by Rita Herron
I have chosen one as my mate. I will have her soon.
Until then, I stalk my prey, swoop in and snatch up the creatures with my sharp talons and rip them apart as you do.
Sonya cleared her throat and stood. “This may be our guy. He even signs the letter with bloody talon prints.”
Brack placed a hand at the back of her waist in a soothing gesture. “Let’s get it to a lab for analysis. If we can match the writing, fingerprints, blood with our killer and put a name to him, we can catch him and end this terror.”
THE NEXT TWO DAYS passed in excruciating slowness. Brack checked constantly on the lab analysis but DNA testing took time. So did the writing analysis. They had located a costume shop online and were checking into the client base but so far nothing had popped up.
He urged Cohen to collect samples from Stan Silverstein, Viago, Tripp, Dr. Waverman, Dr. Priestly and Priestly’s assistant, along with the paramedics, Van and Joey, who worked with Sonya. He’d made enemies of all of them, but he didn’t care.
Each night he slept beside Sonya, but he didn’t push for more. Although it was growing more difficult not to strip her out of her clothes and make love to her. But he was determined not to press her. To wait until she came to him. Until she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Against his better judgment, she had worked the past two days, but she’d never worked alone. Unfortunately, two more women had been killed. Both on her shifts.
She had taken the 911 calls. The sicko was taunting her. Playing with her mind. Torturing her with guilt. Forcing her to view his brutality firsthand, to be the first one to witness the evidence of his sick, twisted desires.
His plan was working, too. He saw the pain in Sonya’s eyes and her agony became his own. He hated the Talon Terror more with each vicious attack.
Sonya was out on call now, this time working with Van. So far, the man had proven himself clean. His writing didn’t match the sample from the letter, and he had no history of violence, had never hunted or shot a rifle, didn’t own a gun, and had a wife and two-year-old at home.
Brack would never forgive himself if he’d misjudged the guy and he turned out to be their culprit.
Godfrey met him at the edge of the woods, and they combed the property between Falcon Ridge and Sonya’s farmhouse. “Someone has been poisoning small animals through food they’ve put out. He also sprinkled chemicals on the plants to poison them.”
“Can we get a cleanup crew in?” Brack asked.
“Sure, but we have to find out who’s causing the damage before the wildlife will be safe again.”
The thought of losing the falcons, of them dying and becoming extinct in the area, cut like a knife to Brack’s chest.
Brack spent the next two hours scouring the woods, searching for injured animals, for the villain poisoning them and using them as bait to trap the falcons. Finally feeling defeated and frustrated, he headed back to Falcon Ridge. Knowing Sonya would return from work any minute, he showered and lit a fire in the fireplace, then went outside to check on the hawk he’d rescued the day before.
But the cage was open, and the bird was dead on the ground, its guts spilled across the patio. The killer had left a message for him.
He bowed his head and leaned against the table, hands bracing himself as emotions churned through him. Dammit, he felt like a failure. He’d let the birds down. And Sonya and all those other women…
“Brack?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, battling the pain in his chest. Aching to hold Sonya and soothe his guilt.
Sonya moved up behind him, and gasped at the mauled bird. “Oh, God, Brack, I’m so sorry.”
Fear and pain laced her voice. He swallowed back emotions, turned and pulled her into the kitchen away from the sight.
Inside, he blinked to clear his vision, then looked into her eyes.
Her tormented expression humbled him. He traced a finger along her cheek, and something else flickered… raw, hot desire.
“Brack…”
His sex hardened, and his body trembled with need at the sound of her sultry voice.
He shook his head. Realized his emotions, his hunger must be written on his face. He hated his loss of control. All the reasons he shouldn’t kiss her warred with the intense need to have her.
She wasn’t ready. She was vulnerable. She was afraid.
And he could not commit.
He strode past her and moved to the cabinet. For the first time in weeks, allowed himself to use something to assuage his pain. Even if it was a scotch.
He tossed down the drink, then poured another. The trickle of the amber liquid filling the glass shattered the silence. Wood crackled in the air as the fire popped.
Suddenly, Sonya’s breath bathed his neck. He felt her hand slide over his. Remove the glass from his hand.
“You don’t need that,” she whispered. Her hands trailed to his shoulders where she began to massage the tension from his neck. He leaned his head forward, moaned out her name. Turmoil riddled the sound.
She pressed a kiss to his back, then reached around him and began to unbutton his shirt. The sound of the buttons being unfastened sent his pulse racing. He wanted to feel her hands on his bare skin. Wanted to touch her and hold her and sink himself deep inside her, to know she was his now, and that she would be in the end.
Her lips touched his bare neck as she lowered his shirt and pulled it off. His shoulders stiffened again. He wanted her so much that he dared not ask.
“Sonya…” His voice cracked. “I can’t take much more.”
She traced her fingers over his back, then kissed his shoulders, and he snapped. He swung around, yanked her hands away from his burning body, held them at her sides. Passion glazed her eyes, the need in his own burning hot and bright, like dry kindling beneath a lit match.
“I told you I can’t take much more tonight.” He choked out the warning, knowing he had to while he still possessed some semblance of control.
“I don’t want to lose the birds, Sonya, and I don’t want to lose you.”
He hesitated, had to give her the choice, even if it would be agony right now if she walked away. “And if that means waiting until you’re ready, then we wait.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I want you, Brack,” she whispered. “Right here, right now.”
“Sonya?”
His gruff whisper heated her blood, incited her courage. He was hurting, and she wanted to soothe his pain. He had done everything for her so far and had asked nothing in return. He’d held her each night. Comforted her when she needed it. Talked to Katie and assured her that her mother was safe. Kept her company when she missed her little girl.
The day’s events traipsed through her mind. Another woman dead. Another note. More blood on her hands.
She couldn’t think about it tonight. Had to find some pleasure in being alive.
“Please, Brack. I need you.” She trailed her fingers over his bare chest, felt his muscles flex beneath her fingertips. His skin felt hot to the touch, rough yet soft, just like Brack. She loved him more than words could say.
Her lips followed her fingers, and she pressed kisses along his chest, then his neck. With a soft sigh, she threaded her hands into his hair and drew his mouth down to hers. He tasted like fire and man and raging desire.
His low, throaty moan of acquiescence spurred her forward. Firelight flickered off his bronzed, corded, muscular chest as he pulled slightly away and gazed into her eyes.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered.
“Brack—”
“Shh, you’re perfect.”
Her stomach tightened, but he lowered his mouth and kissed her again, this time so deeply that warmth pooled in her belly. For the first time in her life, she believed that she was beautiful, perfect.
But only in his arms.
His tongue swirled over her lips, begging for her to part them, and she did, allowing him entry and welcoming him inside. Her body scream
ed for more. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, met his passionate response with one of her own. Ran her hands over his nipples, then down his arms to his waist, and yanked at his belt buckle.
He shed it in one deft movement. Flung it to the floor. His pants and boots went next. She wanted him naked in the firelight.
She didn’t realize she’d said the request aloud, until his eyebrows lifted. Then he complied with a smile. He looked so starkly beautiful, his tall, broad body glowing in the dancing flames. Dark black hair covered his chest and tapered to a V southward to his sex, which surged thick and long, jutting toward her as if begging to be inside her.
She reached out and wrapped her hand around him, and he groaned and tore at her clothes. Tenderness underlay his touches, yet a raw hunger that drove them both into a frenzy urged her to forget caution. They both needed this wild animal coupling, needed to touch and hold and stroke and pet and suckle.
He stripped her bare, then held her arms to her sides when she shied away.
“Please let me look,” he whispered. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed about this.”
She smiled, his words eliciting a heady lightness in her soul. Her heart surged with love. She raked her hands over his chest again, and he lowered his head and claimed her lips again, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth in erotic strokes that heated her blood to a boil. His lips moved to her breasts, and he cupped her into his hands, flicked his fingers over her nipples, tortured her with his tongue. His hands dipped lower to tease her legs apart.
Any trace of shyness fled as he lay her down on the rug in front of the fire, dipped his fingers inside her and sucked her nipples until she cried out as sensations splintered through her. He sheathed himself with a condom, then his thick erection replaced his hand and he stroked her center until she begged him to enter her.
Instead of thrusting inside her though, he cupped her face in his hands. Sweat-soaked skin rasped against skin. “Sonya, I want you now. All of you.”
“I want you, too,” she whispered. “I love you, Brack.”
For a moment, his gaze locked with hers. Emotions flickered in his eyes, dark ones, troubled ones. Then a smile softened his mouth, and he thrust himself inside her. He stretched her, filled her with his length until she thought she might break apart.
A low, throaty moan tore from his chest, and he rose above her and whispered for her to watch. She glanced down and saw the two of them connect, watched as he drew in and out of her body, saw the raw hunger in his eyes as he loved her. They sank into a heated rhythm, bold, passionate, taking, giving, each movement of his hips, each bold, deep thrust building lightning-like sensations inside her.
When she thought she couldn’t stand the pleasure any longer, he lowered his head and pulled her nipple between his teeth, sucked it deep and hard. Euphoria crashed through her with waves of pleasure that sent her free-falling over the edge. He caught her cry of ecstasy with another powerful kiss.
She clung to his arms, sensations splintering through her, as he moved deeper and faster, harder, with such force that her body trembled. Tremors of excitement rocked through her, and she spread her legs wider, wanting him as far inside her as he could get. Seconds later, he threw his head back, pushed himself even deeper, lifted her hips and angled her so that he touched her very soul.
Then he roared out a sound of pleasure as his own release ripped through him.
THEY MADE LOVE again and again during the night. Each time more primal. Raw. Passionate.
Brack had no idea how he had lived without Sonya before, but he never wanted to do so again. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Loving. Kind. Strong. Courageous.
A generous and sensational lover.
She gave, but she took. Offered herself to him without holding back. And he did the same. Found himself licking and tasting between her legs. Loving the feel of her sweet release on his lips.
And groveling when she took him in her mouth.
She humbled him. Made him feel things he’d never thought he’d feel.
Made him want to confess his love and whisper promises in the dark.
But something held him back.
She had said she loved him. The first time he’d taken her on the floor. And then numerous times in the bed since.
If only he had the courage to do the same.
But a killer still roamed Tin City. Destroying the wildlife. Killing innocent women.
And the killer wanted Sonya.
His arms tightened around her as she curled against his chest. He couldn’t let this sicko take her from him. Not now when he’d just found her.
SONYA’S CELL PHONE trilled, jarring her from a deep sleep. She stirred, not wanting to leave the contentment and warmth of Brack’s arms. But what if the call was about Katie?
She pushed her hair from her eyes, kissed him on the forehead, and retrieved her phone from the nightstand. Brack rolled over and threw his hand over his eyes, watching her, his hooded look of desire stirring her senses to life again.
She checked the caller log. Stan? She started not to answer, but panic clutched her. What if something had happened to her daughter, and for some reason he was calling to tell her?
“Hello.”
“Sonya, I’m sorry to call you so early.”
“What is it, Stan?”
Brack sat up and leaned against the headboard, and she reached for her robe. Naked, she felt exposed. But Brack grabbed it and pushed it out of her reach, then folded his arms, leaned against the headboard and watched her beneath hooded eyes.
“I need to see you,” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you. About us.”
“Stan…” She bit down on her lip. Did not want to have this conversation with Brack in the room, especially with him in her bed, with the scent of his lovemaking lingering on her skin. “I can’t talk now.”
“Then meet me later.” His voice sounded troubled, emotional. Not like Stan. Or maybe it was—like the man she’d first met, the caring one she’d married.
“Please. It’s important.”
“Is this about Katie?” she asked. “She’s at my mother’s. You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
“No, I haven’t talked to her. But… Sonya, you have to see me. I…I made a mistake. I have to talk to you.”
She reluctantly agreed, then hung up, curious as to what Stan could possibly want to say to her.
“What was that all about?” Brack asked quietly.
The brooding, intense look hardened his eyes again. He had loved every inch of her during the night, and she had returned the favor. She’d even whispered her love in the dark. Now as daylight slipped through, she questioned her openness. Had she spoken too soon? Sounded too needy?
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “He said he wants to meet me, that we have to talk. That he made a mistake.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, but she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. “Are you going to see him?”
The question hung in the air while she considered her answer. She wanted Brack to say something, tell her that he didn’t want her talking to her ex. That he loved her and wanted her to be with him.
“It’s all right, Sonya,” he said, his voice brittle. “You were married to him. You don’t owe me anything just because we slept together.”
His cold tone felt like a slap in her face. She grabbed her robe and slid it on, hugged her arms around her, suddenly feeling chilled and alone. She’d given him her heart and body, yet he didn’t care if she went from his bed to see her ex?
And what did Stan want? He’d sounded so odd. Emotional. Like he had when they’d first met. When she’d thought he was a loving, kind man. Before she’d gotten pregnant.
He couldn’t possibly want a reconciliation, could he? And if he did, what would she tell him?
BRACK CLIMBED from the bed and strode from the room, trying desperately to bottle up the jealousy that had shattered his euphoria. This cou
ld not be happening. He’d finally given in to his need for Sonya. Finally earned her trust.
Finally allowed himself to feel for a woman again.
And now what? Did her ex want her back?
He was Katie’s father. Katie needed her dad. And Sonya might have whispered her love to him last night in the throes of passion, but in daylight, how would she feel? Would she realize that she had no future with a man like Brack? A man half the town scorned?
A man who couldn’t commit to her now and had vowed no promises to her while he’d made love to her during the night.
Self-loathing filled him, and he went to his room, yanked on jeans, a shirt, socks and boots, and strode outside. The alarm was set. Sonya would be safe.
He needed to be alone for a few minutes. Commune with the wild.
Taste freedom again.
Decide if he could possibly fight Sonya’s ex for her hand.
He jogged to the edge of the woods, then searched the perimeter. Daylight streaked the sky, although the mottled gray clouds still hung heavy and thick. Just like his mood.
Daylight brought reality. Sonya had only fallen in bed with him because she was afraid. She’d been terrorized.
Today she might realize that her future lay with the man she’d loved enough to marry. To share a child with.
And he wasn’t that man.
Emotions churned through him, edgy and painful, as he jogged into the woods. One mile. Two. Three. Four. He needed to get away. Needed to find his solace the only place that calmed him.
Hell, he thought he’d found it last night in Sonya’s arms.
But he should have known that it had simply been an illusion brought on by lust and a primal need on both their parts.
That the Talon Terror had driven Sonya into his arms. Nothing more.
And now her ex-husband had called, she might go running back to him.
SONYA PACED the bedroom, her body aching for Brack, her heart breaking from knowing that he’d left her with no word about when he’d return.
