“Not if I’m going to try to locate her before she comes to harm. Here’s my cell phone number. The name is Jake Silver,” he reminded the clerk. “I can’t wait until it’s too late.”

  His heart beating a million miles a minute, Jake left the clerk standing in the middle of the hotel room and stalked back out of the building into the parking lot.

  Within seconds, Jake was driving his truck back into town. As much as he hated that Alicia had left without word to him, he figured she’d been misguided into thinking she could keep him safe. He couldn’t help but admire her for worrying about him, if that was the case.

  But the thought of her tangling with these men on her own nearly gave him heart palpitations.

  For an hour, he scoped out Breckenridge. Not finding any sign of Alicia’s vehicle, he went back to the street where he was supposed to eat lunch with her. Three restaurants offered steak platters on Main Street, but none of the places was specifically called a steak restaurant, and he cursed himself for not learning the actual name. Lunchtime came and went, and after repeatedly checking all three restaurants while looking for her, Jake finally stood in the middle of the sidewalk, hoping she’d still make their engagement but knowing in his gut she wouldn’t.

  After another hour of waiting and fuming with himself for not having kept her with him when he went to the gallery, he couldn’t quit worrying that she had followed the men she was tailing and was going to get herself killed if she hadn’t already.

  He drove all over Breckenridge, looking for her car into the night, searching through lodges, rental-condo parking lots, and B and Bs. Anywhere that she might have stayed so she could continue to trail Mario.

  He remained vigilant, searching all the next morning, returning to the inn and then the restaurant where he’d met her, and continuing to look for her until late that afternoon. Not finding any sign of her, he left word at the art gallery to call him if she dropped by looking to reconnect. Then hating to leave Breckenridge, dejected and miserable, fearing for her safety but not knowing what else to do, he headed for home.

  He kept thinking about the trouble she might have gotten into with the men on whom she’d been conducting surveillance.

  And how he could have protected her—and hadn’t.

  * * *

  Earlier that evening, Alicia had checked into a hotel in Denver and then searched for Mario’s trail, finally finding it but not where her informant had said he was. The bloodred moon dominated the black night like the harbinger of death as Alicia stalked her prey—Mario Constantino headed for the front steps of a redbrick townhouse. Just as she’d suspected, he hadn’t bothered to show up for his court date.

  She’d lost track of Danny Massaro, so Mario was the first one she planned to arrest. And she was ready with the arrest warrant and firepower—pepper spray, a stun gun, and her pistol. She hadn’t told Jake that she had earned a black belt in jujitsu, but he probably would have dismissed that training as not enough, either. And leaving the scene promptly was better than tangling with an armed assailant. But she was confident she could do this.

  Every minute she’d been driving to Denver from Breckenridge, she’d thought about Jake Silver and felt bad about giving him, her hero, the slip. A bout him worrying about her. She should have left word that she had to leave, to let him know she was all right.

  But having no boyfriend meant having no dead boyfriend. And no matter how much she wanted to see more of him, no matter how much she had wanted what she was sure he would have continued to offer her, she couldn’t with a clear conscious allow him to get involved.

  Not after what had happened to her mother. These men meant business. They were ruthless.

  She kept waffling about sending Jake word she was all right, but she knew that would involve lying to him, telling him she didn’t want to see him further. She thought he might not believe her, considering it was a lie, and might want to protect her and stop her from doing this. But she had to finish this. It was the right thing to do—not only for her mother’s memory, but for those Mario and his gang might hurt in the future.

  She took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to fortify her ragged nerves as she walked silently toward the townhouse.

  On the other hand, she consoled herself with the notion that Jake was probably glad to be rid of her. Or even might have someone else in his life back home. The thought was a sour reminder that they had no future.

  For now, this was her life. And as a loner, she was fine with it. She had no intention of risking anyone else’s life, but she owed it to her mom to keep her promise and put Mario and Danny behind bars for good.

  Leaves crunched softly underfoot as she kept her distance, certain Mario didn’t hear her following him as far away as she was, hidden in the shadows and guided by the mellow brass street lamps lighting the way. But she should have known it was too easy tracking down the bastard, who had a rap sheet as long as she was tall.

  Why the judge had set bail for him, she still couldn’t fathom. Unless he had bribed the judge.

  Maybe this was a wake-up call. She was used to getting her man, or woman, with the least amount of collateral damage—mainly because they usually weren’t all that intelligent and often were way too predictable. The job often depended on wit over brawn to subdue a perp. A little psychology could go a long way.

  But this time it felt wrong. This was just too easy—as if she had been led into a trap.

  The hair at the nape of her neck and on her arms stood on end as she watched Mario knock on the door of a brick townhouse. It silently opened to him. She couldn’t see anyone inside, as if it was one of those nightmarish haunted houses with automatically opening ghostly doors that drew the unwilling victim inside. He entered, then the door shut with a clunk.

  Damn, he was supposed to have been alone.

  The lamplight nearest her sputtered ominously and then flickered out, plunging her into darkness.

  Immediately, the setting seemed perfect for a blood-

  seeking vampire moving silently through the night beneath the hunter’s moon. A gain, her thoughts shifted to her mother and how she’d introduced Alicia to her love of vampires when Alicia had been a teen and they’d watched handsome and sexy Count Dracula sweep the heroine off her feet in a college stage play. Alicia had wished she was the heroine the count intended to seduce.

  Snapping herself out of her memories, she saw something move in her peripheral vision. Ashadow glided quickly toward her from a drive-through alley between that townhouse and the next. A vampire, her brain registered; only of course it wasn’t. He was a man and a genuine threat.

  Pepper spray already in hand, she whirled to spray him in the face, but footfalls raced directly behind her before she realized two of them were coming at her from different locations. Before she could whip around and protect herself, a sharp pain to the back of her head registered.

  She felt herself falling, the can of spray slipping from nerveless fingers, heard the can clunk as it struck the stone walk, felt her body hit the unforgiving walk, and saw the red, red moon watching her as if saying it had warned her about the night. And she should have taken heed. The last thought she had was maybe it was time to bury her pain and find a new occupation.

  Then the red moon faded to black.

  * * *

  “Alicia Greiston,” a husky male voice said, penetrating the darkness, but the pain in her head splintered every thought she tried to conjure up.

  A hand roughly shook her shoulder. She wanted to open her eyes and see where she was, instantly remembering her mission—take Mario Constantino into custody—and her failure to do so. She’d been attacked from behind.

  Was this man one of his henchmen? This really wasn’t good.

  “I know you’re awake.” His voice hinted at dark amusement. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted in the air, and a sickly sweet cologne penetrated her airspace.

  Then he drew closer, and she realized she was lying on a soft mattress, and he was pressing his body against her side as he leaned over her. His fingers worked clumsily on the buttons on her jacket. Oh God, what did he plan to do to her? Rape her? Torture her? Kill her? Maybe all three. But her head hurt so badly she couldn’t gather the wits to respond in any way.

  He jerked the sleeves down her arms, then removed her gun holster, the gun still in it. Her head was pounding so hard that she only had a tenuous grip on remaining conscious. Her mind was slipping away into grayness until his fingers began working on her blouse buttons, which instantly gave her more clarity.

  Intent on fighting him despite the way her head was splintering with pain, she opened her eyes and saw only blackness. How could he tell what he was doing in the dark? She couldn’t even see his face.

  She grabbed his wrists—big, rawboned, powerful. He laughed, the sound husky and eerie.

  “I knew you were awake.” He easily shook free of her hold, seized her wrists, and held them above her head.

  “We can do this easily or we can do this the hard way.

  Either suits me.”

  A ll the moisture in her mouth evaporated. She had to fight him, but not yet. When she could, she would knee him in the groin, find her gun, and—

  “I admire you, Alicia. Not just anyone could have tracked Mario down like you did with the scant clues I was able to give you. He would have killed you if you’d approached him, though. You have me to thank for saving your life.” The man’s tone was disquieting, as if she owed him and he meant for her to pay big time.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I like that. To the point. No pussyfooting around. I’m Ferdinand Massaro, your knight in shining armor. The one who’s been giving you clues as to where Mario is staying. They were only roundabout clues since I never could get a real handle on where he was at any one time, but you did it. Used your investigative skills to find him.

  Now I’ll show you what I want. Just be patient. But don’t fight me on this. I’d just as soon knock you out and take you that way. Your decision. A word of warning, though.

  If my brother, Danny, gets hold of you—or me, we’re both dead.”

  Trying to get her rapid heartbeat under control, she attempted to stall him, realizing that the man who had pulled the trigger and killed her mother was this man’s brother. “A re you a friend of Mario’s?”

  “A friend?” Ferdinand laughed bitterly. “No. His friends don’t live long. We’re cousins, if you didn’t know. He sent one of his men to kill me. Only I got the upper hand and killed Mario’s henchman first. But the assassin gave me a present before I ended his miserable life.” Ferdinand let go of her hands and went to work on her belt, but she couldn’t let him rape her or whatever he planned on doing.

  With a superhuman effort, she tried to sit up, intending to hit him or kick him or something, but the pain streaked across her skull with a vengeance, and she collapsed back against the bed in a near faint.

  “Hell, I figured you wouldn’t go easy. Just know this.

  You’re mine. The bastard who turned me is dead, but I’m not about to live alone like this. And since Mario killed Candy, you’re it, dollface. Mine.” He slammed his iron fist into the side of her head, creating an eruption of pain so profound that she cried out, and the darkness swiftly closed in on her again.

  * * *

  The sound of gruff angry male voices brought Alicia to semiconsciousness as she lay naked on a soft mattress, presumably in Ferdinand’s bedroom. Her head pounded, her arm throbbed and stung, and she couldn’t figure out why it hurt when only her head should have. The room was black as night, but a thin strip of light appeared beneath a closed door.

  “You been following Mario,” a brusque man said in another room. “And Jimmy’s been following him, too.

  Only Jimmy’s paid for his… mistake. He said it was your idea to trail Mario. So what the hell for?”

  “You’re wrong,” Ferdinand said, his voice just as dark.

  “My cousin’s damned paranoid.”

  “You know Mario’s already pissed off at you.”

  “Because his thug didn’t kill me last time.” Ferdinand sounded defiant, as though he still had the upper hand.

  “He shouldn’t have murdered Candy.”

  “Candy shouldn’t have stolen from Mario’s casino. Not only that, but Mario said you got in his way with Missy Greiston.”

  Her mother? Alicia swallowed hard.

  “She was dating a loser. How did I know Mario wanted a piece of the action?”

  “You wanted her because Tony was working for Mario and knew his business. You wanted to muscle in on Mario’s territory. And you figured you’d get the goods on Mario through Missy. The straw that broke the camel’s back? Candy’s gambling scheme that made Mario lose some big bucks. He doesn’t like to lose. Not to a woman.

  And not when you’d been porking her on top of it. He figured you had something to do with Candy’s going after his money. Admit it.”

  Something hit something with a dull thud and a crunching noise, and a loud grunt of pain sounded.

  Cursing followed, mixed with moans, and then the words spoken were suddenly silenced. No one said anything further for what seemed like an eternity. The sound of Alicia’s blood pounding in her ears was the only thing she heard as she strained to hear what else was happening in the other room.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” another man said, his voice quieter, much more sinister.

  The silence that followed was more frightening than the harsh words. Because with the silence, she couldn’t tell whether the men were still a long way off or coming for her.

  “Was Ferdinand alone?” the sinister-sounding man finally asked, his words spoken in the direction of the bedroom as if he was suddenly looking that way, suddenly aware Ferdinand might not have been alone.

  “When I grabbed him in the living room getting a whiskey at the bar, he was the only one who made a sound. If anyone else was in the place, she would have checked to see what was happening.”

  “Hell, he was naked. I thought you would have already checked to see if he had a woman stashed back there before I arrived. Jimmy said Ferdinand had grabbed a woman and taken her away with him. Maybe’s he’s got her tied up and gagged in the bedroom.”

  The nightmare was only going to get worse. Alicia knew they’d look for anyone else in the place, and she figured she didn’t stand a chance if they found her.

  She swung her legs over the bed, felt dizzy and sick at the same time, and forced her vision to clear. Then she swept her hands over the mattress, snagging articles of clothing: bra, panties, slacks, stockings, shirt, jacket.

  Everything but her shoes. She meant to stand, but as soon as her bare feet hit the carpeted floor, she crumpled. She couldn’t walk. Couldn’t do much but slide under the bed. With pain shrieking through her head and her arm throbbing as if it had been cut badly, she managed to slip underneath the bed, knocking her shoes under there with her.

  Dust floated upward underneath the bed, and she stifled a sneeze, holding her nose and gritting her teeth.

  The door opened; a light flipped on. Footfalls walked around the room, black leather dress shoes squeaking.

  Heels toward her, the shoes paused at the edge of the bed. She froze. She smelled a man’s pungent cologne and the thick odor of smoke. The leather shoes walked away, and the footfalls headed back down the hallway.

  “No one else here. Kill the bastard.”

  Ferdinand didn’t object. Why didn’t he say anything?

  Had they knocked him out? Taped his mouth shut?

  She shivered with fear. If they found her, they’d kill her, too.

  No one said anything further. She heard no other sounds until a door in another room opened and closed.

  Then eerie silence prevailed. Too frightened to leave her safe spot underneath the bed, she lay there waiting, her head and arm hurting so much that she didn’t think anything could get any worse.

  She was wrong.

  Chapter 7

  Alicia must have slept for some time, she thought, as she found herself pinned under the framework of a bed, but she felt strange, lying on her side and unable to move to her back. Her arms weren’t right. Her legs either. She shifted her head, and it didn’t seem right any more than the rest of her did.

  As if… as if she was living in an alien body. She struggled to turn onto her back, but her strange legs wouldn’t allow it. She was experiencing another nighttime paralysis. Had to be. The way she struggled to move and couldn’t, her heart racing, her mouth opening to cry out in frustration. But then she recalled Ferdinand and the men with him and worried they might be in the other room, so she grew very still.

  After a few minutes, she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer and again tried to roll onto her back, but she couldn’t in the confined space beneath the bed. And she couldn’t use her arms to crawl out from under the bed either. What was wrong with her?

  Somehow, squirming and clawing at the carpeted floor, she finally managed to extract herself from under the bed and stared at herself in a floor-length mirror in disbelief.

  She was a wolf.

  Pointed ears, beige fur under her chin, darker markings around her ears and framing her face, light gray legs, and attractive darker markings on her torso, with a big bushy tail swishing from side to side—a beautiful wolf, but not real. This couldn’t be real.

  It had to be sleep paralysis. Except that the only time she’d experienced it, she hadn’t been able to move at all or to yell. She had just whimpered, unable to free herself from sleep. Yet she’d been aware she was trying to escape the sleep paralysis. And when she awoke, she remembered the terror of being paralyzed and unable to break free.

  But in this case, everything she smelled and touched with her wet nose, felt under her paw pads, and tasted with her tongue was too real to be a dream.

  She meant to laugh at herself for thinking she was a wolf, but a woof erupted from deep within her throat.