"At the end of my fist if he keeps this up," Lance snapped. "I'm growing tired of his games. Especially this game he's playing with Harmony."
"There are many forces I think that would see her taken from you, Grandson. Not just Jonas. The question is, will you allow them to take what is yours alone?" Joseph asked him then. "Understanding is a fine quality in a man. But sometimes a man must show his woman he is indeed a man strong enough to match her. Sometimes, it teaches the woman what she must know when danger comes whispering her name. Perhaps you should think on this."
Lance stared back at his grandfather, once again cursing, albeit silently, the riddles Joseph Redwolf was prone to talk in. He couldn't just come out and tell you anything. Everything had to be a lesson, or a puzzle to figure out.
"How about dinner?" Lance suggested as a way to lighten the mood. As usual, the answers would either come to him, or life would kick his ass with enough force for him to see the point his grandfather had been trying to make.
"Dinner is good, but I promised Megan I would eat with her and her young Breeds after seeing you. She worries for you. Staying away from you at this time is not easy for her, but I understand now why you have asked this of her. The emotions trapped within your young Lioness would overwhelm her."
"Yeah. They would." Hell, they nearly overwhelmed him, and he wasn't empathic. "Give Meg my love, Grandfather. Tell her I'll see her soon."
"I will do this." Joseph nodded as he moved for the front door. "And you keep your young woman close to your side, Lance. Do not give the danger stalking her a chance to strike. She has no true friends other than you. Yet."
And with that final cryptic comment Joseph made his way to the front door and let himself out. Lance poured himself another drink. It was going to be a long evening. _________
There were times when Harmony blessed her animal senses, and there were other times when she cursed them. Walking into the house and realizing she had missed the presence of Lance's grandfather was one of the times she cursed herself. There were some people who should be avoided at all costs, simply because they were so much a part of nature, of the land around them, that the earth spoke to them. The Lion part of her recognized that in Joseph Redwolf. He was a child of the earth, completely in sync with it and, as such, able to see beyond what others couldn't. Like his granddaughter, Megan Arness, and yet unlike her.
Harmony hadn't detected the subtle shift of power around her that normally warned her that a psychic was present. But she also knew that there were those who saw things, knew things, without ever tripping her defenses. She had a feeling Lance's grandfather was one of those people. She was beginning to wonder if Lance was, because he kept finding ways beneath her defenses. A look. A touch. A certain tone of voice. She had a terrible feeling that if she ended up staying there much longer, then walking away was going to kill her. It wasn't her way to form attachments or friends. The potential for heartache only grew. And within a week, the potential was getting seriously out of control here.
As the night deepened, Harmony used the darkness of her room to think. Stretched out on the floor, dripping with sweat from the crunches she worked through, she fought to clear her mind. To concentrate on the burn of her muscles rather than the arousal burning through the rest of her.
She could think through the workouts. Who had killed the bartender? Which enemy did she know would work to frame her rather than shoot her? She was accessible here. There was no way to hide from a sniper's gun, which meant it wasn't a Council-run operation. The Council wanted her, but not dead. She was of no use to them dead. If she was convicted of committing another murder, then as far as they knew, Jonas wouldn't hesitate to kill her.
She had made other enemies, of course. An assassin had a ton of those. But Harmony had been careful. The persona of Death was much different than the one she portrayed as Harmony. Harmony could walk down a city street, shop in the finest stores and have dinner in the best restaurants. Death had to use the cover of night and hide in the shadows.
Wiping the dripping perspiration from her eyes, she collapsed back on the carpet, breathing hard as she fought to catch her breath before beginning another set of the crunches.
Alonzo was in town. He knew of Death, but he didn't know Harmony. He would know there was a Breed on the force, but had he connected the two, he wouldn't be staging an elaborate frame-up. The bastard.
Besides, Alonzo could have no idea that she knew his secrets, his ties to the Council and the operation in France ten years before.
None of this made sense.
She frowned up at the ceiling, fighting to work through something that had no base. There was always a chance the murdered bartender was a freak occurrence, but Harmony didn't deal in coincidences. They didn't exist for her.
Nothing existed for her but Death.
The pain that clenched her chest at the thought of that nearly took her breath. She was twenty-five years old. Twenty of those years had been spent killing. She lifted her hands from the floor and stared at them, even in the near blackout of the room, she saw the blood. So much blood spilling through her hands, staining her soul and everything she touched.
Everyone she touched.
Oh God, what was she doing here? A half-hysterical laugh nearly passed her lips. What made her think she could do this? That she could ever have the freedom Jonas had offered her.
Six months. He knew she would never last six months. He knew her past would stalk her, find her, and she was terrified that was exactly what had happened. As she lay there, the sound of the doorknob turning had her jerking her gun from her side and coming to her knees, the safety clicking off as the door swung inward.
"Are you crazy?" she yelled at Lance furiously as she came to her feet in a surge of anger. "Don't ever do that. Never."
He stood framed in the doorway, one hand braced against the jamb as he stared into the room. The light from the hall shadowed him, but she knew it clearly revealed her. Dressed in the snug cotton cami shirt and matching boxers, damp with sweat, no part of her body would be hidden from his gaze.
Her ni**les pressed into the cloth and her cl*t throbbed in anticipation as she stared at him. Shirtless. God, couldn't he even wear a shirt? The only thing saving her from panting in lust was the fact that he was in shadow and she couldn't really see details. But she could smell. And the smell of him was off-the-charts hot. Desert heat and stormy winds. The combination had the glands at her tongue swelling further and the sweet taste of arousal spilling to her mouth.