s head and smoothed his hair down.
“Sorry.”
Uncle Saul plucked me off Hothar’s shoulders. “You should be.”
“Before you return Casey to the ship, make sure she is dressed. My crew knows she is your
daughter General, and Jones females are highly sought after.”
“Casey is mine,” Hothar growled, a hand on his sword.
An aura of sheer menace radiated from Zarek. “Are you challenging me?”
Wazzock’s piss! I jumped in front of Hothar. “No! He’s not. He’s annoyed that Waewae got
away. We all are. Annoyed. That is.” There was no way in hell I wanted the two of them

fighting. It would get messy. Really messy and for some darn reason I couldn’t let Zarek hurt or
kill Hothar. What was up with that?
All the Overlord’s terrifying power was suddenly wrapped around me and I flinched when he
started mucking about in my head. How had he gotten through my shields? Using every trick
Quinn had taught me I tried to evict him, but nothing worked.
Zarek’s deadly voice sounded in my mind. “You wouldn’t let me harm Hothar?”
“No, sir.”
“How did you plan on stopping me?”
“I’d keep dumping you in the ocean until you cooled down.”
Zarek leaned down and whispered in my ear. “It wouldn’t have worked.”

The Joys of Menopause
Menopause is the transition period in a woman’s life when her ovaries go on strike and all
hell breaks loose. We become a human roller coaster. One minute we’re fine the next we’re
Attila the Hun in a dress.
Here are the fun things you get to look forward to:

1 – Hair starts growing in places you really rather it didn’t and you suddenly look like Groucho

Marx. If that wasn’t bad enough, you realize you’re getting a little thin on top. Okay, you can give
your husband a run for his money. Buying several wigs will take care of that little problem until
the hot flashes hit.

2 – With one look you can send grown men running for their lives. Okay, the knife

clenched in your fist doesn’t hurt either.

3 – Deprived of chocolate you have the ability to take down an armed felon without

breaking a sweat or a nail. Hey, who needs the S.W.A.T. team?

4 – You don’t need a sauna, you are one. Those wonderful sweat stains and sodden

hair are so very becoming.

5 – Chocolate is the only thing standing between you and a lifetime behind bars.

6 – Your sex drive sputters to a complete and utter stop. If a lap dance from a hot

Chippendale dancer doesn’t get you excited, your husband’s in for a long dry spell.
I tried everything from Black Cohosh to soy to Evening Primrose Oil and finally settled on
Prempo to keep my homicidal tendencies under control. The good news is, the police no longer
do hourly drive-bys on my house, my hot flashes are gone and my sex drive is back. Now where
did I put my little black negligee?

Shrugging into the gray T-shirt he’d brought with him, Dak didn’t seem to be paying attention
to Kirk. She couldn’t focus either, distracted by the play of muscles along his big chest.
As her gaze met his, a zing of connection reverberated between them. Surely it had affected
him, too. Proving her point, the right side of his lips tilted up, revealing a hint of straight white teeth.
That halfway grin. The lace of heat in her gut reminded her that it had been way too long.
Well, she didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for that kind of sexy right now. To be honest,
she might never have that in her again.
But, she could act professionally. Her job, her work, that’s what she had. Inhaling shakily,
she extended her hand. “I’m Special Agent Heidi Sinclair. Call me Heidi.”
He extended his hand, the muscles along his arms and chest flexing. Not that she noticed.
His fingers engulfed hers. “Dak Parrish. Your tagalong.” The corner of his mouth turned up
again. He’d heard her, then. If she was the sort to be embarrassed about stuff like that, she would
be. But she wasn’t. So she grinned back.
“Exactly. You’re tagging along, so I can get a quick assessment. You’re here because they
want you here.”
Tension exploded into the silence. If she was the kind of girl who cared about
awkwardness—she wasn’t—it might have bothered her.
Dak Parrish’s eyebrows lifted, and his lips twitched again. “Noted.”
“Fine.” She was proud that she kept her eyes trained on his.
“Yes.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Fine.”
“Then we are in agreement. My son will accompany you to the point of origin today for your
initial pictures and reports.” The man who had come in with Dak was dressed too smoothly,
everything too neat and perfect, even his smile. His voice was imperious, like a king visiting the
masses. This was a man who was used to getting his way, someone who got things done. Heidi
disliked him immediately.
Lyle Parrish. This guy was super-hot, looked-good-in-dirt-and-smelling like-smoke guy’s dad.
Bottom line: this was her job. She worked for the Forest Services, and part of that included
maintaining good relations with the local communities, including the tribal ones. So, fine. If everyone
wanted her to wander out to the side of the mountain today, she’d go.
“Yes. We’re all in agreement.”
Lyle Parrish’s smug grin made her grind her teeth.
“Well, then. I should get going. It’ll be dark soon.” She offered a glance at Dak. “We may
need to camp there.” Then she smiled at Mitch. “Thank you again. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of
each other.” Unlike Parrish and Kirk, she’d liked him right away.
Dak? She’d reserve judgment. Right now, she couldn’t decide, thanks to her annoying
immediate attraction to him.
Well, that was enough public relating for today. She bid the two men from Warm Springs
goodbye and left the air center, ignoring the appreciative glances from a couple of the other jumpers
milling around. She had a job to do, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. Besides, a big male
body had been the start of her problems in Washington. That wasn’t a mistake she planned to repeat
here.
Crunching across the gravel parking lot, she headed to the SUV the Forest Services had
issued her. According to what Mitch had told her, the point of origin for the recent wildfire was on a
hillside to the west of the reservation. She already had her gear in the back. Pulling her phone up,
she mapped the area, wondering what the best route would be. She’d also need to contact her
superior, let him know about this new development.
“Hey. Wait up.” Dak trotted up to her. “I’m supposed to keep you company.”
It had been a while since she’d been a girl who needed company. He definitely didn’t look
like the kind of guy who would be used to being unwanted. Maybe all he needed was to be let off the
hook. She halted,
squinting up at him in the midday sun. This close, she was painfully aware of how tall and broad he
was, dwarfing her five-foot-four-inch frame.
“Look, Dak, you seem like a nice enough guy and I get the impression you’re getting dragged
into this. So, if this isn’t your scene, I get it. You can bail. I can wait until tomorrow for the
investigator.”
“What kind of nice enough guy would I be if I did that?” He hitched his thumbs into the belt
loops on his pants. “What’s that?”
“Point of origin.” She lifted her phone, showing the map.
He cocked his head and grinned as if he found her adorable. “That’s not going to help you.”
She glared at him. “Google maps is quite—”
“Trust me, I’m better.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Come on. I can help. I’m a great
tour guide.”
She rolled her eyes. “You ever hiked that ridge?”
He grinned. “Once or twice.”
Of course he had. Guess she wasn’t going to shake him. The lights of her SUV flashed as
she unlocked the doors. “Climb in, then.”

The traffic on Delmar is backing up and the sidewalks are packed with the business lunch crowd. My
pickup is three blocks down on the other side of the street in one of the free parking lots behind the
shops and restaurants. I get to the corner of North Skinker and start to cross with everyone else when I
hear a buzz. But I don’t recognize anyone in the crowd that’s starting to cross within five feet. Besides,
the only other First in St Louis that I know of is Maurice. And nobody can miss Maurice in a crowd. Huh. I
stay put, apologize to everyone that’s bumping into me because they’re moving to cross. I look like an
idiot tourist that’s never seen a crosswalk. Everyone gets across, the light turns, traffic starts back up and
it’s just me standing here. Listening to that buzz. What the hell? And now the buzz is moving up and
down in pitch. And then it starts to jump around. Oh fuck. I know what this is. As I recognize the piercing
sound, my adrenaline kicks in. I spin around looking for a girl. Should be in her late teens, maybe twenty.
I see the profile of a black girl with shoulder-length braids sitting at one of the crowded tables at the
corner of the pastry shop behind me. It must be her.
Fifteen feet away. Fifteen mother fucking feet away and I can hear her buzz. Shit. That’s bad.
A couple huge steps and I’m next to her. I need her to trust me and quickly so that I can get her
somewhere where there won’t be any witnesses.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I…am…God.”
Upon hearing these words, I did not know whether to laugh or cry. It was just my luck to
find the woman of my dreams, and she was a fruit loop.
When Amanda made this statement, she closed her eyes and appeared to be somewhat
embarrassed in the making of the claim.
She opened her eyes, looking up at me.
“You do not believe me,” she challenged.
“It’s not that,” I sarcastically joked, totally annoyed. “Not every man gets a chance to
play ‘baseball’ with the Almighty.”
“Baseball?” Amanda’s face projected confusion.
I pointed to her lips, explaining.
“First base.”
Her breasts.
“Second base.”
Her ass.
“Third base.”
Between her lovely legs.
“Home plate.”
Amanda nodded her head, understanding.
“So, that’s what he was referring to.”

“Who?”
“George Herman Ruth.”
“Babe Ruth? The ball player?”
“Know him personally,” Amanda beamed. “Never knew that he had been using the term
as a mating ritual.”
“I guess you would know him, seeing that you’re God.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
Amanda turned quiet, studying me. I could clearly see that my disbelief hurt her.
“You do not believe me,” she challenged again.
I pointed at the hospital I had been checked into after my attempted suicide. Not far from
where I first encountered Amanda crying on a park bench.
“You see that building?”
“Yes.”
“There are over a dozen people in there who not only claim to be God but Jesus too! Not
to mention Napoleon. One guy thinks he’s Hitler, and he’s Jewish.”
“You do not believe,” Amanda cried, her eyes incredibly sad.
“I believe in…something,” I stated, stammering. “That winged-guy seemed able and
willing to grab you. He seemed keen on taking you away from here. Why?”
“His name is Gabriel.”
“Archangel Gabriel?” I gawked. “That…Gabriel?”
“The same.”
“This is too weird!”
“What would you have me do?” Amanda asked, in tears.
I felt somewhat guilty for making the woman cry. Honestly, I held high feelings for her

and did not want to do her any real harm. But, frankly, the woman was crazy.
“Tell me, if you are God, why did you come here? And…why as a woman?”
Amanda stopped crying, giving the question thought.
“Because of you.”
“Me??”
Amanda nodded her head in what appeared honest confirmation. “You needed someone.
You chose my form. I was there when you tried to take your life. You…needed me.”
“I needed you?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“What about all the other billions of people on this planet?” I asked, somewhat skeptical.
“Don’t they need you too?”
“Hey,” Amanda retorted. “I’m only God. One person at a time, you know?”
I became incredibly awestruck.
“This isn’t happening.”
“But, it is.”
“You can’t be…God,” I yelled, not caring who could be listening.
“Would you mind keeping your voice down on this one?” Amanda cautioned, looking
around. “Thank you, very much.”
“Prove it!” I challenged.
“How?” Amanda asked.
“Do something that only God could do.”
Amanda started to say something but paused. She gave the challenge some
consideration.

Her face formed a wicked smile.