Hunter s Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,21

Why would I need to be careful in the woods, in the daytime, with the sheriff and our guns? Did Damien know something I didn't?

I was reaching for my rifle when he touched my elbow. I started. And I'd said Jessie was jumpy.

As I lifted my gaze to his, something passed between us, something that tugged low and deep. I liked the heat of his palm against my skin, the rasp of his rough fingers, the tickle of his breath across the stubble that was my hair.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd wanted to press my body against someone, slip my hands beneath his shirt, press my mouth to the pulse in his throat, and suckle.

I jerked back, rubbed at the place where my skin was still warm from his. Damien's smile was sad.

"Bye," he murmured.

I joined Jessie and we headed for the woods. I could feel Damien watching us, and though I tried not to look back, I couldn't help myself.

He stood at the top of the steps in front of my door. I hadn't locked it. Not that it would do any good against him. He had a key. I made a quick mental tally of what I'd left inside.

Shotgun. Nothing unusual there, except for the silver shells. Since I possessed specially made J-S ammo, they appeared normal, just like my rifle.

My bag contained only clothes, a few uniforms, jeans, et cetera. I rarely wore the DNR uniform. It only raised more questions. Especially if I ran into a real DNR guy. Though Edward usually made sure any area where we were working undercover was cleared of such pesky troubles as the truth.

I carried ID in my pocket, which would only prove what I'd already lied about. My computer was the best government money could buy and unhackable, as far as I knew.

Nope, nothing incriminating in my room. That I worried about such things, that I suspected Damien of searching my space, only proved how far gone I was in my paranoia. Sadly, paranoia was what had kept me alive so far.

"There's something weird about him," Jessie said.

"There's something weird about you, but I'm too nice to mention it."

"Har-har. And you say you aren't a yuckster."

I almost smiled but caught myself. I was beginning to like bantering with her, and that wasn't a good idea.

She was new, naive, untrained. She would probably be wolf bait by next month. It had happened a hundred times before.

I wondered if Edward had told Jessie the statistics on agent survival. About twenty to one, where twenty wasn't the amount who lived.

"What do you see in him anyway?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Fitzgerald. He's too stringy, too short, too pale. And what's with that ring?"

"What do you mean?"

"Silver filigree? Could he be more gay?"

"This from a woman whose boyfriend wears an earring."

"I like that earring. I was not a happy camper when one of the bad guys tore it out in Miniwa."

I winced. I'd stopped wearing earrings when I'd chopped off my hair for just that reason.

"When Will's ear healed, he got it repierced, and I haven't been sorry. That earring feels pretty good when it's trailing over my - "

"Too much information!" I shouted, and clapped my hands over my ears.

She laughed. "OK. Never mind. Fitzgerald isn't bad. For an Irishman."

"What have you got against Irishmen?"

"Nothing. Except my father was one." Her laughter faded.

Huh, Sheriff Laugh-a-Minute had an Achilles' heel and his name was McQuade. Well, none of my business. I certainly didn't want to hear all her troubles and hold her hand while she cried.

"I'll run him through the system," she said.

"Your father?"

She blinked, then glanced at me as if I'd said something interesting. Then she shook her head. "No.

Fitzgerald."

"He didn't do anything."

"Doesn't mean he won't. Or that he hasn't."

"Isn't checking someone out just because you feel like it called harassment?"

"I call it fun."

"You would."

We continued to tramp through the woods for several more minutes before Jessie growled, "Where the hell were you when you shot these things? Arabia?"

"Almost there," I said.

But I'd been running last night, faster and farther than I thought, because it took us another half an hour to find the wolves.

Or what was left of them.
Chapter 9
"What did you do?" Jessie whispered.

The clearing was awash with blood. There were body parts all over the place. The very air was still, not a twitter from the birds.

I had a hard time tearing my eyes from the sight. It reminded me of home.

I flinched and turned my back.

No, not home. There