Chapter 1

Eight months later…

October nights in Atlanta were warm enough to sport a light jacket when standing next to a barbecue grill.

Matt had all the luck.

I stayed inside with the dubious duty of entertaining a houseful of guests for our cookout. We enjoyed entertaining people in our home because it proved that we could fit in with the rest of the community. We did our best not to be the neighborhood outsiders. Besides, the loneliness would kill us.

However, that wasn't the big picture. The neighbors would go ballistic if they knew a full-blooded werewolf and his half-wolf wife liked serving up steaks, green bean casserole, sweet potato pie, and buttered yeast rolls for dinner. Heck, they might accuse us of trying to fatten them up for the kill.

The phone rang.

I placed a large salad bowl on the dining room table and excused myself to answer it. Of course, several people wanted to stop me for a quick chat, as though they hadn't heard the shrilling phone.

"Hello?" I answered, putting on a delightful smile.

"Hello, Angel," Dane said.

My heart caught in my throat and my smile faltered. I panned around the room, going from one talking mouth to another. Thank goodness these people didn't have werewolf hearing. I brought my attention back to the phone. "Hold on a sec."

Up until a month ago, Dane hardly kept in contact, so I hadn't expected him to call tonight. Excusing myself from the noisy room, I closed the door to our home office and parked my butt in the chair behind the rosewood desk.

After the tragedy of losing seven of our friends, Dane nearly fell off the face of the earth and let the Club go with it. We looked to him, president and founder, for guidance and support -- well, the wolf members did. But losing seven of your closest friends could put anyone in a funk. Our members went from twenty to thirteen to four within the first month.

As much as I loved Dane like a big brother, even I had had enough of the blood, guts, and carnage. So I walked away without looking back. My focus went to my marriage and career with the hopes of a baby or two down the road.

Our Club was the best in the bounty hunting business. However, being the best meant we had to break a few rules along the way. Werewolf bounty hunters who worked side by side with humans would never sit well in the supernatural community. But at the same time, our trusted humans understood the need for our existence to remain a secret from the rest of the human race.

But that wasn't the only rule we broke. If we hunted rogue wolves, we sold the skins of our prey on the black market, sometimes doubling the amount of the bounty. If anyone ever traced our kills back to werewolves, we would become hunted by both humans and supernaturals alike.

Though I never participated in any of the black market deals, guilt by association would have been enough to send me to my grave. I didn't want my husband to become a widower. So when the Club disbanded, I took my leave too.

Matt knew nothing about me being a sniper, even though it had brought us together. No, I wasn't trying to kill him at the time. I was on the trail of someone else and we ran into each other accidentally. Though I managed to get away -- I won't say unscathed because that's another story -- he had latched on to my hybrid scent and couldn't get enough of it. He stalked me for days before I finally gave in and listened to what he had to say. Boy, did my reluctance pay off.

"You still there?" Dane asked, jarring me from my thoughts.

Behind the office door, I could hear noise and laughter spilling throughout the entire first floor and most likely onto the patio. Matt would keep them busy, but sooner or later, he'd come seeking me out as only a true mate would.

"I'm here," I said, fighting back a sigh and losing. "I've got a party going on, Dane. What do you want?"

"You didn't invite me? Gee, Lex, I'm feeling rather slighted."

Rolling my eyes, I fought a losing battle with a smile edging my lips. "Is that sympathy I hear? Since when does a werewolf pout at being neglected?"

"You've got it all wrong. I'm pouting because I miss you. In fact, I miss the entire Club." A long pause, as shuffling came over the earpiece. "I've been thinking about something. About trying to rekindle the group."

"Hold on," I said, my voice just below a shout. I sat straight up and leaned into my elbows, which were resting on the desk. "I'm not... I don't think I can..." Aw, hell... I closed my eyes and swallowed the clot in my throat. "I can't do it, Dane. If that's what this call is about--"

"I know it won't be easy. But after fifty years of hunting... I can't sit on my ass another day and hear about someone else raking up on kills that should be ours."

"Since when do you keep count?" That was my job. Or at least, I had kept track of what I killed in my leather-bound journal. Unfortunately, I left the book with Graham when I left the Club.

"I'm not keeping count," he grumbled. "But I can't stop going to the movieinfo website and seeing the number of bounties that have tripled since we've been out of the game." Another pause. "I've already placed some calls to see if the guys are still interested."

"And if they're not?"

"They're interested. Even Chris and Jocelyn want a piece of the action."

Now why did he have to go there? I adored Jocelyn because she was the only other female in the group. Both she and her husband were full-bloods who had as much passion for the hunt as they did each other. I envied that... in my sniper days. Today was a brand new day.

Copyright © 2006 Marcia Colette.