Hunter s Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,4

and his shoes must be with his shirt. Which explained how he'd gotten so close without me hearing him.

Suspicious, I kept my Glock pointed at his left nostril. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" he countered.

"I asked you first."

He raised a brow at my juvenile retort. He was awfully calm for a guy who had a gun staring him in the face. Maybe he didn't think I had silver bullets inside.

The thought made my hand tighten on the weapon. Was this the man I'd seen in the alley? The one I'd thought had become a wolf, then run into the woods.

"You mind?" He grabbed the barrel, shoving it out of his face, then twisting the gun from my hand in a single motion.

I tensed, expecting an attack. Instead, he handed it back to me butt first. I'd never seen anyone move that quickly. Anyone human, that is.

If he was a werewolf, he'd have shot me already or attacked along with his girlfriend. I relaxed, but only a little. He was still a stranger, and Lord knows what he was up to in the woods, in the dark, without his shoes.

"Who are you?" I repeated.

"Damien Fitzgerald."

Damien? Wasn't that the name of a demon? Or at least it had been in some 1970s horror movie I'd refused to see. I'd never been much for gore, even before such unpleas-antries entered my life on a daily basis.

The name Fitzgerald explained the pale skin and dark hair, even the auburn streaks placed there by the sun. But the eyes were wrong. They should be blue as the Irish Sea.

Their hue bothered me almost as much as their soul-deep sadness, the flicker of guilt. I'd seen that expression a thousand times before.

In the mirror.

He folded his incredible arms across his smooth chest and stared down at me. He wasn't truly tall, maybe six feet if that, but I was five-four in my shoes.

I hated being short, petite, almost blond. But I'd learned that guns were a great equalizer. It didn't matter if I weighed a hundred pounds; I could still pull a trigger. A few years of judo hadn't hurt, either.

Back in my Miss Tyler days, I'd highlighted my hair, worn pink lipstick and high heels. I stifled my gagging reflex.

Look what that had gotten me. Scars both inside and out.

"What's with the dead wolf bonfire?" he asked.

I glanced at my handiwork. It was hard to tell what I'd been burning, but maybe he'd been hanging around longer than I realized. So I gave him the same song and dance I used with every civilian.

"I'm with the DNR."

He made a face, the usual reaction to the Department of Natural Resources, I'd discovered. But he didn't behave like most people did when I introduced myself - getting away as quickly as possible and never looking back. Instead he stared at me with a question in his eyes.

Finally I asked, "What?"

"Why are you burning a wolf? I thought they were endangered."

"Threatened."

His blank stare revealed he had no idea of the technicalities that surrounded the wolf population.

Threatened meant wolves could be killed under certain circumstances by certain people. Namely me. As to the circumstances...

"There's an itsy-bitsy rabies problem in the wolves here," I lied.

One eyebrow shot up. "Really?"

He didn't believe me? That was new. I was a very, very good liar.

"Really."

My voice was firm. I didn't want any more questions. Especially questions I'd have a hard time answering. Like how did we know the difference between a rabid animal and one sick with something else?

In truth, we wouldn't without testing at the Madison Health Lab. Standard DNR procedure was to contact the local wildlife manager, then APHIS - the Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service, a federal agency that deals with nuisance animals.

Thankfully the common man didn't know government procedure, so my lies usually worked. It helped that the word rabies freaked everyone out. People wanted the virus obliterated, preferably yesterday, and if someone with a uniform or an ID was willing to do that, they didn't ask too many questions. They just got out of my way.

Too bad Damien wasn't like everyone else. He tilted his head, and his unkempt brown hair slid across his cheek. "Rabies? How come I haven't heard about it?"

I'd fed this lie a hundred times before, and it tripped off my tongue without any thought at all.

"The news isn't for public consumption. We'd have a panic."

"Ah." He nodded. "That's why you aren't wearing your uniform."

"Right. No sense upsetting people. I'm taking care