2

“Like animals for him, I hear. Scream and scratch while he’s riding him, and beg for more, they say. Makes me wish I were the charmer. Lucky bloke.”

“Shut up! And make sure that recorder is working. We want to get every name.”

Blocking her view of the men with his body, Rory hunched down to her level, tracing the skin of her face with one finger. “Tell me the names, sweetheart. Tell me how to find them.”

It was too much. Breathless, desperate to please him, she opened her mouth. “My father’s cousin used to live in…”

An enormous blast shook the cell, obliterating her words. Screaming, she threw her hands up and ducked her head, instinctively protecting her face. Dust clogged the air and Rory cursed as soldiers in black burst into the room, killing the goon and capturing Mr. Trent.

She didn’t spare a thought for Trent, but instantly got in front of Rory, protecting him with her body. She didn’t care what happened to her, but she had to save him.

A tall man strode through the dust, and everything stilled. He radiated command, powerful as the desert sun. Not all of his size was in his legs, either; those powerful shoulders gave her pause. His long blond hair was tied back, and though it was too murky to tell the color of his eyes, the expression in them chilled her.

But those eyes were not fixed on her. “Hello, Rory.” Cold menace vibrated in every word.

“Fallon. Fancy meeting you here,” Rory said flippantly. “Come to shoot the breeze, or is this business?”

Fallon looked at Rain, and she quickly inched back. Rory was directly behind her, but she wasn’t taking chances. “Leave him alone!” she warned the stranger.

Rory laughed. “Feisty, ain’t she? What can I do, mate? Your women all love me.”

“Move out of the way, Rain,” Fallon ordered her calmly.

Beyond the point of wondering how he knew her name and why he was here, she tensed to fight. “No! You won’t touch him! He was trying to help me.” She saw one of the soldiers inching to her left, but was too distracted by the menace in front of her to do anything.

Slowly, Fallon’s eyes lifted to Rory. “How many women has it been now, Rory? How many of us have you helped to kill?”

“He’s a liar,” Rory told her soothingly, when she shot him a quick look. “Don’t worry over it, love.”

She relaxed and glared at Fallon. “I won’t listen to you.” There was a game afoot, though she was oblivious to its rules. Somehow she was at the center, though why was elusive. Caring was elusive. In close proximity with Rory’s scent teasing her nose, it just didn’t matter.

But Rory’s distraction had proved fatal. With a sudden roar, the soldier who’d shifted to their left charged, taking Rain down in a flying tackle. Shots were fired, but she was so tangled up she couldn’t see. Twisting, the soldier managed to land on the bottom, taking the brunt of the fall, and as they landed, she saw Rory jerk. His gun discharged, the bullet striking stone, and he toppled to the floor on his back.

Rain began to scream.

***

Fallon’s jaw clenched as he watched two of his men trying to subdue the wild woman. Taking Rory down had taken precious time, and they couldn’t allow this. Pity she hadn’t seen the gun at her head, threatening her life, but he wasn’t surprised at her fury. The charmer’s pheromone was a dangerous thing, and she’d already been in his power when they’d arrived. A nap would do her a lot of good.

Striding to her side, he evaded her kicking foot and applied pressure to her carotid artery. In seconds she collapsed like a doll.

“Bring her,” he ordered his men. They had to get to the choppers in a hurry, before the Cult figured out their bird had flown and sent reinforcements. They wouldn’t like losing an informant, though to his knowledge the Cult had already killed most of her friends and family, thanks to her cousin’s unwilling help. Fallon was determined that the Black Charmers wouldn’t get another shot at her, even if he had to shift her off-world.

His fellow Haunt, as humans had labeled them long ago, closed in around him and their precious cargo. Females of their species were well protected, and not a man there approved of what had almost happened to her. Rory was Trent’s deviant son, and he’d had a bargain with his father. He’d used his sexual pheromones and suggestive abilities, effective only on female Haunt, to question the women. The names of other Haunt were coaxed from her, his father went on a killing spree, and Rory used the women until he tired of them. The bodies were disposed of when he’d finished.

It was reason enough to take a man’s life, and Fallon had enjoyed doing it.

They made it to the choppers, thankful that the blast had taken out the portion of Trent’s estate that had housed his troops. Fallon’s men picked off the remaining snipers. They needed no night goggles to pierce the inky night, and all of them were expert marksman.

Fallon glanced at Trent and the girl. Trent would be questioned and disposed of like the carrion he was, and Fallon had to find a safe place for the girl. Off-world was best, but he didn’t know how much she knew, or even if she’d be willing to use the gate. It was going to take time to settle her, and there was only one place he would have leisure to do that.

***

Rain woke in the chopper, but was wise enough to stay silent. She couldn’t have said much over the chopper’s blades, anyway, but she kept her mouth shut until they’d landed and herded her toward a sleek private jet. Dawn was beginning to lighten the horizon and a chill breeze had kicked up when she demanded, “Where are we going?”

The one called Fallon glanced at her. “Home. Wait until we’re in the air and I’ll answer your questions.”

Having no choice, she obeyed him. By his accent, he was an American, so she assumed she was going back to the States. She’d been born there, but had run to the UK when her father had been taken. That gambit hadn’t worked, but it no longer mattered. Whoever these men were, she wasn’t going to get away from them easily.