Sunday Snippet: Behind the Line (Black Raven Banner)

Well, another week kind of flew by. My work schedule is filling in again and that makes me very happy.

Had a semi-decent week for television. I ended up watching a lot of behind the scenes and bloopers from Passionflix. Gabriel's Inferno, Dirty Sexy Saint, The Will, and Matchmaker's Playbook. Thoroughly enjoyed all of them!

Caught up on some classic television. Watched a lot of Perry Mason and The Saint. I'd forgotten how much intrigue the classic Perry Mason shows had in them. Lots more than the modernized version from the eighties.

Also started a new mystery on Ovation. Caught the first two episodes of Crossing Lines. Enjoyed both so I'll be trying to catch those as they air.

I'd hoped to catch Gabriel's Inferno part three this past week but couldn't find time to really sink into the movie. I'll give it a go this week coming up. Also want to watch the holiday quickies releasing on Passionflix.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Behind the Line, a novella in the Black Raven Banner series. Yes, this is a new name for the series. Hopefully I'll land on the right one soon.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Emory Cavendish is trapped behind enemy lines and Verity Jones mounts a rescue mission, thinking she won't get much help. Surprise doesn't express her emotion when every other pilot jockeys for a spot on the team to save Emory. Their hard-won acceptance fills Verity with confidence and gratitude. She'll need their full support to bring Emory home.

And a preview snippet…

Emory Cavendish stumbled through the woods—not far from his downed plane—in enemy territory. "I gotta find some cover." Wounded and bleeding, his first priority had to be the… What?

His head throbbed and his vision blurred. Thinking clearly became a struggle. Pausing, Emory ran a hand over the back of his head. Sure enough, his fingers brushed over a large tender spot and big lump.

But he couldn't slow down. "Head injury. Great. At least I know my name." He repeated it over and over and started making his way toward a clearing … no a rutted roadway.

He'd stepped back down into washout gully when a lone horse cart came along and stopped along the side of the road. An older gentleman peered into the shadows then lifted a lantern. Caught, Emory couldn't do much but pull his sidearm.

The old man's eyes widened. "I came to offer assistance." He met Emory's gaze. "Are you planning to end my life?"

Emory's hand wavered and he lowered the weapon. "Gonna be hard to do when I see two of you." His vision swam again and he swayed on his feet.

The gentleman slid from the wagon and propped an arm under Emory's shoulder. "The name's Marcel Rainier." When Emory flinched, Marcel's gaze dropped to Emory's side. "You're wounded? My home isn't far. I can help, tend the wound." He started in the direction of the cart.

Emory dug his heels in. "No, can't. Not yet." He glanced over his shoulder. "I can't leave the plane out in the open." Easing away from Marcel, he almost fell backward when his head spun.

Marcel grasped Emory's bicep. "All right. I can help." He propped Emory up again. "You're English, yes?" When Emory gave a terse nod, Marcel heaved a relieved sigh. "Your plane came down in a good spot." He started toward the wagon again. "The homes surrounding this forest are all resistance. I'll signal the others and they can make cover for the plane." Reaching under the seat, Marcel withdrew an ornate box.

Emory frowned then huffed out a breath of surprise when Rainier opened the top and revealed a short-wave radio setup. Leaning against the side of the cart, he waited for Marcel to tap out a message. After a few long seconds, a response beeped back in return. Marcel nodded and put the device back under the seat.

He clasped Emory's shoulder. "Three men are coming. We'll wait here; should only take a few minutes." Glancing down, he tsked. "Let's get the bleeding slowed." Riffling in the bed of the wagon, he brought out a small bag that had torn fabric rolled into makeshift bandages.

Tearing a long strip off, he wound the material around Emory's midsection and tied it off. Emory winced and sucked in a harsh breath. Damn, that hurt. He shoved the pain aside and remembered the mission. And Verity. And all the men with Black Raven counting on him.

Marcel gave a grunt. "There. That should do until we can get a better look." He turned when rustling sounded behind them. "Ah, gentlemen, thank you for coming out."

Three men approached with wary movement. Emory straightened as much as he could and met each of their gazes. The trio swam before him, but he managed to blink and clear his vision.

Marcel briefly explained the need to secure the plane. "Our friend, Mister … I'm sorry"—he glanced in Emory's direction—"I don't know your name…"

Emory lifted his chin. "Cavendish. Emory Cavendish." He didn't say more; they'd discover who he flew for when they got the plane covered.

Marcel's lips curved. "Our friend, Mr. Cavendish will direct us to where he came down and we'll get the plane hidden."

With the five of them, providing cover didn't take long. Emory didn't help much with gathering the branches, but he did get his bag and—in a moment of clarity—located the beacon Verity installed and activated the device.

Emory struggled through another wave of dizziness on the way back to Marcel's cart. When the man helped him get settled in the back, Emory placed his hand over the wound on his side. His fingers came away with blood on them. Marcel hadn't gone more than a few feet after turning the wagon before Emory lost consciousness.

I have a lot of love for this series and the third book is proving to be so much fun to write. Book four is plotted and planned so I hope to have the whole set ready for publishing by late next year.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye