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My pulse raced, adrenaline spiking as the path continued toward my house. Animal? Maybe. I’d encountered my share of wildlife here. They were the only creatures who breached my walls.
But as soon as I parked, I saw the culprit. A dirty lump huddled against my door. Stringy dark hair hanging in front of their—no,her—face.
Reaching under the seat of my truck, I pulled the revolver I kept hidden there out of its holster. You never knew what you’d come up against out here. I’d learned that the hard way.
I got out, breath tight as I raised the gun and switched off the safety. Then I cocked the hammer and said, “Don’t fucking move.”
Her head snapped up, and she pinned me with eyes the color of burnished gold. My heart stuttered. I knew those eyes. That face. I’d stared at them far too many times from the glow of my computer screens under the guise of “research.” But she wasn’t my assignment, shouldn’t have been on my fucking radar at all. And yet I hadn’t been able to look away even after—
“You’re dead.”
Her stats flashed in my memory:
Roslyn “Rosie” Blackthorne
Age: 21
Species: Vampire-Human hybrid
(never turned)
Parents: Cashel and Olivia Blackthorne
Siblings: Noah and Westley Blackthorne
Status: Deceased
Cause of death: House fire
“Not dead enough, it would seem.” She got to wobbly feet, her eyes tired, face dirt-streaked and pale. “Asher, I need your help.”
“Why the fuck should I help you? How did you even find me?”
A proud, exhausted smile flitted across her face. “You’re not the only one with a certain skill set.”
The knowledge that I’d been hacked sent a bolt of terror straight through me. If she’d been able to find me, who else could? I’d be so damn careful. There weren’t any breadcrumbs, cyber or otherwise. I was as off the map as possible. Yet her presence here, the fact that she’d called me by my name, proved just how fucking wrong I was.Christ, I was going to need to do a full security sweep.
“Then why do you need me at all?”
“Could you put that thing down?”
I glanced at the gun I still had aimed between her eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”
“And I need you because you have connections I don’t.”
“Such as?”
“People, papers, access to new documents.”
“So you’re on the run.”
“Well, I can’t exactly go around as the late Roslyn Blackthorne, now can I?”
“That’s what this is about? You want a new identity?”
“I need to make sure Rosie stays dead and buried. God knows I went to enough effort killing her. No one can know I’m alive. Not even my family.”
“What are you running from?”
Her expression went grave. “My husband.”
