Crimson Dawn stories are modern day paranormal stories centered around a private investigation team of seven men who are pulled into paranormal circumstances when one of their own is targeted by a master vampire.  This master vampire wants something hunted down and he'll use whatever pawns he can to see to it that the men of Eagle's Eye Investigations fall in line with his agenda.  Below is a free preview of what's in store for one of our heroes...

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Upon entering his house, Vic stripped off his black suede jacket, careful not to aggravate the injury to his arm, and hung it on the coat rack just inside the entryway.  He examined the cut and blood stain made from the knife and shook his head in disgust.  “Damn,” he muttered.  “Well, maybe that cleaning place down the street can take care of it.”  He turned away, refusing to cry over spilled blood.  It was his own damn fault for wearing the thing while searching for a bounty.  He tossed his keys into a small bowl on the inside table he also used for mail and went into the kitchen to get a beer.

The conversation with Kevin at the bar only a half-hour ago had been full of mostly silence.  A few words of observation on that night’s events, but Vic got the impression that Kevin simply needed to come down from his adrenalin high.

Plus, he had been scared for Vic when that knife had been thrown.  Damn scared.

So much concern from the guy, and they had only been working together for a week.

It made Vic wonder just what was going on between them, if anything, and if he should really let his wishful thinking get the better of him.

Was Kevin developing feelings for him?

If so, then were those feelings simply from a deep-rooted friendship due to their interactive, though choppy past encounters?  A friendship based on similar losses and circumstances?

Did Kevin need to be near Vic as a bonded friend, a brother figure…or was there something more?

Vic rolled his eyes as he took another swig from his bottle of beer.  He could allow his mind to go where his common sense feared to tread, letting his imagination wander into the forbidden grounds of hoping against hope.

But in reality, no one had ever been able to truly stop their heart from desiring what it always desired…to fall in love with someone and have that person fall in love with you.

Vic shut his eyes and leaned back against his kitchen sink.  His arm throbbed as the local anesthetic started to wear off.  He would have to take a pill in a bit, but not right now, not while he was drinking and thinking…and hoping.

Perhaps it was all part of the ‘friendship’ thing.  It had been forever since Vic had found a friend he could love simply as a friend and nothing more.  A friend like a brother.  In fact…had he ever had such a friend?

Maybe that’s what this was with Kevin—a friendship that could touch the soul of a man and allow him to take lingering comfort in such a shelter.

Vic stared off at a magnet on his refrigerator door.  It was a small regular magnet, nothing ornate or symbolic, just a black background with white letters spelling out: ‘God, save me from your followers’.  It was just something to focus on as his brain trampled over all analytical possibilities.

Kevin had needed to be with Vic after the knife incident.  Before that, he had wanted to be at Vic’s side to help him capture the bounty.  It was camaraderie, and both of them seemed to crave it from the other.

Vic could have easily confessed to Kevin that he was gay, given the fact that Kevin, if anything, had his head on straight when it came to the tolerance issue.  But it was too soon to explore that side of the coin as yet.  The time simply wasn’t right.  But would the time ever be right?

Something passing over the veranda out in back broke his line of thought.  A shadow swept over the kitchen window that looked out into the back yard, and then the sound of something knocking over; a jar, or a planter had crashed to the wooden deck.

Vic froze.  He focused his hearing and listened intently.  The house was dark except for the light in the living room.  None of the security lights had kicked on regardless of the fact that something was out in the backyard.  He quietly set his bottle of beer on the counter and pulled his Glock from its holster that was still strapped to his waist.  It didn’t matter that the wound had been inflicted on the arm he normally used to shoot with.  Vic had been trained to use a gun with both hands, and so he gripped the butt of the Glock in his right hand and took in a deep breath.

He stealthily moved out through the back door and examined the area around the deck.  He saw nothing, smelled nothing and heard nothing but the normal sounds of outside; crickets singing their final song before hibernation, tree leaves rustling in the evening breeze.  

He took a step off his deck and the movement caused the security lights to flash on, yet even with that extra illumination, he could see nothing except for a planter that had fallen to the deck from its wire stand. It was an Aloe plant with obvious broken leaves spilling their healing liquid onto the wood of the deck.  As was his nature, he quickly sent up a prayer to Demeter to ask her help in the plant’s healing.  He reached down and carefully set the potted plant upright again.  Hopefully he could save the rest of the plant later, but right now…he needed to make sure no one was creeping around his back yard. 

It could have been a cat, or a raccoon, or a squirrel rummaging around, sure, but the shadow that passed the window had been too tall for a four-legged beast.

His heart pounded against his ribcage.

He moved quietly over to the big pine tree he had in the center of his backyard.

As he moved around the trunk, he felt a hand clamp down on his gun hand, squeezing it with incredible strength, forcing his fingers to let go of the butt.  The gun dropped to the ground and another hand grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him forward.

Everything happened too damn quickly, but he was suddenly looking into gray eyes and a deathly pale face.  He opened his mouth to yell, when the urge to call out was stifled by a deathlike squeeze at the back of his neck.  He winced, pulling in a quick intake of breath.

The hand was cold, like death, and the smell of death triggered a nasty memory in his subconscious.

Something…something from a past he wasn’t sure was his own filtered through his inner vision, and he fought to chase it, to grab it and face it head on.  But it was too elusive, like a specter riding the wind.

“I’m afraid, beautiful one, that I’m going to need a bargaining chip in the days and months ahead.  Don’t worry, you won’t remember any of this.”

The voice was warm and sensual, calculating and confident.  Vic’s body went numb under the heady effects of both the touch on his body and the voice that caressed his mind.  He felt cold lips brush over the back of his neck, under his hair, and the sharp sting of teeth sinking into his flesh.

In seconds everything went black.