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  Jericho felt his hackles rise. More than anything, he wanted to launch himself at Vaughn and shred that smug look from his face. ‘Has this all got something to do with the King’s mysterious illness?’ he asked through clenched teeth. ‘You want to tell me why he’s coming here?’

  ‘You don’t need to know anything about that,’ Vaughn replied. ‘You just need to do what you’re told. But I will warn you, he has listened to my recommendation that you be removed as soon as possible. As well as your whole crew. The place is being run into the ground. Fresh blood is needed, someone who has connections and can locate more funding for the centre. After all, look at what Karla achieved.’

  ‘Did you really come to talk about my career options?’ Jericho asked. ‘Because this is getting boring, real fast.’

  Vaughn picked up the steak knife in front of him, running a thumb along the serrated blade. ‘I want to know what’s going on between you and Karla.’

  ‘Why would you care?’ Jericho grinned.

  Vaughn levelled the blade towards him. ‘Because she’s full-blooded and you need to keep your distance.’

  ‘My relationship with Karla is none of your business,’ Jericho said recklessly, patience fraying.

  Vaughn’s face tightened and he put his knife down, as if he didn’t trust himself with it. ‘You know why Enforcers of fallen Kings are usually to be killed? It’s because they can’t adjust to a new owner. This makes them dangerous, difficult to control. For some reason, you got to live, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s on borrowed time.’ His lips curled back. ‘And if you ever even think of touching Karla, I’ll finish what I started eight years ago.’

  Chapter 19

  Lydia read the menu, trying to control her nervousness. It was still early, and the restaurant contained just a scattering of families with shrieking children.

  This wasn’t a date, it was just dinner, she told herself when she spotted Jamie enter the restaurant. He wore jeans, dark navy t-shirt and a baseball cap with the local fire station’s insignia. When he saw her, he grinned and waved as he wove between the tables towards her.

  She still wasn’t sure if Jamie understood this dinner wasn’t a date, but hadn’t wanted to cancel, enjoying the diversion of a Sunday steak from her worries. The memory of it caused her smile of greeting to falter and she firmly pushed it from her mind. She’d deal with the issue of Novak’s drunken, aggressive hazing tactic later.

  ‘You look lovely.’ Jamie sat down and placed a hand briefly over hers. The unexpected contact brought a flush to her face and her hands retreated to her lap. Jamie just smiled, took his hat off and raked one hand through his short dishevelled blond hair and picked up the menu with the other.

  ‘Have you decided what you want?’ His blue eyes scanned the menu, then rose to meet hers. ‘I always get a medium steak with mushroom sauce, myself.’

  Lydia closed her menu. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  He caught the waitress’s eye and she approached to take their order. When she left, Jamie turned back to Lydia, expression turning serious. ‘How is the investigation going for the woman from Crystal Waters?’

  Lydia fiddled with the straw in her glass, uncomfortable that he was asking. Did he really think she could discuss it with him? She gave him a smile. ‘Sorry, but can we change the subject? I don’t want to talk about work.’

  ‘Sure. No big deal.’ He leaned back in his chair with an easy smile. ‘Must be nice, living with the old Solberg couple just in your backyard. I heard Mrs Solberg is an amazing cook.’

  ‘Do you know Greta and Dominic?’ Lydia sipped her drink.

  ‘Only in passing. I see Mrs Solberg in church once in a while. I think her husband is a painter or something?’

  ‘He told me he used to be a priest,’ Lydia replied. ‘And I think Greta was a nurse before coming here.’

  ‘She does have that no-nonsense look about her,’ he said.

  ‘I’m going to miss her cooking when she leaves,’ Lydia admitted. ‘I’m not the worst cook, but I’d never come close to what she can do in the kitchen.’

  Jamie laughed, the sound easy and carefree. ‘Maybe you could get some pointers from her? The church has a bake sale every month and I’ve tasted Mrs Solberg’s gingerbread cakes.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so amazing. All that spice, ginger and sugar, it just melted in my mouth. I’ll bet her home-cooked meals are incredible.’

  ‘They’re pretty incredible,’ Lydia admitted.

  ‘No doubt.’ He gave a dramatic sigh. ‘The most creative I get in the kitchen is sprinkling paprika on my two-minute noodles. I think I’d almost kill for one good, home-cooked meal.’

  Lydia laughed, then listened as he started chatting easily about his day job at the local hardware store and his volunteer work at the fire station. As he talked, she found herself relaxing, nerves slowly unknotting. The third time she chuckled at one of his amusing anecdotes, she caught herself. It had been a long time since someone had made her laugh and the sensation sent a light fluttering through her, like a sweet scented breeze. Maybe, she thought, just maybe she could stay in Camden. If she could make amends for what she’d done to Jericho and figure out how to handle Novak, maybe she could make it work, after all.

  * * *

  Coulter sat at the small table in his hotel room, staring at the photos strewn across the tabletop. A television played in the corner of the hotel room, showing an old war movie he wasn’t watching. He lifted one of the photos of a female Breed, seeing the eyes had been scratched out.

  If he was to be honest with himself, he was deeply worried. He’d submitted his report on the situation in Camden to the Association and a question had bounced back, asking if he required assistance. Coulter had replied quickly that it wasn’t necessary. After all, he was the one who had chosen this Hunter. His mess to clean up. He crumpled the photo with a fist. After receiving no confirmation from his pilot, he’d travelled out to the airstrip. The plane had been parked inside the rented hangar, fully fuelled and ready to go, the pilot in the cockpit with his throat slit.

  Days had passed, and Coulter still hadn’t managed to track down his elusive Hunter, despite scouring the town. No easy task while trying to avoid the Breed who kept tailing him.

  After disposing of the pilot’s body and cleaning the scene, he’d tried to understand what the Hunter had been thinking. It made no sense. He’d crossed a line by disobeying a direct order and taking a human life, and now Coulter had no choice but to find and eliminate him.

  His eyes dropped to the note the Hunter had left, the only hint of what he was thinking. It was a short letter, full of talk about cleansing and duty. Perhaps he was going to do Coulter a favour and try to take out as many Breed as he could before he was caught. Because Coulter would catch him in the end and bring him to justice. Open defiance of this nature was never tolerated. The Association did not allow its Hunters many mistakes and there were heavy penalties for those who stepped too far out of their rules, something his brother had learned the hard way. After all, it wasn’t Damian’s affair with a local witch that had seen him condemned, but rather his growing insistence that common goals could be found. Utter nonsense, of course. The witch had infected his brother somehow, he was sure of it. And now the Breed had infected Lydia.

  He heaved a heavy sigh and headed for the small bedroom to pack. The Association had been most interested when Coulter had mentioned the files Lydia’s mother had left behind and he’d been given firm instructions to retrieve them.

  Packing what little he’d taken out of his black duffel bag, he decided a shower was in order and began to strip, feeling old. When he’d spied the telltale bite mark on her hand, the tragedy of it had stolen his breath. Despite not knowing his niece personally, she was blood, family. But even if somehow she survived the change, thanks to the altered genetics from her father, there was no way the Association would consider her a candidate. She was tainted. Lost to him.

  Stepping into
the shower, he prayed Lydia wasn’t home when he attempted to retrieve the files. He didn’t want to see her, couldn’t stand to be reminded of how he’d failed. And mostly, he didn’t want to be the one to explain the fate that waited for her.

  Chapter 20

  Lydia tried not to stare in Jericho’s direction and when her steak came she focused on her food, eating slowly and trying to concentrate on what Jamie was saying. But her attention kept being drawn towards Jericho’s location, his presence a magnet. She knew he had seen her when he had entered the restaurant; she had felt his eyes on her like a physical touch.

  ‘Lydia?’

  She gave a start and realised Jamie had asked her a question. She finished chewing her mouthful, running through her mind what he’d said last. Something about new recruits and training at the fire station. ‘And you’re one of the trainers?’ She took a stab in the dark about where the conversation had been heading.

  He nodded, biting into a chip with a thoughtful expression. ‘Since last year. I really enjoy it.’

  With effort, she focused on his broad and handsome face and wondered what a normal relationship would be like, with a normal man. Even as she thought it, her gaze kept darting behind Jamie towards Jericho, a dangerous man no doubt capable of great violence. She was losing her mind, finding herself attracted to him. Losing. Her. Mind.

  As soon as she was able, she excused herself to visit the bathroom. Once inside, she waited in a cubicle until a mother had finished cleaning up her protesting child and she was alone. Stepping out, she splashed some cold water over her face, then sucked in a few deep breaths and tried to sort out what was going on. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave her reflection a hard stare. It was obvious she was attracted to Jericho. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Which meant trouble, since she had a defect when it came to choosing men.

  Knowing she’d probably been in the toilet so long that Jamie might think she’d done a runner, she exited the ladies and headed down the narrow corridor, back towards the restaurant. She was almost at the end when a large figure appeared, blocking her way. Her feet stumbled to a halt when she saw it was Jericho and her heart began to thump wildly.

  ‘Officer Gault.’ Her name was a purr on his lips. He stepped towards her and out of instinct, she shuffled back. A slow smile spread across his face. She commanded her feet to stay still and straightened her spine, wanting to show she wasn’t bothered being caught in close quarters with him.

  ‘Mr Jericho.’ She tried to move around him, but he shifted to stop her.

  ‘Are you on a date tonight?’ His eyes flashed and Lydia swore he almost sounded annoyed.

  ‘That would be none of your business.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her hands. ‘Please get out of my way.’

  He said nothing, eyes trailing down her body, then his lips parted in a smile as he leaned closer. She smelled meat on his breath. He suddenly reminded her of a predator with a full belly, lazily playing with his next meal.

  ‘If I’d known you were looking for some company tonight,’ he said. ‘I would have been glad to oblige.’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong idea,’ she bit out. He’d seen her weak and pathetic back at the party, jumping at shadows and that show of helplessness made her angry. ‘If I needed company, you’d be the last person I’d call.’

  A surge of satisfaction shot through her when his smile dropped, all playfulness draining from his eyes. One of his hands shot out and grabbed her own, examining it. Distracted by the contact, it took Lydia a moment to realise he was examining the fading mark he’d given her. She snatched her hand back.

  ‘Keep your hands off me,’ she snapped.

  ‘Why?’ Jericho leaned closer. ‘I know you like it.’

  ‘Being an asshole is exactly the reason you got cuffed the last time.’ She went to shove past him, but he shifted forward and pushed her back, coming in close. Her back knocked the wall behind her and to her absolute horror, warmth spread through her lower belly.

  Jericho leaned closer. ‘You’ve got the tough act down and you think you see me? But I see you too, Constable Gault. I see the wish in your eyes, for some dark pain to be erased.’

  Breath squeezed from her lungs and she blinked, seeing spots. She needed to get away from him. Now. But her feet betrayed her and refused to move.

  ‘After all, what kind of cop storms a biker bar, alone?’ His eyes took on a knowing glint. ‘Maybe a cop with something to prove, or a death wish.’

  Her chest squeezed tighter. Did he know about her attack? In a small town, gossip was a currency—how hard would it have been to unearth details of her past? A tremour shook her body as ghostly memories rose up, clogging her thoughts with unwanted memories. He knew, everyone knew, and it felt like no matter how far she ran, Peter Randall would always haunt her.

  * * *

  When Lydia’s body began to tremble, Jericho stepped back, worried. His ears tuned out the chatter of patrons over their meals, zeroing in on her breath as it turned erratic. For an agonising moment, he wondered if somehow the infection was taking hold, even at this late date. She didn’t look to have a fever, but how could he be sure? Her pulse strummed in her neck, a soft flutter of flesh that moved too fast. She was afraid of him and the thought shamed him.

  ‘Breathe deep, Lydia,’ he commanded, taking her hands gently. She obeyed, sucking in shaky breaths, eyes pinned on his chest. After a few moments, her breath slowed and she pulled away.

  He eyed her warily. ‘Do I frighten you?’

  She tilted her chin to glare at him. ‘I find you annoying.’

  He ignored the insult, along with the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. ‘But something frightens you. And you carry it close.’

  The footsteps stopped behind him and he heard a male voice ask, ‘Lydia? Is this guy bothering you?’

  He didn’t turn, eyes still on Lydia, wanting to know she was okay. That it wasn’t him that caused the stink of panic to wash from her.

  ‘Get away from her.’ A hand grabbed his arm and he allowed himself to be pulled around. Her date was a fraction shorter than him, with crystal clear blue eyes and tousled blond hair. Jericho’s eyes dropped to the man’s hand on his arm.

  ‘Best get that off me,’ he warned.

  The man frowned, but dropped his hand. He looked over at Lydia. ‘Are you okay?’

  Jericho moved back now, arms rigid by his side. ‘She should go home.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ Lydia’s voice sounded stronger and he almost smiled. Good. Anything was better than her fear. He shifted toward her without thinking, lifting a hand, wanting to comfort.

  ‘Don’t touch her.’ The man grabbed him now and took a swing. Jericho avoided it easily, then sank his right fist into his belly. Working on instinct to defend. To protect. The man staggered back, but didn’t fall.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Lydia threw herself at him, trying to shove him back.

  ‘I’m okay,’ the man gasped. Jericho was impressed the guy was still standing. He’d pulled his punch somewhat, but it should have been enough to drop a man. But he just glared at him, rubbing his stomach.

  Jericho watched as Lydia turned to help the man, shooting death glares over her shoulder at him as they returned to their table. He waited a moment, then strode across the room to where Vaughn waited with an amused look as he pushed a chip around a puddle of gravy. Jericho knew the Enforcer had probably heard the whole conversation.

  ‘Issue with the cop?’ Vaughn popped the chip into his mouth and chewed slowly. ‘Sad when a man can’t keep control of his woman.’

  ‘I told you, she’s not mine,’ Jericho said shortly.

  ‘I heard the tone of her voice when she was talking to you. You’ve got one very hot and bothered woman there.’

  ‘What would you know about it?’ Jericho shot back.

  ‘I know women.’

  ‘And just how is Karla now?’

  Vaughn chewed his
chip slowly. ‘Be careful, my friend.’

  ‘I’m not your friend.’ Jericho smelled victory and went for the kill. ‘Have you seen Karla’s daughter, Alice? Sweet kid. Bit wild. Could have used a daddy looking after her, growing up.’

  Vaughn stopped chewing. ‘You got something you want to say?’

  ‘Nope.’ Jericho started sawing into his steak, popping a forkful into his mouth and chewing. ‘I think I’ve said all I need to.’

  Chapter 21

  Lydia was grateful when the dinner with Jamie ended. He was clearly disappointed that nothing more was going to happen, but took it in his stride, walking her back to her car and not trying any moves. For which she was thankful.

  She drove up to the house and braked near the porch, deciding to sit for a minute and enjoy the night music of the surrounding forest. Tomorrow was Monday, but the thought of pulling on her uniform left her feeling cold. She debated calling in sick, and gave an amused snort. Bowden would probably be relieved. She got the feeling she was proving to be a real thorn in his side. Not that it was her fault Bowden was a lazy bastard who didn’t want to rock the boat.

  She’d spent some time that weekend checking the internet for information about the Diablo Dogs, but couldn’t even find a website. Elaine had even told her a rumour they ran a survivalist compound behind the bar, but Google Earth only showed dense forest. She wondered what their deal was and how many men were really in their little club. Motorcycle gang her ass. She knew they were hiding something. Maybe a few acres of cannabis plants, with enough income to keep the local law silent.

  Heaving herself out of the Solbergs’ old ute, she walked slowly to the dark house. Around her, the forest was blanketed in a deep purple dusk, a cold wind rustling branches and ruffling her hair. She was glad she was no longer so afraid of the dark, though as she felt her heart race, she knew she was kidding herself. She wondered dryly if there was ever a time in her life she hadn’t feared something. As she’d grown into an adult, she’d convinced herself that monsters didn’t exist and had become strong, capable. But after the attack, all her old fears had flooded to the surface. Sometimes she felt like she was rotting from within from a silent terror of the world around her.