Rogue Rider

Seven

A sense of pure evil vibrated inside Reseph like a tuning fork. Something was out there, lurking in the woods, and it wanted to kill.

Very slowly, he pulled back from Jillian. He expected to see fear, and yeah, that was there in her eyes, but he didn’t expect the fierce determination on her face.

“I’m going with you.”

“I won’t argue this with you, Jillian. Go in the house.”

Her smile was sweet as she bent over and picked up the bag of clothes. “Fine.”

She’d capitulated way too easily, and male instinct told him to be wary of that, but for now, she’d agreed and that was all that mattered. He eased them slowly toward the front door, and when they were a dozen feet away, he sent her inside as he walked, nonchalantly, to the barn.

He snared the rifle off the wall where it hung and by the light of the full moon, he jogged toward the trees in the direction he’d sensed the feeling of eyes on them. The sinister vibration was gone, but the air was still, the forest too quiet, as if nature was cowering in fear.

Reseph’s adrenaline surged as he crept through the snow, between trees, sticking to the shadows thrown by the moon’s silvery glow. On his arm, the horse tattoo tickled, as if it were moving beneath his shirt. He ignored it and pressed on.

Ahead, something dark was splashed on the snow, destroying the pristine white landscape. The coppery stench of blood was strong, but it wasn’t human.

It’s disturbing as shit that you know it’s not human blood.

He tamped down his inner voice and made a mental note to not revisit the fact that he could identify human blood by the scent.

Crouching, he crept closer. The scene was saturated with evil, and tracks tore up the snow… a battle had taken place here. It must have happened before he’d arrived though, or they would have heard it.

He studied the tracks. One set had been made by a big cat, a cougar most likely. The other… Jesus, what had made those? The prints were the size of a large human male’s feet, but the four toes were three times as long—and clawed. Whatever it was, it had won the battle and had either eaten the cougar or taken it somewhere. The cat tracks led to the site, but they didn’t leave.

Behind him, a twig snapped. He pivoted, rifle trained in the direction of the sound. He saw Jillian before she saw him. She carried a pistol, and dammit, that was why she’d capitulated so easily. She’d gone into the house to get another weapon.

He was both irritated and turned on by her bravery… he’d always liked tough chicks. At least, he thought he had.

But she didn’t need to see this. She was already battling some kind of trauma, and until he knew what it was, he wasn’t going to add to her worries. Quickly, he trampled over the freaky tracks and met her when she was about a dozen yards away.

“I told you to stay in the house.”

Her steady gaze met his. “Well, that’s the thing. It’s my house, and no one tells me to do anything on my own property. If you’re going to stay here, get that through your head. ’Kay?”

“Feisty.” He shot her a wink. “I like it.”

She rolled her eyes and then started toward the grisly scene. “What is it?”

“Looks like a cougar got a deer,” he said, moving to intercept. “It’s gone. Let’s head back to the house.”

She frowned, and he didn’t like her troubled expression. She was too decent to be worried about anything. “There have been a lot of cougar attacks lately.”

“On what? Deer? Livestock?”

“People.” She holstered her pistol like a pro. “It’s strange.”

“That is so hot.”

“What?” Her head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “Cougars eating people is hot?”

“No.” He grinned. “You. Handling a weapon like that. It’s sexy as hell. Hot chicks with guns is, like, fantasy material.”

“You,” she said sternly, “are a very odd man.”

“I’m also a very hungry man,” he said, more to distract her than because his stomach was growling. “You got food?”

“Come on,” she muttered. “I’ll feed you.”

She started back toward her house, and he followed on her heels, keeping an eye out for anything that might decide she looked as tasty as he thought she did. But as they caught sight of the house, he couldn’t resist grabbing a fistful of snow and hurling a snowball at her. It broke apart on her back, showering her in white stuff.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Her voice was a singsongy warning that egged him on, and he threw another, this one exploding off her shoulder. “I was a softball pitcher in high school, buddy. Back off.”

Right. Now she was just asking for it. He bent to grab another handful of snow, and son of a bitch, she nailed him in the head with a clump the size of his fist. Chunks of snow went down his shirt, and even as he stood to hurl a snowball at her, another smashed into his neck.

“You little—” He broke off to duck at another one she sent hurling at him, catching him in the arm. And then she was off, darting toward the house, her laughter carrying like a bell in the clear night air.

He gave chase, gaining ground easily. She might have great aim, but he was faster, and when he put on a burst of speed, he caught her in a matter of heartbeats. Tossing the rifle carefully aside, he tackled her, twisting so she came down on top of him. He cut off her squeal of delighted outrage with a kiss. For a second she struggled playfully, thumping her fists lightly against his chest, but he rolled her over, using his weight to control her and his mouth to seduce her.

With a sigh, she relaxed, winding her arms around him and shifting so he was between her legs. They couldn’t stay like this for long in the cold snow, but he wanted to have this, if only for a minute. She tasted like a lemon-lime soda and smelled like the outdoors, like a clean mountain spring. She was magnificent, and he wanted to drink her in, wrap himself around her and stay that way forever.

“Let’s go inside,” he said against her silky lips. “I’d much rather be doing this in front of the fire.”

Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. “I don’t know how ready I am for anything more than this,” she whispered. “I don’t know you… and it’s been a long time.”

He was ready. He was so ready his balls felt like they might blow all on their own. But he wouldn’t push. Jillian was far too important to him already to do anything that might make her uncomfortable. He could go slow. Couldn’t he? He frowned, because the whole going slow thing felt really, really alien.

“You call the shots.” He shoved to his feet and held out a hand to her. “Food?”

She took his hand and allowed him to lift her to her feet. “You have a one-track mind.”

“Nah. Two tracks.” He winked. “I’ll let you guess what the other is.” He bent to pick up the rifle he’d tossed—and the next thing he knew, she’d shoved a handful of snow down the back of his jeans.

“That,” she said smartly, “will cool down that other track.”

Jillian was so glad Reseph was back. She had no idea how a man she hadn’t known for long could so easily thread his way into the fabric of her life and make her feel so comfortable around him, but Reseph had done it.

And he didn’t just make her feel comfortable… he made her feel safe. The way he’d moved through the forest, the way he’d handled himself at the scene of the cougar-deer attack, it all spoke of confidence and familiarity. She’d been spot-on when she’d first thought of him as a warrior. Maybe he’d been in the military?

Then he’d gone from dangerous and intense to playful and mischievous in a matter of seconds, but even when he’d tackled her, he’d been careful, taking the brunt of the fall, rolling her gently to settle his weight against her with the greatest of care.

Of course, she was still dragging clumps of ice out of her hair, thanks to Mr. I Don’t Like Snow.

Doodle was as happy to see Reseph as she’d been, as evidenced by the way he practically climbed up Reseph’s leg the moment he walked through the door.

“If you’ll keep the cat entertained, I’ll grab you a sandwich.” She stepped out of her boots and shed her jacket. “Is ham and cheese okay?”

Reseph looked up from petting Doodle. “Anything you’ve got is okay. I’m just happy to be here.”

“I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I am, too.”

His impish grin confirmed that she shouldn’t have admitted it, and she shook her head as she headed into the kitchen, glad she’d stopped at the store on her way home after leaving him at the police station. She quickly put together a sandwich and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.

She found Reseph stretched out on his side on the living room floor, rolling a sponge ball for Doodle.

“My cat is going to love you more than he loves me if you keep that up.” She set the plate and bottle on the coffee table, amused when Reseph’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I picked up beer. Figured that if I made chili again, I didn’t want the beer cops coming for me.”

“Smart woman.”

“Yeah, well, this smart woman is going to shower and change.” She also needed to give Stacey a call. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

He leaped to his feet, and lightning quick, he tugged her against him. How did he move like that?

“Thank you.” She didn’t even have a chance to respond, because he planted a hot kiss, so full of promise, on her lips. And then, as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he released her and sat down with the food.

Slightly dazed, she showered and changed into her favorite pajamas and robe, the ones Stacey had told her to never wear in front of a guy if she wanted to get laid. Somehow, Jillian didn’t think the oversized olive-and-brown plaid pjs would deter Reseph, though. Then again, when she stepped out of the bedroom, he turned from where he was looking out the window and winced.

“Those are hideous.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a naughty smile. “You should take them off.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I prefer… persistent.” He gestured to his empty plate. “Thank you. It was the best sandwich ever.”

“You certainly know how to make a woman feel good.” Too late, she realized what she’d said, and the spark in his eyes said he knew it, too. “Don’t say it. And don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Like you’re still hungry. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I wonder,” she said, “if you were this arrogant before you lost your memory.”

Hurt flared in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, his expression shifting into a light mask of indifference. “Probably.”

God, she felt like a heel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rub it in—”

“It’s okay.”

Tentatively, she put her palm on his biceps. “No, it’s not. That was insensitive.”

He turned into her, filling her vision with his powerful shoulders. “One thing I know about myself is that I’m not easily offended or hurt.”

She might buy the not easily offended part, but she’d seen how bothered he’d been when she’d left him at the sheriff’s station and now, when she’d brought up his lost memory. She wasn’t going to call him on it, though. She knew firsthand how survival could depend on believing the things you told yourself.

“You definitely aren’t easily hurt,” she said lightly. “Your recovery from nearly freezing to death has been amazing.”

“Clearly, I have incredible stamina.” His voice had gone low and seductive, and she’d just bet he had stamina worth bragging about. “Outside you said it’s been a long time since you had sex.”

And there went that lack of a filter thing again. “More than a year.”

“Why?”

She hesitated, unsure how ready she was for too much detail. “Because I moved here and haven’t wanted to throw myself into the dating pool.” She doubted she’d ever dip a toe in that murky water again.

“You don’t have to date,” he said, as if she was a moron for mentioning it. “Who wants to waste all that time and energy? Just jump straight to the commitment-free sex.”

Although she had absolutely no right to be angry with him, his answer, combined with how easily he’d charmed Tanya, irked her. “Is sex really so casual for you?”

He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t it be? Humans are so uptight about it. It’s just pleasure. It’s what our bodies are made for.”

Humans? As if he wasn’t one of them? “We’re also made for relationships. Emotional connections.” She couldn’t believe she was arguing for something she’d sworn off.

“Mating for life?” He looked like he’d bitten into something bitter and foul. “That might have been ideal when humans had short life spans, but who wants to be tied down to one person until the end of time?”

Tied down. He’d said that before about her house and farm. “So you’re saying you never want to get married? Have kids? Live happily ever after?”

“Jillian,” he murmured. “I don’t even know my last name. How can I say what I want in the future?”

“Shit.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I was getting worked up about.”

He’d touched a raw nerve she hadn’t even known was exposed. She certainly had no right to judge his casual outlook on emotional attachments. She hadn’t let anyone in since the day she found out her fiancé was married to someone else. Only Stacey had a place in Jillian’s inner circle, and that was because she’d been there for twenty years.

Shit. She gave herself a slap on the forehead. “I need to call Stacey. She’s out looking for you.”

“I’ll shower while you do that.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

He strode into the bedroom, leaving her flustered. She had owed him the apology, not the other way around. Damn, but he had a way of keeping her off balance. As an air traffic controller, she’d prided herself on being calm, cool, collected, even during high-stress periods and hair-raising emergencies. Yet Reseph, with nothing more than a feather-light touch or a few softly spoken words, could throw turbulence right into what was expected to be an uneventful, smooth flight plan.

Get back on course, idiot.

She grabbed the phone and dialed, not giving her friend a chance to even say hello. “Stace. Hey, sorry I didn’t call sooner, but Reseph is here. He’s fine and I’ll call you later—”

“Wait!” Stacey’s voice cracked over the airwaves. “You said you’re with Reseph? When did he get there?”

Jillian glanced at her watch. “An hour and a half ago, maybe.”

“How did he get there?”

“He hitched a ride part of the way and walked the rest. Why? What’s this about?”

Stacey’s pause made Jillian’s stomach knot with dread.

“I’m not supposed to talk about this, but a couple of days ago, the Bjornsens up the road from you were killed—”

“Jesus. How?”

“I’ll give you the details later. But… damn it, there’s no easy way to say this. The Bjornsens weren’t the only ones. I’m sorry, Jillian. It’s the Wilsons,” Stacey said. “They’re dead.”

A crushing press of denial looped around Jillian’s chest and squeezed hard. “That’s not possible. I saw them this morning. I dropped off eggs on my way home from town.”

“What time was that?”

“Around eleven,” Jillian whispered.

Oh, God, this could not be happening. She’d known the Wilsons almost all her life. Maggie Wilson had made her Halloween costumes and had bought tons of Girl Scout cookies. And when Jillian’s father had suffered his first heart attack, Joseph Wilson had helped out with the farm for months while her father recovered.

“Jillian?” Stacey’s voice pierced the buzz of memories in her head. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she rasped. “But why would you ask about Reseph? You can’t think he had something to do with it.”

As if summoned, Reseph came out of the bedroom, hair wet, body glistening. He was wearing only a pair of unbuttoned jeans.

“We think it was an animal, a cougar or bear, but it happened three to five hours ago. If Reseph walked, he’d have gone right by their house. He might have seen something. I need to talk to him. Can I come by?”

Numbly, Jillian nodded, then realized that duh, Stacey couldn’t see her. “Yeah,” she croaked.

“I’ll be there in a little while.”

Reseph’s arms came around her, and she went willingly into his embrace. “What’s wrong?”

“The Wilsons… they were my parents’ best friends. I grew up with their daughter. They’re dead.”

He hugged her tight. “I’m sorry.”

“Reseph… you walked by their place. It’s the house five miles down the hill, with the wagon wheel at the entrance to the driveway. Did you see anything?”

“Like what?”

“A cougar, maybe? Or a bear? Even tracks in the snow?”

For some reason, he went taut, just a subtle stiffening before he relaxed. “Do the police think that’s what killed them?” When she nodded, he ran his hand up and down her spine in a soothing gesture. “I didn’t see any cougars, bears, or anything else.”

She knew what anything else could be. Just as she knew that not seeing anything else didn’t mean there was nothing there.

Some demons were invisible.