The Rush (4 page)

Be warned, however, that
30 Pieces of Silver
is an EXTREMELY controversial historical/religious thriller. Please be sure to
read the warning on the Amazon page before purchasing!

Unabashedly controversial,
30 Pieces of Silver
has been described by NYT Bestselling author
James
Rollins
(author of
Devil
Colony
) as…

“Part minefield and all roller-coaster ride, here
is a story as controversial as it is thrilling. Hunker down for a long night,
because once you start reading this book, you won’t be putting it down.”

And the praise doesn’t stop there…

“Even as I write this, I find I can’t do justice
to the scope and breadth of
30 Pieces of Silver
. It is
cinematic in its ambition and execution, taking the reader on a
well-thought-out and well-written journey.”

The Word Zombie

Book Reviewer

“If you are looking for an action-packed,
archaeological thriller, then look no further than Carolyn McCray’s
30 Pieces of Silver
. I cannot
say enough good things about this book! I started reading this book and found
myself taking it everywhere I went just to finish it. McCray has you on the
edge of your seat from start to finish.”

The Pen & Muse Review

Book Reviewer

We could go on and on. However, it is probably
best if you sampled some of
30 Pieces of Silver
for
yourself. However, be forewarned! The ending is so controversial that New York
would not put it into print! #youhavebeenwarned

To purchase or read a sample of
30 Pieces of Silver
on Amazon
,
click
here
.

* * *

For something a bit lighter, yet with
the same fun vibe as
MoonRush
,
check out Ben and Carolyn’s,
Pet
Whisperer…er…rrr
.

Wyatt and animals…don’t always see eye to eye. But that doesn’t
mean he can’t make a rip-snorting pet psychic, right? I mean, seriously. What
could possibly go wrong? Other than an elephant with a wandering trunk and a
ferret that likes to dance around
inside
his pants, that is.

Oh, and the serial-killer
Chihuahua.

Okay, so maybe a lot could go
wrong.

Pet Whisperer…er…rrr
A book where the animals talk back!

Praise for
Pet
Whisperer…er…rrr
…

"The story is sweet, silly and sad by turns.
I also found it thoroughly engaging and look forward to more from these
authors."

Daphne

Amazon Reviewer

The Pet Whisperer ... er
... rrr  is a quick read that elicits a full

spectrum of emotions. I
laughed out loud on the very first page... Ms. McCray has a way of pulling you
into her books and not letting go until the final word.

I recommend this
five-star story to anyone that enjoys humor with heart. If you love animals,
you need this book."

Charlotte Abel

Author,
Enchantment

Click
here
to purchase or sample
Pet
Whisperer…er…rrr

* * *

Like your mystery with some Mixed
Martial Arts Kick? Then
Full
Body Contact: Is He a Fighter or a Killer?
is for you!

Praise for
Full
Body Contact
A Thriller with some MMA Kick!

“Wow! The chemistry between a by-the-book
detective and a bad boy MMA fighter was hot! I found myself questioning if I
would make the same choices in Alexis' position. Stayed up late reading this
one!”

Bookdiva

“Carolyn McCray is known for her ability to write
taut, intelligent thrillers, but wow, she and Elena Grey have written a smart
but physical thriller this time. The fight scenes are incredible and let's just
say you should have a cold shower ready after the sex scene. Definitely
recommend this book to anyone who likes thrillers, not just those involving the
mixed martial arts.”

Thrillers RockT

Book Reviewer

Overview:

As broken bodies pile up in back alleys, a disgraced
Mixed Martial Arts champion is the prime suspect.

Can a rookie detective use her beauty and fighting
skills to seduce the truth or will she pay the ultimate price for believing in
him?

To purchase or sample
Full Body Contact
simply click
here
.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

24º 30' N, 77º 30' W

Tongue of the Ocean

March 18, 2049

0900 hours, EST

A sparkle glimmered in the space between Jarod and the sandy
expanse before him. His feet dragged through the silt on the ocean bed,
stirring up puffs of grains and clouding the water—as well as disturbing the
occasional occupant. Rainbows of fish schooled past his vision, darting away
from the perceived danger of this overworld intruder.

Jarod tapped a button on the glowing instrument strapped to
his wrist. Almost there. The holographic GPS display surrounded him, mirroring
his slow progress with miniscule changes in the projected map that represented
his location. If his calculations were correct, in a minute more, he’d be upon
the object of his desire.

The holographic display wavered and created bright sparks
all around. Even the brave fish swam to safety. He had been experiencing
interference issues with the equipment all day. Hence, the silence in his earpiece.
He’d only had spotty contact with his ship, Rogues’ Gamble, anchored above for
the past half hour. But Jarod didn’t mind. The holographic finally fritzed out
altogether, and he was left in the timelessness of the underwater topography.
He may have tons of cutting-edge gadgets, but right now, it might as well be
the fifteen hundreds. Just how Jarod liked it.

As if to challenge his thoughts, the blunt face of a
hammerhead shark entered the periphery of his vision, its progress effortless
through the suddenly fishless waters. Jarod’s heartbeat increased, albeit
marginally. Sharks were just part of the landscape. Even hammerheads usually
did not attack unless aggravated. This big guy was probably just trolling the
neighborhood and checking out the new kid on the block, attracted by the
agitation of the bubbles from Jarod’s scuba gear.

Once they saw that Jarod wasn’t a tasty seal or other
morsel, sharks usually went on their way.

Which was exactly what this one looked like it was going to
do. That is, until its skin glistened in the rippled light as it veered from
its path, cutting straight for Jarod.

Its jaws gaped open, revealing row upon row of broken-glass
teeth poised to rip Jarod’s flesh asunder. With a skill only born of
experience, Jarod brought his shark prod up to bear. Its design was patented by
the Rogues’ own marine biologist. The electric discharge caused pain, and was
specifically calibrated to enter the fish’s brain, activating the area
governing the flight response.

Jarod hit the button on the handle, but only a faint shower
of sparks came out. He hit it again. Damn it! Where were the fireworks? The
hammerhead surged forward powered by that enormous tail.

Hauling back, Jarod brought the prod forward, slamming the
metal smack-dab into the center of the hammerhead’s elongated snout. Maybe the
blow didn’t have all the bells and whistles it was supposed to, but the shark
still slashed left, fleeing the confrontation.

Like Jarod said, he didn’t mind going medieval on their ass.

But it was time to get back to business. Jarod crested
another rise in the ocean floor, coming abruptly across a half-buried beam of
rotting wood, marine plant life surrounding it like some kind of bizarre
forest. This was it! Jarod’s adrenaline spiked in a way a shark attack never
could.

He turned to his left. “Hey, Ch…” The terrain’s emptiness
choked the words in his throat. The brother who should have been right there—as
he had always been—was not.

The speakers in his ears crackled to life. A clipped,
British voice spoke inside his head, “Is everything all right, Jarod?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“It sounded like you called out.”

Jarod forced a chuckle. “Uh-huh. I think I found something.”

“Good. Your gauges are reading below the red line for
oxygen.”

Tell him something that he didn’t already know. Jarod should
have gone topside fifteen minutes ago, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet. This
might be their last chance at this site after today. Their permits ran out, and
getting another set from the Bahamian government was about as likely as Jarod
driving under sixty-five.

With renewed conviction, Jarod pushed farther over the ridge
of sand and stumbled to a stop. There it was—laid out before him. The skeletal
form of the shipwreck stretched out a hundred yards from his perch, as if
waiting all these centuries just for him. Its beauty eclipsed Venus herself, at
least for Jarod.

A pristine Spanish galleon. She was like a lover he’d dreamt
of his entire life, elusive and unattainable until he met her on a street
corner. Or, in Jarod’s case, a shark- infested, seismically active ocean
valley.

Just beyond the site, the seascape suddenly ended, and a
black stretch of ocean appeared immediately beyond. The ravine. The Tongue of
the Ocean.

A tremor ran up Jarod’s boots, resonating in his knees, his chest,
and his head. Sand shifted crazily below his feet. The crevasse yawned—its
black mouth was open, ready to engulf Jarod’s prize, but he breathed through
it, keeping his breaths slow and steady. They’d felt aftershocks all day. He
couldn’t get this close to his life’s work and then hyperventilate himself into
unconsciousness.

Once the ground stabilized, Jarod headed out. Taking
measured steps, he made his way to the wreckage. As the last tremors died down,
Jarod pushed aside the sand covering the ancient wood. The rotten beams
crumbled under his fingers. Just as well. He didn’t want the planking. He
wanted what was inside the planking. With more and more urgency, his air gauge
dipping far into the red, Jarod shoved the silt aside until he felt his glove
bump up against something solid. The sand moved in concert with the buried
object. A golden flash gleamed in the rippling water.

Jarod’s smile could have eclipsed the sun.

* * *

Cleo scanned the water for the fiftieth time since they’d
lost contact with Jarod. The surface showed the only changes it had for the
past twenty minutes, the unceasing break and flow of the waves lapping against
their ship, the Rogues’ Gamble. The vista beyond the railing was fit for a
postcard.

But her mind slipped below the surface of the water, the
true source of her joy. Years of education and experience filled in the gaps
her eyes couldn’t. Beneath the cleansing ocean spray and glitter of the sun on
the water lurked a more fascinating, yet sinister, world below.

The ocean was a hostile place, akin to the heights of the
Himalayas in terms of danger…and the foreign atmosphere. Down there, humans
were not at the top of the food chain. Hell, we don’t even make the second
slot, Cleo thought.

Teams of hammerhead sharks, swarms of deadly sea snakes, and
a host of other, not-much-lesser evils lurked in her mind’s eye. And with the
quakes stirring up debris, causing their instruments to fritz, even their
technology wasn’t a sure protection against what was down there. Granted, Jarod
was a skilled diver. Still, her hands, browned by the sun and her own partial
African heritage, gripped the railing tightly. Jarod had been an equally
skilled diver last year, and look what had happened.