Rachel Lee: Deadly Hunter

“If you're going into the mountains, you're not going alone.”

Jerrod turned then, sending heat and sparks sizzling through her. One of his powerful arms wrapped around her and pressed her to his chest.

Allison looked directly at his black-as-night eyes. Somewhere in those depths she could have sworn she saw hot burning coals.

“Damn,” he whispered … just before he kissed her.

The weakening in her grew as he deepened the kiss. Beyond any shadow of a doubt she knew she'd never felt this degree of longing for any man.

All she wanted was to enjoy this new experience of feeling utterly safe, utterly cherished, by a man who looked like a lethal weapon.

“Tell me I shouldn't have done that,” he murmured.

“I can't,” she answered on a mere breath of air.

“Oh, hell,” he said. “I'm in trouble now.”

Deadly Hunter

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEEwas hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

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Contents

Prologue Prologue Cleaning guns had always soothed him. The smell of the oil, the focus required to disassemble and reassemble small parts, the rubbing motions as he worked the oil into them. He had them all out tonight, a collection of a dozen different weapons, everything from small pistols to his semiautomatic AR-15 and AK-47. Running his rags and oil over them focused him on his new mission. It was a good feeling to have a target again. A very good feeling. There was no longer any reason to contain his rage, no longer any reason to hold back. He’d be in and out, and the remains of the target would be carried away by woodland animals, leaving no trace. Then he could carry on with life again. Only then.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Excerpt

Prologue

Cleaning guns had always soothed him. The smell of the oil, the focus required to disassemble and reassemble small parts, the rubbing motions as he worked the oil into them.

He had them all out tonight, a collection of a dozen different weapons, everything from small pistols to his semiautomatic AR-15 and AK-47. Running his rags and oil over them focused him on his new mission.

It was a good feeling to have a target again. A very good feeling. There was no longer any reason to contain his rage, no longer any reason to hold back. He’d be in and out, and the remains of the target would be carried away by woodland animals, leaving no trace.

Then he could carry on with life again. Only then.

Chapter 1

Darkness fell early on cold winter nights in Conard County, Wyoming. Allison pulled into her driveway, feeling the weight of the frigid night air even inside the warmth of her SUV. She sat for a bit, reluctant to get out, to once again feel the sting of icy air in her nostrils and lungs.

It was a silly reaction. After all, she’d grown up around here, the winters rarely held any surprises, and the cold was the least of them. But for the moment she decided to enjoy the blast of heat from her car vents before dashing up to her door and stepping into a house that would be even colder than the car.

She believed in conservation and saving energy. During the days when she was at work, her computerized thermostat turned the temperature down to sixty. Right now it would be pushing the house toward sixty-eight, but wouldn’t have quite made it yet, given how cold it was today. Later, at bedtime, it would turn down again until morning.

Which meant she wore a lot of fleece indoors, and thick mohair socks, and even had a heavy blanket to wrap herself in for sitting around and reading in the evenings. Plus, the house itself, being older, managed to remain drafty no matter what she did with weather stripping and insulation.

She needed new double-paned windows, but those were far beyond her budget right now. Instead, she had to settle on insulated curtains, and while they helped, they didn’t quite stop the drafts.

And this was ridiculous, she told herself. Burning gas with her car needlessly just to avoid going inside and wrapping herself in layers of warm clothing. Wasteful. Bad for the environment.

Nearly giggling at herself, she flipped off the ignition and sat listening to the engine tick as it cooled down. Man, it wasn’t like this was Antarctica or anything, and the trip to her front door wasn’t that far. What had gotten into her?

Just as she reached for the door handle, a truck pulled into the driveway next door, not six feet away from her. Her new neighbor, a man she had barely glimpsed in the two weeks since he’d moved in, apparently kept so much to himself that the only gossip about him so far was that he kept to himself.

A strange thing around here.

Well, she thought, this was her opportunity to at least say hi. Climbing out quickly, watching her breath blow frosty clouds in the muted light from his truck and a streetlamp three houses down, she looked up and waited.

For a minute she wondered if he was waiting inside his truck to avoid her. Cold began to snake its way into the neck of her jacket, and she moved her purse strap so she could pull up her hood.

At last he climbed out. Tall. Lean, even in his layers of winter clothing. He glanced her way just briefly, and she almost caught her breath as she saw the narrow scar that slashed his cheek. He had just started to move toward his own door when she called out.

“Howdy,” she said cheerfully. “About time we met. Welcome to town, neighbor. I’m Allison McMann.”

He froze, still mostly turned away from her. The hesitation was perceptible, and she began to wonder if he was going to say anything at all.

“Hi,” he said shortly, then trekked toward his door without another word.

Okay, Allison thought. Have it your way. Turning, she hurried up her steps, slipping on ice she thought she’d gotten rid of. Then, like some crazy cartoon, she cartwheeled backward. All of a sudden she was lying on her back, staring up at the starry night sky, her laptop case and backpack in the snow, her purse wrapped across her chest.

“Well, dang,” she said to the stars. She never did this. That would teach her to hurry.

“Are you okay?”

Just as unexpectedly as she had fallen, Mr. Inscrutable was squatting beside her, looking down at her. Even in the lousy light she could see chiseled features and dark eyes. He had bone structure an actor would kill for.

“I think I’m fine,” she said. “Well, except for my pride. Despite evidence to the contrary, I almost never fall.”

“So you’re a mountain goat?”

Was that humor? She looked at his face but found it as unreadable as everything else about him.

“Not exactly.” She started to push herself up, but his hand on her shoulder stayed her.

“Take it slowly. You can’t always tell, and it sounded to me like you hit pretty hard on the pavement.”