2

Six Months Later

He was a Wolf Breed. Dash Sinclair had known what he was even before the news exploded around the world six months before. Thankfully, in Dash, the genetics had recessed and were only identifiable on the genetic level, rather than the physical. It was the reason he had been marked for death at a young age. But it was also the reason he had survived after his escape from the labs.

He had joined the army at eighteen, had fought and killed and done his best to hide right under the noses of several of the men who had funded his creation. He knew who they were. He had seen them at the labs when he was just a child, remembered their faces clearly. Dash never forgot the face of an enemy.

Over the years he had become confident, strong, and aware of his strengths in a way that kept him from making mistakes. He never told anyone what he was. Never took the chance of confiding in friends. Hell, he had never made friends. He was surly on the best of days, and downright dangerous any other time. Most people knew to steer well clear of him.

Right now, he was in the mood for blood. He stood still, drawing in the scents of the small ransacked room, and felt rage wash over him. Over the past six months he had investigated Elizabeth and Cassidy Colder until he knew even the most minute detail concerning them.

He had made contacts while in the Forces. Contacts that owed him, and he pulled in each favor he could draw on. Cassidy was a little girl living on borrowed time. A child with a price on her head and a mother fighting to save her. The lengths Elizabeth Colder had gone to save her little girl made his gut tighten in fear. Such a small woman should be protected, cuddled, just as the child should be, not running in fear for that child’s life.

He could smell the little girl’s terror now, her childish tears, just as he sensed her mother’s rage and terror. He snarled silently at the scents, drawing them in, allowing them to fuel his rage. The men chasing them would pay. Eventually.

He picked up a childish jacket, brought it to his nose and drew in deep. Innocence and the smell of baby powder clung to it. But the fact that it was here and not wrapped around her small body sent chills snaking down his spine. It was damned cold out there. A little one would freeze quickly in weather like this. Not that the jacket would do her much good, ripped in half as it was.

He picked up a sweater next and did the same. Ahh, there was a smell a man would die happy to know. Female, fresh and clean, a hint of baby powder, but filled with the delicate scent of womanhood. His.

He stared around the room. He wasn’t far behind them and it was obvious they were still several steps ahead of the men chasing them. He snarled softly. He would find the woman and child first. It was too cold, too brutal out there to go hunting for the enemy with no assurance that what was most important was safe first.

The little girl’s doll was ripped apart, stuffing littering the room. Clothes were shredded, books ripped in half. He knew the smell of the enemy now and he smiled coldly as he drew it in, memorizing it, making certain he never forgot it. Cassidy and her mother must have come in after the destruction of their temporary home. A small basket of clothes sat by the door, left forgotten but undamaged. Laundry. Doing the laundry had saved their lives.

He dropped the garments. They wouldn’t be needed after he found them anyway. He had everything they would require packed in the SUV. He had made certain that once he found Elizabeth and Cassie they would want for nothing. He took care of what he considered his and everything inside him screamed out in possession of Elizabeth and her child.

He turned on his heel and moved silently through the room, aware of the hidden bugs placed within it. He had smelled them immediately upon entering the room. His lips twisted into a cold smile. He was dealing with amateurs. There would be little challenge in taking them out when the need arose.

The scent ofElizabeth ’s fury and fear went no farther than the door, so he knew she hadn’t taken time to investigate the destruction. She was smart. He had been chasing her for months and only in the past week had he gotten close enough that he knew the end was in sight. She wouldn’t be easy for the others to catch. After he found her, they would never have a hope of capturing her. But first, he had to find her.

He left the apartment, moving carefully along the dirty passageways, following her scent down the stairs, then to the basement. There, a small window had been pried open. He reached up and removed a tattered piece of flannel. The woman’s. She had cut herself escaping. Blood marred the soft, worn fabric. But she had been smart. Smart enough to know they would be watching the front entrance. Over the past two years she had grown in strength and instinct, learning to hone the abilities she needed to stay on the run. He sensed that, sensed her ability to use her wits where she lacked physical strength.

As he stood there staring at the fabric, his fingers running over the dark stains that marred it, he felt another presence begin to disturb the air that flowed in through the opened door.

Dash stilled, his head swinging to the partially opened door as a new scent began to mix with that of fabric softener, detergent and stale water. It was insidious. The smell of corruption and furious intent. It wafted through the cool basement air, digging into his senses, filling him with the need for blood. The enemy was on the prowl, stalking him now, foolishly moving from cover to investigate Dash’s interest. Dash was looking forward to the confrontation.

He stilled the warning growl that rose instinctively in his chest. The smell of cold steel moved closer, the tread of cautious steps. There was only one. He was confident, but filled with fury, and weaker. Dash smiled. The man moving toward him was no more than a flunky. No threat. A hired gun and little more. Disposable. It was a good thing because he wouldn’t leave the building alive.

Silently, Dash waited. He didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open slowly, revealing the lean, tense body of the enemy. He was a man full grown. A Gamma trying to play Alpha with an animal he had no idea existed. Dash allowed his lips to curl into an anticipatory smile, knowing the other man wouldn’t see it for the lethal threat it was.

“Getting nosy, stranger?” the other man grunted as he carefully closed the door and aimed his weapon at Dash’s chest. “Put your hands up where I can see them, and don’t move funny or you’re dead.”

Dash lifted his arms, hands behind his neck, the fingers of one hand curling around the hilt of the large knife concealed in its sheath between his shoulder blades. Oh yeah. Now he could play.

“Just checking some things out.” Dash narrowed his eyes, aware of the gun barrel’s angle, straight to the heart.

A silencer had been attached to the barrel. He was a cautious bastard; Dash gave him credit for that. But only for that. Otherwise, he was less than smart. He should have realized the threat Dash was and killed him instantly. If he could. Instead, he wanted to play. Dash liked to play. And he knew for a certainty that his opponent would fall. It was the way of the beast. He could sense the weakness facing him. Overconfidence glittered in the enemy’s eyes as the need for pain scented the air around him.

“Who are you?” Beady eyes narrowed. Thick, oily brown hair fell forward, framing a less than intelligent forehead.

“No one important.” Dash shrugged as he allowed his lips to curl with insulting mockery. He refused to give respect to a creature so lacking in morality that he would kill a child. “Who are you?”

Dash watched the other man closely, the shift of the lanky body beneath the ill-fitting, though expensive, coat he wore, the confident manner in which he held his weapon. The other man was used to killing and he was used to doing it the lazy way. He wouldn’t expect to face a man of Dash’s capabilities. It was almost too easy, Dash sighed. It was a shame; he would have enjoyed a fight.

“You’re being too nosy, dude.” The surf boy accent grated on Dash’s nerves. The casual disrespect of the attitude was reason enough to kill him.

“Not nosy enough maybe.” Dash watched the other man’s gaze carefully as he allowed his smug smile to deepen. “She got away from you again, didn’t she?Elizabeth ’s smarter than you are, dude. Back off now, before I have to take you down.”

The challenge was made. Dash made certain the insulting derision in his voice was clearly understood. There was no fight here, no conflict. The enemy’s blood would be spilled, period.

Angry color filled the other man’s cheeks, his brown eyes glittering with the need for violence as he stepped closer. He would want to be closer, Dash thought, to be certain the bullet killed rather than maimed. To watch the pain and fear he hoped to see spilling into Dash’s eyes as the blood spilled from his chest.

“She’ll be a tasty treat to the rest of us when we give that little girl to the boss,” he sneered. “You like her too, big boy? Too bad. You’re dead.”

The other man thought he was close enough. His finger was tightening on the trigger.

The knife slid from the leather sheath with a whisper as Dash swung his arm, wrist twisting at the last second, dragging the blade across the tender flesh of the enemy’s neck. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise even as his jugular split beneath the blade.

“No, dude. You’re dead.” He allowed the animalistic rumble free, glorying in the smell of blood, the bite of triumph.

Dash slid to the side as the reflexive clench of muscle tightened the man’s fingers on the trigger, sending a bullet whizzing harmlessly past him as blood pumped in a wide, vivid arc, splattering across the sleeve of Dash’s custom-made leather jacket.

The body fell heavily, sightless eyes staring back in macabre astonishment as the crimson wash of blood spilling over the cement floor widened beneath his head.

There was no remorse in Dash’s heart for the death. Some animals were just plain rabid in the soul, and this one was one of them. There could be no regret for putting the world out of the misery they brought.

Casually, he dragged the blade of the knife over the dead man’s shoulder, cleaning it quickly before checking the body for any information he could use. There was a phone number on the back of a wrinkled blank business card. No name. Dash tucked the card into his inner jacket pocket. Money. He tossed it by the body. A message to his boss, keys, a picture of the little girl and her mother. This, Dash tucked away as well.

Seconds later, confident that the man carried nothing that could be traced back to Elizabeth, Dash rose to his feet, replaced the knife and used a discarded towel on one of the machines to clean the sleeve of his jacket. He threw it over the face of the dead man before striding to the door.

He jimmied the lock before closing it behind him, making certain it couldn’t be opened easily. The apartment building echoed with the laughter of families, of children. He didn’t want to chance a child walking in on the bloody scene, or an innocent bystander taking the blame for the death. Not that he thought there would be many who would feel the loss of the man he had killed.

Dash stalked back to the front entryway into the frigidly cold December evening. As though he had nothing better to do he ambled around the building, heading for the alley in the back, hoping to pick up more information there. Elizabeth and Cassie had gone out the window that led into this alley. He doubted he would find much, but he had to check to be certain. Being cautious had gotten him this far; he wasn’t going to slacken now.

He didn’t see the navy blue sedan she was driving, thankfully. At least they were in the warmth in the vehicle rather than the biting cold of the frigid winter air. He knelt in front of the open window of the basement, surveying the displaced snow beneath it. The footsteps were barely visible now as they led to a set of tire tracks a few feet over. No, they weren’t too far ahead of him if the tracks in the snow were any indication. And if he wasn’t mistaken the bastards chasing them, minus the one he had just killed, were still watching the building. His hackles had risen the moment he stepped from the front door.

Dash looked around carefully as he rose to his full height and began checking out the tire marks along the wide alley. From the looks of it they had left in a hurry. Checking the prints he was fairly certain it matched the sedan and it headed into the heart of town. He sighed deeply as he stared into the twilight sky. Snow peppered his cheeks and forehead, and the smell of the air indicated a blizzard was well on its way.

They wouldn’t be able to run for much longer tonight. He should find them soon. Keeping his steps casual he moved back to the front of the building and his own vehicle. The four-by-four SUV would be traded in farther down the road for the military Hummer he had acquired at a local reserve depot. It would make short work of the lousy road conditions and keep him moving when no other vehicle would dare try. To catch the woman he had claimed before he ever saw her face, Dash knew he would need that advantage. It was also a vehicle the enemy was unfamiliar with. That edge would be important in the coming days.

He watched the rear view mirror carefully as he drove out of the parking lot and pulled his cell phone from the holder at his hip. Nine-one-one was a quick call. Brief and to the point. A dead body, nothing more. All the while, he kept the white Taurus in his peripheral vision. Yep, definite interest from the single occupant inside, but no attempt to follow. They were certain the kid and her mother would show up soon. They had no idea that woman was smarter than a whole unit of dumb asses. He shook his head and made the turn that would lead him in the direction he sensedElizabeth had taken. His hunt was nearly at an end. Then he could begin playing in earnest.

Elizabeth was cold and hungry, and desperately fighting the rage and terror streaking through her veins, pumping hard and erratically through her heart. The snow was coming down so damned hard she had been forced to pull into the nearly deserted diner to wait it out. There she fed Cassie, watching the little girl eat even though her light blue eyes were still dilated in shock.

Poor little Cassie, she thought. Her life had been a series of upheavals and it didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon. She hadn’t even cried out when they walked into the destruction of what had once been their home and seen the men sent to kill her. She was more than aware that to do so could mean their lives. Cassie’s involuntary cries had alerted their enemies more than once, and the child had known it. It was a terrible burden for a little girl to have to bear.

She was only eight. Bright, beautiful. Too beautiful to live the way she was being forced to live. She was too small. She was losing weight, losing sleep, just as Elizabeth herself was doing. At this rate, the stress of running would kill them before Dane’s enemies could.

Dane. She stilled the curse that rage fed to her lips. He had been Cassie’s father. Not a good man, but Elizabeth hadn’t believed he was essentially a bad man, either. Not until he had placed his daughter’s life in danger in an attempt to save his own skin. The bastard hadn’t even cared what he was doing to the little girl. All he cared about was saving himself.

It sickened her to think of the bargain he had made with the man he had been stealing from. How easily he had betrayed Cassie, hoping to escape his own punishment.

“Maybe Dash will come tonight,” the little girl mumbled softly to herself, barely loud enough for Elizabeth to hear the words. “Do you think he will?”

She wasn’t talking to her, Elizabeth knew. When the shock and stress was this great, Cassie turned inward, to herself. She talked to the fairy that she swore followed them. A bright, tiny little form that whispered comfort to her, that assured her Dash Sinclair was a good daddy name. And that Dash would save them. God, she wanted to scream out in rage that her child had been reduced to such fairy tales to survive the mental and emotional cruelties being inflicted on her. Cassie was so certain the soldier she had been writing to would rescue them both and they would all live happily ever after. She didn’t know how to explain to her daughter that men, no matter how strong or how kind, wanted no part of the trouble they would bring.

Not that the soldier hadn’t made her daughter’s life brighter for a while; the bicycle she had been given only a few short months to enjoy, a small doll that Elizabeth had seen torn to shreds in that damned apartment. And she knew he had been behind the gifts of food that had come for such a short while. She had appreciated the gesture, but it had been just another burden. Another person to worry about.

She wondered if he had even realized Cassie’s letters had stopped coming to him. If he had even cared. He didn’t know them, had nothing invested in them, and he was half a world away. If he did bother to check, he would believe they had died in that apartment explosion last winter. Damn. It had been close. They nearly had died. The bastards chasing them couldn’t even set up a decent assassination properly.

And now, here her daughter sat, another broken dream shredding her soul apart because she had believed so deeply that Dash Sinclair would be there. That he was searching desperately for them. That they wouldn’t have to run anymore. Cassie had been watching for him for a week now, hope gleaming in her eyes each time she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man. Daily, the little girl studied the fuzzy, out of focus picture he had sent her, terrified that if she didn’t recognize the soldier herself, then he might pass by them without knowing who they were. The picture was taken in front of a helicopter with six other men. Dash stood in the rear, dusty, dressed in Army fatigues, his features blurred. She wouldn’t recognize him if he walked up to her.

“Eat, Cassie,” Elizabeth whispered, reaching across the booth to smooth back her daughter’s tangled dark curls from her white face. “We’ll get a room for the night and see if we can get some rest.” If Cassie didn’t sleep soon she would become ill. Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of trying to find medical help for her.

The attached motel seemed reasonable. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt either of them. There was no way anything or anyone was moving in that blizzard outside. No one except the moron pulling into the parking lot in the military Hummer, that is.

Elizabeth watched as a large dark figure exited the vehicle before striding quickly to the door of the diner. He stepped inside, larger than life, looking stronger than a mountain, his eyes going immediately to her and Cassie. For a moment, fear shook her before she pushed it away.

No. The men chasing her weren’t that dangerous, that hard. If they were, she would have been toast two years ago. He was tall, one of the tallest men she had ever seen. Dressed in jeans, boots and a cotton shirt. Thick black hair grew rakishly long, falling over the collar of his shirt. Intense brown eyes, almost the color of amber, surveyed the diner slowly before coming back to her. Electricity sizzled in the air then, as though invisible currents connected them, forcing her to recognize him on a primitive level. Not that she wouldn’t take notice anyway. He was power, strength, and so incredibly male that her breath caught at the sight of him.

She watched his eyes flare with… No, that wasn’t possession. She was losing her mind. Sleep deprivation and pain had brought her so low that she was seeing only what she knew she wanted to see. It wasn’t possible that a stranger could see her, feel possession, hunger and determination to the extent that she thought she had glimped in his gaze before it became shuttered.

For the first time in years Elizabeth felt her hormones flare to life. That look was almost physical. A caress. A statement of intent. She blinked and shook her head at the hallucination. No. He was just a big, good-looking man, and she was getting desperate. Desperate to find help. To know her daughter was protected. He was big enough to appear able to protect them both. But she knew by now that no one could protect them. It had been driven home forcibly time and time again.

She lowered her head, watching Cassie once again as the little girl listlessly nibbled one of the fries from her plate. She had only taken a few bites of the hamburger, mostly because Elizabeth had forced her to.

“You have to eat, baby,” she whispered softly, fighting to hide her tears. “It’s okay now. I promise.”

“I’m tired, Momma.” Cassie dragged a fry through the ketchup now, but didn’t eat it. She was merely playing with it, and only halfheartedly at best.

“Eat, Cassie. And drink your milk.” She pushed the glass closer to the little girl, her heart breaking as Cassie raised her head, staring at her with bleak, horror-ridden eyes.

Elizabeth had to fight to still her scream of outrage. No child should ever stare out of such shattered eyes.

“Dash will come tonight, Momma.” Tear-filled eyes stared back at her, so heartbreakingly sad that Elizabeth wanted to die rather than continue to face them.

“Baby…” How could she tell her? How could she explain that there was no way Dash Sinclair could even know they were alive, let alone that once again, their killers were only hours behind them?

The last attack wasn’t the worst event of their long months on the run, but it was one of the hardest. The men had been waiting on them. If Elizabeth hadn’t locked the basement door behind them and found the window so quickly, then they would have been dead. As it was, a bullet had grazed her thigh, and then she had sliced her waist on the jagged window. She was weak and hungry herself. But she was afraid if she spent more money on food tonight then there would be none to feed Cassie later.

A movement from the man still standing by the door had her head lifting, a feeling of panic suddenly overwhelming her as his cool brown eyes met hers. His face was savagely honed. Perfectly angled for a warrior. Or maybe an assassin. Could Dane’s enemies have gotten tired of trying to do the job themselves?

On the heels of that thought, he began moving toward them. He didn’t just walk; he glided. Smooth powerful muscles rippled beneath the shirt and jeans, bringing him closer by the second. As he neared them, his arm moved, slowly reaching behind his back.

Elizabeth stiffened fearfully; ready to jump over the table to shield Cassie if a gun appeared. Dear God. What now? They were trapped. Unable to run. No place to hide.

A grin tugged at the stranger’s lips, as though he could sense her thoughts. It wasn’t a gun he pulled out, though, but a wrinkled piece of paper. She watched, her heart in her chest, fear burning in her belly even as a strange, displaced desire warmed her thighs.

He stopped at the booth, staring down at her, then at Cassie. Elizabeth looked over at her daughter, seeing the rounded eyes, her pale cheeks.

“Cassie,” he murmured as he handed her the paper. “I got your letter.”

Elizabeth felt the world tilt as Cassie whispered his name. “Dash?”

It wasn’t possible, she told herself. This couldn’t be Dash Sinclair. He couldn’t have really found them. Couldn’t have even known they needed help. Yet, who else could he be?

He glanced at Elizabeth. “Have you eaten?”

She could only shake her head. Dear God. It couldn’t be. It was a trick. She picked up the letter from the table and unfolded it.

I know you have lots of other little girls to love. Momma says you must be married with children and don’t need us. But I need you Dash. Please help me and my Momma before the bad guys get us again.

How had Cassie managed to post this letter without her knowing it? She stared at her daughter, barely able to process the fact that she was speaking to the stranger. A dangerous, cold-eyed stranger who claimed to be Cassie’s military penpal.

Cassie’s cheeks were flushed now. Hope radiated from her big blue eyes as shock was slowly displaced by happiness.

“You came, Dash.” Cassie threw herself into his big arms, her tiny body looking frail and helpless against the man’s chest, though his expression tightened with some undefined emotion as his arms contracted around her.

Dash Sinclair. She had loved that name herself, but had pushed it from her mind except for the few times Cassie had written the letters to the wounded soldier. That and when he had invaded her dreams. She hadn’t shared Cassie’s belief that one day Dash would come riding to their rescue, though. That one day he would protect them both. She was an adult. She didn’t believe in fairy tales, though she had fought to keep her daughter’s belief alive as long as possible.

“Eat, Cassie.” He sat Cassie back in her seat, pointing commandingly at the food.

Surprisingly enough, a french fry disappeared into her mouth immediately. Then another. Despite Elizabeth’s thankfulness that her daughter was eating, she couldn’t halt a small streak of jealously. Cassie had refused to eat for her mother. Yet she was eating for a stranger.

“Mac,” he called out the name of the aging, rotund man behind the diner’s bar. “I need two cheeseburger platters, two milks.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No…” She knew one of those platters was for her.

“Thank you, Dash.” Cassie laid her head against his arm as she chewed tiredly at the hamburger. “Momma was hungry. She didn’t eat yesterday, either. But I knew not to worry. I knew you would be here. I knew you would, Dash.”