To help get people in the mood, I’m going to post some random snippets from BROKEN over the next week or two.

:o)

Here’s the first one:

Alone in a night-dark forest, Quinn Rafferty shoveled dirt into the hole. He tried hard not to think about what he was doing. Why.

There ya go. There’s your snippet.

Want a longer one?  Okay, okay… below the cut.

Alone in a night-dark forest, Quinn Rafferty shoveled dirt into the hole. He tried hard not to think about what he was doing. Why.

He tried hard not to think about the still body that lay in the shallow grave at his feet. If he thought about it too much, he was going to lose his mind. He had a fragile hold on sanity and he knew it wouldn’t take much to snap.

But he couldn’t not think. Couldn’t not remember.

Elena was dead.

“Trust me,” she had whispered to him. She had given him that serene, enigmatic smile and kissed him, stroked a hand down his chest and murmured, “Trust me, Quinn. I will do this—one more time. One last time. I have to.”

She’d been right—she’d done it one last time . . . and it had gotten her killed. Now her last words haunted him. Even as he’d left her alone in the hellhole dive where they’d met to exchange information, he’d wanted to go back to her. Go back, demand that she stop. Demand that she come with him.

Quinn had no idea how he’d possibly have gotten Elena out of Colombia, but he would have worked something out. Broken whatever laws necessary, kept her with him.

But she’d told him to trust her.

“You look at me like you want to be with me, but you do not trust me. How can I be with a man who cannot trust me?”

It was something she’d asked him months ago—yet more words to haunt him.

It was quiet in the forest, the air hot and heavy. He worked in the dark, because he couldn’t risk somebody discovering him. Not that he feared they would—he almost hoped that would happen soon. But not until he’d taken care of Elena first. Then his team. Had to make sure the team was safe.

Fuck, by rights, he should be doing that now. A Ranger didn’t leave his team hanging.

But a man couldn’t leave the woman he lo—

“Shit.” He drove his stolen shovel into the ground and covered his face with grimy, bloodstained hands. He wasn’t going there—too fucking late now. Too fucking late. Too late for him, and too fucking late for Elena.

Her body lay wrapped in a blanket that was soaked through with blood. Broken . . . broken, and battered.

Trust me . . .

How can I be with a man who cannot trust me?

He couldn’t ask it of her—he never had, and he never would have. But she’d looked at him and known that he felt something. She probably understood how he’d felt better than he did. Quinn sucked at feelings. But he’d wanted her. For always. Elena had known and she’d wanted to give it to him.

But he had to trust her.

Trust me . . .

So he had made himself trust her. And by doing it, he’d let her die.

Tears burned his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He couldn’t cry. Not right now. He had to take care of Elena. If he managed that without getting caught, then he would get back to his team.

No time to fall apart, not now.

God, the team. Man, he needed to get back to them. He’d already sent a message back—the mission had been ready to blow up in their faces and he needed to get back to them—now.

But he couldn’t leave Elena . . .

Trust me . . .

He should have known better. Trust was dangerous, and this time, it had gotten a woman killed.

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