I been woulding if any has read this series. I love the books & been woulding if you all like them to.

Just so you may not know what I talking about the Fearless series is about a girl name Gaia who was born with out the gene fear. Poeple have been trying to get her even her own faimly. So she runs and everone she ever cared about gets hurt or gets killed. Some of the poeple that are in the stroy are Sam Moon, Ed Fargo, Hearther, Gaia Moore her fatheer Tom Moore Her uncle Oliver Moore also know as Loki who is a terrios.

I take it know one has read the series just in case you what to know more go to www.fearlessgaia.com I t is a real good series.

Tell if by reading that site that you would like to read the books.

Ok kow one has read them how about Chasing Yesterday series by Robin Wasserman.
Book 1 A****ing
Info:A girl awakens in the aftermath of a powerful explosion, with only the shadowy memory of a man standing over her body. She ... more » is taken to a hospital to recover from her extensive injuries; when her doctors discover she has no memories of who she is, she christens herself JD"”short for Jane Doe. Because her family cannot be located, JD is taken to a juvenile hall, where she befriends an orphan named Daniel. JD is plagued by nightmares both when she sleeps and often during the day (in one she is in a grassy meadow and a helicopter crashes in front of her), and several strange incidents hint that she has a vast reserve of power within her that erupts when she's threatened. A woman claiming to be JD's mother eventually comes for her, but JD has no memory of her mother or her former home, and she clings to her self-created identity. Her mother takes her to see Dr. Styron, a psychotherapist, in an attempt to recover her memory, and while he says that she is making progress, JD's distrust of both him and her mother only increases. Ultimately, JD decides to flee her mother and Dr. Styron, convinced that they are not who they claim to be.

Firt page of book
Light swallowed the darkness.
She must have opened her eyes.
At first, there was nothing but the pain. It began as a low rumble, background noise. It was almost soothing, the way it folded around her like a blanket. It made her mind dull, gave her a place to hide. It throbbed. It hummed. It came in waves, tossing her up, dragging her under, washing over her, carrying her away from herself, from everything.
But it was growing. Swelling. The rumble turned into a roar. The pain stopped cradling her, began clawing at her, devouring her. It was like a living beast, ripping her apart from the inside, struggling to break free to the outside world. The darkness nipped at the edges of her mind, crawling back, offering her peace, a sleep free of pain.
And she almost accepted.
Instead, she screamed.
Or she tried to. It came out as a moan. But it was enough. The tiniest of motions--opening her mouth, drawing in a breath, tipping her head back to unleash the sound--sent a new, different kind of pain screaming through her. It was sudden and sharp, a knife slicing across her chest. It cut through the dull fog of her mind. The bright light of the world resolved itself into defined shapes, sharp lines.
She was awake.
And, for the first time, she was afraid.
The light...she realized it was the sun, blazing through a haze of acrid gray smoke. It hurt to squint. It hurt more to look away. She lay on her back, her arms stretched out to her sides. Beneath her, the round felt hard, uneven. Small, sharp objects bored into her back, biting into her skin. Somehow, they made everything real. She was afraid of floating into the darkness again--but they kept her on the ground.
She couldn't move her head, but she darted her eyes from side to side. Nothing. Nothing but pitted gray cement, smoke, and blue sky.
Where am I? she thought, her breath rasping as she sucked in more air. There was a tickle at the back of her mind, like a voice she could just barely hear. the answer was there, just beyond her reach. But when she strained for it, the pain came back worse than before.
Maybe this was all a dream, she decided.
So she lay still, breathed, and waited to wake up.

At first, she thought she was imagining him. Shadows flickered at the corners of her eyes--motion, where before there had been only stillness. She thought he was a phantom and waited for him to disappear.
Instead, he approached. Slowly, like she was a wild animal, like she would bite. Like she could move.
He was just a silhouette against the sun, his face hidden in shadow. She knew he was coming for her, and she should have felt relieved. But as he stepped closer, she saw his shoes, black leather with shiny gold bars where the laces should be. And she screamed.
Panic.
Terror swept through her, without reason and without end. She needed to stand, to run, to escape. Now, her body told her. But she couldn't catch her breath; she couldn't stop shaking.
And she couldn't run away--she couldn't even sit up. She was too weak.
She was too terrified.
I can't stop him. She didn't know where the thought had come from, what it meant, or why she felt so certain it was true. He'll take me back there. It made no sense. Stop him from what? Take her where?
It's all over now. The voice in her mind was her own, but it knew more than she did, and it was afraid.
The man drew closer, circling cautiously, almost as if he were the one afraid of her. Her muscles tensed and she opened her mouth, but her throat closed up. She couldn't make a sound. The dark figure was almost on her.
Then, without warning, the scream of a siren cut through the silence--and the man ran away.
She never saw his face.

Now there were people everywhere, and light and noise. And more pain. The man from the ambulance lifted her arms, squeezed her wrist; another shined a flashlight into her eyes. She was poked and prodded, a blanket laid over her body, a mask pressed against her mouth. She panicked as the thick plastic covered her face, but her next breath was deep and fresh, and it gave her the strength to take another.
Warm hands gripped her on either side, lifted her up, then placed her down on a long, smooth board. They laid thick straps across her body, tied her down.
Trapped! The panic was back.
"No," she whispered, forcing her mouth to form the word. "No."
But the straps clicked shut, were pulled tight. A hand pressed softly against her forehead. She felt herself lifting off the ground, then moving forward, toward the gaping mouth of a white truck. Its sirens flashed, turning the world red, then blue, then red again.
"Shhh, it's going to be all right," a man said--and somehow she knew it wasn't the dark figure she'd seen before. He was gone. For now. "Do you know what happened?" he asked, leaning over her. His eyebrows were bushy, his eyes deep green. They crinkled at the corners as he tried to smile. "Can you tell us your name?"
He lifted the mask so she could speak.
"Do you know who you are, hon?" he asked as, in the distance, an engine roared to life. A door slammed shut, and the ambulance lurched into motion. "Do you know your name?"
Of course she did.
It was...
She was...
But where there should have been a name, a person, a life, an answer, there was nothing. Her mind was black. Empty.
"I don't know," she whispered. The words scraped her throat raw. "I don't know who I am."
And the darkness returned.


book 2: Betrayal
JD is on the run, searching for answers about her past, and about the dangerous powers she can't seem to control. She knows she can't trust the memories implanted in her mind by the mysterious Dr. Styron, but they still feel real--and they won't stop haunting her. JD and Daniel must race to uncover the truth and unlock the dark secrets in her brain...before it's too late.

First page
This time, there would be no escape.
The girl was close. He knew it. Even without the GPS-synched tracking device, he would have known. He didn't need the insistent blinking light that locked down her coordinates, closer, closer, closer still. He could feel her presence. He didn't need hte machines any more than he needed the men, his cowardly troops gripping their tranquilizer guns, their eyes betraying their fear.
She was, after all, just a girl. She had power, true. But he had more
Dangerous as she was--and now, lost, scared, out of control, she was more dangerous than ever--he had no doubt that he could find her and capture her. This was more than pride; this was certainty. He knew the girl better than anyone, knew what she was capable of. Knew her weaknesses and how to use them. She was, after all, his creation, the pinnacle of his achievement; and he was her master. Despite recent setbacks, that was still true. That would always be true.
Only a few days before, he'd almost gotten past her defenses, almost drawn her back into the fold. Before, he'd done it on his own, without the trackers, without the men, without the guns.
But before, there had been time.
And now time was running out.
There was no margin for error. They would trap her before she had a chance to flee. Before she had a chance to fight.
Yes, his time was running out.
But so was hers.

"We're in range, sir," the voice in his headset reported. Itw as competent and level, as emotionless as a robot. And just as obedient. "Target is less than five hundred yards away. Our men are in position."
The doctor smiled.
He was known by many names. But he liked it best when they called him "sir," a note of respect in their voice and, beneath it, a tremble of fear. Awake, the girl had called him "Dr. Styron," and in the end, she had defied him. But asleep, under his control, she had called him "sir." And she had always obeyed.
Almost always, he reminded himself.
"Waiting for your signal," said the voice in his headset. He stared out the bulletproof tinted windows of the SUV.
They were under orders not to hurt the girl. The boy who was with her was unwanted debris. No one would notice if he disappeared. But the girl was to be brought back intact. She was worth nothing to him dead.
He was prepared, everything was in place--and he had already waited too long.
"Go."

Book 3: Truth
JD can't run from her past any longer. She knows the truth now: that she's dangerous, a weapon. If she can't learn to control her powers, there's no telling what--or who--she'll destroy next. To finally unlock the secrets in her mind, she will have to return to the Institute that created her. But going back won't be easy. Almost nobody goes in...and no one ever gets out.

Frist page

Her heartbeat stopped.
The green line on the monitor went flat. The dull beeps blended into a long, whining tone. The tubes dripped, the machines wheezed, but the girl--the body--lay still. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, her lips dry, her lungs empty. One last breath had rattled through her, nearly silent, gasped out just as the monitors announced the end.
There were no alarms.
Two men stood by, one at her head, one at her chest. Each had a small gray device, the size of a calculator. It was all the weapon they needed--or had been, when the girl was alive. Now there was no need for weapons at all.
Seconds ticked by, and the men watched.
White straps pinned her swollen body to the metal table. The sensors taped to her chest and head registered the vital details:
No respiration.
No pulse.
No neurological activity.
No signs of life.
The man by her head checked the clock. The girls had been dead for ninety seconds. He smiled. The clock ticked; the heart monitor continued its whine. Thirty more seconds passed. And the man by her head, the man in charge, nodded.
The other man pulled two paddles from a silver cart. He pressed them flat against her chest and flicked a switch. A bolt of electricity tore through the girl.
The body shuddered.
The high, thin tone droned on; the green line remained flat.
"Again," the man in charge said. The girl had been dead for one hundred and forty seconds.
And again, paddles met flesh, power surged, the body shook.
And again, nothing.
"Again!" the man in charge shouted. "Turn up the power."
"I don't think she--"
"Do it!
The other man followed his orders and turned a dial all the way to the right. He clenched the paddles, breathed deep, and, hands trembling, lay the paddles against her chest.
The body shook and shuddered. Her back arched up, then slammed back against the metal with a dull clang.
Then the whine broke off into a chain of beeps, slow but steady.
And the flat green line turned into a mountain range of peaks and valleys.
And her chest rose as her lungs filled, then fell again as she breathed her first breath.
And the man in charge smiled and strode to the door of the small, windowless room.
"Wait until her vitals stabilize," he ordered, pausing in the doorway. "Then begin again."

This is what it saids on the back of book 1
Found: One girl, age 13. Unconscious. Unharmed. Unclaimed. Unidentified.

Lost: Everything.

JD may not know the truth about her past, but she knows she's in danger, and she can't shake the dark visions haunting her dreams. She won't be safe until she figures out who she is and where she came from. She can trust no one, not even herself -- especially not herself. Because it turns out there's one thing even more terrible than forgetting her past: remembering.

I like whay they stay
Some things are too painful to remember...and too dangerous to forget.
I hope some poeple have read this series if so tell me write something. Or would lke to know more of this series.

Know one reads books these days anyway if you all do not like these books tell what kida of books you all like.

Here is more info. on the Fearless series.


Set in New York City, Fearless tells the story of 17-year-old Gaia Moore, a girl born without the fear gene, and serial ruiner of lives. The final book in the series was published in November 2004. Books 1-31 are available in both the British and American covers but 32-36 are only available in American ones. There are 36 books in the series, though two additional "super editions" give extra information about the past and present of the series.

There is a love triangle between Tom Moore, Katia Moore (Gaia's mother) and Oliver Moore (most of this family history is learned in Special Edition 1, "Before Gaia"). This love triangle results in Oliver attempting to shoot Tom, but instead, accidentally kills Katia. After this tragic event, Tom realized that his brother would continue hunting Gaia if Tom stayed with her, so he forced himself out of her life.

The main plot for all the books is that somebody is always after Gaia. In the first lot, Oliver (Loki) is trying to win Gaia back and make her trust him. It is later understood that he does this because he loves her and believes that she is his daughter. However, he goes about it the wrong way, and hires CSI agents to track her, and even goes to the point that he kills her friends because he wants her to be close to him only. After he realizes Gaia will never trust him, and Tom comes into the picture, Oliver chases Gaia down to try and figure out how she is fearless, and to try to do tests on her to possibly create another person that lacks this gene (cloning). After a stunning event, Loki goes into a coma. When he wakes up, he realizes what an evil person he was, and all he wants to do is help Gaia.

Her best friend was a girl named Mary.

This is when the Rodke family comes in. The Rodkes were a famous family that owned Rodke pharmaceuticals. Gaia became friends with the two younger children, Liz and Chris Rodke. Eventually, it was found out that their father was trying to get Gaia's DNA and create a drug called "Invince." He made Chris sell these drugs on the street, to see the side effects. His plan was to later sell the improvised Invince to the army.

Ed Fargo: Gaia's first friend is Ed Fargo, an ex-skate rat. He instantly likes Gaia because he sees her as the only person who doesn't care that he's in a wheelchair...she still treats him the same (like dirt). After countless times of helping each other out, Gaia and Ed become very close friends. They have late Friday night phone conversations that become a ritual. At one point, Gaia tries to imitate the little boy from The Sixth Sense. Ed finds this hilarious and says "You have got to do the most terrible impression of being scared I have ever seen in my life." This strikes Gaia in the heart, because Ed is her best friend, and even he doesn't know about her Fearless gene.

Relationship: From the very start of the books Ed realizes that he really likes Gaia more than a friend. Later on the series, Gaia and Ed become emotionally involved. However, this relationship comes to an end. After this, an odd tension is left between them.

Sam Moon: From the instant Gaia sees Sam, she's attracted to him. The first time Sam realizes he likes Gaia is when she was locked out of her apartment, and it was pouring rain. Eventually, Sam breaks up with his girlfriend Heather and starts having a relationship with Gaia. After this peaceful bliss of a relationship, Loki begins to blackmail Sam. Gaia is confused of why Sam is being so distant. The blackmailing comes to the tip of the mountain when Sam guiltily ignores it and goes with Gaia to a restaurant. After an ambush and street chase, he is shot, and presumably dies.

A few books later, Gaia realizes with relief that Sam is not dead, but put in a prison camp, being held hostage. She saves him, but by now, she and Ed are in love. Sam doesn't know this, and is crushed by the reality of it. Gaia keeps Sam hidden, because she knows that if Loki finds him, he'll kill him. When Ed finds Sam and realizes Gaia has been lying to him and seeing Sam, he is overwhelmed by jealously. They have a big public fight, and then break up.

Heather Gannis Heather is the popular girl at school, the prom queen, the one that everybody envies. And of course, they all envy her boyfriend, Sam Moon. The first time Gaia meets Heather, she accidentally spills coffee all over her. This is only the beginning of a horrible rivalry. Heather and Ed used to date, but they broke up after Ed's accident that caused him to be in a wheelchair. She is constantly mean to Gaia, and always tries to publicly embarrass her.

Loki manipulates Heather into trying the fearless drug he attempts to create. This drug makes Heather fearless for a little while, but then the side effects kick in and she loses consciousness. When she wakes up, she is blind and in the hospital. After this, she and Gaia become close friends.

Here is all the titles for the series.

Fearless
Sam
Run
Twisted
Kiss
Payback
Rebel
Heat
Blood
Liar
Trust
Killer
Bad
Missing
Tears
Naked
Flee
Love
Twins
UK title - Hurt. US title - Sex
Blind
Alone
Fear
Betrayed
Lost
Escape
Shock
Chase
Lust
Freak
Normal
Terror
Wired
Fake
Exposed
Gone
Blow Job
Super Editions

Before Gaia
Gaia Abducted
The Silent Hand
The Screaming Heart
Fearless FBI

Kill Game
Live Bait
Agent Out
Naked Eye

Fearless series more info.
book 1.I am powerful.
I am graceful.
I am angry.
I am pure.
I am raw.
I am alone.
I am Gaia.
I am just like you.
But I'm not -- I'm Fearless
excerpt
Losers with no imagination say that if you start a new school, there has to be a first day. How come they haven't figured out how to beat that? Just think existentially. All you do is take what's supposed to be the first day and bury it someplace in the next month. By the time you get around to it a month later, who cares?
When I first heard the word existential, I didn't know what it meant, so I never used it. But then I found out that no one knows what it means, so now I use it all the time.
Since I just moved to New York last week, tomorrow would have been my first day at the new school, but I existentialized it, and now I've got a good thirty days before I have to deal with it. So, like, it'll be just a regular day, and I'll just grab my usual school stuff, jeans and a T-shirt, and throw them on. Then just like I always do, I'll take them off and throw on about eighteen different T-shirts and four different pairs of jeans beforeI find the right ones that hide my diesel arms and thunder thighs. Not good things on a girl, but no one else seems to see them like I do.
I won't bother to clean up when I'm done. I don't want to trick my new cohabitants, George and Ella, into thinking that I'm neat or considerate or anything. Why set them up for disappointment? I made that mistake with my old cohabitants and...well, I'm not living with them anymore, am I?
George Niven was my dad's mentor in the CIA. He's old. Like fifty or something. His wife, Ella, is much younger. Maybe thirty, I don't know. And you certainly can't tell from the way she dresses. Middle of winter she finds a wat to show her belly button. And she's got four hundred of these little elastic bands that can only pass for a skirt if you never move your legs. Top that with this unbelievable iridescent red hair and you've got one hot seventeen-year-old. At least that's what she thinks. We all live cozy together in Greenwich Village in a brownstone-- that's what they call row houses in New York City. Don't ask me why, because it isn't brown, but we'll let that go for now.
I'm not sure how this transfer of me and my pathetic possessions was arranged. Not by my dad. He is out of the picture. No letters. No birthday cards. He didn't even contact me in the hospital last year when I almost fractured my skull. (And no, I didn't almost fracture my skull to test my dad, as a certain asshole suggested.) I haven't seen him since I was twelve, since--I guess it's time to back up a little. My name is Gaia. Guy. Uh. Yes, it's a weird name. No, I don't feel like explaining it right now.
I am seventeen. The good thing about seventeen is that you're not sixteen. Sixteen goes with the word sweet, and I am so far from sweet. I've got a black belt in kung fu and I'm trained in karate, judo, jujitsu, and muay thai- which is basically kickboxing. I've got a reflex speed that's off the charts. I'm a near perfect shot. I can climb mountains, box, wrestle, break codes in four languages. I can throw a 175 - pound man over my shoulders, which accounts for my disgusting shoulders. I can kick just about anybody's ***. I'm not bragging. I wish I were. I wish my dad hadn't made me into the...thing I am.
I have blond hair. Not yellow, fairy-tale blond. But blond enough to stick me in the category. You know, so guys expect you to expect them to hit on you. So teachers set your default grade at B-minus. C-plus if you happen to have big breasts, which i don't particularly. My friend before. Ivy, had this equation between grades and cup size, but I'll spare you that. Back in ninth grade I dyed my way right out of the blond category, but after a while it got annoying. The dye stung and turned my hands orange. To be honest, though (and I am not a liar). there's another reason I let my hair grow back. Being blond makes people think they can pick on you, and I like when people think they can pick on me.
You see, I have this handicap. Uh, that's the wrong word. I am hormonally challenged. I am never afraid. I just don't have the gene or whatever it is that makes you scared.
It's not like I'll jump off a cliff or anything. I'm not an idiot. My rationality is not defective. In fact, it's extra good. They say nothing clouds your reason like fear. But then, I wouldn't know. I don't know what it feels like to be scared. It's like if you don't have hope, how can you imagine it? Or being born blind, how do you know what colors are? I guess you'd say I'm fearless. Whatever fear is.
If I see some big guy beating up on a little guy. I just dive in and finish him off. And I can. Because that's the way I've been trained. I'm so strong, you wouldn't believe. But I hate it. Since I'm never afraid of anything, my dad figured he'd better make sure I can hold my own when I rush into things. What he did really worked, too. Better than he expected. See, my dad didn't consider nature.
Nature compensates for its mistakes. If it forgot to give me a fear gene, it gave me some other fantastic abilities that definitely work in my favor. When I need it, I have this awesome speed, enormous energy, and amazing strenght all quadrupled because there's no fear to hold me back.
It's even hard for me to figure out. People talk about danger and being careful. In my head I totally understand, but in my gut I just don't feel it. So if I see somebody in trouble, I just jump in and use everything I've got. And that's big stuff, and it's intense.
I mean, you ever hear that story about the mother who lifted the car off her little boy? That's like the kind of strength regular people can get from adrenaline. Except I don't need extra adrenaline because without fear, there's nothing to stop you from using every bit of power you have.
And a human body, especially a highly trained one like mine, has a lot of concentrated power.
But there's a price. I remember once reading about the Spartans. They were these fantastic Greek warriors about four hundred something B.C. They beat everybody. Nobody could touch them. But after a battle they'd get so drained, they'd shake all over and practically slide to the ground. That's what happens to me. It's like I use up everything and my body gets really weak and I almost black out. But it only lasts a couple of minutes. Eventually I'm okay again.
And there is one other thing that works in my favor. I can do whatever I want ˜cause I've got nothing to lose.
See, my mother is...not here anymore. I don't really care that my dad is gone because I hate his guts. I don't have any brothers or sisters. I don't have any grandparents. Well, actually, I think I do have one, but she lives in some end-of-the-world place in Russia and I get the feeling she's a few beans short of a burrito. But this is a tangent.
Tangent is a heinous word for two reasons:
1. It appears in my trigonometry book.
2. Ella, the woman-with-whom-I-now-live-never-to-be-confused-with-a-mother, accuses me of "going off on them."
Where was I? Right. I was telling you my secrets. It probably all boils down to three magic words: I don't care. I have no family, pets, or friends. I don't even have a lamp or a pair of pants I give a **** about.
I Don't Care.
And nobody can make me.
Ella says I'm looking for trouble. For a dummy she hit it right this time.
I am looking for trouble.
book2.
There's somebody who wants me dead.
And he's probably going to succeed.
Very soon.
There is something I have to do before I go.
And there's only one person I want to do it with.
Sam.

excerpt
It really wasn't that far. Gaia Moore studied the small garden four stories below her window. Well, it wasn't her window, exactly. It was one of three back windows that belonged to the top floor of the New York City brownstone of George and Ella Niven, her so-called guardians. George was a CIA friend of her dad's from way back when. "Way back when" was typical of the vagueness you got when living with spies and antiterrorist types. They didn't say, "You know, George, the underground assassin I met in Damascus?"

"Gaia?"

Gaia flinched at the voice materializing in her ear. Ella Niven's voice didn't seem to react to air molecules in the normal way. It was breathy and fake intimate, yet carried to the far reaches of the house without losing any of its volume.

"Guy-uhhhhhhh!" Ella bleated impatiently from her dressing room one floor below.

Gaia inched open the window. The window frame was oak, old and creaky with its lead chain and counterweight.

"Gaia? The Beckwiths will be here any minute! Come down now! George asked you to set the table twenty minutes ago!" Now Ella sounded downright whiny.

Gaia could smell bland, watery casserolelike odors climbing up the stairs and mixing with Ella's strong, spicy perfume. George was a sweetheart and a terrible cook but probably a better cook than potato-brained Ella, who wasn't a sweetheart and never set foot in the kitchen except to whir up a fad-diet shake. The unspoken rule when they had company was that George prepared the food and Ella prepared herself.

Gaia grabbed a five-dollar bill from the top of the bureau and stuffed it in the pocket of her pants. Keys or no keys? That was the question. Mmmm. No keys, Gaia decided.

When the window was open just enough, she climbed out.

Although Ella might think otherwise, Gaia wasn't having dinner with the Beckwiths. They were old State Department people, certain to ask questions about her parents, her past, and her future, her parents, her parents. Gaia could not deal. Why was it that people over the age of thirty felt the need, when confronted with a "young person," to ask so freaking many questions?

Gaia had never agreed to make an appearance tonight. In fact, when Ella had demanded her presence a few hours earlier, Gaia had told Ella she would jump out the window before she'd have dinner with the Beckwiths, and she wasn't kidding.

The autumn air was scented with dry leaves and frying garlic from the Italian restaurant on West Fourth Street. Distantly Gaia smelled chimney smoke and felt a moment's longing for a different life, when she'd had parents and a pretty house in the Berkshires with a fire in the fireplace every autumn and winter night. That life felt like it belonged to a different person.

She knelt on the narrow windowsill and gripped it with both hands before she lowered herself down. Errg. Her feet tapped blindly for her next toehold while her fingers began to tremble with the exertion of holding up the full weight of her body. Wasn't there a window top or trellis around here somewhere?

At last the toe of her sneaker found purchase in a deeply pitted slab of brownstone. She sank her weight into it, releasing her cramping fingers. And just then, the brownstone cracked under the weight and she fell.

She winced in surprise and annoyance, but she didn't scream. Her mind didn't abandon its rational sequence.

She fell several feet before her hands jammed against the windowsill of a third-floor window, and she miraculously arrested her fall, saving her skull from the slate patio below.

God, that hurt. Angry nerve endings throbbed in her palms, but her heart beat out its same steady rhythm. Air entered her lungs in the same measured breaths as always.

That's why Gaia Moore was different. A freak of nature. Gaia knew that any normal person would have been afraid just then. But she wasn't. She wasn't afraid now, and she wouldn't be ever. She wasn't born with whatever gene it was that made ordinary people feel fear.

It was like something was missing from her genetic tool kit. But doctors weren't sure exactly what it was. They only knew it seemed to affect her reaction to fear. Scientists know the basic setup -- there's a master gene that triggers a series of minor genes that in turn control fear reactions. After extensive testing they came up with the theory that one or more of Gaia's genes in that cascade might be inactive or just plain missing.

Something moved on the other side of the window and Gaia squinted to get a better look.

Oh, crap. It was Ella.

Obviously hearing a noise, Ella swiveled her head from the mirror where she was gunking up her eye-lashes with mascara and stared into the darkness outside. Ella was both dumb and otherworldly alert. She was self-obsessed but controlling at the same time. Gaia felt her blood start to boil at the mere sight of George's young, plastic wife. Whenever Ella was around, Gaia began to wonder if Mother Nature had given her extra capacity for anger and frustration when she'd left out the capacity for fear.

Gaia's fingers were straining so hard on the windowsill, she felt her muscles seizing up. Go away, Ella. Go away now!

A less annoying version of Ella would have figured the noise was just a pigeon or something and gotten on with her elaborate primping ritual. But this being the actual Ella, she came right over to the window and started to open it. Gaia glanced back over her shoulder, eyeballing the distance between her dangling feet and the patio. It had been reduced to twelve or fifteen feet.

Ella succeeded in throwing open the sash, narrowing her suspicious eyes. "What in the...? Oh, Christ. Is that Gaia? Gaia!"

Gaia raised her head from her painful perch, and their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

It was weird. Ella was vapid and worthless at least nine-tenths of the time, but when she got really mad, her face became sharp and purposeful. Almost vicious. Like if Barbie were suddenly possessed by Atilla the Hun.

Ella's fingers were only inches from Gaia's. "Oh, hell," Gaia murmured, and let go.

Wump. Her feet took the brunt of the impact, then her knees, then her hands slapped down to steady her. Her knees stung, and she rubbed her hands together, doubting whether she'd ever have feeling in her palms again.

"Gaia! Get back here now!" Ella shrieked.

Gaia peered up momentarily at Ella's white face leaning out of the window. Gaia really hadn't wanted to make a scene. Poor George was never going to hear the end of it.

"Guy-uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Without another look behind her, Gaia ran for the back of the garden. Briefly she paused to glance at the seven fat goldfish swimming in the tiny pond before she leaped over it. She scaled the five-foot garden fence with exceptional grace.

Ella's supersonic voice followed her all the way to Bleecker Street and then dissolved amid the noisy profusion of shops, cafes, and restaurants and the crush of people that made the West Village of Manhattan unique in the world. In a single block you could buy fertility statues from Tanzania, rare Amazonian orchids, a pawned brass tuba, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, or the best, most expensive cup of coffee you ever tasted. It was the doughnuts, incidentally, that attracted Gaia.

She walked past the plastic-wrapped fruit laid out on beds of melting ice and into the deli, where the extravagant salad bar at its center emitted a strong, oily aroma. It was called a salad bar, but it was filled with the least healthful stuff Gaia could imagine (apart from doughnuts, anyway). A trough of deep-fried egg rolls, chicken blobs floating in a sea of pink grease, and some slop vaguely resembling potato salad if you quintupled the mayonnaise. Who ever ate that stuff? Gaia didn't know for sure, but she would have bet her favorite Saucony sneakers that the smelly egg rolls she saw now were exactly the same smelly egg rolls she'd been seeing for the last month.

She made a beeline for the doughnut shelf. Crullers? Cinnamon cakey ones? Powdered sugar? Glazed? Chocolate?

Oh, who was she kidding? She'd been jonesing for a sticky chocolate doughnut all evening. Why pretend any other kind came close? Her mouth was watering as she laid the crumpled five on the counter. The pretty young Korean woman took the bill and gave Gaia her change without really looking up. Somehow, in spite of the fact that they saw each other nearly every day, Gaia and this woman never made any sign of recognition. That was a New York thing -- pretend anonymity -- and frankly, Gaia liked it. It was perfect, what with Gaia being a not-very-friendly person with a lot of secrets and an embarrassingly large appetite for doughnuts.

Gaia said no thank you to the plastic bag and carried her box of doughnuts in her still-numb hands out of the store, along Bleecker Street toward Seventh Avenue. She figured if you weren't woman enough to carry your doughnuts with pride, you shouldn't be eating them.

Her feet went into auto-walk. They knew their way to Washington Square Park by now. That was her favorite place to eat doughnuts or do just about anything. She chose the perfect park bench, clean and quiet, and sat under a canopy of red-turning leaves that carved the glowing night sky into lace. Hungrily she tore open the box.

Yum.

This moment suddenly contained the entire universe. Hell was eating George's food, watching Ella flirt shamelessly with Mr. Beckwith, and fielding questions about her parents she couldn't imagine answering. This doughnut, this bench, and this sky, on the other hand, were heaven.

book3
Sam is gone.
No. Not just gone.
Someone's taken him.
Kidnapped him to get to me.
And I only have three hours to find him...
Or Sam is going to die.
All because of me.


excerpt
"Hello? Anybody up there??"

Gaia had just stepped out of the shower when she heard the voice floating up the stairs to greet her. She wrapped a too-small towel around herself, went to the landing, and leaned into the stairwell. It was a familiar voice, but not one she expected to hear before eight o'clock in the morning.

"Ed?"

"Yeah."

"Um... what the hell are you doing here?"

She heard him laugh under his breath. "Just fine, thanks, and you?"

At the sound of his voice, a minute ray of happiness filtered down into the blackness of her mood. She hadn't spoken a word out loud since Saturday night, since everything... happened. Now it was Monday morning, and her words were so far back in her brain she had to hunt around for them. "N-Not that fine," she responded hoarsely. "I had..." How could she begin to convey the true horror that was her life? "Sort of a rough weekend."

"What else is new?"

She heard both affection and wariness in Ed's voice. He knew a "rough weekend" for Gaia meant more than teenage angst -- that it would involve things like firearms and kickboxing.

"Tell me about it over breakfast," he called. "I brought bagels."

Her stomach grumbled loudly. One thing this city had going for it -- authentic, fresh-out-of-the-oven bagels. They almost made up for the high price of Apple Jacks. She glanced down at herself and the small puddle forming under her feet. "I'm wearing a hand towel and a few cups of water," Gaia said, wishing Ella hadn't left early this morning, so that she could be disturbed by this exchange. At least Ella had taken George with her wherever she'd gone. Gaia disliked offending George as much as she enjoyed offending Ella.

"I repeat," said Ed, laughing again. "C'mon down!"

Gaia rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the undertones of the remark. Two minutes later, she'd slipped into her most-worn cargo pants and a gray T-shirt and was on her way downstairs, her hair dripping water over her shoulders. On the landing, she paused to study the familiar snapshot that hung in a frame there on the wall -- the photograph George had taken so long ago of Gaia and her parents. Gaia had tried to get rid of it, but Ella insisted it remain. She squinted at it, looking hard at her father.

Her father. She'd seen him two nights ago. Actually seen him and spoken to him . And decked him, she reminded herself bitterly.

After that he'd disappeared -- again.

Her stomach churned, both with confusion and with sadness. Why had he shown up here after all this time? What could it mean?

Was it some paternal sixth sense that had dragged him back into her life? Did he somehow know she'd been on the verge of ditching her virginity, and he'd crawled out from whatever rock he'd been hiding under all these years to give her an old-fashioned heart-to-heart talk on morality, safe sex, and self-control?

Or was it just one more whacked-out coincidence in her life?

She leaned closer to the photo and stared into his eyes.

They appeared to be soft, kind, intelligent eyes -- and the smile looked genuine. The man she'd met on Saturday night had not seemed genuine at all. The warmth and gentleness she saw in the picture had been missing from that man. He was different, somehow. Lesser.

Apparently abandoning your kid and living on the run could take a lot out of a person. In the kitchen, Gaia was met by the aroma of fresh bagels and hot coffee. Ed, who had positioned his chair close to the table, looked up from spreading cream cheese on a poppy seed bagel. "You didn't have to get dressed on my account."

She was annoyed at the blush his grin brought to her face. "Shut up." Her eyes narrowed. "How did you get in here, anyway?"

"Door was unlocked," Ed said. "You should really talk to your roomies about that. I mean this is a nice neighborhood, but why court robbery, or worse?"

Gaia collapsed into a chair. That was weird. George never left the door unlocked. Must've been another brilliant Ella maneuver.

"Do you think it's kismet that this place is handicap accessible?" Ed asked suddenly.

Gaia raised an eyebrow. "It's either kismet ... or the building code."

"I'm serious," said Ed. "Do you have any idea how many places in this city aren't?"

She felt a pang of pity but squashed it fast. "So what's kismet got to do with it?"

"You happen to live in wheelchair-friendly digs. I happen to be in a wheelchair." Ed shrugged. "It's like the universe is arranging it so that we can hang out."

"The universe clearly has too much time on its hands." She sat down and pulled her knees up, leaning them against the edge of the table.

"Like lox?"

"Hate them."

"Then I'm glad I didn't buy any." Ed pushed a steaming cup of coffee across the table toward her. "Three sugars, no cream, right?"

Gaia nodded, refusing to be charmed by the fact that he remembered, and took a careful sip. She could feel him staring at her.

"You look like hell," he said, shaking a lock of brown hair back off his forehead. Suddenly he appeared to realize this was not a smart thing to say to a girl -- any girl. "I mean ... in a good way," he added lamely.

Gaia gave him a sidelong glance. "That's funny. I feel like hell." She took another, bolder sip of the hot coffee, letting the steamy liquid warm her from the inside.

"Now we're getting to it," Ed said, clasping his hands together and then cracking his knuckles. "You were unsurprisingly unfindable yesterday, Gaia. So let's hear it." He broke off a piece of bagel and pointed it at her. "Who was the lucky guy and how did the ceremonial shedding of the chastity belt go?"

Gaia ignored the bile rising in her throat, picked up a marble bagel, and took a gigantic bite. There was a reason she'd avoided Ed all day yesterday -- the need to avoid forced emotional spillage. "Subtlety isn't exactly a talent of yours, is it, Ed?" she said with her mouth full.

"Look who's talking."

He had a point there. She studied Ed for a moment -- the just-this-side-of-scruffy hair, the eager yet wary brown eyes, the dot of dried blood on his chin where he'd cut himself shaving. Gaia hated that she had to talk about this, but she did. She'd sucked Ed into the whole sorry situation when she confessed her virginity. Like it or not, over the past few weeks she had made Ed a friend, or something very close. He might as well know the truth.

Gaia closed her eyes. Shook her head. Sighed.

"It didn't happen," she said. And her whole body felt empty.

Ed dropped the knife onto the floor with a clatter. "It didn't?"

"Ed!" She opened her eyes and glared at him. "Think you can sound just a little more amused by that?"

"Sorry it didn't work out for you." Ed cleared his throat, and she could swear he was hiding a grin behind his steaming coffee. Some friend. "So what happened?" he asked.

Gaia took another aggressive bite of bagel. She chewed and swallowed before answering. "Let's just say I was witness to somebody beating me to it."

"Shut up!" Ed's eyes opened wide. "Gaia, tell me who we're talking about here. You can't keep me in this kind of suspense."

Say it, she commanded herself. Just say it. "It was Sam Moon."

A sudden shower of chewed bagel bits pelted Gaia's arms. "God, Ed! Food is to go in the mouth. In," Gaia said, brushing off her arms irritably.

"Do you mean you walked in on Sam and... Heather?" Ed choked out while simultaneously attempting to wipe his mouth.

Somehow, saying it out loud gave Gaia a bit of distance. The words were vibrating in the fragrant air of the kitchen. Outside of her instead of inside. "Ironic, isn't it?" Gaia asked, flicking one last bagel wad off her elbow.

Ed looked as if he were watching his life flash before his eyes -- backward and in 3-D with surround sound. Gaia had never seen his skin so pale. She'd forgotten for the moment that Heather meant something to Ed as well. A big something.

"Man." Ed let out a long rush of breath. His eyes were unfocused. "That had to suck."

It didn't suck. Sucking was getting busted for going seventy in a thirty-five-mile-an-hour zone. Sucking was losing a dollar in a Coke machine. Sucking didn't hurt.

"Could've been worse," she mumbled with a shrug. She wouldn't have believed it, except that it had actually gotten worse. The night had been full of mind-bending surprises. But she didn't need to share them now, if ever. They were highly dysfunctional family matters to be discussing over breakfast.

"What could be worse than walking in on the object of your seduction in bed with your mortal enemy?"

It was a decent question. Gaia was saved from needing to explain by the sound of the phone ringing.

Ed reached behind him, snatched the cordless from the counter, then slid it across the table to Gaia. She hit the button and held the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

At first, nothing.

"Hello?"

"Gaia Moore?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Who is this?"

The voice was distorted, like something from a horror movie. "Check your e-mail." It was a command. Maybe even a threat.

She felt as if ice were forming in her veins. "Who is this?"

"Check your e-mail," the voice growled.

The line went dead.

Gaia was on her feet, running for George's computer, which, luckily, he always left on. When she reached the den, she flung herself into the chair and punched at the keyboard. Ed, maneuvering his chair through the rooms, appeared soon after.

"What's going on?"

Gaia was too morbidly curious to answer. She clicked the mail icon and stared at the screen as it choked out the early, cryptic shadows of a video image, and she tapped her fingers impatiently on the mouse as the picture emerged... slowly... slowly...

It was someone with his back to her, hunched forward. His surroundings were vague, too much light. Gaia reached for the speaker, in case there was audio. There was. Staticky at first. Distant, fuzzy, then clearing.

Clearing...

"Maybe it's Heather, playing a joke," offered Ed. "To get even."

Gaia was so intent on the image she barely heard him. "I don't think so."

Over the computer speakers she heard his voice.... "Gaia...?"

Her heart seemed to freeze solid in her chest. No, no, no, no.

But the voice through the speaker repeated itself. "Gaia."

No! "Sam?"

As if he'd heard her, he turned to the camera, and suddenly there was Sam's face on the computer screen. One of his eyes was black-and-blue, swollen shut, and he looked frighteningly pale. Weak.

Ed angled his chair close to the desk. "Oh, ****."

Sam's face vanished, replaced by a blank screen, and then there was a blast of static from the speakers as the same distorted voice addressed her. "Gaia Moore. You can see from this footage that we have a mutual friend. Sadly, he's not feeling well at the moment. Did you know Sam is a diabetic? No, I would imagine you didn't...."

Ed stared at the blank screen. "Who the hell is it?"

Gaia shushed him with a sharp hiss as a graphic began to appear on the screen -- a message snaking its way from the right side, one letter at a time: C... A... N... Y... O... U...

The voice continued as the letters slid into view. "He's well enough for the moment, but around, oh, say, ten o'clock this evening he'll be needing his insulin, quite desperately. And that, my darling Gaia, is where you come in. You must pass a series of tests. You must pass these tests by ten o'clock tonight. If you do not, we will not wait for the diabetes to take over. If you do not pass these tests in the allotted time..."

The graphic slithered by: S... A... V... E...

"... we will kill him."

S... A... M...?

For a moment the question trembled there on the dark screen. CAN YOU SAVE SAM? Then the letters went spinning off into the infinite background, and another message appeared in an eye-searing flash of brightness. It read:

You will find on your front step a videotape. You will play it during your first-period class. DO NOT view the tape prior to showing it in school. Without warning, the e-mail broadcast returned, showing a close-up of Sam's beaten face, his frightened eyes, his mouth forming a word, and the word came screaming through the speaker in Sam's voice.

"Gaia!"

Then nothing. The image and the audio were gone, and the computer whirred softly until George's sickening screen saver -- a scanned-in photo of Ella -- returned to the screen.

Gaia sprang up from the chair and flew to the front door, which she flung open. The early October air sparkled, and the neighborhood was just coming alive with people on their way to work and school. Gaia paid no attention. Her eyes searched the front stoop until they found the package.

She lunged for it.

Gaia had no idea who had done this. She had no idea why. But she wasn't about to ask questions.

In that instant, it didn't matter that Sam had had sex with Heather or that he didn't return Gaia's overwhelming love for him and probably never would.

Sam's life was in danger. For now, that was all that mattered.

book4
David.
Intriguing. Intelligent.
Pensive. Penetrating.
Mysterious. Dangerous.
And interested.
But most importantly...
He's not Sam

excerpt
Pretty people do ugly things. It was one of those laws of nature that Gaia had understood for years. If she ever started to forget that rule for a second, there always seemed to be some good-looking asshole ready to remind her.

She stumbled up the steps and pushed her way inside The Village School with five minutes to spare before her first class. Actually early. Of course, her hair was still wet from the shower and her homework wasn't done, but being there -- actually physically inside the building before the bell rang -- was a new experience. For twelve whole seconds after that, she thought she might have an all right day.

Then she caught a glimpse of one of those things that absolutely defines the high school circle of hell.

Down at the end of the row of lockers, a tall, broad-shouldered guy was smiling a very confident smile, wearing very popular-crowd clothes, and using a very big hand to pin a very much smaller girl up against the wall. There was an amused expression on Mr. Handsome's face.

Only the girl who was stuck between his hand and fifty years' worth of ugly green paint didn't look like she thought it was funny.

Gaia had noticed the big boy in a couple of her classes but hadn't bothered to file away his name. Tad, she thought, or maybe it was Chip. She knew it was something like that.

From the way girls in class talked, he was supposed to be cute. Gaia could sort of see it. Big blue eyes. Good skin. Six-five even without the air soles in his two-hundred-dollar sneakers. His lips were a little puffy, but then, some people liked that. It was the hair that really eliminated him from Gaia's list of guys worth looking at.

He wore that stuff in his hair. The stuff that looked like a combination of motor oil and maple syrup. The stuff that made it look like he hadn't washed his hair this side of tenth grade. "What's the rush, Darla?" the Chipster said. "I just want to know what he said to you."

The girl, Darla, shook her head. "He didn't..."

Her big pal gave her a little love pat -- enough to bounce her from the wall and back to his beefy hand.

"Don't give me that," he said, still all smiles. "I saw you two together."

Gaia did a quick survey of the hall. There was a trio of khaki-crowd girls fifty yards down and two leather dudes hanging near the front door. A skinny guy stuck his head out of a classroom, saw who was doing the shoving, and quickly ducked back in. Gaia had to give him some credit. At least he looked. Everybody else in the hallway was Not Noticing so hard, it hurt.

Gaia really didn't need this. She didn't know the girl against the wall. Sure, the guy with the big hands was a prime example of Jerkus highschoolensis, but it was absolutely none of Gaia's business. She turned away and headed for class, wondering if she might avoid a tardy slip for the first time in a week.

"Just let me...," the girl begged from behind her.

"In a minute, babe," replied the guy with the hands. "I just need to talk to you a little." There was a thump and a short whimper from the girl.

Gaia stopped. She really, really didn't need this.

She took a deep breath, turned, and headed back toward the couple.

The easiest thing would be to grab the guy by the face and teach him how soft a skull was compared to a concrete wall. But then, smashing someone's head would probably not help Gaia's reputation.

Words were an option. She hadn't used that method much, but there was a first time for everything, right?

She could try talking to the guy or even threatening to tell a teacher. Gaia didn't care if anyone at the school thought she was a wimp or a narc, or whatever they called it in New York City. That was the least of her problems. Besides, they already thought she was a bitch for not warning Heather about the park slasher.

Before long, Gaia was so close that both partners in the ugly little dance turned to look at her. Tough Guy's smile didn't budge an inch.

"What?" he said.

Gaia struggled for something to say. Something smooth. Something that would defuse this whole thing. She paused for a second, cleared her throat, and said...

"Is there... uh, some kind of a problem?"

Brilliant.

The guy who might be named Chip took a two-second look at her face, then spent twice as long trying to size up the breasts under Gaia's rumpled football shirt.

"Nothing you gotta worry about," he said, still staring at her chest. He waved the hand that wasn't busy holding a person. "This is a private conversation."

The girl against the wall looked at Gaia with a big-eyed, round-mouthed expression that could have been fear or hope or stupidity. Gaia's instant impression was that it was a little bit of all three. The girl had straight black hair that was turned up in a little flip, tanned-to-a-golden-brown skin, an excess of eye shadow, and a cheerleading uniform. She didn't exactly strike Gaia as a brain trust.

Not that being a cheerleader automatically made somebody stupid. Gaia was certain there were smart cheerleaders. Somewhere there had to be cheerleaders who were working on physics theories every time they put down their pom-poms. She hadn't met any, but they were out there. Probably living in the same city with all the nice guys who don't mind if a girl has thunder thighs and doesn't know how to dress.

"Well?" demanded Puffy Lips. "What's wrong with you? Are you deaf or just stupid?"

Gaia tensed. Anger left an acid taste in her throat. Suddenly her fist was crying out for his face. She opened her mouth to say something just as the bell for first period rang. So much for being on time.

She took a step closer to the pair. "Why don't you let her go?"

Chip made a little grunting laugh and shook his head. "Look, babe. Get out of here," he said to Gaia.

Babe. It wasn't necessarily an insult -- unless the person saying it added that perfect tone of voice. The tone that says being a babe is on the same evolutionary rung as being a brain-damaged hamster.

Gaia glanced up the hallway. Only a few students were still in the hall, and none were close. If she planned to do anything without everyone in school seeing it, this was the time.

She leaned toward him. "Maybe you'd better get out of here," she said in a low voice. She could feel the cheerleader's short breaths on the back of her neck. "You don't want to be late for class."

The sunny smile slipped from Chip's face, replaced by a go-away-you're-bothering-me frown. "Did you hear me tell you to go?"

Gaia shrugged. It was coming. That weird rush she sometimes felt.

"I heard you. I just didn't listen."

Now the expression on Chip's face was more like an I-guess-I'm-going-to-have-to-teach-you-how-the-world-works sneer. "Get the hell out of my way," he snapped.

"Make me."

He took his hand off Darla and grabbed Gaia by the arm.

Gaia was glad. If she touched him first, there was always the chance he would actually admit he got beat up by a girl and charge her with assault. But since Chip made the first move, all bets were off. Everything that happened from that first touch was self-defense.

Gaia was an expert in just about every martial art with a name. Jujitsu. Tai kwon do. Judo. Kung fu. If it involved hitting, kicking, or tossing people through the air, Gaia knew it. Standing six inches from Mr. Good Skin Bad Attitude, she could have managed a kick that would have taken his oily head right off his thick neck. She could have put a stiff hand through his rib cage or delivered a punch that drove his heart up against his spine.

But she didn't do any of that. She wanted to, but she didn't.

Moving quickly, she turned her arms and twisted out of his grip. Before Chip could react, she reached across with her left hand, took hold of the guy's right thumb, and gave it just a little... push.

For a moment Puffy Lips Chip looked surprised. Then Gaia pushed a little harder on his captive digit, and the look of surprise instantly turned to pain.

He tried to pull away, but Gaia held tight. She was working hard to keep from actually breaking his thumb. She could have broken his whole oversized hand like a bundle of big dry sticks. The real trick was hurting someone without really hurting someone. Don't break any bones. Don't leave any scars. Don't do anything permanent. Leave a memory.

"What do you think, Chip?" Gaia asked, still pushing his thumb toward the back of his hand. "Should you be shoving girls around?"

"Let go of me, you little --" He reached for her with his free hand.

Gaia leaned back out of his range and gave an extra shove. Chip wailed.

"Here's the deal," Gaia said quietly. "You keep your hands to yourself, I let you keep your hands. What do you think?"

Chip's knees were starting to shake; and there were beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Who are --"

"Like I really want you to know my name." She pushed harder, and now Gaia could feel the bones in his thumb pulling loose from his hand. Another few seconds and one was sure to snap. "Do we have a deal?"

"Okay," he squeaked in a voice two octaves higher than it had been a few seconds before. "Sure."

Gaia let go. "That's good, Chip." The moment the physical conflict ended, Gaia felt all her uncertainty come rushing back. She glanced up the hallway and was relieved to see that there was no crowd of gawkers. That didn't stop her from feeling dizzy. She was acting like muscle-bound freak girl right in the main hallway at school. This was definitely not the way to remain invisible.

Puffy Lips stepped back and gripped his bruised thumb in his left hand. "Brad."

"What?"

"Brad," he said. "My name isn't Chip. It's Brad."

Gaia rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She lowered her head and shoved past him just as the late bell rang.

Another day, another fight, another tardy.

book5I've heard that you can learn everything you want to know about a man's heart through just one kiss.
We'll see about that.

excerpt
"Mrs. Travesura?"

At first Ella Niven didn't realize the voice was speaking to her. Then she remembered. Travesura was the Spanish word for "mischief." It was the name she'd given when she'd first made the appointment.

She looked up from her magazine. The stunning Asian receptionist was smiling down at her. "The doctor will see you now."

Ella nodded. Setting down the magazine, she grabbed her purse and the shopping bag resting beside her chair and followed the woman.

There were several other women in the posh waiting room. All were reading magazines. All were the indeterminate age of the extremely wealthy -- somewhere between thirty-five and death. Clearly most of them had consulted the plastic surgeon many times before this.

Ella noticed that most of the women also had shopping bags with them. She recognized the familiar logos of Chanel, Saks Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman, and a couple of other Fifth Avenue boutiques, all glimmering like badges of honor.

Ella's own shopping bag was from Tiffany. As she crossed the room, she was acutely aware of each of the other women taking note of the robin's egg blue bag in her hand.

The receptionist led her out of the waiting room and into a long, gray corridor. At first Ella thought the walls were made of slabs of marble -- but was shocked to realize they were actually enlarged, black-and-white close-ups of human flesh. A gigantic palm here. A colossal kneecap there. She'd never considered how the wrinkles and creases of one's skin could look like striations in rock.

Up ahead, the corridor ended in a pair of brushed-aluminum doors. The receptionist indicated that Ella could continue on alone. When Ella was within a yard of the metal doors, they glided open soundlessly.

The office was large and spare. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around two sides of the square chamber, giving a panoramic, sixty-story view stretching from Central Park to the East River.

As Ella entered, the doctor was standing behind a large, black desk that gleamed like highly polished onyx. Oddly, it was bare except for a light blue folder that seemed to float -- weightlessly -- above the slick surface. It must have been an optical trick.

The doctor was tall, and pale, and bald. He wasn't dressed in a physician's white coat, as Ella had expected. He wore a black suit over a black turtleneck.

Drawing closer, Ella discovered that her initial impression was wrong again. The man wasn't bald. His hair was white, but cropped exceptionally close to his skull. His skin was the same ghostly color. That's what had created the illusion of baldness.

Still, the doctor's eyes were his most remarkable feature. They were deep set and a light shade of yellowish green. They gleamed like cat's eyes beneath his brow. In all her life she had never seen eyes that color.

Not on a human, anyway.

" 'Mrs. Travesura,' I presume?"

His tone of voice made it clear he knew it wasn't her real name.

She nodded cordially. "How do you do."

The doctor didn't answer but gestured to the chair opposite him -- an artsy contrivance of chrome bars and black leather straps.

The doctor sat down. "I understand, from our initial conversation, that there is a certain... procedure ... that you wish me to perform."

"That is correct."

"Now. If I am not mistaken, you are... shall we say, employed by a certain L--"

"Exactly," Ella interrupted. She needed to shut off this particular line of inquiry as quickly as possible. "I am. He, however, is not to be contacted under any circumstances. I must shield him from this undertaking. It is of utmost importance."

The doctor nodded, but he looked skeptical.

Ella knew he had past connections to Loki. That's how she had found him. But if he were to contact Loki directly, Ella knew her plan would be derailed instantly. Loki would accuse her of deep, twisted jealousy. But the fact was, when Ella succeeded with this plan, and Tom Moore arrived at the bedside of his poor, disfigured, comatose daughter, Loki would be forced to give Ella the credit she was due.

For now, she needed to change the course of the conversation. She cast her gaze at the mysterious blue folder and gestured toward it.

It worked. "Ah... the portfolio," he explained, placing his hand lightly on the folder. "It represents my...side business, if you will. 'Before' and 'after' photographs of some of my more interesting accomplishments." He slid it across the desk toward her. "Care to take a look?"

Ella stared down at the ice blue folder in front of her, but she didn't touch it. She didn't need to see what was inside.

"Oh, c'mon... go ahead." He pushed the folder a few inches closer to her. "Aren't you in the least bit curious?" His tone was friendly. Flippant, almost. But -- glancing back up at him -- she saw that the man's eyes had locked on her with the cold, intense scrutiny of a snake. It was as if he were mentally willing her to look at the pictures. Daring her, even.

When she didn't respond, he reached forward and started lifting the cover. "Just take one little--"

"I'm familiar with your work," she interrupted.

The doctor instantly snapped his hand away. The folder whispered shut.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Ella had the feeling she'd just failed some kind of test. She tried to regain ground.

Sitting up taller, she leaned forward slightly, bowing her shoulders so that her cleavage was displayed at its most alluring angle. "Believe me, Doctor," she began in a persuasive voice, "I wouldn't be here if I weren't already highly confident about your... skills."

If the doctor noticed her breasts, he made no show of it. His eyes remained locked on her own.

"And yet," she went on -- leaning forward a little more -- "regardless of your expertise, I think you may find this particular... patient... to be an extremely unwilling subject."

"Many such patients are reluctant," the doctor agreed. "At first." His eyes seemed to sparkle at some dark, private memories.

"This one is different," Ella stated firmly. She was growing annoyed. Why wasn't he looking at her chest? She leaned forward even more. "You might as well know, Doctor: You're not the first... professional... I've contacted in this matter. Others have tried to treat this patient. They failed."

"My success rate is impeccable," the doctor assured her. "And as I informed you at the outset, Mrs. Travesura, one gets what one pays for." He stressed this last phrase meaningfully.

Ella took the hint. Reaching down, she picked up the Tiffany shopping bag that was lying at her feet. She placed it on the desktop, sliding it toward the doctor across the slick surface. As she did so, her hand accidentally brushed up against the folder.

Despite herself, she flinched.

The doctor noticed this, and his lips curled in mild amusement. He took the Tiffany bag, glancing inside.

Ella watched him and waited. She didn't expect him to react at the sight of the money; he was no doubt used to seeing such large sums of cash. She was waiting for him to notice what else was in the light blue bag.

The doctor's smile faded. Reaching into the bag, he removed a small, rectangular device. It might have been a cellular phone, except that it had a tiny LCD monitor where the earpiece should be. He held it up, a question forming in his bile-green eyes.

"It's a tracking device," she explained before he could ask. "Satellite technology. Effective within a fifty-mile radius. It allows you to pinpoint the precise location of a radio transmitter." Opening her purse, she withdrew a tiny metallic chip about the