Titanium

By Linda Palmer

Riley McConnell, 19, loves living in San Antonio while she attends the University of Texas. Her major: public health. Although grateful that her aunt and uncle took her in when her mother died, she welcomes the break from them and her three young cousins. How she wishes she could forget advertising for a housemate to share the rent. But her part-time job selling tacos in a mall food court just isn't cutting it.

Zander Bennett, 23, is also separated from his family by choice. A veteran of Operation Enduring Freedom, he lives in a trailer park near Brook Army Medical Center where he receives care for injuries sustained in Afghanistan. Zander is a physical and emotional wreck, and the psychic gift that was an asset overseas is now as useless as his military training.

Or so he thinks, until he spots a zombie in the mall food court on Halloween night. To most, the guy with the creepy face paint is just another costumed shopper among hundreds. But Zander knows recon when he sees it, and this dude is definitely sizing up the area as well as the pretty brunette bagging tacos. Even weirder, he has buddies doing the same. Zander's skin actually crawls, a feeling not experienced since his return to the states. Should he warn the pretty brunette? Or is his paranoia just another symptom of his troubled state of mind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Uncial Press
• Release date: Feb 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781601741998

Linda Palmer

Linda Palmer admits it all started when she fell in love with Roy Rogers in the fifties. The family TV was boxy; the picture was black and white. That didn't matter. Roy's cowboy courage won the day and inspired her to  create elaborate scenarios when playing with her sisters and friends outside. Indoors, she read romances in every genre from Sci Fi to Gothic. Linda began writing for pleasure in the third grade, mostly poetry, and has letters from her grade school teachers predicting she'd be an author. Her poems eventually became short stories; her short stories became books. And even though a writing career was never actually a dream, it was something she pursued with intent after winning some writing contests and joining local and national writers' groups. Silhouette Books published Linda's first romance novel in l989 and the next twenty over a ten-year period (writing as Linda Varner, her maiden name). In 1999 she took a ten-year break to take care of her family, but learned that she couldn't not write. She began again in  2009, changing her genre to young adult/new adult paranormal romance. She has now written over a hundred novels and novellas ranging from traditional romance to erotica. Linda was a Romance Writers of America Rita finalist twice and won the 2011 and 2012 EPIC eBook awards in the Young Adult category. She was also a finalist in that category in 2013 and in 2014. Linda has been married to her junior high school sweetheart over fifty years and lives in Arkansas, USA with her family. Ever a hopeless romantic, she still falls for unattainable Hollywood heroes that inspire her to write romances about alpha males and the women who stand up to them. Linda hints that her current crush's name starts with Tom and ends with Hardy. Her website is www.lindavpalmer.com. You can also find her on Facebook: Linda Varner Palmer.

Book preview

way.

Chapter One

Riley

October 21

To: [e-mail]

From: [e-mail]

Subj: Let's talk

Riley, I know I haven't been much of a dad to you, and for that I'm sorry. Things are different now. I'm different now. Can we talk? Better yet, spend Thanksgiving or Christmas together this year? Baby Ginny would love having a big sister, and my wife Kari hopes you'll be part of our lives, too.

Dad

I read the message twice before I slapped my laptop shut in total disbelief.

Talk?

Yeah, sure. If the world stopped turning.

And maybe not even then.

* * * *

The food court at City Center Mall was especially crowded for a Saturday night thanks to the Halloween costume contest being sponsored by some of the merchants and our coinciding extended shopping hours. So far, I'd sold tacos to a Lady Gaga, an Iron Man, and a Katniss Everdeen, all of them adults way too old for dress up, even if there was a five-hundred-dollar prize up for grabs.

So I hustled to keep the diverse waiting line at Tacos y Más short. Behind me, Analena Rodriguez barked orders when simply helping out would've done more good. But that's not the way she rolled, and since she owned the food, I faked a smile and murmured, Yes, ma'am, every time she yelled at me, which was often. What I really wanted to do was point out how all the changes I'd suggested--and she'd shot down-- would've streamlined the serving line.

Is it my imagination, Riley, or is that dude over there stripping you with his eyes? Shannon Willis handed me a wrapped taco, while never taking her eyes off of the tables in the center of the court.

Ew. I tucked the food into a sack bearing the T&M logo and thrust it at the fuming clown glaring across the counter at me. Thanks for your patience, sir. Enjoy your meal.

With a growl, the man snatched the bag and stalked off in a very unclownly way. I stole a peek at the guy supposedly ogling me from the east edge of the table area. Sure enough, a good-looking male wearing a burnt orange University of Texas, San Antonio, hoodie and stonewash jeans stared at--or maybe through--me, a slight frown on his face. Was he lusting after my bod?

I wished.

But how could he be when my yellow T&M tee and ugly black granny pants hid any curves I might've had? Pleats and cuffs, anyone?

To be honest, his gaze constantly shifted while he waited for the crowd to thin out. At least that's what I assumed he was doing. At any rate, he didn't have any food on the table at which he slouched alone, with his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs stretched out as if he'd been there forever.

Riley! Stop loafing!

I automatically grabbed a sack and snapped it open so I could set it on the counter before looking right into the eyes of a zombie with peeling gray facial skin streaked by fake blood. Yikes. He had his hood up, so I couldn't tell hair color, but his eyes were all black, including the part that should've been white, which made him look, well, dead. That'll be six dollars even.

As the young man dug his wallet out of his pocket, Shannon passed me his food. He handed me a five and a one. I gave him his sack. When he caught my hand in his, I glanced up in surprise.

You're Riley McConnell, aren't you? His voice sounded gravelly and affected, sort of like Christian Bale's did when he played Batman. He gazed at the plastic tag pinned to my T-shirt, which had my full first name and my last-name initial on it.

Yes.

Thought so.

Do we know each other? I tried to envision his eyes without the contacts.

We had a class together at UT.

Oh. Try as I might, I couldn't place the guy, but his face was a mystery at the moment. As for the tall rest of him, a ratty black hoodie and baggy black jeans hid body shape. Sorry. I can't remember your name.

Jason.

Hi, Jason. It's nice to see you again.

Same. With an enigmatic smirk, he left.

Shannon elbowed me in the ribs. Hot guy.

How can you tell?

She burst out laughing.

Shannon! Get a move on!

With an eye roll, Shannon got busy making the next hungry customer's order.

For over an hour, I didn't give staring dude another thought or glance. So when I abruptly realized he was my next customer, I was pleased since I could say with certainty that he was totally hot. With a smile, I began stuffing his food into a sack. That'll be five-thirty-five.

He handed me a ten. I dug change from the cash drawer, highly aware of his unblinking gaze. Three-sixty-five is your change. Enjoy your dinner.

"Four-sixty-five. It should be four-sixty-five."

Of course it should. You're right. I'm a total idiot. With hands that inexplicably shook, I grabbed another dollar from the cash drawer and wished like heck I'd simply looked at the register, which plainly displayed correct change for cashiers who couldn't think on their feet.

He stuffed the money into the pocket of his hoodie and glanced at my nametag before he turned to go. I couldn't seem to drag my eyes away from his wide shoulders and was still staring when he abruptly pivoted to face me again. Watch your back, okay?

Excuse me?

Nothing. I-- Nothing. Shaking his head as if he wished he'd kept his mouth shut, he walked back to his table.

Was he limping? Not really, though something about his gait wasn't quite right. Judging from his height and build, he had an athlete's body. Add that to the UT hoodie, and I had good reason to assume he'd twisted an ankle playing football, basketball, or some other sport.

Did that guy just threaten you? Shannon asked.

Threaten? Actually, I think it was a warning.

What's the difference?

A threat is scary. A warning is...confusing.

"Shannon! Riley! Madre de Dios. What is wrong with you two?"

Nothing, Ms. Rodriguez. We're on it. Shannon got right back to business. I, on the other hand, fumed.

Why was I even working there? Since being hired, I'd honestly tried to offer ideas for improving the way Analena ran T&M. In some scenarios, specifically ours, more servers equated to less efficiency, as in we bumped elbows and tripped over each other constantly. Unfortunately, Analena's solution to every problem usually involved hiring another of her son's idiot friends. If she only knew how they acted when she wasn't around and he was in charge.

Zander

Watch your back? Had I really just told a perfect stranger to watch her back?

Yeah, I had. Why? Because Riley M was.

Perfect, that is.

And a stranger, something I'd have been tempted to change in the past since she was just my type. Now, if she hadn't immediately written me off as psycho, she'd be looking over her shoulder all night.

Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut? Zander Bennett trying to save the world again, I guess. After all, it had worked out so well for me before.

I snorted a dry laugh and shifted my left leg, which hurt like hell, as usual. My taco wasn't half bad. I could even have eaten a couple more, but I'd have to face the girl with the million-dollar smile again, something I couldn't bear to do.

I had my reasons--reasons Dr. Darla Davies, my shrink, would've hated. She was all about jumping right back into dating.

As effing if.

My world had never been more upside down. I blamed that on the scars, both mental and physical, that no amount of pain pills, antidepressants, exercise, or even pep talks would heal.

Time, everyone said. These things took time.

Well, I had plenty on my hands now.

So I sipped my giant Coke, and let my restless gaze shift from the beautiful brunette with the big brown eyes to the weirdo in the zombie get-up who'd been seriously scoping her out for the past two hours. What the hell was his deal? When he bought his food earlier, he'd struck up a short conversation, but I could tell by Riley M's face that she didn't know him.

I wished I could read minds. But my psychic gifts didn't stretch to that.

Bemused, I focused on my queso, which was going cold. So I almost missed the zombie signaling someone. My gaze automatically swung to where he looked and riveted to a body double, right down to the war paint and black gear. When that dude signaled someone else, I realized there was a third zombie and a fourth.

My skin crawled the way it used to in Kabul.

These weirdos were up to no good and it involved Riley M, a girl who'd probably lived a life as sheltered as mine had been until four years ago. She had that look about her--the sweet, cherished, completely naÏve persona that meant she'd never understand how much evil there was in this world, much less take my vague warning seriously.

Should I talk to her again?

Try to explain the nebulous danger knotting my gut?

Nah, I decided. Not when my anxiety might be related to my vivid nightmares or, more likely, be a remnant of the paranoia I'd experienced overseas. Death came in so many shapes and sizes. A woman. A kid. An old man without teeth or limbs. Any of them could be under the thumb of the Taliban. Any could be armed.

But that was then.

Now I sat in a crowded mall in the land of the free, a mall I visited several times a week, but not to shop. I did other things there: walk, ride the escalator, practice my social skills, which in my case meant brushing shoulders with strangers without flinching. Should've been an easy thing to do, but it wasn't. Not without my M4 carbine within reach, anyway.

Dr. Davies promised me I'd get better.

I hoped to hell I would.

Meantime, I focused on the physical side of my so-called transition back into civilian life, still wondering why in the hell Joey had died in that blast and not me.

Chapter Two

Riley

When my supper break finally arrived, I went to Giovanni's next door and bought two slices of cheese pizza. No tacos for me. By then just the aroma of Mexican food made my stomach knot and my head ache.

I ate all alone at one of the tables--sadly, hot guy had moved on--dialing up my aunt Leslie while I chewed.

Hey, honey.

Hey. Chomp. Chomp. Did you, by any chance, give Steve my email address?

I heard the TV go mute in the background. What was that?

I repeated it.

Of course not. Why? Did he contact you?

Last week, I think. Or maybe it was the week before.

Aunt Leslie gasped. Don't feel obligated to do anything you don't want to do.

What?

If that man asks for bone marrow, or a kidney, or something else, you don't owe him a thing.

I burst out laughing. You've been watching too many Lifetime movies.

She wasn't amused. I'm serious, Riley. That money he's sending doesn't mean a thing.

I froze, a pizza slice halfway to my mouth.

He's only done what the law requires. What matters is that he's never called or visited in the ten years we've had you.

What money are you talking about?

Silence. I'm sure we've mentioned your trust fund.

And I'm sure you haven't. Are you saying that Steve McConnell is sending me money?

Not nearly enough. When I think how he treated my poor sister...

Oh.

My.

God.

For how long?

Their entire marriage.

No, no, no. How long has he sent money?

Since we took you in. I can't tell you how badly I've wanted to send it all right back, but Clint wouldn't let me. And now that you've blossomed into a beautiful young woman, Steve is undoubtedly going to use that money to weasel his way back into your life.

I dropped my uneaten pizza in its Styrofoam container and pushed it away. I couldn't possibly stomach it now. It never occurred to you that I might want to know this?

Another weighty silence. We did what we thought was best. Steve doesn't deserve you, Riley. He's obsessed with his career. He drinks too much. He cheated on your mother. I didn't want his bribe to sway your feelings toward him.

Do you think I'm that shallow?

I'm just saying it would be easy to forgive and forget if he bought you a new car or something.

"Really, Leslie? I mean, really?"

You don't know how he is, Riley Ann. A charismatic, amoral genius who talks the talk but has no comprehension of what love really is. Why, your amazing mother, smart as she was, fell right into his arms. I tried and tried to warn her, but--

I can't talk now. I abruptly ended the call, stunned, hurt, and confused. How could Leslie and Clint have kept something this important from me?

It changed everything.

Just everything.

Beginning with the fact that I wasn't the girl I'd always thought I was.

Decidedly dazed, I worked in silence and in a funk until midnight, when we finally closed. Since less greedy vendors had done that two hours ago, the food court lay empty and quiet when I joined my fellow workers in the nightly shut-down ritual of T&M. Trash this. Scrub that. Count every freakin' thing. Analena Rodriguez didn't trust anyone and steadfastly compared what food went out against cash register receipts. Heaven forbid someone should help themselves to a soda or snag a stray tortilla chip while we slaved for her.

Five minutes before one, I finally dragged my tired butt out a back door of the mall. Chilly damp air swirled around me. I zipped my fleece jacket. Having left my car where mall employees were supposed to park--the back of beyond--I had a miserable walk across the asphalt. And since I was the only T&M employee who'd done what she should, I braved it alone and under spotty lighting.

I saw there were three other cars parked back there but not another human in sight, which always made me wonder why they'd been abandoned. Had the owners hooked up with someone? Did the cars belong to carpoolers? Or were they still there because they wouldn't start?

I didn't consider these mysteries long. Instead, blocking all thoughts of aunts, uncles, and MIA dads, I mentally worded the notice I would soon place on every bulletin board on the UT campus: Wanted. Housemate who doesn't smoke, drink, or live like a slob. Yeah. Me needing help with the rent unless... Wait. How did trust funds work, anyway?

Hello, Riley.

I squealed and fell back, my heart thumping wildly. Jason? Wow. You scared the crap out of me. Ha. Ha. Ha. Or not. Why are you still here? The mall closed ages ago. I began walking again, faster since the hairs on the back of my neck now stood on end.

He kept up. I thought you might need a ride home.

Me? Nah. I have my car. I pushed the unlock button on my hand-me-down Honda's key remote. Blip-blip. Flashing taillights on a vehicle parked way too far away. See?