"I'm trapped in Hell." Morgan Remington needed a plan to extract his ass out this deadly situation. Unfortunately, he hadn't come up with a scheme that was worth a damn. His fist clenched, the muscles in his arm pulled taut. The urge to hit or better yet, destroy came in a hard and heavy flood. He forced himself to relax.

He'd arrived in Loving, Texas yesterday night and his opinion was still the same. Being restricted to the premises was hell. Standing on the private balcony of his bedroom over looking acres of prime land suitable for longhorn cattle, he sipped the whisky in his glass and watched the last vestiges of twilight fade into blessed night.

The air stirred, bringing the odor of cow poop. To his enhanced vampire senses, it was well, just plain shitty. What Morgan really wanted was to return to Night Trails, his air conditioned, vampire secure East Texas dude ranch in the twenty-first century. Thanks to the Highest One, his manager, Blake Travis, could handle whatever arose while he was away.

Morgan scowled. Blake had made it sound like he was going on a damn vacation.