Wired

CRITICS RAVE FOR LIZ MAVERICK!

CRIMSON ROGUE

“This is the powerhouse conclusion to the exceptionally creative Crimson City series, launched by the versatile Maverick. . . . With nail-biting suspense and fast-paced action, this novel is a spectacular finale!”

—
RT BOOKreviews
, 4 1/2 stars, Top Pick!

“This is a terrific conclusion to a stunning excellent romantic fantasy saga. . . . Fans of the Crimson City novels will be elated. . . . The only down is no more Crimson City novels.”

—
The Midwest Book Review

“
Crimson Rogue
ends the Crimson City series with heart-stopping action, danger in every dark corner, adventure, and explosive characters in volatile situations. Once you start reading it, you just can't put it down.”

—Romance Reviews Today

CRIMSON CITY

“Shocking revelations, danger, and intense heat are ever present in
Crimson City
. For a fast-paced rollercoaster ride to hell and back, run—don't walk—to your nearest bookstore and snatch up a copy.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Maverick provides an intense tale with complex characters to kick off a new series set in an original, dark and fascinating world.”

—RT BOOKreviews

“There's action, adventure, steamy romance, chills and thrills, and thwarted love. The action will keep you on the edge of every page and the romance is as hot as any summer day in L.A. . . . This is paranormal romance at its best!”

—Roundtable Reviews

“Ms. Maverick is a talented author. . . . I highly recommend [
Crimson City
] to fans of vampires and other things that go bump in the night.”

—Coffee Time Romance

MORE PRAISE FOR LIZ MAVERICK!

THE SHADOW RUNNERS

“If you like your heroines tough but tender, your heroes hard-edged and hungering for a better tomorrow, you'll love
The Shadow Runners
.”

—Revision 14

“A winning addition to the
2176
series,
The Shadow Runners
is sure to please. Full of suspense, adventure, and an explosive romance, it is a book not to be missed.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“This third novel in the gripping and explosive
2176
series moves along at a breakneck pace as another tough, strong woman does her part in the fight for world freedom. Ms. Maverick writes a unique, taut, exciting tale.”

—The Best Reviews

OPEN YOUR MIND . . .

Mason Merrick was right there. I could feel him there before he ever said a word. A soft thump reverberated against the door, and I could imagine Mason's palms right up against mine on the other side. Breathlessly, I stared at my hands, slowly splaying my fingers as I knelt on the ground.

What do you want from me?
I wondered.

“I'm going to back off, okay? Give you a chance to settle . . . I don't want you to worry. I'll come back tomorrow,” Mason said. His voice was low and level. He knew I was close enough to hear, and his words were strangely intimate, divided and huddled though we were.

“You're going to have to open your mind, Roxanne,” he finally said, and then he struck the door hard as he stood up.

I flinched, my heart pounding. But there wasn't anything more, nothing besides the sound of footsteps fading. I didn't understand what the hell had just happened. I didn't have a clue what Mason Merrick was trying to pull off or what his motives could possibly be. Now he'd left me alone, as I'd asked him to, and it was a solitary confinement with which I was all too familiar.

Open my mind
, he'd said.

I'd be a liar if I denied that part of me was glad he was coming back.

Other
Love Spell
books by Liz Maverick:

SHARDS OF CRIMSON
(Anthology)
CRIMSON ROGUE
CRIMSON CITY
THE SHADOW RUNNERS

LIZ MAVERICK

For JP

DORCHESTER PUBLISHING

March 2011

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 2007 by Elizabeth A. Edelstein

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1-4285-1093-7
E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0106-5

The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

Thanks goes to the fabulous Marianne Mancusi, second half of
www.rebelsofromance.com
and partner-in-crime.

It's graduation day. I've got a million things to do, none of which includes going to the actual ceremony. I look over at the shrink-wrapped square enshrining the cap and gown that I've abandoned on a side table. I'm completely aware of the fact that I'm graduating, and I don't need to sweat in a black robe for four hours in the California sun to prove it. Besides, what's the point if no one's there to watch?

“So, I guess this is it,” I say
.

Kitty twists the lollipop in her mouth, getting blue sugar syrup all over her fingers. A goldfish swims in the plastic bag she's clutching in her other hand. “Yeah. You're really not going?”

“Well, you're not going.”

“The ticket was, like, a billion times cheaper if I left today.”

I shrug. “And this interview's more important.”

“That tech company? You are such a geek!”

I laugh. “I like the toys.”

Kitty's eyes narrow. “You know you scheduled it on graduation day on purpose.”

“Did not,” I lie. “They asked me to.”

“Bullshit.”

“I'm serious.” I laugh. “I'm just glad to be done. Things are going to start happening for me—for both of us. We've got the whole world ahead.”

“They never even answered the invite, did they?” Kitty says quietly, biting the last bits of blue off the stick. “I'm sorry.”

I try to play it off like I don't care that my family decided a long time ago to stop being my family. “I only sent it as a courtesy.”

She pulls the lollipop stick from her mouth and it comes out clean. She crams the used stick in her cargo pocket. “Well, I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” I say, frowning hard and trying not to cry
.

“You're really not going to graduation?” she asks
.

“Nah.”

“Me, neither.”

“I know. You've got a plane to catch.”

We stand there repeating ourselves because we don't want to accept that everything's about to change
.

Kitty lunges forward for a hug, the bagged gold-fish swinging wildly in her grip, water dripping off her wrist down my neck. As fast as she lunges forward, she pulls back. “We hate good-byes,” she says. She thrusts the plastic bag at me. “I tried to get Mrs. Bimmel to take him, but she said her cats might eat him. You'll remember he needs to be fed?”

I take the bag with a sigh. “I'll remember. He'll be here when you get back.”

“I don't know,” Kitty says skeptically. “He's pretty old.”

I hold up the bag and we watch the goldfish together. Then we look at each other
.

“Well,” Kitty says, “I know you won't try to kill him on purpose.”

We laugh to keep things from getting teary, but, of course, they get teary anyway. Kitty picks up her final suitcase and opens the front door. At the last second she looks over her shoulder at me. I echo her words before we fall apart: “We hate good-byes.”

Kitty's black pigtails bob as she goes out in the hall and starts lugging her suitcase down the stairs. She stops and turns and calls up to me, “This is going to be great. You know? And just think, no waiting for the bathroom. It's all yours. So . . . you're okay, yeah?”

“Of course!” I chirp. I sound like I'm trying too hard
.

“Good. Just remember, Roxanne, it can't always be about tomorrow. Sometimes it's about right fucking now.” Kitty heads down, waving her hand behind her in farewell
.

I shut the door and stand there for a moment, listening to the clomp of Kitty's combat boots on the stairs becoming less clompy with every step until there's nothing left. Sirens blare outside. I hold the goldfish bag up to eye level. “It'll be fine,” I say, then look around for something to put him in
.

The phone rings
.

The doorbell rings
.

I look between the phone and the door
 . . .

. . . 
and I pick one
.

We had everything before us; we had nothing before us
. I'd read that once, but I couldn't help thinking it had to be one or the other. Alone in the middle of the street staring into darkness, I wondered which was worse, and forced myself to keep walking.

I was on the way to the 7-Eleven. It was two o'clock in the morning. I was almost positive there wouldn't be anyone in there but me, so I could just go straight in and buy something and then I'd turn around and come straight back. What could possibly happen?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing was going to happen, so there was absolutely no point in panicking.

I'm not going to panic . . . not going to panic . . . not going . . .

I tried staring at my feet as I walked, tried to focus on anything at all that wouldn't freak me the hell out. The heels of my shoes struck the pavement with the sound of a confidence the rest of me just didn't feel.

Which was silly, because when I got there, there would be one person I knew, someone familiar.
Naveed. So, that would be fine. Although if I thought about it too much, I'd have to consider just how pathetic it was to count the manager at the local convenience store as one of my better friends. That was the last thing I wanted to think about: the state of my world. What had become of my so-called life since graduation.

I needed to focus on the positive, not on the negative. This was all about rebuilding, clean-slating, making dull things shiny. That's why I was here. At two o'clock in the goddamn morning on my way to the 7-Eleven. Two blocks down and two blocks over, a five-minute walk.

Granted, a lot of crime could take place in five minutes, but I liked to think that my neighborhood was far enough north of the really sketchy part of town to avoid that stuff, even if the 7-Eleven itself was really the line of demarcation. We had lots of quaint Victorian facades, only some of which were still crumbling, and we had fairly nice neighbors, most of whom tried to grow gardens. We were still close enough to the bay to hear the comforting low of foghorns at night, even if we couldn't see the water. We had hills near enough to climb and look over to see a grand city view, even if we weren't living in it. In short, my neighborhood wasn't the worst and it wasn't the best. We had lots of things I could think of to make myself feel like I wasn't being a complete idiot by coming out here like this.