Strong language/violence © GL Drummond, 2008

Prologue

Three years ago…

I yelped in pain as his fist smashed into my face. Dude packed a decent punch, I have to say. I dropped, since that was probably what he meant the punch to cause, catching another thump on the temple as I went down. Not quite enough to daze me, but I let him think it did. Man, I thought to myself as he yanked my arms behind my back and cuffed me, Maureen’s going to be pissed at me in the morning.

Maureen is my best friend and secretary, who seems to think I work too much. It was her idea to hit the club tonight, after issuing firm orders that I was to leave work at the office and concentrate only on having fun. I failed, miserably. I did get the enjoyment of seeing the amazed look on her face when I left with the man currently dragging me into an old farmhouse though. She has an unhealthy interest in my sex life, or rather, the lack of one that’s my current lot.

The man was Samuel Watson, number five on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. He’d been at large for about five years, wanted in connection with a series of over twenty rape-murder cases. His MO was picking young women up in bars or clubs, taking them somewhere secluded, and repeatedly raping them until sex lost its appeal.

He’d torture them to death when that happened, and he had a vivid imagination in that area. He was a tall, well-built, attractive man who’d dyed his golden blonde hair to a dark brown and grown a mustache by way of disguise. It was enough to change his looks, but you can’t do anything about your facial structure without plastic surgery, if you’re human. You certainly couldn’t fool someone who spent hours and hours pouring over wanted posters as a hobby due to a non-existent social life. Someone like me, in other words.

I’d had enough of the sick bastard’s manhandling by the time he dropped me on the filthy mattress lying on the floor of what must have once been a cozy living room. Testing the play in the chain between the cuffs, I gave a good healthy yank. The look of surprise on his face was almost comical as I dangled my wrists in front of me to let him get a look at the broken chain. I felt a desire to laugh, seeing it, but nobly forwent giving voice to it, since I was in the middle of serious business.

“Bit off more’n you can chew, this time, Watson,” I told him. “Please…resist.”

Watson took me up on my offer, and I had the opportunity to enjoy walloping the holy hell out of him before it was time to cuff the bastard. I let him lie on the floor and watch as I removed the colored contacts that hid my amber wolf’s eyes then allowed my face to shift back to its natural contours. The sharp smell of fear that poured off of him was almost intoxicating, making me bare my teeth in what could loosely be called a grin as I bent down to grab hold of him.

“Bitch,” he blustered, struggling impotently against the cuffs as my hands latched onto him.

“Exactly,” I agreed, not offended in the least as I lifted him easily to his feet.”You are one hundred percent correct.”

If I’d only known how much capturing Watson would change my life…..I might have skipped it.

Naw, I wouldn’t have.

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