Impossible Promise

By Sybil Bartel

Three years ago, Layna Blair listened in horror over a telephone line as her parents were murdered. When the killer said she was next, Layna panicked and made a deadly dealhis secret in exchange for her life. She's paid the price every day since, becoming a prisoner in plain sight.

Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson offers Layna a way outher freedom, his rules, no questions askedand she takes it, despite knowing what her keepers do to people who get too close. She doesn't know Blaze is fighting his own demons or that beneath his warrior façade is a man on the verge of breaking.

Embarking on a wild revenge mission with Blaze and his smooth-talking best friend, Talon, is not what Layna signed on for. But attempting to run when Blaze has made no secret he intends to make her his is a reckless mistake. With the killer closing in, it's up to Blaze to save them alland to Layna to realize that she's risked the one thing she can't afford to lose.

Book one of two

93,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carina Press
• Release date: Mar 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781426899676

Sybil Bartel

Sybil grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn't get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she's not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her family.To find out more about Sybil, visit her website, http://sybilbartel.com/ or see what she's up to on Twitter @SybilBartel.

Book preview

A word was stealthily brought to me, and my ear caught a whisper of it.

—Job 4:12

Chapter One

Glancing over my shoulder, I crossed the parking lot. I didn’t see them but that didn’t mean they weren’t close. They were always close, but I’d found a place where they wouldn’t follow me. One hour a week—when you had nothing, it was something.

I breezed into the last pew and kneeled just long enough to cross myself. I wished the gesture still held some significance but I’d stopped believing three years ago. The thought of three years ago made the familiar panic surface. Sweaty palms, shortness of breath, heart clamoring to get out from under my ribs. They were all a precursor to the terror. I dug my nails into my palms, desperate to take my mind away from the past.

Maybe tonight had been a bad idea. I should’ve stayed hidden in my apartment. Then I wouldn’t be here, studying the side exit, counting the steps, wondering if I slipped out the back how long it would take before they found me. Because they always found me. I wasn’t stupid enough to go far. I glanced at the exit again. No, tonight, I was going to be just stupid enough to give them something to do. I grabbed my purse and stood.

He stopped in the aisle and fear more familiar than my own name prickled across my skin. His deep, quiet voice hit me a fraction of a second before his scent.

This seat taken? Soap and musk mingled with old church, and blue eyes the color of winter ice stared down at me.

My stomach in my throat, I shook my head, and he stepped into the pew. When he focused his attention forward, the air whooshed out of my lungs. He wasn’t one of them. They never got this close, not in public, but the fear was ingrained—three years ingrained.

My exit strategy shot, I set my purse down and snuck a glance at the wall of muscle next to me. Legs slightly apart, hands clasped in front, he stood perfectly motionless. Square jaw, chiseled cheekbones, his features were too harsh to be beautiful and too beautiful to be harsh. His close-cropped haircut screamed military, but the bottom of a tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve was the giveaway. USMC.

For one impossible moment, I closed my eyes. He smelled amazing, like freedom and strength and security—everything I’d never have again. Resigned, to my one hour, to my life, I glanced at the stupid exit and swore under my breath. Damn it.

Quick, precise, the marine turned and locked his gaze on me. Heat hit my cheeks, my mouth went dry and the sweater over my shoulders fell to the seat. Shit. Shit. I quickly looked away but the damage was done. I’d drawn attention to myself.

For the next forty-five minutes I tried to go through the motions of the service, but the closeness of the marine was making me want to crawl out of my skin. Vibrating with raw power, he was so distracting I wanted to shove him into the aisle...or cower under his huge biceps and hide. And that would be disastrous. Fuck-my-whole-life-up disastrous. I came here for an hour of peace, not soapy musk and unleashed strength. I didn’t have time for bullshit fantasies. I glanced at my watch. I didn’t have time at all. My hour was almost up.

I reached for my purse. Black boots, worn but polished to a high shine, had caged it in. And because I’d done nothing right since I’d walked through the church doors, I let my traitorous eyes sweep up. Hard muscles strained against black cargo pants. A fitted T-shirt skimmed a flat stomach and stretched across impossibly wide shoulders. A cut jaw ticked and cold, knowing eyes waited.

He raised an eyebrow.

My leg began to bounce.

Everything okay? he whispered.

Okay? No, everything was not okay. I was sitting next to a marine who made me wish I was anyone else besides who I was—utterly alone yet followed everywhere. Nothing about that was okay. But before I could do something really stupid, like acknowledge him, the haunting sounds of the organ filled the church and mass ended. I grabbed my purse and shot to my feet.

But the marine didn’t step out of the pew. He rose to his towering height, blocked my escape and waited for every single person to file out of the church. Then he stepped out and back a foot.

I told myself not to. I really did, but it was as if this complete stranger had destroyed all of my self-control. So, I glanced up.

And the marine glared at me.

Struck dumb, I stared for two heartbeats before self-preservation kicked in. Then I scrambled forward and tripped. Viselike heat gripped my upper arm and I was immediately righted. Stunned by the strength in his hand, I jerked away and rushed out of the church.

The priest’s crinkly face smiled in my direction then looked past me with concern. Sergeant Johnson, good to see you. How is your mother?

Not well, sir.

I flew down the steps. The last words I heard were his.

Who is that, Father?

Chapter Two

I didn’t bother looking for the men that’d been following me since I’d moved to Gainesville. I never should’ve left Miami but I couldn’t breathe for the memories. Fumbling through my purse, searching for my keys, I didn’t recognize the name being called behind me.

Ms. Blair.

Where the hell were my keys?

Ma’am.

My hand palmed my keys the instant recognition hit. Layna Blair was my new name.

Ms. Blair, you forgot something.

Damn it. I never should’ve told the priest my name. Tempering my rising panic, resigned to getting this over with, I turned around.

Your sweater, ma’am. Anger gone, arm outstretched, the marine studied me.

I silently took the sweater.

In a hurry? Patient, deep, his voice was almost cathartic.

I didn’t say anything. What was the point? I’d be gone in ten seconds and I’d never see him again. I flipped the sweater over my shoulders and got one arm shoved in before he reached out to hold the other sleeve. When his fingers brushed over my shoulder, I shivered.

He frowned. You’re cold.

This was taking too long. Sucking in a breath, I forced out polite words. Thanks for the sweater. I turned back toward my car.

He moved with me. You’re not from here.

I scanned the parking lot. He’d been talking to me too long. No. Good night.

His eyes narrowed and without moving, he seemed to come closer. His voice went even, quiet. Everything okay, ma’am?

Yeah, fine. Thanks again. I unlocked my car and reached for the handle.

The marine’s hand shot out, bracing against the driver’s door. Wait, he commanded in a hushed whisper.

Is there a problem? an accented voice asked.

Shit. Shitty shit shit. I’d lingered too long. Play it off, play it off, I silently chanted. Maybe they wouldn’t do anything to him. I took a deep breath and turned around to face the men who followed me.

That depends, the marine said in his even, quiet voice.

The shorter of the two men laughed and my skin crawled. They were like all the rest over the years. Hispanic, muscled, too non-descript to be anything but purposeful and they always traveled in pairs. But I’d found out this past week what Shorty was capable of, and he was a hundred times more dangerous than the others. He nudged the taller one.

Depends on what, G.I. Joe? Shorty smirked.

The marine’s hand dropped from the door and closed over mine. As he squeezed, my keys dug into my palm.

The act didn’t go unnoticed by Shorty. His forced humor instantly disappeared and his face twisted with venom. So it’s like that, huh? he spat out.

Step back, the marine warned as he slowly took my keys from my hand.

Or what? Shorty asked, casually lifting the front of his shirt a few inches to reveal a gun tucked in his waistband. You’ll bench press me? He grinned eerily.

The marine didn’t blink. You won’t be alive to know what I did to you.

A cold, sick dread rose like bile in my throat.

Shorty turned to me. "You even know this joker, girl? Cuz I ain’t seen him before and we both know I know you real good."

I opened my mouth to tell him where to shove it when my hand was squeezed hard in warning. I snapped my mouth shut and the marine took a step forward, shoving me behind him.

Disrespect her again and it’ll be the last thing you do.

Shorty shook his head. Hope he was worth it, girl. He reached for the gun.

Faster than I could scream, the marine moved. His left arm shot out, elbow first, as his right hand grabbed Shorty’s gun. With a sickening crunch, the tall one’s face erupted with spurting blood, his eyes rolled back in his head and his arms went limp. Before his knees even buckled, the marine had twisted Shorty’s arm and jammed the barrel of the gun back into his stomach.

The tall one hit the pavement face first with a nauseating thud as the marine clamped his left hand down on Shorty’s throat. Three successive pops sounded and Shorty let out a choked howl as his broken hold went slack.

Get in the car, Layna, the marine said calmly.

I stared at the bloody carnage on the ground.

"Layna."

I looked up. Shorty’s good hand was futilely clawing at the marine’s death grip on his throat.

The marine spared me a glance. Passenger side, get in.

I snapped out of my stupor and scrambled around the car. Still pointing the gun at Shorty, the marine let go of his throat and executed a merciless knife strike to the side of his neck. Shorty crumpled to the ground.

Hands shaking, I tried twice before I got the car door open and fell into the seat. Thirty seconds later we were doing seventy in a forty-five zone, putting distance between us and them.

The marine leaned forward, tucked the gun in his back waistband, and scanned the rearview mirrors. Are there more?

There were always more. I concentrated on breathing. No. Jesus, were they dead?

He glanced at me. You’re lying. Why?

For some reason, having him call me on my bullshit was calming—like a-syringe-full-of-Valium calming. My breathing evened out and I looked out the window. I should’ve been taking stock, figuring out how to lose the marine, but I wasn’t. I was drowning in the surreal feeling of not being alone and wondering why he’d protected me with no questions asked. I fixated on his superhuman soldier skills and a dangerous sense of relief washed over me. I leaned back in the seat. Did you kill them?

No.

Did I believe him? The tall one didn’t look like he was breathing. Facedown, blood everywhere, he’d stopped moving after a twitch and a gurgling sputter.

I broke his nose and some surrounding facial bones and knocked him unconscious. He’s not dead but he’ll need surgery, he said matter-of-factly.

I swallowed. And Shorty?

Unconscious, broken wrist, broken hand.

I didn’t say anything. I was trying to figure out if I was glad or mad.

Should I have killed them?

I whipped around in my seat. Surreal jumped ship and insanity came crashing down like a ton of bricks. You in jail for second-degree murder would be a waste of tax payers’ dollars, not to mention what the Marine Corps spent training you. I was incredulous. This soldier’s life wasn’t worth mine, no way.

He completely ignored what I said. They were in their car when I went into church, they circled the parking lot twice while we were talking and they seemed intent on making me go away. What’s the deal?

Shit. Drive back to your car or wherever you want to go. I’ll drop you off and you can be on your way.

I don’t think so.

What? Was he crazy?

You heard me.

You don’t want to get involved, I warned.

I got involved the third time you looked behind us in church. I’m not going to leave you to fend for yourself—unless you have another option? He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows.

I didn’t say anything.

That’s what I thought. He eased my car onto the highway.

Where are you going? This was kidnapping. Except I couldn’t put any force behind my words or the sentiment.

I’m hungry. We’re going to dinner.

Dinner? Shit. This was like going from one hostage situation to another. I didn’t do dinner. I didn’t know how to do dinner. Years of solitude and avoidance of any social interaction, I didn’t know what I’d say to him, not that I felt like talking. I was busy thinking about the ramifications of what he’d just done.

We drove a few miles before he spoke again. You haven’t asked my name.

I heard the priest, I know your name. It’s Sergeant Johnson, not that it matters. I won’t see you again after tonight. One way or another, he would disappear.

Is that a threat or a request?

Excuse me?

Are you telling me to go away or asking?

The adrenaline was wearing off and I was suddenly tired, of everything. Neither. Stating fact.

It’s Blaze, Blaze Johnson. Nice to meet you, Layna Blair. He held his hand out.

I took it grudgingly, but the second our hands touched, I wished like hell I hadn’t. Warm and strong, his firm grip sent a shockwave of awareness all the way to my stomach.

If, in fact, that is your real name. He released me.

Ignoring the goose bumps all over my body, I turned back to the window. Who was he kidding? What kind of stupid alias was Blaze? Fire Boy would have been more original. Not that it mattered what his name was since I wouldn’t see him after tonight. Miami would make sure of it. I was only humoring him with the whole dinner thing. Not like I had anywhere else to be.

We were silent as he took the next exit and pulled into a restaurant on the south end of town. Parking, he cut the engine, pocketed the key and hopped out. I swore under my breath. Casual, as if he carried concealed every day of his life, he untucked his T-shirt and pulled it over the gun. I tried to keep some distance between us but he came to my side and put his hand on my back. Instant heat shot straight to my stomach and traveled all the way south to my toes. I pretended I didn’t feel safe as hell with him next to me or that his hand didn’t generate instant heat, making my legs tremble. Blaze glanced across the parking lot then led me into the restaurant like everything was normal.

The hostess, a pretty college-aged girl, stared at Blaze as he asked for a table. I knew where she was coming from. He had presence—in spades. Not to mention all that muscle covering his six-foot-whatever frame. He wasn’t eye candy, he was eye crack, if you liked that sort of thing. Which I swore to myself I didn’t.

The love-struck hostess glanced over her shoulder about eighteen times as she led us to a table. Blaze ignored her and I rolled my eyes. When she stopped at a booth, Blaze held his hand out, gesturing for me to get in.

Where else am I going to sit? Did he think I would flee? Feign a restroom visit and slip out the back?

Ladies first, he said dryly.

I glared at him for three seconds to show him who’s boss, then I scooted into the booth.

Fire Boy slid in next to me.

Seriously? "There’s a perfectly nice seat on the other side."

This is fine. He picked up his menu.

Yeah, I’ll bet. Jerk. I tried another tactic. Glancing at the menu, I lied. I can’t afford these prices. We should leave.

You’re not paying.

I’m a vegetarian.

Have a salad. He didn’t even look up from his menu.

I want to leave. But if I was being honest, which I wasn’t, it was a total lie. Every smart-ass answer out of his mouth made me more intrigued. Besides, why make it easy for miss cheery hostess?

We will, once you’ve eaten.

That did it. Five words and I was pissed. Five bossy, presumptuous, arrogant, words. "Once I’ve eaten? I’m not hungry." Screw him.

I am, he said calmly.

This was bullshit. Feed yourself. Give me my keys. I held my hand out.

Not happening.

Asshole. This is kidnapping. I managed proper outrage, but he was probably twice my weight. What was I gonna do? Wrestle him?

He lowered his menu and focused his frosty stare on me. For a full minute, he said nothing. When I began to squirm, he lifted his menu again.

I huffed and put my menu down. Fine, score one for asshole. How did you know? I realized after I asked, it was too vague a question. I wasn’t good at this social interaction thing.

It sounded made up at best, Anglicized at worst. You look Eurasian, or maybe part Hispanic. Also, I called your name twice and you didn’t respond.

Not for the first time, I cursed my mixed heritage. They teach you to be observant in the Marines? I asked flippantly.

Your life depends on it.

Well that’s a cheerful thought. Heavy on the sarcasm and way past rational, I was circling over pissed off and tired.

It was his turn to look at me like I was missing all my teeth, but he didn’t have a chance to respond because a waitress showed up. She was a carbon copy of the hostess. Stupid college town. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so bitter if my life had gone differently and I was rushing sororities right alongside these girls—then again, maybe not.

Hi! Can I get y’all some drinks? She smiled at Fire Boy.

Fire Boy glanced at me questioningly but I was too busy staring daggers at the waitress. In my defense, I couldn’t help it. She was too cheerful. Two shots of Patron and a glass of water. And hurry. My attitude and emotions were all over the place, I needed a buffer.

The waitress looked at Fire Boy and amped up her smile.

Diet Coke, he said in that quiet voice that was starting to bug me.

Would you like an appetizer? She kept her eyes locked on him.

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I gave him my best fuck-off face, perfected over three years to keep people at bay.

Frowning, he set the menu down. We’re ready to order.

What would you like, ma’am? The waitress smiled at me sweetly, either missing my rude behavior or too nice for her own good. I could tell her what too nice would get her in life. She should frown more but it’d probably reflect badly on her tips. I’ll have what he’s having.

Fire Boy didn’t miss a beat. Two rib eyes, medium, two baked potatoes with the works, one spinach salad and one Caesar salad.

You got it. I’ll be right back with your drinks. Off the waitress went.

Who’s the Caesar salad for? I asked.

Me. You’re vegetarian, remember?

But you ordered me a steak.

Yep, he said, unapologetically.

Not very considerate, are you?

You’re not a vegetarian.

Life without bacon would suck. You’re right but that still doesn’t make you very accommodating. I didn’t count knocking Miami’s men unconscious and breaking their bones. I still didn’t know what I’d call that but accommodating wasn’t even close.

Never said I was.

No kidding. The waitress showed up with our drinks and a loaf of hot bread. She put the shots of tequila between us and left.

I don’t drink. Fire Boy’s expression was still a stone mask, but I swear I could detect a note of disapproval.

Good, because I didn’t order these for you. I threw back one shot, then the other. The burn down my throat quickly turned to a hot simmer in my veins. I put my head back against the booth and closed my eyes. Yeah, that was more like it.

Better?

I peeked one eye at him. Nope, you’re still here. I closed my eye again.

What’s your real name? His voice, quieter, was close to my ear.

The familiar bite of grief that was absent a second ago suddenly hit my stomach and I felt guilty. For the past ten minutes, I’d completely forgotten about my life. What’s yours?

I already told you.

Nice try, Fire Boy. I wasn’t sure if I should thank this marine for giving me ten minutes of reprieve or hate him.

When he didn’t say anything, I opened my eyes. His face dead serious, I forgot about my life. "You have got to be kidding. Blaze? For real? Blaze Johnson?"

My mother liked soap operas.

No shit. Must’ve been fun in basic training. I didn’t know the first thing about the Marines but I could imagine a bunch of guys relentlessly hazing him over his name.

I wouldn’t categorize basic training as fun.

Just then a server brought our salads. The lanky-looking kid smiled at me but when he saw Fire Boy, his face lit up. Hey Buck, I didn’t know you were back. Good to see you in one piece this time. He put our plates down. How long you home for?

Jason. Fire Boy, aka Blaze, aka Buck rose partially and shook hands with the kid. I’m on leave.

The kid’s face dropped. Oh hey man, I’m sorry. I heard about your mom. How’s she doing?

Fire Boy shrugged. He kinda looked like a Buck.

Jason, this is Layna. He inclined his head toward me.

Jason smiled. Nice to meet you. It’s good to see Buck with a pretty lady. He winked.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. I was a lot of things but pretty wasn’t one of them. My mother was half Chinese, half Italian and my father was half Cuban, half Greek. I was a mess of indistinguishable ethnicity. I looked slightly Asian but with a proud Greek nose and wide set brown eyes on a round face. My hair was heavy and dark and I wore it straight because there wasn’t anything else I could do with it.

I ignored his pretty comment. How long have you known Buck? I might have said Buck sarcastically.

Jason laughed. Since we were kids. Well, enjoy your dinner. Good to see you, man. Call me if you get some free time. We’ll take the ATVs out or hit the gym. Layna, nice to meet you. He nodded and left.

I looked at Buck. "Buck?"

His cold eyes stared at me for a moment before he answered. I’m good at hunting.

Just like that, I knew he meant more than deer. My mouth had been watering from the smell of the bread but Buck’s comment suddenly killed my appetite and reality came flooding back. The men from the parking lot were going to be royally pissed when they woke up, and so was Miami. The best thing I could do for Buck now was to get him away from me. The longer I was in his company, the harder it’d be to explain. As if on cue, my cell phone rang. I managed not to jump but I couldn’t stop my mind from spiraling to last week’s incident.

I’d stupidly decided to shake Shorty and his partner by getting up at 5:00 a.m. and driving to Jacksonville. I had no plan other than to get away for a day. Maybe the beach, maybe a mall—I didn’t care. Shorty had pissed me off the night before by following me through the grocery store. I thought I’d go for a little payback.

I made it exactly five miles out of town before my cell started ringing. First it was Miami, asking where the hell I was going. When I hung up on him, Shorty started calling. He wasn’t as nice. In a fit of rage, I’d thrown the phone out the window then I turned the car around and went home. I spent the rest of the day holed up in my apartment, waiting for something to happen. By 10:00 p.m., I stupidly thought I was in the clear and went to bed. An hour later, Shorty pounded on my front door.

"Wake the fuck up, bitch!"

Panicked a neighbor would call the police, not thinking straight, I’d opened the door in only a tank top and underwear.

Shorty had grabbed me by the throat, and his hot, rancid breath had slid over my skin. "You throw away one more fucking cell phone, pendeja, and I’m going to fuck some sense into you." Then he’d shoved a new phone down the front of my panties.

You going to answer that?

I snapped out of the memory and put the phone to my ear.

Buck turned away as if to give me privacy.

Miami, I said bitterly.

Ah, little one, you disappoint me, his Hispanic accent crooned over the line. I’d never seen him, didn’t know his real name, didn’t know what he looked like, but I knew his wretched voice.

What else is new? I just can’t win. You’re so hard to please. Sarcasm was my coping mechanism. If I let the fear or hatred in, it took over.

Where are you? Come home, you’re so far away. It’s too cold for you there. His concern, as always, was fake. It was also a precursor to his anger. His anger I took seriously. He could do bad, bad things with it.

I have no home. He’d made sure of that.

He tsked. Such talk—you have a beautiful home. Water views, a beautiful swimming pool. Is so nice. Come home, lay by the pool. You feel better.

I’d heard it all before. The home had belonged to my parents before they died. Now it was mine. I should’ve sold it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. My mother had loved that house.

"I have to work. I can’t lay around all day," I snapped at him.

You don’t have to work, little one. There’s plenty of money, you know this. I don’t like you working, too many bad people out there. Is not safe. You come home. I show you nice young man. You get married, have babies, fill that big house.

Everything he said was bullshit. He wanted to control me. His freedom depended on it. Unfortunately, my life depended on his freedom. Not a chance.

Miami’s voice lost its polite edge. But that man you’re with? He’s not good man. You’re in danger and now because of him it will take me hours to get someone up there to protect you.

I glanced at Buck. I don’t know who you’re talking about.

You tink he can save you? You tink I won’t get to him too?

My stomach bottomed out.

Miami’s voice turned chillingly quiet. Because I will. No one can protect you but me. I ask again. Where are you?

Miami didn’t protect anything, he made people disappear. I’d spent three years trying not to become a statistic. The movies, I lied.

"Don’t lie to me, hijita, we both know what happens when you do that," he warned.

Anger flared. "I’m not your daughter, I said through gritted teeth. I’m no one’s daughter, thanks to you." How dare he. He was there, he was there when my parents were murdered. I’d heard him. That phone call and his voice were permanently burned into my memory.

Miami’s tone instantly turned placating. Are you alone?

No, I’m not alone, I said through gritted teeth, stupidly taunting him.

Buck’s hand came down on my thigh and I flinched. I didn’t dare look at him. I’d just thrown him to the wolves.

Ah, well, you leave me no choice. Remember, you brought this on yourself. Miami hung up.

Shit. Shit. I threw the phone back in my purse and looked desperately for our waitress, any waitress.

What’s going on? Buck asked quietly, his hand generating way too much heat on my leg.

I flagged a cookie-cutter waitress down and practically jumped on her. Two shots of Patron, as quick as you can. Her smile vanished when I made a shooing gesture.

Buck reached across me and snatched my purse. I made a grab for it but he had my cell out and the purse on the floor in a blink of an eye. Hey! I reached for his arm but he switched

Reviews for Impossible Promise

[tina_thebookworm · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Original review can be found at Tina,The Bookworm

I received a copy in exchange for an honest review, this does not affect my review in any shape or form.

Imagine, you are sixteen on the phone with your parents probably rolling your eyes at whatever they just said and then you hear it. A voice, a chilling voice some arguing, some gunshots and you scream. The voice comes back on the phone threatening you, say a word and you’re dead too. He owns you now and you don’t even know his real name.

You can run, but he’ll always find you. You can change your name, you can move, you can work dead end jobs all you want but he will find you. You’ll always have to look over your shoulder. You think you can have friends, a relationship? Ha! Not gonna happen! His flunkies will make sure of that, and they’ll ALWAYS be around. Everywhere you go they go. You’re on your own, this is a war you are fighting by yourself. But how long must the war go on? That my friends is the story of Layna Blair.

The Warrior
Layna is a strong character. She's been under the watchful eye of Miami for over three years she's never once received help she's dealt with everything by herself. But there was times throughout the story that she gave me whiplash. She was timid one moment then the next she was rude. I understood why her character was portrayed this way because she was use to handling everything by herself and didn't want to drag another person with her into this whole mess. She was a bit naive but when you look at her life from the age of sixteen to the age of nineteen you understand. That didn't stop me from rolling my eyes, or wanting to smack some good sense into her sometimes. Overall, I have read books where the character's behavior and the circumstances don't flow right but in Impossible Promise that was not the case. I felt that Sybil Cartel did an excellent job of writing Layna.

They say if you want to meet a good man go to church.
We meet Blaze while Layna's in church. Everything about him screams MARINE not that the tattoo gave it away or anything. Blaze can tell that Layna's in trouble and can't help but involve himself [think Titanic...you jump I jump remember?]. He has the sudden urge to protect her from whatever it is that has her running, he just doesn't know how bad it is. I really liked Blaze's character and it wasn't just because he's a marine,I swear. He's caring [he's on leave awaiting for his mother's passing], he's loyal, he's also very protective and can cut off his emotions in seconds like Marines are suppose to. There wasn't much Blaze throughout the book, he was often leaving to care for his mother it wasn't until the end that you really got to see what type of man he was. I did want to slap him though but you have to read it to find out why.He's also a man of his word which is extremely rare now at days and he promises Layna he will help her find a way out of the situation she's in and he promises he won't touch her because then he won't be able to concentrate at the task at hand.

Or you could just fall for his best friend...
Blaze takes Layna to Talon's house and warns her DO NOT FALL FOR HIM. Needless to say I was pretty interested in this guy, I had sense that maybe a girl of Blaze's had once fallen for Talon but my theory was never proven. Talon survived along side Blaze in the Marines but he's out of the Marines already. But he's what I like to call your friend in low places for life meaning he's the one that you call when you need death threats to be made and instant bail money, you know the one friend who'd do ANYTHING for you.I mean ANYTHING. He agrees to help Layna and Blaze and begins digging for dirt on exactly why Miami is keeping Layna alive. His character is so hard not to like. I mean he's flirtatious, he's good looking, he owns a business pretty much the opposite of Blaze. And this is where the damn love triangle happens.

He loves me, he loves me not...
The love triangle, I hate them. I find it so unfair to the third person like either way somebody loses. In this case, I kinda understood the love triangle. Let me explain, Blaze is gone a lot because his mother is dying from cancer, leaving Talon and Layna by themselves. They get to know each other and one thing leads to another and a kiss happens. Not to mention Talon flirts with just about all the female species. Anyway, Layna has been by herself all this time so develops feelings for both men however her feelings for Blaze are stronger...but the feelings for Talon are different. And in the end she's not sure what to do. Talon tries to explain to her that she shouldn't mistake gratitude with love. Is she really feeling just gratitude with attraction and love? You can't really blame the girl for having feelings for both men. They are total eye candy of course, and not to mention it's the first time she's ever had male attention so of course the girl is a bit overwhelmed with two hunks helping her out of a very sticky situation.

At the end of the book, I still couldn't tell you if I agreed with her choice. Because Sybil made it extremely difficult to not love both men and to make them so different. It was so not fair. I even stayed up all night trying to decide who I would pick but yeah I came up empty.

The Truth Will Set You Free
I really liked how Sybil was able to not focus the story so much on the love aspect but really on the truth behind why Miami had Layna under such a watchful eye. I loved how she was able to bring out the truth behind why her life had turned out the way it did. I thought it was well played out, some parts were a bit cliche but overall I thought the story worked out well. There were definitely twists I did not see coming. Towards the end, I was at the end of my seat wondering what was going to happen and how was it all going to play out.

The story was a page turner for sure, I spent all Sunday reading it. I was so captivated by the story I loved seeing where this was headed. I just could not get enough. What I would have like was maybe Blaze's point of view or Talon's point of view. I think that part of the story would have been interesting to see. Anyway, Impossible Promise is action packed, page turning, gripping the edge of your seat kinda story. I for one, cannot wait to see where this series is headed. August cannot come quick enough.