If his suspicions were correct, that vulnerability was strutting around Broken Butte, New Mexico, with all the arrogance and control of a man comfortable in the domain he had created.
At that thought, Jonas's lips curled in a satisfied smile as he rose to his feet and moved for the doorway of the office and the interrogation cell beyond. Before leaving the room, he picked up the brush lying on the desk, tested the bristles against his palm and nodded shortly.
It had been many years since he had calmed her by brushing her hair. He wondered if she was still susceptible to what few good memories the labs had held. They had been few and far between, but despite the years they had spent apart, he was still her brother. Not just of the same species, but of the same mother.
The mother she had killed.
CHAPTER 1
Broken Butte, New Mexico
Two Weeks Later
She was being watched. Harmony pulled her sporty Jeep into the parking lot of the small, rundown little bar just inside Broken Butte and considered her options. She was scheduled to arrive at the Sheriff's Department in the morning, or else. Jonas's
"or else," of course. So what the hell was she doing here when she should be going over those files tucked in her suitcase back at the hotel?
Because she was bored. Bored and restless and damned pissed at herself for allowing it to happen. The combination of emotions was depressing, and Harmony didn't do depressed well. She needed just a little fun. Just enough to maybe liven the night a bit. Nothing too heavy. A drink, maybe a good fight.
Her eyes narrowed at the entrance to the bar. With any luck, her tail would decide to make his way inside to be certain she was there. If she didn't tag him, then she was going to have to go hunting. And she just didn't have time to go hunting right now. No, Harmony Lancaster, once known as Death, was going to have to toe the good-girl line for a six full months.
Which meant no going hunting. No unauthorized bloodshed. She grimaced at that, as she slung her tote over her shoulder and slammed the door to the Jeep closed. Death, a good girl. Now there was an oxymoron. The very thought of it was enough to leave a sour taste in her mouth. It was one of the reasons she was making her way into this seedy little bar rather than researching her upcoming opponent: the good sheriff of Broken Butte.
Pushing her way through the old, saloon-style doors, she paused at the entrance, her gaze going over the array of cowboys staring back at her.
As she slid onto an empty bar stool, Harmony let her eyes sweep over the dancers at the far end of the room.
"What can I do for ya, honey?" She turned to the bartender's booming voice. Tall, broad and bald, with a friendly smile, he reminded her of the bartender at her favorite biker bar in Chicago. Perhaps New Mexico wasn't as far from civilization as Jonas could possibly send her after all.
"Whiskey."
"Shot or glass?" he asked.
"Glass, no ice."
"You got it, honey." He nodded.
Picking up the drink, she turned her back to the bar and once again surveyed the room. What the hell had convinced her that she could return to the States? No matter how important the job.
Children were her weakness. The plea had come from a former client, to help a friend locate his kidnapped daughter. A little girl no more than five, with big brown eyes and a mischievous smile. Harmony had been insane to agree. She had known Jonas was stalking her for nearly six months now. She should have never returned. Because she knew what he wanted in the end, just as she knew he more than ex-pected her to fail at this chance he had given her to escape Breed Law.
She shook her head at the thought. Her brother had aged more than he should have in the last ten years. The bitterness and cold, hard purpose in his eyes had only grown. Like her, his French accent had totally evaporated since his escape from the labs, and his English was fluid and flawless. They had been trained to blend in, no matter where they were sent.
As she lifted her drink to her lips and ignored the frankly sexual glances she was receiving, she caught movement at the doorway from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, Harmony watched in appreciation as the thoroughly male form strode into the bar. Now, she very much doubted this was her tail, though she wouldn't have minded in the least being his. At least six feet, three inches of broad, muscular male moved with lazy, casual grace.
He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue denim shirt that emphasized the heavily tanned contours of his face. His features were rugged, with high cheekbones, a sensually full lower lip and eyes a deep, navy blue that gleamed with suppressed amusement as he met her gaze. He was taking stock of her as carefully as she was taking stock of him. And it was evident that, as she did, he liked what he saw. Had she ever so fully noticed a man before? Sexuality fairly screamed off this male, from the bulge in those snug jeans to the wide, muscular width of his shoulders. Shoulder-length, thick, straight black hair flowed around the arrogant features of his face and softened them just enough to make him seem approachable.
Harmony had admitted long ago she wasn't necessarily a sexual being, despite some of her more animal-like genetics. But this man, he made the feline inside her stand up and roar.
She could feel a strange receptivity flowing through her veins, peaking in her nipples and the suddenly sensitive folds of her pussy.
"Hey, Lance, buddy. 'Bout time you made it around to see us." Behind her, the bartender called out a greeting as the cowboy moved to the bar stool beside her.
"Beer?"
"Beer works good, Stan," Lance answered with a slow drawl that had a shiver working up Harmony's spine.
She loved that voice. It was as smooth and dark as her whiskey.
Turning on the bar stool, Harmony met the bartender's gaze as she slid her glass forward for a refill.
"I'll get the lady's too, Stan."
Harmony nearly missed the offer, her senses suddenly infused with the scent of midnight storms and dark desert nights. The scent of the male at her side. Strong. Pure. No, this wasn't her tail, but for just a moment she could imagine him behind her, his hands shaping her rear before sliding against her, nudging her thighs apart.
"Thank you." She breathed in deeply as she turned her head, keeping her smile light, hiding the sharp canines at the side of her mouth.
Hers were smaller than most Breeds', and rarely noticed for what they were, but flashing them wasn't something she did often.
"You're welcome." The slightly crooked smile he gave her did something to the pit of her stomach. It fluttered. Hell, she had never had anything either on or in her body flutter in her entire life.
"My name's Harmony." She stuck her hand out, tilting her head to get a better look at his face.
"Lance." He nodded, extending his hand, his large, calloused palm engulfing her fingers.
The feel of his flesh against hers startled her. She could feel her hand sensitizing, her fingers tingling. Heat, unlike anything she knew, flowed from a simple handshake, from his body to hers.
Harmony's eyes widened as his narrowed, a small frown creasing his brow as he glanced at their joined hands. Did he feel it? That exchange of heat, of awareness?
"Well, that was odd enough." His smile was still lazy, but his gaze had sharpened with sensual awareness.
"Wasn't it?" Harmony cleared her throat as she brushed the long strands of her newly colored hair back from her face. She liked the soft dark russet tone of the color. It gave an added emphasis to her pale green eyes and dark brows.
The camouflage was a nice addition. Her naturally streaked hair was a dead giveaway to her Breed genetics. The mix of black, browns and golden ambers would have been instantly noticed.
"I haven't seen you around. Are you visiting relatives?" he asked.
"Not really." She shook her head as she turned back to him. "I'm just passing through." She wished. Yet somehow she had a feeling it would not serve her purposes to allow this man to know she would be here for long.
"That's too bad." The regret shimmered in the air between them.
"Yes, it is." Harmony inhaled deeply, certain she could become addicted to his scent if she weren't extremely careful.
"So you're just here for the night?" He picked up the chilled bottle of beer as he voiced the question, his gaze darkening, his intent to seduce clear.
"Just for the night." Harmony nodded slowly.
"Alone?"
She hesitated as she met his gaze.
"I was."
She watched as he set the beer back on the bar, his eyes never leaving hers, holding her captive with a deep blue fire.
"I could be dangerous," he murmured then, his voice lowering to a near whisper as his eyes flirted with her shamelessly. "A stalker. An axe murderer. Once you left here with me, you would be in my clutches."
"Or you could be in mine," she whispered back, just as playfully.
"I would count myself lucky."
Harmony stilled the laughter rising in her throat at the outrageous comment. Laughter wasn't something she was used to, yet this man seemed to inspire it within moments of meeting him.
Ducking her head, Harmony fought to hide the smile trembling on her lips as she lifted her glass once again and took a fortifying sip of her drink.
"Second thoughts?" he asked.
Harmony lifted her head, swallowing tightly as she considered fighting the attraction. Perhaps for a second.
"I never have second thoughts," she finally assured him. "You?"
"Never." Male confidence surged through his expression. "Would you like to dance?"
"I would love to." She finished her drink before gathering her courage and laying her hand in his.
_________
Lance took the young woman's hand, once again feeling the surge of sensation that traveled from his palm to hers. He'd had no intention of coming into the bar tonight. Tomorrow's meeting with Jonas Wyatt, the head of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, would require all the patience he could muster. Which meant all the rest he could steal tonight. Instead, the closer he had come to Stan's Last Rest, the bar at the edge of town, the more imperative the whispered warnings in the air around him had become. They hadn't screamed or moaned, and in them he hadn't heard secrets, as his grandfather often did. But he heard the demand. Just as he heard the feminine call resounding through his soul.
The moment he walked in the door he had known he was there for her. Their eyes touched and the whispering demand had eased.
Steering her to the dance floor, Lance drew her into his arms, feeling her hands settle against his shoulders as she kept just enough distance between them that the engorged length of his cock ached in disappointment.
He wanted to feel her flush against him. But not so much on the dance floor as in his bed. Naked, sweating, arching to his body as he led her to orgasm.
"Just passing through, huh?" he finally asked her as his fingers moved over her hips, growing closer to the small strip of bare flesh between her pants and her top. If he hadn't been mistaken, he had glimpsed a small belly ring when she rose from the bar stool.
"Just for the night." He watched her lips move, the soft pink curves damp and inviting.
"The night's disappearing fast." He ran his hand up her back, feeling the small tremor of her response.
He watched as she swallowed, a momentary confusion lighting the pale green of her eyes as her soft tongue flicked out to wet her lips. She wasn't nervous, but that edge of vulnerability in her gaze tore at him.
"Yes," she finally answered. "The night is disappearing fast. What should we do about that?" She wasn't playing coy or flirting. The words were a challenge, one that had the muscles of his abdomen tightening in anticipation.
"Did you come with friends?"
"I have no friends."
The odd response had him narrowing his eyes as he studied her from behind his lashes. For some reason, he had a feeling she didn't mean just in this area.
