Decorah Security Series, Book Series by Rebecca York

Olivia Weston is sure her boss has imported a shipment of stolen antiques. And when Decorah agent Luke Garner handles one of the items, an ornate puzzle box, the spirit of a warrior, locked away for centuries, takes possession of his body. Zabastian, the guardian of the box, forces Luke to help him return the object of power to its rightful owners. As Olivia sees Luke change before her eyes, his transformation both frightens and arouses her. And both men who inhabit Luke’s body want her... moreOlivia Weston is sure her boss has imported a shipment of stolen antiques. And when Decorah agent Luke Garner handles one of the items, an ornate puzzle box, the spirit of a warrior, locked away for centuries, takes possession of his body. Zabastian, the guardian of the box, forces Luke to help him return the object of power to its rightful owners. As Olivia sees Luke change before her eyes, his transformation both frightens and arouses her. And both men who inhabit Luke’s body want her. But they must also learn to work together to protect the mysterious artifact from a trio of murderous thieves who will risk anything to steal the prize. And in the end, will the warrior allow Luke and Olivia their happily ever after? EXCERPT: Luke offers to help Olivia unpack the shipment. He walked toward the cases, then stopped at the table where she’d set the objects she’d already removed. The box was there. At least, it looked like the right box. Now that he saw it, he had the feeling he shouldn’t pick it up. He did it anyway, turning it over in his hands. “What’s this?” “My friend, Beth Lawrence, says it’s from an old religious cult. The Moon Priests.” Somehow, hearing the name sent a shiver over his skin. “She says they were supposed to have magic powers.” “Oh yeah?” “When I touch it, I get this tingling sensation.” He did too. He should put the damned thing down. But he felt compelled to move his fingers over the sides of the chest. When he pressed the lower right side of the box, a panel sprang back. “Hey!” He propped his hips against the table as he turned the box, holding it up to the light and looking at the design. Then he pressed a flower on the left side. Again, a panel opened. “Stop,” Olivia said, her voice uneven. He shook his head. From the moment he’d seen the box, he’d known he had to get his hands on it. “I think it’s . . . dangerous,” she said, but now her voice seemed to be coming from a far distance. “You remember that chest in the Raiders of the Lost Ark?” “What about it?” “When the Nazis opened it, something bad happened to them.” “This isn’t the lost ark.” “It’s from an ancient religion.” “And?” “And . . . it’s giving me the creeps.” He nodded, but now it seemed impossible to put the box down. Instead, he kept working on the pressure points. More panels opened, and then the top sprang up. A white mist came blasting out of the box like it had been fired from a cannon and struck him in the face. In the next moment, he fell to the floor unconscious. less

Did she save his life only to betray him? Werewolf detective Knox Marshall makes a near-fatal mistake when he tries to get the goods on a drug lab in isolated Western Maryland. Captured and used as a test subject in a diabolical experiment, he manages to escape. After nurse Maggie Leland finds him naked and wounded in the woods, she patches him up; but she’s hardly prepared for the drug flashbacks that spin his mind out of control or the side effects that turn him on... moreDid she save his life only to betray him? Werewolf detective Knox Marshall makes a near-fatal mistake when he tries to get the goods on a drug lab in isolated Western Maryland. Captured and used as a test subject in a diabolical experiment, he manages to escape. After nurse Maggie Leland finds him naked and wounded in the woods, she patches him up; but she’s hardly prepared for the drug flashbacks that spin his mind out of control or the side effects that turn him on. She and Knox get close quickly. He thinks he’s found his lifemate—until it looks like Maggie is working with the drug dealers. When he realizes he’s wrong, is it, too late to save her life? ### Outside her tent, Maggie crouched, shivering in the chill early morning air, listening intently as she gripped her gun and surveyed her surroundings. The stone circle where she’d built her campfire was as she left it. Her cooking pan and utensils were undisturbed. And the backpack she’d worn on her trek from the road was still resting against the nearby tree where she’d propped it. Nothing seemed out of place—until she saw a pale form sprawled on the ground about thirty yards from her tent. She blinked. It looked like a naked human whose body was partially obscured by dead leaves and underbrush. With the gun in a two-handed grip, she approached cautiously, deliberately stepping on a couple of twigs to make a little noise. The figure didn’t stir, and when she reached his side, she saw it was a naked man lying prone. She took in his dark hair, his powerful muscles, the curve of a well-toned ass. He looked to be in top physical shape except that scratches from brambles and twigs marred his skin, and a red circle on his left lower leg oozed blood. She caught her breath, recognizing a gunshot wound. An entry wound, which meant that he’d been running away when he’d been hit. Someone had clipped him, and she had no idea who or why. Had he fled from the cops? From thugs? Or had he been in an argument that had gotten out of hand? She doubted there were any cops out here. But there was no way to find out what had happened without asking him—and no way to know if he was a threat to her. As she stared at the man, she wondered if it was more dangerous to have the gun in her hand when she got closer to him—or put it out of sight. You weren’t supposed to tuck a gun into your waistband, but she didn’t see any alternative as she shoved it into the back of her jeans. With the weapon concealed, she came down beside the man’s bed of leaves and put a hand on his shoulder. His skin was cold but not icy. She was about to turn him over when he wrenched away. She gasped as he pushed himself up, twisting to face her. It looked like he was about to lunge, and for a terrified moment, she fumbled behind her for the gun. Then she saw puzzlement in his dark eyes—followed by relief. “You’re not one of them?” he gasped out. “Who?” “Drug lab guys.” As he flopped back against the ground, his eyes closing. less

Desperate to get home for Christmas, Samantha Donovan doesn’t realize she’s in terrible danger as she drives through a blinding snowstorm. Only Jax Warden’s psychic powers can save her. But Sam is suspicious of the explanation Jax gives her for why he showed up at just the right time to rescue her from a serial killer... moreDesperate to get home for Christmas, Samantha Donovan doesn’t realize she’s in terrible danger as she drives through a blinding snowstorm. Only Jax Warden’s psychic powers can save her. But Sam is suspicious of the explanation Jax gives her for why he showed up at just the right time to rescue her from a serial killer. Can she trust him enough to accept his help? When Samantha’s car goes off the road, a man she doesn't know has kidnapped and killed several women offers her a ride to her parents’ house. EXCERPT: “Would it be too much of an imposition to take the stuff I’m bringing?” she asked. He hesitated for a moment. “Everything’s right in the back seat.” When she saw his uncertain look, she added, “But we don’t have to bring it all. Maybe we can leave the presents. I can put them in the trunk so nobody can see them.” “Sure. I can do that. Why don’t you get in my car, and I’ll go down there.” “I have to lock up.” “I can do that, too. Give me your keys.” He was being super helpful now, yet there was something in the tone of his voice that set her nerves tingling. “I’ll wait out here,” she said as she stood shivering in the cold and snow. “I said get in the car,” he ordered, his voice sharpening. In the space of a second, she knew she was in bad trouble. She backed away, her heart slamming against the inside of her chest. She couldn’t outrun this guy. But maybe she could make it back to her car and lock herself in. She was still grasping at that slim chance when he reached under his coat and pulled out a gun, aiming it at the center of her chest. “Get in the car, I said. In the back.” She flicked a glance inside. There was no back seat, only a flattened cargo area, and on the surface she saw a large metal ring–like the kind used to tie down cargo. less