Welcome to Two Chicks on Books!!!

Thanks for stopping by! I'm here to share all things Bookish and also news about Movies, TV Shows, and even Video Games I love! I love to read your comments :)

Tuesday, June 18, 2024

Blog Tour- OUT FOR BLOOD by @RyanSteckAuthor With An Excerpt & A #Giveaway! @TyndaleHouse

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the OUT FOR BLOOD by Ryan Steck Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!


About The Book:


Author: Ryan Steck

Pub. Date: June 4, 2024

Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 35

Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/OUT-FOR-BLOOD-Steck 

“Set in Montana's breathtaking Big Sky Country and packed with intense, hard-hitting action, Out for Blood reaffirms Ryan Steck’s prowess in the thriller genre, demonstrating once again why his character, former Marine Raider Matthew Redd, is a force to be reckoned with. If you're looking for action, this one’s coming in hot!" — Jack Carr, former Navy SEAL Sniper and #1 New York Times bestselling author of the James Reece Terminal List series

From the Real Book Spy, Ryan Steck, comes another riveting thriller full of “gutsy action and nonstop mayhem” (James Rollins) in the series that New York Times bestselling author Nelson DeMille describes as “intense, brutal, and faster on the draw than a gunslinger.”

Winters in Montana can be deadly, but it wasn’t the cold that was killing Matthew Redd . . .

Gavin Kline, executive assistant director of the FBI’s Intelligence Directorate, is escorting a high-value prisoner with the intel to bring down a global conspiracy when their plane comes under attack. In the aftermath, much of Kline’s team is dead, but he recovers a phone from a member of the hit team that reveals another attack is imminent. This time they’re going after the man who was instrumental in capturing the prisoner and foiling their plans: Matthew Redd.

When Redd learns he’s in the crosshairs, he sends his family into hiding and heads for the mountains. He might be outnumbered, but the hit team will have to hunt him down on his own turf. With a snowstorm bearing down on Montana and no help in sight, Redd fights for survival in the harshest conditions. But when they take the fight to his hometown, he’ll need all his allies at his back to save what he holds most dear.

A page-turning thriller set in the heart of Montana, Ryan Steck’s third action-packed Matthew Redd novel is perfect for fans of the hit show Yellowstone and readers of C. J. Box and Jack Carr.





Winters in Montana can be deadly, but it wasn’t the cold that was killing Matthew  Redd. 

Only eighteen hours earlier, one of the worst storms the state had ever seen  had begun sweeping across Big Sky Country. Forecasts predicted two feet of  snow, subzero temperatures, and winds in excess of fifty miles per hour. When  he first heard about the forthcoming blizzard, Redd had been worried about  practical things, like making sure they had enough gas for the generator, plenty  of bottled water in case the pump went out or a pipe burst, and enough food and  baby formula in case they were stuck at the ranch for a few days. 

Now he was on his back, lying in eighteen inches of fresh powder, bleeding  profusely, and only minutes away from certain death. 

With the little energy he had left, Redd tipped his head up and turned it  slightly to the side. The snow around him was stained a dark shade of crimson.  The blood had cooled enough that the falling flakes had ceased melting away  upon contact. Evidently, the spreading pool was no longer being refreshed from  the source. For a moment, he thought maybe the bleeding had slowed, perhaps  due to the frigid temperatures slowing the beating of his heart. 

That, he thought, or I’m almost out of blood. 

His eyes grew heavy, and Redd fought to keep them open. 

He was no longer cold. That wave had already come and passed. Now Redd  was numb. Numb to the bone-chilling temperatures. Numb to the wetness of  the snow melting under him. Numb to the pain of the knife wounds that had  spilled his blood. 

Snow was still falling at a rate of several inches per hour. Laying his head  back down, Redd looked to the sky. All around him, snowflakes fell from the  heavens—brilliant ice crystals, no two the same. It was beautiful, he thought.  Peaceful, even. 

He could feel the life draining out of him, and in his final moments, his  thoughts turned to his wife and son. 

Emily . . . Junior . . . 

They were safe, and that’s all that mattered. But Redd found himself wishing  he could hold them one last time. Tell them he loved them. 

Moments after he got the phone call that kicked off the chain of events lead ing to him clinging to life on the mountain, he’d promised Emily that he’d come  back to her. 

I’m sorry, Em. I’m so sorry . . . 

Through the howling wind, Redd heard voices. But he knew the men after  him weren’t coming to rescue him. Quite the opposite. 

They were there to finish the job. 

Too injured to move from the spot he’d collapsed into, Redd accepted his fate.  And he had no regrets. From a hard childhood in Michigan, to the death of his  mother, to then growing up on the ranch in Montana with his adopted father, Jim  Bob Thompson, before joining the Marines, Redd, against the odds, had made  something of himself. There had been heartache along the way—losing his whole 

team during an ambush, losing Jim Bob, and almost losing his ranch. But Redd  had had a full life, far more than he’d ever expected. It wasn’t easy, and ranching  was hard work, but he had a wife he adored who loved him back and a son who  was his whole world. 

The voices grew louder. 

This is going to be hard on Junior, he thought. 

“Over here!” someone shouted. “We’ve got him now!” 

Please, Redd prayed, keep my family safe. 

He tried to look at the man coming to finish the job, but dark circles filled his  vision. Almost like a smoky haze, the circumference of clarity getting smaller by the  second. He sensed the man’s presence now more than he saw him. He was close. 

“Found him!” the voice called to someone else. “He might already be dead.” “Make sure of it,” said another voice. This one deeper than the first. Redd blinked heavily, fighting to open his eyes one last time. He could see the  

outline of both men now, one holding a gun that was pointed at his head. This is it, he told himself. 

Redd was determined to look his killer in the eyes, but he couldn’t find them.  Then he realized the man with the gun had turned away and was facing the oppo site direction, focused on another target. 

On what? 

Redd couldn’t see anything. 

The haze grew thicker. His eyelids were heavier than ever. He squinted, trying  to focus. The gunman was now aiming at something else. Redd looked past him. There! 

He caught sight of something but couldn’t tell what it was. Redd squinted again  but couldn’t make out the figure. It looked like a black blob moving through the  snow. It was coming toward him. No, toward the man with the gun. And it was  moving fast. 

Realizing what was about to happen, Redd felt a thin smile form across his  face. 

A moment later, everything went dark. 





As he closed the rear cargo door of the Chevy Tahoe, Matthew Redd caught a  glimpse of his reflection in the window and barely recognized himself. It wasn’t anything physical. Save for a scattering of snowflakes in his dark hair  and beard, giving him a salt-and-pepper look that aged him beyond his twenty eight years, his appearance mostly matched his mental image of himself. No, the  difference was something else, something much harder to pin down. Something  under the skin. 

Then his gaze dropped to the foil-wrapped baking dish he held in both hands,  and he realized what it was. 

I’m not the man I used to be. 

This was not exactly news to Redd. In the last two years, his sense of who  he was and what he wanted out of life had undergone a tectonic shift. He was  no longer just Matthew Redd, former Marine Raider. Not anymore. He was  Matthew Redd, husband of Emily, father of Matthew Jr., owner and operator  of Thompson Ranch. That was how he thought of himself now, and it didn’t  bother him one bit. 

Honestly, he didn’t miss his former life. 

“Hey, cowboy, are you going to bring that ham in here sometime today?”  Emily said playfully. 

Redd looked away from his reflection and grinned back at the vision of beauty  presently leaning out the door of the twenty-two-foot travel trailer that was, for  the time being at least, home sweet home. 

“Coming now.” 

“What you thinking about over there, Matty Redd?” 

Emily could always read him. And in a lot of ways, she knew him better  than he knew himself. When nobody else could get through to him— Redd  had a notorious stubborn streak that hadn’t cooled much as he approached his  thirties—Emily could. 

“Uh,” said Redd, embarrassed he’d been caught looking at himself, “nothing.” “Just get it in here before it gets cold.” As if to emphasize the point, she swiped  a hand in front of her face, sweeping away the snowflakes that were drifting lazily  down from the silver-gray sky. 

It had been threatening to snow for the better part of a week, but that was  nothing special in Big Sky Country. 

Still, according to the Weather Channel, a snowstorm this deep into winter  was said to be “record-breaking” in terms of volume and intensity. A note from  the governor, courtesy of the statewide messaging system, advised everyone to stay  put, as traveling would be “near impossible.” Power outages were likely too. But  they were ready for it, or as ready as one could be. Redd had made all the necessary  preparations. Now it was a waiting game, with only a brief window before most of  the state would grind to a halt. 

Thankfully, the full fury of the storm wasn’t supposed to hit until later that  evening, but the snowfall seemed to have picked up just since they’d gotten back  from Emily’s parents’ house. And it was already sticking. 

Getting used to winter again had been a challenge. Redd remembered grow ing up with Montana winters, which sometimes started in October and could  last until May, but when he’d gone off to join the Marines at eighteen, he’d lost  the tempo of the seasons. He had been stationed in perpetually sunny Southern  California, and even though deployments and training cycles sometimes took  him to places where the temperatures dropped precipitously in winter, he had  only ever looked at the weather as a challenge to be overcome in the moment.  Here, with a ranch to run and cattle to tend, it was just a fact of life. 

He hurried over to the trailer door, balancing the baking dish in one hand while  he worked the doorknob. As the door swung open, a dark shape—specifically a dark shape that was 130 pounds of purebred juvenile rottweiler—erupted from  the trailer like a torpedo blasting out of a launch tube and shot past him, barely  avoiding a collision. 

“Whoa there, buddy,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Slow it down. This is a  residential zone.” 

The dog, who was now zipping back and forth across the open ground,  seemed not to have heard. 

Forgot one, he thought. Matthew Redd, Rubble’s human. 

Rubble was the most recent member of the family, acquired after the untimely  death of his former owner, Redd’s attorney and friend, Duke Blanton. Blanton  had been savagely murdered by members of an outlaw biker gang. The same gang  had menaced Redd and his family, and ultimately burned down the ranch house  where Redd had not only grown up but begun his new life with Emily, which  was why they were now living in an old travel trailer. 

As tragic as it was, losing the house marked the final transition between the  old Matthew Redd and the new one. Prior to that, he’d been living a divided  life—keeping one foot in the world of special operations by working as an FBI  contractor, leading a paramilitary “fly team” on a worldwide search for an inter 

national terrorist, while still trying to have that “normal” life with Emily and  Junior. 

The fire itself hadn’t been a wake-up call or anything like that. It had simply  coincided with the successful completion of his mission for the FBI, freeing him  up to focus on the things that he now realized mattered the most to him. 

Building a new house was of course the first step on that path. Redd had  already begun the process of clearing the site, and with the first part of the  insurance settlement in hand, he hoped to be in their new home before the  end of summer. Until then, they would just have to put up with living in close  quarters. 

He stepped inside and placed the dish on the tiny counter between the tiny  sink and the even smaller two-burner stove. Emily was setting the table, crowd ing the place settings around an assortment of foil-covered pots and pans that  contained various side dishes to accompany the ten- pound spiral- sliced ham Redd had just brought in. 

Emily had spent the better part of the day preparing the meal, which they  would soon be sharing with their friends Mikey and Elizabeth Derhammer.  Rather than attempt such an undertaking in the trailer’s woefully inadequate  kitchen space, she had done the work at her parents’ house, in a more suitable  kitchen. Redd still wasn’t clear on why they couldn’t just take the prepared meal over to the Derhammers’ home, where there was an actual dining room, and  he’d said as much when Emily proposed the idea of having Mikey and Liz out  to the ranch for dinner. 

“Because, Matty, having them over for dinner at their house wouldn’t make  much sense, would it?” 

“It makes more sense than trying to cram four adults and two babies into this  shoebox,” Redd had replied. 

Emily shook her head. “It’s our turn to host dinner. Liz and Mikey have had  us over more times than I can count.” 

That was certainly true. Since the fire . . . since they had lost almost every  personal possession, they had eaten more meals at the Derhammers’ place or  with Emily’s parents, Elijah and Dora Lawrence, than they had at home. So Redd  could understand why Emily might feel compelled to repay their kindness. For  his part, he treasured their friendship with the Derhammers. He just couldn’t  quite wrap his head around the symbolic significance of hosting the meal inside  their little temporary abode. 

Outside the trailer, Rubble’s insistent barking signaled that something had  changed. It could have been anything from a racoon trying to sneak up on the  garbage can to one of the cattle wandering too close to the fence, but Redd  was pretty sure he knew what it was. He tugged aside the curtain over the little  window in the door and looked out to see Mikey Derhammer’s Billet Silver  Dodge Ram 3500 dually rolling up the drive. It was, according to Mikey, “more  tank than truck.” Redd didn’t disagree. 

As boys, Redd and Mikey had been the best of friends. Now they were more  like brothers, and Redd considered him family. Liz too. 

Working the ranch with his adoptive father, J. B. Thompson, hadn’t left a  lot of time for extracurricular activities. As a result, Redd had cultivated few  childhood friends. Nevertheless, two people had managed to break through his  self-imposed social shield—Emily Lawrence, his first and only love, and Mikey. 

When J. B. had been badly injured in a fall, Redd had secretly blamed himself. Maybe if he hadn’t been wasting time with his friends, J. B. wouldn’t have  gotten hurt in the first place. To atone for this perceived failing, he’d dropped  out of high school and out of his friends’ lives and managed the ranch single-handedly until J. B.’s recovery was complete. 

J. B. hadn’t been able to stop him from quitting school, but he had insisted  that Redd get his GED, a necessary step if Redd was going to realize his lifelong  dream of enlisting in the Marines. When Redd had told him that he was done with that dream and that he was going to stay and work the ranch, J. B.—a former Marine himself—had put his foot down. 

“I can’t make you take the oath,” he’d told Redd. “But don’t you use me as  an excuse.” 

J. B.’s particular brand of tough love and encouragement was exactly the kick  in the pants Redd had needed. The only problem was that in leaving Montana  he’d permanently closed the door on his relationships with Emily and Mikey. Or  at least it had seemed that way at the time. 

Nearly two years prior, when J. B.’s death had brought him back to Stillwater  County and the ranch just outside the little town of Wellington, he’d been both  surprised and humbled to discover that those relationships had not died, but  merely gone fallow. It had taken a little effort to rekindle his romance with Emily,  a fiercely independent and successful nurse practitioner working at the county  health clinic, but with Mikey, it was like not a single day had passed. 

Matthew Redd, friend of Mikey

“They’re here,” Redd called out. 

“Rubble beat you to it,” retorted Emily. “Don’t shout. You’ll wake Matty.” He looked at her sidelong. “You think Matty won’t wake up the second Luke  walks in the door?” 

Lucas, Mikey and Liz’s son, was about two years older than Matthew Jr., and  the two boys were frequent playmates. Like fathers, like sons. Emily sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” She gave the table a final inspection.  “Well, I guess this is as good as we’re going to get it.” 

Redd opened the door, careful to keep Rubble out, and went to greet their  guests. Mikey, who had already stepped out from behind the wheel, took Redd’s  proffered hand but then pulled him into a fierce bro hug. Though he definitely  wasn’t a hugger, Redd, who was a good six inches taller than Mikey, couldn’t resist  a smile as he stared out over the top of his friend’s head. 

“All right,” he murmured, gently pushing Mikey away. “Go help your wife  bring the kid in out of the cold.” 

Liz picked Luke up out of his safety seat and laid him down alongside  Matthew Jr. The adults used the brief respite to enjoy the appetizer course Emily  had prepared, along with the chardonnay Liz had brought. 

“So, tell me all about your plans for this place,” said Mikey after emptying  both glass and plate. 

Redd laughed. “You should ask Em. I’m letting her take point on the design.” “Matty would have been happy with a one-room log cabin,” interjected Emily. 

“And what would be wrong with that?” he said playfully. He was only half  joking. 

“Come on, Matt,” said Mikey. “It’s the twenty-first century. You’ve at least  got to have a man cave.” 

“I’ll let him have his man cave,” replied Emily. “But I put my foot down when  he wanted to put in a panic room.” 

Redd’s easy smile wilted a little. Although Emily was making light of it, Redd  was not at all pleased with his wife’s resistance to the idea. 

During his time as a Marine Raider and then subsequently working with the  FBI, he’d made more than his share of enemies—enemies every bit as dangerous  as the outlaw bikers who had destroyed their home and murdered Duke Blanton.  As much as Redd wanted to believe that he had left all that behind, some of those  enemies were still out there, just waiting for a chance to settle the score. If . . .  when the day of reckoning came, Redd would do whatever it took to protect his  family. And the best way to do that was to make sure they had a safe place to go  when the bad guys rolled up without warning. 

Emily, who chose to believe in the fundamental goodness of humanity, had  dismissed his precautionary thinking as paranoia. Contrary to what she was telling Mikey and Liz, the matter was far from resolved. 

“It’s not a panic room,” Redd insisted. “It’s a safe room. Think of it as a refuge.  Like a big fancy storm shelter.” 

Emily rolled her eyes. “More like a bomb shelter.” 

Mikey scratched his chin. “I don’t know, Em. I think I’m with Matt on this  one.” 

“What a surprise,” Liz remarked dryly. “You two taking the same side. Who’d  have predicted that?” 

“It’s just common sense,” Mikey went on. “It’s like the Boy Scout motto—be  prepared.” 

Redd flashed a triumphant grin at Emily and offered an open-hand see what  I mean gesture toward Mikey. 

“Like either of you were ever Boy Scouts.” 

“I wanted to be one,” countered Mikey and then in a small voice added,  “Mom wouldn’t let me join. She didn’t get along with the den mother. Said she  was a drunk—well, you know. A word she probably shouldn’t have said in front  of kids.” 

“Den mother?” said Liz. “Isn’t that just for Cub Scouts?” 

“Same thing,” Mikey said defensively. 

“I’m sure it’s not,” said his wife, laughing. 

“Well, after Mom put the kibosh on it, I kind of lost interest.” He waved  his hand as if to preempt further discussion. “All I’m saying is, it doesn’t hurt to  plan ahead.” 

“I don’t disagree,” said Emily. “I just think there are better uses for our limited  resources. We’re not exactly made of money.” 

Mikey inclined his head to cede the point, then turned to Redd. “Well, she  did say you could have a man cave, bro. Now we’ll have a sweet spot to watch  football. Take the win.” 

Redd opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say another word, his  phone rang. His brows creased in consternation as he took the device from his  pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Gavin,” he muttered, frowning. 

Emily gave him a distressed look. “Be nice, Matty. He’s trying.” Redd shook his head. “I’m sure it’s a work thing.” He stared at the display  a moment longer, debating whether or not to let it go to voicemail. “I should  probably take this,” he said, tapping the screen to accept the call. In an instant, everything changed. 




About Ryan Steck:

Ryan Steck is an editor, an author, and the founder and editor in chief of The Real Book Spy. Ryan has been named an "Online Influencer" by Amazon and is a regular columnist at CrimeReads. TheRealBookSpy.com has been endorsed by #1 New York Times bestselling authors Mark Greaney, C. J. Box, Kyle Mills, Daniel Silva, Brad Thor, and many others. A resident of Michigan, along with his wife and their six kids, Steck cheers on his beloved Detroit Tigers and Lions during the rare moments when he's not reading or talking about books on social media. He can be reached via email at ryan@therealbookspy.com.

Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | TikTok | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub


Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a finished copy of OUT FOR BLOOD, US Only.

Ends July 2nd, midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Schedule:

Week One:


Daily Waffle




IG Post/TikTok Post


Writer of Wrongs



The Momma Spot




IG Review/TikTok Post



IG Review

Week Two:


Edith's Little Free Library

IG Review/LFL Drop Pic/TikTok Post



IG Review



IG Review



IG Review/TikTok Post


Country Mamas With Kids

IG Review






IG Review


Books and Zebras

IG Review


Kim's Book Reviews and Writing Aha's

IG Review/TikTok Post


Brandi Danielle Davis

IG Review/TikTok Post

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...