Breachers - Holt and McKenna

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Breachers Holt and McKenna

Linda Mooney

Breachers: Holt and McKenna Copyright © 2011 by Linda Mooney ISBN 978-1-4507-1947-6 Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Chapter One Washington, D.C.

For once, the weathermen had been dead on. Holt had been warned ahead of time that a major arctic cold front was due in around eight Monday morning. Which was why he had to fly into Dulles the day before to ensure he wouldn't miss the meeting. Now the big question that had been bugging him ever since he got the phone call was What the hell is this meeting about? His boss had been tight-lipped. Only letting Holt know he had also gotten one of those mysterious phone calls. But in his boss's case, it was to let the man know Holt's presence was required "by the government". No further explanation was given. Rather than argue, Holt was granted extended leave. When it came to something so hush-hush, no one fucked with the government. The cab let him out at the address texted to his phone. It was a nondescript building located on a side street not far from Pennsylvania Avenue. Red brick and mortar. One plain white, uninteresting door. No windows. Holt walked up to the door and knocked. To his surprise, the brass mailbox slid to the side, revealing a touch pad and screen. "Please place your hand on the screen." The voice came from a tiny speaker next to the pad. Holt obeyed and watched as his palm and fingerprints were scanned. "Enter." The mailbox moved back into place as he turned the doorknob. He found himself in a wide corridor that led straight back. Like a regular home, the walls were painted a dark red. The ceiling a typical white with recessed lighting. The floors were covered with brownish carpeting. But unlike a home, no rooms branched off from the hallway. At certain intervals he felt a series of prickly sensations dancing over his body, and he smiled. Of course a facility as secretive as this one would have monitors and top-secret scanning equipment to make sure no one snuck in an unwanted weapon. Holt followed the corridor until he finally came to a door and another touch screen, and had to repeat the hand scan as requested. This time, however, the door snicked open to reveal a large room. A very large room. Holt stepped through the door and had to stop himself from dropping his jaw in shock. The place looked like a large auditorium, except there was no stage. All of the seats circling a small centered dais were plush and the same red shade as the walls. The brown carpet was thicker, effectively dampening most of the sound. There were a number of people present, none of whom he recognized. But his eyes locked onto one brunette in a simple black dress, and his blood pressure jumped in response. She was an Amazon, very tall but curvaceous, and definitely more than a handful. She barely gave him a second glance as she appeared to casually scan the room. From where he stood, he could see the outline of her body, with its full breasts and hips, and his skin flushed automatically. Normally he tended to drift toward the slender, petite type, but something about her was a major turn-on factor. Although he had no idea why, he knew he would love to find out the answer. Holt made a move to get closer to her when the overhead lights flickered. An older man in a dark gray three-piece suit walked over to a floor microphone standing next to the dais. "Ladies and gentlemen, please take a seat."

Holt hurried to find a spot that would give him a decent view of the brunette, who took a seat on the front row. He found the perfect vantage point in the second row where he was simultaneously able to keep his eye on the man at the mic, as well as the woman who he was determined to meet one way or another. A movement at the back of the room caught his attention. Another man entered the room and sauntered over to find a place to sit. A second door, a second entrance. Or exit. Wonder how many ways there are into this place? The man in gray scanned the area, his head bobbing slightly, and Holt realized he was counting the number of people in the room. He glanced over the small crowd, and that's when it struck him. There appeared to be an equal number of men and women, although he couldn't be sure unless he did a second head count. But before he could check, the man in gray spoke again. "Thank you for coming." Ha. Like we had a choice. Although he wasn't one hundred percent positive that the others in the room had also gotten the same phone call that he had, Holt would bet a year's pay they had. "What you are about to hear today will shake the very foundations of every belief you've ever held. You will not be asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You will not be sworn in to pledge a vow of silence. Neither will you be threatened with loss of life if you choose to reveal what you're about to learn to anyone outside this room. You will keep everything we tell you in absolute secret because you will realize you have no choice." I'll have no choice? Why? The woman crossed her legs. Long, shapely legs that didn't show a hint of being sheathed in hose. Her attention was riveted on the man's face, but Holt began to wonder if she wasn't aware of him staring at her. He shifted slightly in his seat to help ease the pressure in his groin, when the man gave him a slightly scathing glance. Holt managed an apologetic smile. "To begin, hundreds of years ago our planet passed through what scientists now believe was some sort of cosmic cloud. The residue within the cloud was not poisonous, or in any way dangerous to the population, but there were reports of strange creatures showing up. Many people swore these creatures stepped out of thin air." He paused. "Until this galactic event occurred, there had never been tales about dragons. Or centaurs. Or fairies. Or a hundred other similarly mythical creatures we consider to be stuff of fairy tales and legends." Taking a deep breath, he concluded. "They were not myths. They do exist...because they're Breachers." Holt stared at the man. Surely the guy was pulling their legs. A Breacher? What the hell was a Breacher? A glance around the room confirmed what he suspected. Every other face looked as if the person was doubting the man's sanity as well. The man went on. "When our world went through that cosmic barrier, an invisible wall between our world and a parallel universe we now know as Phadrea became infinitesimally thin. Thin, but still incredibly strong. So strong, that it would take incredible forces happening simultaneously between both Earth and Phadrea for that barrier to be broken. But when those forces occur, and the barrier is weakened, creatures are able to come onto Earth." A hand shot up from the back.

"Yes, Mr. Cole?" "What kind of forces?" "Anything that rips the fabric of time and space," the man replied. "Incredibly strong storms are the most likely. There's also the effects of war. Bombs, nuclear explosions." Another hand went up, this time from behind Holt. "Yes, Miss Allens?" "You said these creatures were the stuff of myths and legends. So what you're telling us is these things actually do exist, or did? There really were fire-breathing dragons?" The man smiled slightly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. There were dragons, and there still are. But there are other creatures who routinely enter our world. Now, rest assured, not all them intend to do us harm. Most of them fade into the background. They disappear among the populace. But others are not so docile. They wreak havoc. Some even kill innocent people and animals. And this is why you are here. This is why you were chosen." Another question was raised by a man on the far end of the auditorium. "Do these beasts ever go back to Phadrea? To their home world?" "Sometimes." The man turned around until he had made direct eye contact with every individual in the room, including Holt. "Each of you were chosen because we consider you the best in your field. At some point in the near future you will be contacted again. It could be days from now, or years, or maybe never again. Depending on the Breacher who has infiltrated our world, two of you will be paired to stop the creature. Stop, kill it, or send it back to Phadrea if circumstances allow. And under no condition should you let other people know what you're doing. Knowledge of Breachers must remain a mystery in order to avoid panicking the general public." Holt raised his hand, earning a peeved look from the man. "Yes, Mr. Holt?" "I take it these things can be dangerous?" "Breachers are a lot like us, Mr. Holt. In most cases, they are gentle creatures. But also like humans, there are those who are extremely dangerous and must be eliminated immediately. These are the ones you will be sent to find and destroy." Holt shot his hand back up and continued without waiting first to be called upon. "So we'll get hazardous pay if we succeed?" "I assure you, Mr. Holt, you will be generously rewarded. Do you have any further questions?" When Holt shook his head, the man directed his attention back to the others. "Anyone? Does anyone else have a question?" A man in the back raised his hand. Holt recognized him as the guy who had come in late. "Yes, Mr. Hawthorne?" "You said we would be paired up. Why? Why not send us out on our own? Or in groups?" The man smiled. "You will come to realize why when and if that time comes, Mr. Hawthorne. Are there any more questions? No? Then I thank you for coming." He turned off the microphone and started to leave. Stunned, Holt jumped to his

feet to protest. "That's it? That's all you're going to say? You drag us all the way out here to tell us the Tooth Fairy really exists, and then send us back home without any further explanation?" The man gave him a look that reminded him of a father dealing with a recalcitrant child. "That is all I can give you, Mr. Holt. You'll have to wait until we call you back before we can explain further." And turning his back on the astonished crowd, the man vanished into thin air.

Chapter Two Silver Gate, Utah

The air was gray and heavy with the threat of the storm heading his way. Forecasters had promised another four to six inches of powder before morning, but Roy Turner knew more than that would fall, if he'd read the clouds right. It was only a little past six. In less than an hour it would appear closer to midnight. The semi-darkness and stillness were nearly suffocating, packing around him like a thick woolen blanket. Inside his goosedown jacket, Turner could feel little rivulets of sweat soaking into his thermal underwear. His feet felt numb in their ski braces, and each breath he inhaled made him wonder if people could drown at such a high altitude. Looking below at the crest, which blotted out the sight of the far ridge, the forest ranger knew the rest of the rescuers had probably gone in for the night. Turner figured they were no closer to finding that poor guy who'd gotten lost from his tour group than they'd been when he'd first failed to join up with them at the lodge two night ago. Damn Easterners. Think they can run their little molehills and indoor jumps, then call themselves ready for the mother lode like the Silver Gate. Giving himself a shake, Turner turned and slowly drifted over to the crest to catch sight of the lodge at the bottom of the mountain. Although it was over a mile away through the woods, and invisible to the naked eye, Turner could make a beeline for it by taking the pass and cutting through the training trail, arriving some fifteen to twenty minutes later, just before the last of daylight sank below the ridge. 'Nuff said, old boy. Haul your butt. He dug in with both poles, pushing himself over the crest, and slammed both skis into the packed snow, crouching down to provide less wind resistance as he began to pick up speed down the slope. The wind whistled past his face, buffeting his cheeks like little flags, and Turner smelled the sharpness of ozone. Maybe ice tonight. Not good. He could already feel the ache in the back of his calves and thighs. They'd been tracking that poor bastard since first light that morning, and Turner had only stopped once around mid-afternoon to munch down on the peanut butter and banana sandwich he'd stashed in a sandwich baggie in his jacket pocket. He wanted to find the tourist as much as the next man, maybe more, but not as much as the Forestry Service did. For some strange reason, the government didn't like the average taxpayer to freeze to death in one of its national parks. One less soul to foot the bill, one could say. Turner zipped past a naked strand of trees and clipped the bottom edge of their icicle-laden branches. A little over two hundred yards away was one of the "breaks" used by the Olympic teams training for the cross-country. It was little more than a small hut, five by seven feet, with a tiny wood stove and an even tinier cache of provisions, mostly teas, instant coffee, and instant cocoa. There was hardly enough room left inside to squat. A stool, a first-aid kit, some Styrofoam cups, and a pot to melt the snow for water made up the rest of what he would find in there. Unless there's more. Was it possible that guy could be there, too? If there was one thing Turner had learned after his twelve years with the service was there was no such thing as an unturned stone. Or an unchecked break. Yes, he

realized that the building had probably already been checked, but anything was possible up here on the mountain. And anything could have happened, even within the last hour. He swerved, coming up from below the embankment, and approached the wood frame hut from its lee side. Through the single pane window, he could see no sign of movement inside. The breaks weren't equipped with lanterns or lights. Skiers got off the mountain before dark. It was then he noticed that the door was ajar. Not open, but clearly not completely closed. Stepping back a little, Turner pulled the walkie-talkie from its clip on his belt and thumbed the key. "Four-oh to Rest Stop. Four-oh to Rest Stop." He was answered immediately. "This is Rest Stop. Cutting it close, ain't 'cha, Roy?" "I'm a break Six North," he said, reading the fading red letters on the door. "It looks like something has been inside." Turner knew that animals were likely culprits in most cases, but in the dead of winter, most of the ones who could reach the knob and figure out a way in, like the bears, were hibernating. "Be careful, Roy," Ortiz back at the lodge urged. "Want me to send you some backup?" "I'm keeping the key down," Turner informed him, then slipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt. Cautiously, he flattened himself against the side of the building and, using his ski pole, pushed the door open wider. In the dim light, it was difficult to see inside clearly, but since nothing made a fuss or came rushing out in panicked fear, he decided to go in. He pushed against the door with his left hand until something stopped it from going back all the way. A rank, fetid smell hung around the doorframe like an invisible wall, and the little hairs on Turner's closely cropped head rose up like the warning signal of a whitetail deer. The break wasn't empty. There was something inside. Something not right. Something that, by all the laws of Nature, shouldn't be there, and never belonged there. Turner swallowed his rising fear and walked into the break, brandishing both poles like javelins. Just inside he found what was blocking the door. It was the body of the lost tourist...or what was left of the tourist. The green and black harlequin print ski jacket was the only thing identifiable about the remains, considering there was no head, and the arms and legs had been dragged away from the torso, leaving smears of blood across the wood floor. "Oh, Jesus." Half-dazed, Turner reached for his walkie-talkie, his eyes never leaving the corpse. "Rest Stop, this is four-oh. I found...I found our missing man. Best call the coroner." Ortiz came back. "Sorry to hear that, Roy. Stay on site. I've got a plow coming your way to pick you up. I'll give Bayer a call." Turner opened his mouth to ten-four, then paused when he heard it. It sounded like a growl, very menacing, but too low. Almost a roar, but too soft. But definitely a warning. Like a very deep, very loud, very ominous and dangerous purr. He quickly pivoted around to see what was suddenly blocking the wan light coming in through the doorway. He froze in terror from what he saw, but never had the chance to scream before his own head was ripped violently from his shoulders.

Chapter Three Assignment

It had been barely three weeks since his last trip to Washington when Holt got the phone call he honestly didn't believe he'd get. After the less than memorable "hush, hush, don't call us, we'll call you" secrecy surrounding that little soiree, he'd truly believed he would never hear anything more about it. After all, this was a typical overblown governmental ballyhoo, one of many that rose and died every week. Which was why his curiosity had risen by leaps and bounds when he'd been instructed to return. Less than six hours later he was on a plane to return to the little brick building for his assignment. Holt glanced at his watch as the cab wound its way through the busy streets. It was getting late, and he was getting antsy, not to mention hungry. He was let off in front of the same featureless door, except someone had turned on the porch light. He entered the auditorium where the older man was already waiting. Holt noticed he still wore the same gray suit. The man looked up and gave Holt a warm smile. "Glad to see you arrived safely, Mr. Holt! Please sit down. Your partner is on her way." "Her?" The man raised an eyebrow at Holt but didn't respond. Presently, the sound of a door closing on the opposite side of the room got their attention, and Holt turned around to see who he would be working with. His dick went into full alert when the brunette of his recent dreams strolled into the auditorium. She shrugged off her coat to reveal a pair of form-fitting pants and a knit sweater that clung to her ample breasts. "Ah! Miss McKenna! Thank you for coming. Let me introduce you to your partner. This is Mr. Jerrod Holt. Mr. Holt, Miss McKenna." Holt stood and held out his hand, aware that there was no way he could hide the tenting in his pants. He could only hope his jacket would disguise most of it. His breath caught in his throat when she stopped in front of him, and he realized she had to be a good six feet tall, or more. They were practically eye to eye. Her hand and fingers were slender but her grip was strong. She smiled politely and coolly. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Holt." She still wore her hair in a twist behind her head. As she got closer, he noticed she had brown eyes that had a sort of golden ring around the outer edge. There was also a small beauty mark next to her left eyebrow. Her lower lip was fuller than her upper lip, and Holt momentarily lost himself in studying them until she released his hand. They took their seats to await instructions, and Holt got a whiff of her perfume. Faint and slightly floral, but it added more heat to his bloodstream. He stifled a groan and tried to appear casual when he crossed his legs. When that didn't work, he assumed a semi-hunched posture with his elbows on his thighs and his hands steepled in front of his face. "Before we go any further, my name is Morrow, and that's all you need to know." Holt mentally nodded. In his line of work, people often went solely by a single name or code word. "Three days ago we received word that several people, mostly skiers, had been attacked and killed up at the Silver Gate Lodge in Utah. None of the bodies had been

eaten, as far as the coroners could tell, but the mutilation was extensive. Your mission is to go to Utah and find the creature responsible." The questioning look on Holt's face must have given him away. Morrow stared at him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Holt?" "Yeah. I thought this ultra secretive society I was volunteered to join dealt with creatures called Breachers. What you're describing sounds like a simple animal attack." "Trust me, Mr. Holt. You and Miss McKenna would not have been called back here if this was caused by bears or wolves. No. You will be tracking a Breacher, better know in mythology as a Yeti." Holt felt his pulse jumped as adrenaline shot through his system like a heavy dose of drugs. He gasped and sat up. "Are you actually telling us that the Yeti and Bigfoot, are actually these Breacher things? You're not shitting us, are you? " "No, Mr. Holt. I'm not. In fact, I wish the news was more about spotting the creature than having to relay the deaths it's caused." "How do you know this thing is a Breacher?" "We have received word from a very reliable source." "Why can't the police or someone else handle it? Why are we needed?" "Because, as I have mentioned before, both of you have some very unique skills and abilities that will enable the both of you to find and bring down this Breacher. How you bring it down will be your decision. What you do with the Breacher once it's contained will also be left up to you. All we ask is that you find this creature as soon as possible to prevent it from killing any more people." Morrow nodded at McKenna. "Your job will be to determine whether or not we're really dealing with a Breacher. If it isn't, make a graceful exit." Looking at Holt, he frowned. "But if it is, take any action you feel necessary." He then gestured toward the door Holt had come through. "A cab is outside waiting to take you to the airport." Pulling a large manila envelope from inside his coat, he handed it over to McKenna. "All you need from us is there." "Okay. Let's say we kill this Breacher. Then what happens?" Holt asked as they all stood. "Then, Mr. Holt, we will no longer require your services. It's been nice meeting you." Morrow held out a hand and Holt shook it. Then, as he had weeks before, the man disappeared like a ghost. Holt continued to stare at the empty space until an amused voice broke through his thoughts. "We must hurry." He looked over to see McKenna examining a note she'd found inside the mysterious envelope. Glancing at him, she explained, "Our flight leaves in less than two hours."

Chapter Four Flight

The cab took them to the airport, but instead of circling around to the front to drop them off, it took another road that led directly to another area where several cargo planes were being loaded. They drove around to the back of a hangar where a small private jet was sitting on the tarmac. A man dressed in a gray suit almost identical to the one Morrow wore was standing next to the open stairs. The cab stopped directly in front of the plane. As the cabbie retrieved their luggage from the trunk, Holt tried to pay the man, but was waved off. "Already covered." Shrugging, Holt grabbed his bag and followed McKenna up the stairs, taking the opportunity to admire the way her pants fit snugly across her gorgeous ass. The plane's interior was tiny but plush. He took one of the four padded seats and buckled himself in. The man in gray closed the outer door, then took his place at the rear of the plane. A glance over at McKenna revealed she had her eyes closed. He took the hint and remained silent. Within half an hour the plane taxied and took off. Holt stared out the nearest window until a voice over his shoulder spoke. "Excuse me, Mr. Holt. Would you care for something to drink?" "How about a beer?" He threw out the suggestion as a joke, but the man apparently didn't realize that. "I'm sorry, sir. No alcoholic beverages are allowed. It impairs the abilities, and you will need to be in the best of health when we land." Holt sighed. "How about a soft drink?" "A soft drink is allowed." "Fine. Bring me a Coke, then." The man nodded and turned to McKenna. "Madam, would you care for something to drink?" "Water, please." Nodding again, the man turned and disappeared into the back. Knowing the woman was awake, Holt ventured to started a conversation. "If we're to partner up, I think we need to get to know each other a little better." McKenna opened her eyes. She glanced down at his crotch before looking back up at him, and Holt realized she had been aware of his earlier erection. "How well, Mr. Holt?" "Well, for one thing, you can call me by my first name." "I would rather call you Holt." Holt felt the sting of her rebuke, but he remained steadfast. "I didn't catch your first name when we were introduced." "I would prefer to keep this arrangement strictly professional, Mr. Holt." Well, buddy boy, she put you in your place. Unfortunately, her remark didn't dampen his enthusiasm. He grimaced. "Actually, I was talking about our abilities. Our strengths. The reason we were paired in the first place."

The expression on her face changed, and she actually looked surprised. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'm not...I'm not accustomed to working with someone else." He smiled. "No problem. I sometimes have the same problem." From the time they had been introduced, he had known the woman was going to try and keep things professional between them, and he was all right with that. But sometimes her cool veneer made her appear more callous than hard-to-get. He was all right with that, too. Sooner or later, she would have to accept the fact that they were partners, if only for a brief time, and that meant they would have to watch each other's backs. This mission wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Their drinks were delivered, served in real glasses with ice, before the man disappeared again into the rear of the plane. Holt took a sip. The soft drink was still warm. "What do you do, Holt?" He unbuckled his seatbelt. At the same time he discovered that the chair also swiveled. Turning to face her, he crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. "I work for a security firm as a bodyguard. People hire me to take care of them." He caught her sizing him up and knew what she was thinking before she said it. "Where are all your muscles? I thought bodyguards were supposed to be these big, burly men who looked like ex professional football players, all pumped up on steroids." "Stereotypes. Disappointed?" To his surprise, she smiled. "Not really." "What about you? Morrow said your job would be to determine whether or not the Breacher was the real thing. I'm curious to know how you're going to do that." "You could say I'm a doctor of veterinary medicine." "You could say? Are you or are you not a vet?" "I have the skills and the degree. I just don't have a private practice." "So what do you do to bring home the bacon?" The phrase seemed to puzzle her. "Do you mean how do I earn a living? I help out at animal shelters, but that's usually volunteer work. Most of the time I assist at the city zoo." "So, did you have to take some kind of training to know what to expect if this creature is the real McCoy?" A tiny smile creased the corners of her luscious mouth. "You could say that." "Guess that makes you some kind of governmental Breacher expert." "I'm not at liberty to say," she said enigmatically. As Holt mulled over this new information, McKenna watched him as she drank some of her water. "You're wondering how a vet and bodyguard got paired up for this mission. You're wondering what there is about us that would make the people in charge believe we could take on these Breachers and win. Aren't you?" "Aren't you?" "Maybe there is more about you than meets the eye, Mr. Holt." He smiled but didn't answer back. "Okay. Let's say we do find this Breacher. How do you plan to take it down? Do you have super powers, Mr. Holt?"

Holt unbuttoned his jacket and lifted one side so she could see the shoulder holster. He got a sense of pleasure seeing her eyes widen. "You're carrying a gun?" "Comes with the job," he smiled. She narrowed her eyes at him, then rotated her chair around until she'd turned her back on him. The remainder of the trip went smoothly. They were served prime rib on real china, with actual linen napkins and silverware. Holt noticed she preferred her cut on the extremely rare side, which he considered unusual for a woman, and tucked that bit of information into his mental filing cabinet. Afterwards, he settled back for a quick nap while she plugged herself into a movie. By the time they landed in Salt Lake City, he was ready to tackle the three hour drive to the ski lodge, despite the threat of another six to eight inches of snow predicted to fall before midnight. Their rental car was waiting for them. Again, Holt noticed the attention to detail. The vehicle was a Hummer, and it was already decked out with snow chains. Using the GPS, he maneuvered the Humvee over the freshly covered roads. "You're very good behind the wheel." He barely glanced at her. His attention was focused on his driving, but her unexpected compliment after receiving her cold shoulder on the plane surprised him. "I can also drive a boat, fly a plane, and pilot a helicopter. It's all part of the training required for the job. Are you warm enough?" He'd noticed how she was huddled inside her long coat, her gloved hands stuffed inside the pockets. "Yes. I'm fine. Thanks." "I take it you're not used to cold weather." "It depends, Mr. Holt." It was an odd statement, but he let it go so he could concentrate on the road conditions. What would have been a three hour drive turned into five and a half hours. They only stopped twice along the way to grab a bite to take with them, and to use the facilities. Otherwise they tried not to waste any time. Several times McKenna tried to find something decent to listen to on the satellite radio, but gave up after a while and turned it off. By the time they reached the lodge, Holt was wrung out. They went inside to register, and the hotel clerk handed them their key cards. Holt eyed the hand-carved circular stairway leading up from the main lobby to the second floor. "I'm taking the elevator." His remark got a soft laugh from McKenna, who joined him in the lift. Their rooms were across the hall from each other. McKenna partially opened her door, then paused. "We're to meet a Sheriff Bayer over at the morgue in the morning around nine. Want to meet downstairs for breakfast around seven-thirty?" "All right. But if I'm not down at the buffet by seven forty-five, send up a bellhop with a crowbar." He got another smile from her. "It's a deal. Goodnight, Mr. Holt." She disappeared into her room before he could reply. It was a good thing. He was bone weary. Without opting to shower first, he flung himself face down on top of the bed and was instantly asleep.

Chapter Five Breakfast

McKenna checked her watch again. It was nearing the quarter 'til mark for Holt to show up and join her for breakfast. She knew the drive from the airport had been a back breaker, and she would have been just as exhausted if she had been the one to fight the terrible road conditions. Still, they had a job to do, and lives were at stake. She hadn't been shocked to find herself tagged to go on this mission. After all, it was the government who had granted her ancestors asylum so many decades ago. A few of them had even been called to serve on this task force in the past. With the exception of an uncle, all of them had come back alive, although nearly all of them bore wounds and injuries that continued to plague them the rest of their lives. "More coffee?" The waiter's question startled her. He apologized, but she waved it off. "Yes, more, thank you." She'd held off eating until Holt could join her. Holt. The first time she'd noticed him, he was eyeing her from across the way during their initial introduction. What he probably didn't realize was that for every scrutiny he gave her, she was giving him one back in full. He was neatly dressed, and without the scruffy days-old facial growth that a lot of men sported. He always had an intense look on his face, as if sizing people up was his occupation. When he announced he was a bodyguard, that probably explained why. But she liked what she saw, and with that realization knew she had to keep it professional, especially after she found out he was to be her partner. She could never risk having Jerrod Holt discover the real reason why she was assigned to this case. The man had a way of sneaking around her facade, and although she toyed with the idea of maybe seeing just how friendly the man might want to become, she simply couldn't afford it. Not time-wise, and definitely not emotionally. From where she sat, she could see the main area of the lodge. Unlike most places she had visited, she found she enjoyed the ambience of the place. Last night she had been too tired to appreciate the decor, but this morning she had the time to fully examine it. Yes, it was a tourist spot where the affluent could spend beaucoup money for the privilege of eating outrageously priced cuisine, and possibly breaking a bone or two while shushing down the slopes. Yet, glancing outside through one of the many large windows, there was an undeniable beauty to the terrain. The lodge was decorated with simple taste. Everything was of hand-carved polished wood, from the reception desk and the staircase leading to the second floor landing, to the mantel on the huge rock fireplace in the main lobby. Even the couches and chairs were covered with an Indian print fabric, which complimented the rugs on the planked floors. The only over-extravagant thing she could fault the decorator for was the large round disk-shaped silver deer head crest hanging over the fireplace. A reminder that this had been a very profitable silver mining town back in the 1800s before the mines went dry and the town was forced to find some other source of revenue. "I bet you couldn't fit that into the Coke machine slot, no matter how hard you tried," a voice dryly commented behind her.

McKenna turned, a half smile on her face. "Give me a blowtorch and an hour, and I'll take you up on that bet. I was about to send out the bell hop with the crowbar. How do you feel?" He was dressed more comfortably in jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. The cuff of winter underwear peeked out at the wrist. His hair was still wet, giving her the impression that he had recently showered and shaved. Holt gave her that crooked smile she was quickly coming to like when he answered. "To quote a movie phrase, 'like hammered shit'. I'd forgotten how stressful it was to drive through a snowstorm. Have you eaten yet?" "No. I was waiting for you." Holt turned to head for the buffet. "Well if you're waiting on me, you're wasting time." As he walked away, she got the full view of his back and backside, and realized how wrong she'd been earlier to dismiss his slim build. There were muscles outlined underneath that blue sweater. There was also a narrow waist to go with the nice posterior. No, girl. Don't even look. Don't even consider the possibility. You can't afford the risk, much less the heartache. Do the mission and go home. Got that? Just get the mission over with, and worry about licking your wounds later. McKenna took a deep breath to calm herself and hurried to catch up. They served themselves and settled back at their table where Holt flagged down a waiter for some coffee. As they quietly ate, McKenna picked up the manila envelope Morrow had given them from where she'd laid it on the seat next to her and pulled out several sheets of paper, including some printed out photographs. She slid them across the table. "I know it's not appropriate fare to be looking at while you're eating. Hope you have a strong stomach, but I thought you needed to see this before we left for the morgue." He glanced over the reports, pausing to stare at the photographs. "When did you read this? On the plane?" "I finished going over everything last night after we retired." As she expected, he carefully read through the reports given by the witnesses as he slowly chewed his food. At one point he looked up at her. "Decapitation? By what?" "They're thinking wolf or bear. What else would they have to go by?" Holt shrugged. "The bogey man? The Mad Hatter Slasher?" He shoved the papers back toward her. "I've read enough. Why are we needing to go to the morgue? I thought our mission was to find the creature responsible and stop it." "They're going to do an autopsy and want me there to verify whether or not a wolf or bear could have inflicted the wounds found on the body." "Ah! Your veterinarian skills are needed, my lady." He leaned forward slightly, and she caught the faint scent of soap. The smell set off a tingling sensation between her legs, forcing her to press her knees tightly together to hopefully squelch it. "What makes Morrow and his crew so damn sure this was caused by a Breacher?" he whispered. She showed him the last two pages in the stapled packet. "You missed the interesting stuff, or you wouldn't have asked me that question." "So fill me in. Hold on for a second. I want to grab some more of that sausage. Can I get you something while I'm up?"

She shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm good." The momentary distance between them gave her blood time to cool. It also gave her the chance to study his form a bit more. He moved with assurance, not arrogance, as she often encountered with men who felt challenged by her size. For some reason, most men took her height and build as a personal affront to their manhood, and tried to whittle her down either emotionally or professionally. It was one of many reasons why she remained a recluse. But Holt had yet to try and demean her. Neither had he taken on that air of superiority she'd been waiting for. On top of that, he hadn't commented on the amount of food she was eating. She loved breakfast, and often made it her biggest meal of the day to help sustain her through until late afternoon. When he returned, she continued. "Back in 1816, a man named Orrin Gates was trying to dig a well for his tiny homestead, and kept throwing up chunks of silver for his efforts. In less than three years this place was producing nearly five percent of the world's highest-grade silver. It also got the reputation for being jinxed." "Jinxed?" "Within those three years, eleven men were discovered-" "Let me guess. Decapitated?" "Do you want me to answer your question or don't you?" she asked with more than a little irritation in her tone. Holt took a swig of his coffee. "Okay. Let me see if I'm understanding this. So what you're trying to suggest is that whatever killed those men back in 1819 also killed these people here? That would make the killer, what? Nearly two hundred years old?" "If not the original killer, then perhaps his offspring. The man whose body we're to inspect..." She double-checked the report. "Turner. He had just found the body of a missing skier who had been killed the same way before he was attacked." "Offspring? Do Breachers breed?" "Apparently they do, or else they wouldn't exist in the first place. What? Does the possibility surprise you?" She smiled. Holt shrugged. "Of course they would breed over where they came from." "Phadrea." "What I meant was, how would they breed over here?" "Perhaps the same way they breed over on their home world?" He snorted, knowing she was half-teasing him. "Let me rephrase that. Considering there's not as many of them over here as there are on their own world, how could they continue producing offspring?" "If they find another of their kind, what would stop them?" "What if there aren't any others?" A look came over his face. "Forget I asked that." He must have noticed how her eyes kept looking at his sweater, particularly around the area where he normally wore his gun. "It's folded inside my coat in my room," he told her. Her eyes jerked back up to his face. "Do you really intend on using it?" "I'll use it to protect myself. And you. And only if I need to. Why does the idea of me having a gun disturb you?" "Ever shoot the wrong person, Mr. Holt?" "Not yet."

Her face darkened slightly. Sometimes his cockiness was hard to swallow. She had to keep reminding herself he wouldn't have been selected if his credentials hadn't been glowing. A waiter came by to see how they were faring. Holt got more coffee after McKenna's water glass was refilled. After the man left, he noticed her studying him. "Penny for your thoughts." She shrugged. "Nothing important. Just wondering what kind of lifespan a bodyguard has." "Actually, it's not that different from someone in the military. There are those of us who forfeit our lives in the line of duty. But there are a lot more of us who simply wear out or have to quit because of injuries." He sat back in his chair and looked out the big windows on the opposite end of the restaurant. Through it they could see the entire panorama of the mountain. The freshly falling snow. The skiers in their snowsuits already heading for the lift. "You know what I would like to do if I ever get the chance to retire?" he solemnly commented. It was a melancholy side of him she hadn't seen before, and she got the feeling he rarely showed it to others. "What would you like to do?" "I'd like to buy a farm somewhere. Get out of the city and get away from the stress. Find a place far enough away from humanity where I can grow old and raise rabbits." The remark struck her as funny as she envisioned him in overalls and a straw hat, a stem of hay sticking out of his mouth. He smiled at her. "What? Did I say something funny?" "I can't imagine you as a rabbit farmer." "Hey, I used to have a bunny when I was younger. It was a little Dutch rabbit I called Bugs." She snickered again when he glanced at his watch. "You said we had to be there by nine?" "Yeah." "Then we'd better get a move on."

Chapter Six Morgue

McKenna pulled the sheet up over the body of the forest ranger and yanked off her latex gloves. Laying her hands on the edge of the table, she hung her head for a moment to give herself time to collect her thoughts. A Breacher had killed these men. The signs were all there to confirm it had been a Bigfoot, and one of massive size if her measurements were correct. Tracking it down and killing it would be hard. But surviving one of its attacks could prove impossible. She looked up when the door to the morgue opened. Holt walked in with Sheriff Walter Bayer, who had met them upon their arrival at the hospital. "Very interesting bit of news, McKenna," Holt began. "The skier and Turner weren't the only victims of our mad headhunter." "Oh?" The sheriff fully believed a serial killer was responsible for the deaths, and she and Holt had decided early on to go along with his deduction. Sheriff Bayer continued. "We had five other cases within the last sixteen months. All of the victims were on the slopes, all beheaded, but wild animals got to them before we did. Until Roy got it, they'd all been tourists. None of them had been locals." Throwing the gloves into the bag marked for the incinerator, McKenna slowly shook her head. "Well, I can tell you animals didn't do this." "Are you certain?" the sheriff asked. "Animals use their teeth and claws when they attack. They go for the vulnerable parts of the body, like the neck and stomach. And, in most cases, they eat part of their victim. There are signs of bruising on the upper arms and thighs of these men, and the jaw was dislocated on one skull. Their intestines were intact. There are no bullet wounds, no claw marks or knife wounds. No way they were sawed apart. These men died of blood loss because they had been ripped apart by hand. Your killer likes to make it personal." "Jesus H. Christ," Sheriff Bayer muttered. "What kind of strength would a man have to have to do that?" "Man...or manimal," Holt muttered, ignoring the warning look McKenna shot him. Sheriff Bayer made a rude noise. "Believe it or not, you're not the first person I've heard make that suggestion." McKenna tried to look confused. "What are you two talking about?" "Bigfoot. Sasquatch. Yeti. The big guy who lives in the woods. Seven to eight feet tall, and weighing nearly five hundred pounds." The sheriff lifted his hat off his head and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve before shoving the hat back on. "Has anyone seen one of them in this area?" McKenna questioned. "Well, we've had a few undocumented sightings." "Other than those, do you have any proof of their existence?" Holt questioned. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute." McKenna stepped closer to Holt and wished there was a way they could discuss where this conversation was going before it went any further. The sheriff could not find out about Breachers. It was imperative the outside world never learned about such creatures. Although it was their job to bring the thing down and destroy it, it was also their mission to keep everything they knew as the truth in

secret. She locked eyes with her partner, who gave her a subtle nod. She could only trust he knew what he was doing before she turned to face the sheriff. "Are you implying that Bigfoot killed this man and those tourists?" "Could such a creature cause that kind of damage?" the man retorted. "Sheriff Bayer, I found no trace of animal fur or any kind of hair samples in the wounds or on the body. And trust me, I looked for anything unusual. If your Bigfoot was responsible, he would have left some trace evidence. All we have here are two bodies which were dismembered by hand by someone or someones with incredible strength. For all we know, it could be a wild man living on the mountain that those people saw." "It's possible. But what I don't understand is that in all cases I've read that were believed to be Bigfoot related, the creature has never been known to kill anyone. Yes, they're territorial and protective. They'll terrorize intruders, but otherwise they tend to shy away from encountering outsiders." The sheriff frowned. "Of course, this one could be rabid." McKenna crossed her arms. "Are you suggesting we have a rogue Bigfoot? A what? A Ted Bundy Yeti?" "McKenna, if a man can go off on the deep end, who's to say what can or cannot be possible?" Holt interjected. "If it's an animal, or this Bigfoot, it could be sick or diseased, which could explain the killings." "But I've already told you. I found no proof it was an animal attack on these men!" "Look." The sheriff appeared resolute. "All I know is what I've seen for myself and heard from people I've known long enough to trust and believe they're not trying to pull my leg. We've probably had as many Bigfoot sightings as any other place in the United States. And every time we've had a rash of those sightings, people disappeared or turned up in pieces." He pointed a finger at McKenna. "You're telling me an animal couldn't have done this. I believe you. But you can't give me a reasonable cause or explanation, either. Well, I'm providing one. And whether or not you want to believe it is entirely up to you." "Surely we're not the only people you've called in to help investigate," Holt commented. Sheriff Bayer shook his head. "No, you're not, but you're the first ones to confirm these aren't animal attacks." McKenna narrowed her eyes. "I thought law enforcement people were supposed to be skeptics." The man gave her a scathing look. "I used to be, Miss. But after you've been beaten over the head for years on end, at some point you're going to stop and realize you're getting the shit kicked out of you." McKenna threw her hands up in the air. "All right. I give. I'll go along with anything you want to believe. We're wasting time standing here, debating. What's our next course of action?" Holt faced the sheriff. "Can you take us to where these bodies were found?" "Sure. Won't be able to stay long, though. Sun goes down pretty early this time of year, and it'll take us a while to get there, so we'd have to leave now." Holt nodded at McKenna, and together they hurried after the rapidly departing law officer.

Chapter Seven Break

The ride in the snowplow to the break where the bodies had been discovered was uneventful. Sheriff Bayer brought them up to date on the past victims, while Holt and McKenna sat in the tiny back seat and used a flashlight to peruse the coroner's reports. Every time the vehicle swayed or hit a bump, he was as acutely aware of her thigh pressed tightly against his as he was aware of the boner trying to escape his jeans. Even through the layers of clothing and jackets he could feel her heat. The only way he could manage was to keep up a steady stream of talk to help distract his libido. He and McKenna tried to have a private conversation, but the roar of the snowcat made a normal speaking voice impossible to hear. So he turned to the sheriff. "Sheriff, before this past week you said your last victim was reported a year ago?" "Yeah." McKenna double checked the dates, pointing them out in the reports. "And before that, when?" "Nineteen sixty-four," Bayer said. "My father was a construction foreman for the lodge. He'd sent two of his crew up to the old quarry to scout out rock for that big fireplace in the lobby of the lodge you're staying at. They never returned. He lost four men total. They took it for wild animals back then. Then nothing for years until August of last year." "What happened in August?" Holt asked. "Hikers. Three of them. Then two more in February. Two in April during the spring thaw. Then it got quiet. We thought it was over. Then this past September we lost a skier, and another in October. Finally the tourist and Roy." "There's too much inconsistency," McKenna noted. "If there was a Bigfoot living in this area, there would be more killings, wouldn't you think? Especially during the tourist season when people go astray, or deliberately leave the designated runs. Besides, there's no pattern. All I see are just random killings. At least serial killers stick to some form of pattern." "So you're sticking with the theory that these murders are the work or animals, even if you have no proof?" the sheriff asked. "If we look at your theory, that some sort of man-beast is responsible, then there should be a definite M.O. Men need organization. They plot, they plan, they need regulation." "Or it could be a Mrs. Bigfoot," Holt teased. McKenna shot him a dark look, but he understood why. She was trying to keep the real reason why they were here from being revealed, and her strategy was to keep denying the existence of Bigfoot. In the front seat the sheriff snorted but said nothing. They rounded a large strand of trees, when McKenna suddenly pointed at something outside the window. "Oh, my God. Is that what I think it is?" Bayer brought the machine to a halt. "Yeah. It's exactly what you think it is." Opening the door slightly, Holt stuck his head out to get a better look. What appeared to be dead trees had been pulled out of the ground, inverted, and shoved back into the soil. The rack of roots stuck outward from the top like bare, distorted limbs.

Against the backdrop of snow and fir trees, the upside-down trees were alien in appearance. Alien, creepy, and disturbing. "What the fuck is that? Some kind of totem?" "There's some old Indian legends I've read that claim Bigfoot does that to mark his territory. I know of at least seven big old trunks that have ended up that way. Two of them in the last week. And I know for a fact those two were regular old dead trees to begin with!" Holt tried to imagine the kind of strength it would take to pull a tree of that size out of the ground, and then ram it back into the earth. The mental image sent a shiver of fear through him. "Sheriff, you don't happen to carry a tranquilizing gun in this buggy, do you?" "Yeah. Underneath that seat you're sitting on." Holt smiled at McKenna, who didn't reply, but he knew he'd gotten his point across. He sat back down as the sheriff put the snowcat in forward gear. They arrived at the break right as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Other than the bright yellow police tape looped around surrounding trees and encompassing the small building, there was no sign it had been the site of a double murder. "It's rather small," McKenna remarked. "No bigger than my apartment," Holt said. "Makes me feel right at home. Sheriff, how many of these rest stops are there on the mountain?" "Twelve. Six running north and south, six going east and west. This one is the last for the northern sector. Two miles south of us is Six South, running down this side of the mountain to One South, which is two and a quarter miles from the lodge." "So One North is the highest break?" "Yeah. It's a little over ten miles from the lodge. 'Way up in light air." "Light air?" McKenna broke in. "Thin atmosphere," the sheriff explained. "Hard to breathe when you get that far up. Takes a lot of stamina to make it up there. Which is why the Olympic skiers use them when they're in training." He shut down the snowplow and braked it while McKenna and Holt climbed down from the cab. Their feet immediately sank into the snow, forcing them to trudge carefully in the knee-high drifts. The early evening was crisp and cold, hovering around the low thirties, with very little wind to drop the chill factor. But darker clouds were rolling in from the northwest, and the sheriff pointed out their movement and direction. "Looks like the storm's moving in fast. Weather man says it's supposed to hit around midnight and clear out sometime tomorrow afternoon. We can't take too long. We can always come back tomorrow morning when there'll be longer light and do a more indepth inspection." They looked around the break before going inside. "You're not going to find any tracks unless they were made today," Bayer told them. "We had a storm front blow through night before last. Brought lots of ice. Probably wiped out any evidence outside the break." Holt nodded and ripped the police seal on the door. He slowly pushed it open, flicking on his flashlight and panning it around the interior before entering. McKenna stuck her head around the jamb before following him inside.

The break had not been touched after the bodies had been removed, other than the required search by the sheriff's department for clues, evidence, and fingerprints. Blood was darkly congealed on the roughened floor and walls. The imprint of the bodies had been outlined in tape rather than chalk. One outline lay just inside the door, while the other was against the opposite side of the small building. The air smelled ripe. "Notice anything?" McKenna whispered, and Holt wondered if she was aware she'd dropped her voice. Between the hushed quiet of the snow-enshrouded mountainside and the lingering presence of two violent deaths, a sense of respect for the place muted their conversation. Holt paused. "Maybe." "Maybe?" She watched as he entered the tiny cabin and crossed over to stare at the pattern of blood on the wall. Bayer came up behind her to see what was going on. "That's where we found the skier's body," he told them. "Roy's body was here inside the doorway." Holt nodded as he played his flashlight around the area. "McKenna, come over here and tell me what you think." She moved up next to him, carefully avoiding stepping in any of the thicker pools of blood. Holt waved a finger over one area of the wall. "What am I looking for?" she asked. "Look at the splatters right here. This is where the head lay, right?" He looked over to see the sheriff's nod. McKenna peered closer, still not grasping what he was implying. "Okay. So?" "So if you pull someone's head off, aren't you more likely to throw the head away from you?" He could see the light bulb go off as McKenna shone her flashlight over the area again. "The head was placed over here. The head was pulled off, then placed on the floor above the neck. And the arms..." She turned around and examined the pattern of smears on the floor. "I'm no expert, but it looks like the limbs were positioned on the body." She glanced at Holt. "The killer posed the bodies." "What do you mean, the killer posed the bodies?" Bayer wore an incredulous expression. "These people were torn apart!" McKenna shook her head. "I didn't fully take note of it when I examined the bodies in the morgue. But now when I think back, I noticed the arms of the victims had been pulled out of the sockets, yes, but strands of tissue and muscle still connected the limbs to the trunks. Once the bodies attain rigor, you can't pose them until the body decays further. With the limbs detached, they're easier to manipulate." The sheriff looked confused. Holt jumped in. "Ever take an engine apart, Sheriff?" "Yeah. When I was younger? What's that got to do with this?" "When you took your engine apart, you laid each piece down very carefully nearby so you could find it again when you started to put the engine back together, didn't you? And maybe you laid the pieces out in a pattern so that they'd be easier for you to find, right?" "Wait a minute. That's the way the bodies were lying. The torso was right here, the arms were lying by the trunk, but close enough to be 'put back together'. And the head

was lying just above the shoulders...like pieces of a puzzle. Good God, man, what kind of person takes another human being apart by hand and lays him out like a jigsaw puzzle?" Holt took a deep breath, keeping his gaze directly on McKenna as he tried to word his answer very carefully. "Someone who wants to construct a human being from parts? Or someone taking a strange life form apart to see how it was put together?" As he expected, the look she gave him would have driven a less determined man to his knees. "Life form?" the sheriff repeated. "Please tell me you're joking, Holt." The venom literally dripped from her words. He could almost hear her thoughts. What the fuck do you think you're doing? We're supposed to be keeping knowledge of Breachers away from the public! Not inform them about the creatures! "What are you getting at, Mr. Holt? Are you insinuating that Bigfoot is from outer space?" "Yeah, Holt," McKenna chimed in. "Are you suggesting we have to contend with little gray hairy men now?" Brushing off her comment, Holt turned to the law officer. "Sheriff Bayer, if you were to go back and pull the reports on the deaths of those other dozen or so victims since nineteen sixty-four, I bet you'd find they'd all died similar violent deaths." "Or are you back to the homicidal family theory again?" McKenna snapped. "No. Formulating a new one." "Which is?" "I'll let you know once I've chewed it over a bit more." "I'll be on pins and needles in the meantime," she promised. A strange noise suddenly broke through the tiny cabin. The keening sounded eerily in the thin mountain air. It also sounded like a growl, a bit too low, almost a rumbling, yet still menacing. Almost a roar, but too soft. Still, it was definitely a warning. Like a very deep, very loud, very ominous and dangerous purr. "What was that?" Slowly, McKenna slowly got up from her crouched position. Sheriff Bayer looked out the door. "It's probably a wolf, but we haven't seen any on this side of the mountain in months." "Doesn't sound like a wolf to me," McKenna observed when the noise came again, this time much closer. She laid a hand on Holt's arm, and her touch set every nerve on alert. He paused to look at her, and the fear on her face was pronounced. "Maybe we should go back to the snowplow." Sheriff Bayer opened his mouth to reply when something very large suddenly blocked the light in the doorway. Before the big man could turn around, a cry of rage not made by any human throat thundered, filling the tiny hut like a blasting charge of TNT. Something struck the side of the break, pushing against it as if a bulldozer was trying to upend it, until the wall bent sideways. The break tilted nearly sixty degrees, but didn't buckle. Holt grabbed his flashlight with his left hand and drew his gun as he pushed McKenna behind him, putting himself between her and the doorway. The sheriff turned to lead them out but barely made it to the entrance when he was jerked outside like a marionette with its strings cut. His screams were cut off with a crunch and a wet, sucking sound.

Again the wall of the break pressed inward, and Holt could hear the telltale snapping of wood, popping as loud as gunshots, as the aged wood gave way. Instinctively, he reached back for McKenna, yelling for her to go for the floor. His fingers brushed her down jacket before the side completely caved in. The roaring heightened as the weathered boards fell in on them, driving them to flatten themselves against the bloodied mess as two sides of the break gave way, and the entire roof shifted precariously, threatening to bend in the middle and collapse. Snow fell on top of the heap, adding its weight to the already precarious mixture of tin, plywood, and planks. Pulling McKenna down with him as he dove for safety, Holt landed in a bonejarring heap on the floor. The woman fell on top of him, across his back and buttocks, knocking the breath out of him and momentarily confusing him. He could feel the walls caving in as the thing outside continued to pummel the frail building, venting its anger on the structure and the now lifeless body of the sheriff. Holt could feel something heavy land on top of them. He could sense McKenna suddenly go limp, and knew she'd been knocked unconscious. He tried to roll over, but the combined weight was too great. He tried to reach behind, but all he could feel was the edge of her jacket. Thank God he'd managed to keep his grip on his gun. Then, as unexpected as it had started, the roaring and pounding on the break stopped.

Chapter Eight Assessment

For several minutes Holt remained motionless, waiting to see where and when the attacker would strike next, but the silence which followed the bombardment was nearly as deafening. Daylight was gone, and under the pile of clapboard and roofing and snow, it was pitch black. Swallowing slowly, Holt strained his ears to see if he could detect whether or not the creature was still outside, waiting and listening for signs of life still inside the remains of the break. Or if it had left. Or maybe had paused in order to arrange its last victim in gruesome puzzle-istic order. The weight on his back was excruciating. Very carefully he shifted, rolling just enough to reach behind him and upward. His fingers brushed against cloth. Warm cloth. He let his fingers remain there until he felt the slight movement of breath. Thank God. Holt continued to turn over, testing each movement while trying to determine the extent of damage to himself, to McKenna, and to the building. Somewhere nearby was the flashlight he'd dropped, but at the moment he couldn't find it. One thing he did discover was that two sides of the break still remained upright. They had caught the brunt of the downfall, supporting most of the weight of the other two sides which had landed diagonally and at an angle against them. That left a small but questionably safe shelter beneath which Holt and McKenna were located. But it hadn't prevented everything from falling on top of them. One of the corner four-by-fours had missed getting hung up in the overhead web of boards, and had struck McKenna, knocking her out. Even now, approximately fifteen minutes after the initial attack, by the glowing numbers on Holt's wristwatch, she remained unconscious and breathing shallowly. Holt knew he had to risk detection and the likelihood that more of the stuff would come piling down on top of them to find out how badly she was hurt. Inch by inch he continued to roll over, using his hands to see what was behind and above him. Luck was with him when his elbow struck an object that rolled a short distance away. It was one of the flashlights. Eagerly he scrabbled for it. Partially covering the lens in case the creature was still outside and might see the light inside the demolished break, Holt flicked on the switch. It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the beam. It took him a few more seconds for him to get the full grasp of their situation. McKenna lay on her side, across his hips, and facing away from him. The fourby-four had fallen across her head and shoulders, and lay resting lengthwise on top of her. Less than an inch or two above the stud lay the remains of the break like a temporary roof. They were completely closed in. Holt shifted and shined the flashlight above his head. They had landed against the baseboard of the far wall, which was now supporting the majority of the weight of the other two. Past that, all he could see was the lower part of the small stove. He propped the flashlight under his ear to give him maximum coverage before trying to clear the debris and rubble from McKenna and himself. The stud moved easily, and he propped it under the pseudo roof for more support, all the while trying to make as

little noise as possible. There was three feet of ground clearance underneath, give or take a couple of inches, before it narrowed down to a v-shaped point. Pressing up against the retaining wall, he half-pulled, half-rolled his partner onto her back until she faced him. His alarm rose when he saw the blood welling on her face. He probed gently with his fingertips and found where the post had struck her. There was an opening in her scalp right above the left ear. Holt reached inside the back pocket of his jeans to find the clean handkerchief he always kept there and used it as a compress to stop the flow. And prayed there were no bone fragments broken off the skull and pressing into the area. Now it was just a matter of waiting. Sooner or later the sheriff's department would send out another snowplow to find out why the first one carrying their boss never returned to the lodge. But Holt had no idea how soon that would be. In the meantime, that thing was still out there, and at this point he no longer had any doubts they had found their Breacher. To make matters worse, chances were great that the creature would come back to deal with the two humans who had escaped its earlier attack. Holt refused to place bets on who would reach them first. But until then, he shut off the flashlight to conserve its batteries and concentrated on preventing McKenna from bleeding to death.

Chapter Nine Consciousness

The first faint stirrings from McKenna as she regained consciousness woke Holt from his light sleep. The blood soaked handkerchief was still pressed to her head, but he'd stopped applying pressure some time ago. Reaching for the flashlight, he turned it on. "McKenna? Are you with me? Can you hear me?" She moved a little to ease her cramped muscles and groaned. The groan became a cough. "Holt?" "I'm here." She looked around, still somewhat dazed and disoriented. "Holt? What...what happened to the sheriff? Are we still on the mountain?" "Yeah. Bayer's dead." There was a moment when she absorbed this information. At the same time she slowly became aware of the extent of her injuries. "Did the creature get to me?" "No." Holt shook his head, then realized she couldn't see him clearly. "It caved in the break. We're trapped beneath what's left of it." "Can we get out?" "I don't know. Don't think so. That thing may still be out there, for all we know. I'm hoping the cavalry will arrive soon." McKenna took a deep breath. Holt saw it expelled as a white cloud, and the sight of it reminded him that the temperature was dropping drastically. Her hand wavered over the makeshift bandage and paused. "The world is fuzzy. Do I have a concussion?" She tried to turn her head to look at him, but the pain stopped her. She hissed, her face contorted. He waited until the pain eased before answering. "Yeah." She reached out to him and encountered his arm, which she clasped. "Stay with me, Holt." "You can count on it." They lay together in silence for a while and listened to the sounds of the mountain at night, aware that the only thing they could hear was each other's steady breathing. McKenna shivered. Holt laid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "Cold?" "Some. It must be well below freezing. What time is it?" Holt pressed the stem to light up his watch. "Little after ten. You've been out a little more than three hours." A small smile lifted the edges of her lips. "You've been worried about me?" "Naw. I thought you'd forgotten to take your vitamins this morning." He squeezed her hand again. "Are you sure you're okay?" "Tell me something." "What?" "Why were you trying to convince the sheriff that Bigfoot was an extraterrestrial?" "I dunno. I've always been accused of having a mean streak in me. I guess I was just yanking the guy's chain."

"Why didn't you just go ahead and tell him that the creature is from a parallel world? Or was that going to be your next strategy?" Holt smiled. "I've never had a strategy. I'm more of the impulsive sort." A board shifted. A drift of snow fell next to them. Holt felt her fingers fumbling over his jacket as she reached out to him. Taking her hand again, he held it tightly. "Did you see it?" she whispered after a minute or two had passed. "No." Another minute went by before she spoke again. "Was it the Breacher?" "Yeah." Before she could question how he could be sure when he didn't see it, Holt added, "There is no animal I can think of that can do what that creature did. Not even a bear. Besides, bears wouldn't try to bring down a building. Their focus would be on getting to us. Or on devouring the sheriff's body and forgetting about us. I wonder if Breachers are carnivorous." "They played with the bodies. They didn't eat them," she reminded him. "I still play with my food before I eat it. I build towers with my mashed potatoes. That sort of thing." He heard her snort in response. All got quiet again. He could hear the wind picking up to where it made some of the loose boards rattle. Their situation was quickly getting to the time where the chances of their survival would eke into to the fifty-fifty range. He hated it when the percentages were no longer in his favor. He hated it even more when he had to make a decision without the option of waiting. From the moment they had talked on the plane...no. From the moment she had crossed her legs in front of him in that auditorium, he had known he wanted to get to know Miss McKenna a lot better. And not just in a sexual way. She intrigued him. Something about her drew him to her like a magnet. And the more she tried to keep him at bay, the more determined he became. His sixth sense told him she wasn't already spoken for, and he refused to entertain the idea that she was until she told him. Time was not on their side, which meant if he was going to make any sort of move toward her, it needed to be soon. "McKenna, listen. I promise we're going to get out of this. We're going to defeat the Breacher, and once that's done, I'm going to ask you out. To hell with what Morrow said about our services never being needed again. They may not need us for any more missions, but I don't see why we couldn't socialize. Go out to dinner or something. Maybe take in a movie. Trade phone numbers. How would you feel about that, McKenna?" Her grip loosened in his. Holt gave her hand another squeeze. "McKenna?" She was unconscious once more.

Chapter Ten Freezing

A low howl jolted Holt out of his light sleep. He'd been mentally floating in that gray area between awake and asleep, much like the condition doctors referred to as "highway hypnosis". Adrenalin rushed through him at the threat of possible danger, and he jerked, every nerve immediately alert. Every sense stretched to its limit. Grabbing the flashlight and his gun, he held them close should the need arise. After McKenna had passed out the last time, he had scooted closer to her to conserve body heat. Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the temporary ceiling to see if he could detect any shifting in the timbers. To his relief, there was none that he could see. The howl came again, a long, low, drawn-out sound of despair. Was it a wolf? Or the creature lamenting the fact that it was unable to get to the two people still encased in their makeshift wooden coffin? "Holt?" The whisper of his name was so unexpected that he started. "I'm here, McKenna." By now he had maneuvered himself to where they were lying side by side, hip to groin. "What's that sound?" "I think that one's a wolf." McKenna was slow to respond. An after-effect of the concussion? "Didn't Sheriff Bayer say that there hadn't been any wolves on this mountain in months?" "Hey, since when has Lady Luck been on our side?" he quipped, and got a wan smile for his reward. The flashlight heightened her pale features. The pain she was enduring was evident in her eyes and by the tightness around her mouth. Until he could get her to a hospital, unconsciousness was the only escape she had. "I can see why you were chosen." "Chosen? You mean for this job?" "You're a very good bodyguard." "Thanks." There was a pause, then a soft snort. Holt smiled at the sound. "What?" "I was expecting a smart remark." "My job means everything to me. People's lives depend on me being as good as I can be. Yes, I'm good. I'm damn good. That's why we're going to get out of this mess, McKenna." He didn't mean to sound condescending, and he hoped she wouldn't take his tone as being boastful, either. But there was little else in this world he could feel confident about. "Your job...means everything to you?" McKenna coughed. He could hear her teeth chattering. "What about your family?" "I have none." "What about your parents? Your girlfriend?" "I have none." He set his gun on the floor and flexed his fingers, blowing on them to keep them from getting stiff. "I'm cold." Her statement was given as a matter of fact. "I know. Guess it must be in the single digits right now." Holt grabbed his weapon and scooted a little closer, keeping a tight grip on both the pistol and the

flashlight. He was beginning to feel numb after lying in such a confined space for so long, but he had endured worse during his career. "Better?" "I...can't feel you," she admitted. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I forgot to ask earlier." "Nothing worse than a few bruises. You caught the brunt of it." "Holt?" "Yeah?" "I'm thirsty, too. Is there any water nearby?" Holt glanced around, then grinned. "There's fresh water all around us, if you don't mind chewing it." "Chewing it?" She turned her head slightly to see his hand scraping away at a section of the roof. A small amount of snow lay in the palm of his hand when he lowered it to her lips and gently helped her to take it in. "Sorry for the poor choice in beverages. I always did make a lousy daiquiri." She snickered, then winced when pain lanced through her, bringing unexpected tears to her eyes. "Thanks, Holt. It was delicious. You ought to try some yourself." "Don't mind if I do," he remarked, and gathered another small handful to suck on. It wasn't until he placed the snow in his mouth that he realized how parched he was. It had been a while since they had eaten, much less had something to drink. He knew from training that a man could survive for days without food, but not for very long without water. Fortunately there was enough snow within easy or semi-easy reach to take care of their needs. But they had to be careful how fast and how much snow they ingested. Too much or too often, and it could lower their internal body temperature to a dangerous and even lethal level. It was bad enough they had to contend with frostbite, as well as McKenna's injuries, and the Breacher. No sense in adding hypothermia to the mix. But of the four, Holt's biggest worry as for the woman. Her cheeks and hands felt stiff to the touch. Her nose was red, and her lips were a vague bluish tint. Searching the vast storehouse of his memory, he recalled a comment his trainer had made when he and four other bodyguards had gone to Point Barrow in Alaska to learn survival techniques in sub-zero temperatures. Human flesh begins to freeze at thirty degrees Fahrenheit. Despite the shaky lean-to protecting them from direct wind and snow, the cold was a still a silent killer. They could freeze to death just as easily where they were if they weren't found in time. And there was no way he could leave her here while he tried to go for help. Not only could he not see where he was going, but he had no idea which way to head. And that wasn't counting on the Breacher returning to finish what it had started. "McKenna?" When she didn't answer, he shone the light on her and saw she was back asleep, even as her body shivered uncontrollably. Somehow he managed to roll her over onto her side and pull her knees up into a fetal position to help conserve body heat. Then he spooned up behind her, pressing tightly against her back and thighs, wrapping his arms across hers which crisscrossed her chest. The feel of her buttocks nestled in his groin was a sweet temptation, but fortunately the cold made having a hard-on nearly impossible. He compensated by burying his nose in her soft hair. Had McKenna been able to make the trek, he would have suggested they rise up from the wreckage of the break like gangbusters, yelling loud enough to wake the dead as

he fired his pistol into the air. There was not a creature who would not be taken aback by that kind of show of solidarity, and maybe it would have given them enough of a chance to escape back to the lodge. That is, if the Breacher was still out there. And if it could be frightened off. "Too many damn 'ifs'." He sighed loudly as he rested his temple on the bare floor before turning off the flashlight. God knew where the other flashlight lay, but if he conserved the batteries, they should last through the night. "I just hope the sheriff got them damn bunny ones in it, and those commercials are all they're cracked up to be." Listening closely to make sure her breathing was regular, Holt closed his eyes and concentrated on letting his ears keep watch. It was only a few minutes later when he realized there had been no more howls coming from the woods. He couldn't tell if that was a good sign, or not.

Chapter Eleven Conservation

The winds had picked up, and it had gotten colder. Holt came to and noticed a thin sheet of ice had formed across him and McKenna. Carefully, he broke it up and brushed it off of them, then stiffly rolled her over to check on her condition. Her lips were a definite blue color, and her face had gone as white as the snow, the skin tight and rigid like a mask. A knot of alarm began to form in the pit of his stomach. "Oh, God. McKenna?" He pulled her toward him, bringing her face to his shoulder where she could at least lie in the partial shelter of his body. He reached inside her jacket, and his fear rose when he felt no true residual heat inside. Quickly he pushed a hand up under her sweater and laid his palm against the flat of her stomach. Even with his own hands chilled and achy, he could not detect any outstanding warmth. "McKenna?" He shook her slightly, taking care not to jostle her head too much. "McKenna, can you hear me?" She was slowly freezing to death. Holt knew it as certainly as he knew the night was going to get much, much colder, now that the storm the late Sheriff Bayer had warned them about was starting to sweep over the mountain. His own face felt like it was covered in hardening clay. It even hurt to breathe after drawing in the painfully cold air for several hours. They hadn't dressed for extended exposure in this type of weather, with multiple layers of clothing underneath their heavy jackets. No, they had planned on investigating the site, then returning to the lodge to compare notes over supper and maybe a slice of sweet potato pie. And if he was lucky, the two of them would have passed some honest words between them. The wind whistled ominously as it whipped around the break. Occasionally it would huff and puff, sending little clouds of soft, powdery snow floating down over them. The noise sounded like a hungry animal seeking a way inside where they lay. Frequent wind gusts buffeted against the fallen timbers, and Holt grew concerned about the stability of their shelter. More snow was already falling through the cracks in the boards, allowing thin streams of air to flow in. He didn't know whether or not he should be grateful for the fact that at least they wouldn't have to worry about suffocating during the night. But McKenna's worsening condition was beginning to terrify him. Eskimos. The thought flashed through his partially dazed mind. Holt shook his head, trying to clear the numbness brought on by the temperature. Eskimos. They lived in areas where this kind of weather was prevalent almost year round. Through blizzards and storms that could rip the skin right off a man's bones. And they thrived. They conserved body heat in those dinky, ice-packed igloos. They shared body heat. Body heat. Holt began to react more on instinct. He was tired and drained, unable to think clearly, and knew that if he didn't take some sort of action soon, it wouldn't matter if the sheriff's department found them the next morning. Besides, he'd be damned if he would be responsible for McKenna's death when there was a chance he could prevent it. They

were partners, damn it! He was a fucking bodyguard, wasn't he? They had been paired up for a reason, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be accused of being a slacker when this was all over. Figure out what you need to do and do it! There was another reason why he needed to come up with a plan of action and get his butt in gear. Anything would be better than just lying here, waiting to freeze to death, or be eaten. He had finally admitted to himself that he wanted to see if there might be a chance something could develop between him and McKenna. He wanted that chance. And he wanted it bad enough to do whatever it would take to get it. Bottom line, whether it was because of duty or hope, there was no way he would let her die. Moving as carefully as he could so as not to disturb the shelter, Holt managed to get his jacket off before working on his shirt, then the thermal underwear. Once his clothing was removed, the wintry blast was like a knife slicing over his skin, whetting itself across his bare abdomen and chest. Gritting his teeth, he began removing McKenna's jacket and sweater. He paused momentarily when he reached the white lace bra underneath her own thermal layer. Her full breasts filled the cups, the upper curves like sweet, tempting hills ready to be explored, but he quickly shook off the lapse in concentration and unhooked the garment. Her skin was as cold as a block of ice, and as rigid and pale. Somehow he succeeded in wrapping her tightly to his chest, burying her forehead against his neck and collarbone, with the shirt, sweater, and undershirts. The heavy jackets he laid over them, tucking in the edges. His left arm was free, but halfway supported her head. His right arm he ran through one of the jackets' sleeve. All in all, he suspended her like a papoose against his chest and belly. When he was finished, Holt took a few moments to rest. In spite of their circumstances, he was acutely aware of her firm breasts along his chest, as well as the fullness of her curves. She matched him point for point—knee to knee, hip to hip, and shoulder to shoulder. A vision of her naked in bed flashed through his mind, and he imagined her being as strong and demanding during sex as he was. Her Alpha to his. Holt felt a stirring in his groin, but he couldn't blame the little bugger for wanting to remain safely tucked inside his body cavity. Even his balls were drawn up as far as they could go. Pressing his cheek to her temple, he listened carefully to her breathing. Fortunately it wasn't labored. He sighed gratefully, and he caught another whiff of her perfume. As before, it was very faint and pleasantly floral, emphasizing her femininity without being overpowering. He ate some more snow, then tried to press a little between McKenna's lips. She felt so cold against him, it was more like holding a mannequin than a live human being. Unmoving, she had never made a sound during the adjustment. The side of her head was crusted with dried blood, but he dared not remove the sodden handkerchief for fear the wound might start bleeding again. The dial on his watch read 3:42. Another four more hours before dawn.

"Hold on, McKenna. You can do it. Just four more hours, and they'll get us out of here. Or I will. One way or another. I swear it." He nuzzled her hair before sealing his vow with a soft kiss against it.

Chapter Twelve Warmth

The sensation of her skin sliding over his brought him instantly to full alertness. His nerves were raw from the stress of the past several hours, and the bone-numbing cold was working its way into his brain. His whole body ached from being cramped for so long, his back especially. His thighs were badly bruised, having taken the brunt of his fall and cushioning McKenna's tumble. But something...something had grabbed his heart and squeezed it, so that now it pounded like a bass drum. Above them a timber shifted. It was millimeters, and barely audible over the rising and falling call of the wind, but it dropped a delicate pattern of snow over them. More than usual. Some of it landed on his face, which was probably what had warned him. His sudden tenseness telegraphed to McKenna, to the deep recesses of her mind, triggering her natural instinct for survival. Holt felt her shudder within the circle of his arms. Her lips parted, brushing against his throat, and he heard her mutter his name. Laying his mouth to her ear, he whispered back a single word. "Stop." He could feel her hand bump his hip. Her fingers trailed up his side until they reached his chest. If he hadn't been so cold, they would have tickled. He was unable to see if her eyes were open with separating them from his cocoon of warmth. Another layer of snow drifted downward from the timbers. Holt strained to hear as he listened for the telltale snuffling of a wolf or other animal. Or for that low, unearthly purring that would indicate the creature had returned. But all he was able to detect was the long, mournful moan of the wind as it pushed against the fallen sections of the break, and caused more snow to find its way into their sanctuary. He could also hear the strong beat of McKenna's heart. It was an uncanny echo against his eardrum. A firm rhythm, pounding a little faster than normal at the moment with her awareness of possible danger. And there was warmth radiating between them like a stoked fire as skin pressed against skin. Holt shifted to look down at her face and was relieved to see a little color had returned. McKenna gazed back up at him, confusion and threads of cloudiness in her eyes. He flashed her one of his sardonic grins. "Okay. Fire drill's over. How do you feel?" She nodded slowly, blinking. "Did it come back?" "I don't know," he admitted truthfully. "I heard a strange noise, but I think it may have been the wind this time, playing with the roof." "Mmm." She drifted again, and the silence lengthened. Not wanting to let her go just yet, Holt used his free arm to give himself some snow and offered some to her. "Would you like more snow?" McKenna nodded once, slowly. Laying the pistol on his hip, he reached overhead to scrape some of the finer powder to give to her. She licked the snow from his palm and picked up the stray particles of ice from his fingers with her tongue. Fascinated, Holt watched as she took the frozen moisture from him. Her lips hadn't lost all of their previous bluish tint, but they

were much pinker than they had been a few hours ago. The unexpected urge to kiss her washed over him. It was a feeling he squashed without a second thought. This was neither the time or place, yet the need continued to linger like a ghost. "More?" "No. Thank you." Her breath was cool from the snow. "It's like a snow cone without the flavoring." Holt smiled. "When I was a kid, my folks couldn't afford the fancy flavorings. But Mom had this concoction she made with maple syrup flavoring and sugar." He felt her slight laugh. "You had maple syrup snow cones?" "Grew up on them," he admitted. She snuggled against him, adjusting to find a more comfortable position. Her mouth brushed the underside of his ear, and without thinking he dropped a kiss to her hair. "Did you start a fire?" "Uhh, what?" He was busy fighting his own inner battles to catch her question the first time. His dick had finally woken up to the fact that he was holding one very vibrant woman in his arms. "It's warm." "Yeah, well." He moved a little to ease the cramping in his legs. His long frame filled up the tiny space, and he'd been forced to bend his knees in order to make enough room for both of them to be comfortable. Or at least fit. He opened his mouth to say more when she moved her head, bumping his nose. "Holt?" Her fingers found one of his nipples, and the button of skin and nerves instantly reacted to her touch. The hand disappeared, and he knew she had just realized their state of undress. "You were freezing to death. I had to do something. I did some training in Alaska a few winters ago, and I learned this is how the natives cope. It was all I could think of at the moment." He felt her sigh. "Good call." She looked back up at him, and he remembered to jerk away in time before her forehead caught him on the schnozz again. "Direct body heat. That was quick thinking. Thank you." "Just wait until you get my bill. Then see if you still want to thank me." Again, the soft snort. "Holt?" "Mmm?" He looked down at her. In the flashlight's glare it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. Her eyes were dark pools reflecting back his image. It was as though an invisible hand pushed down on the back of his head, guiding his face forward until he found her lips. They were cool yet pliable, and for a split-second she hesitated to kiss him in return. She lifted one hand to cup his cheek as he gently slanted his mouth sideways over hers. They were simple kisses. Tender kisses. Never breaching the inner sweetness of her mouth, but loving her lips and drawing them between his with long, slow tugs. A soft moan vibrated in her chest, and then she pulled away, simultaneously pushing his chest with her other hand as she broke contact. "No. Holt, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? I'm the one who started it. I'm the one who should apologize, but I'm not." "I mean, I can't." "Can't what?" She took a deep breath to steady herself. Her heart was galloping. "I'm afraid to kiss you." Holt chuckled. "I promise not to bite." "That's not what I mean. I can't allow this to go any further." A chill went through him, and it had nothing to do with the cold. "You're already spoken for?" "No." With that one word Holt released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Holding in fear and worry. "Then why not let it go further? I don't mean right now, but later. Once we get out of this mess." "You wouldn't understand." "Try me." She seemed to think about it, but her doubts led her right back to her original objection. "I can't." He wanted to pursue the topic. He wanted to argue with her, to make her see things his way. Why not let it go further, especially once they were off the clock? God, she felt so good in his arms. She felt wonderful, lying with him skin-to-skin. His fingertips lightly skimmed her back, making her shiver. "One date. That's all I'm asking for. Something simple. I'll even settle for a walk in the park. You tell me. You set the boundaries." "Trust me, Holt. I...just...can't." There was something in her background, in her past, that was creating an obstacle he couldn't scale. There was some reason she fiercely guarded. But no one had ever accused him of being a quitter. "All right. I'll accept that. For now." He sensed her smiling. She leaned her head back along his collarbone, and her whole body relaxed. She cuddled against him, into him, and Holt found he savored the contact between them even more. Again, there was the urge to roll onto his back and feel her weight settle on top of him. Maybe even have her groin pressing into his. He gritted his teeth and promised himself that moment would come later. However, for the time being, he needed to keep his mind focused on their survival. Gathering up the gun, he pressed it and his hand into the small of her back. Shifting around as much as possible for any position infinitesimally more comfortable, he listened as she drifted back to sleep. Then he listened to the wind. It was still out there. The Breacher knew there were two more victims left for it to find, but the weather was deterring it, forcing it to wait. Wait for the morning, wait for the storm to pass, and wait for its chance to finish what it had started. Holt could play that game, too. God knew he had played it countless times during the course of his work. Flexing his fingers around the gun, he deftly thumbed off the safety and waited. It wouldn't be much longer.

Chapter Thirteen Plan

The storm that had been predicted to blow out by morning was still raging loudly in the pre-dawn hours. This time, however, it was his bladder which woke him up. Holt knew he hadn't taken in enough moisture to cause him any discomfort, but habit more than anything had rung the alarm on his internal clock. Holt lay there in the dark, directing his ears to every odd shift and shudder of the tangled mass above them. A quick glance at his luminescent watch told him it had only been an hour and a half since he'd last checked. This night was lasting long enough to last two lifetimes. He clicked on the flashlight to see how McKenna was faring. The gentle pressure on his chest assured him she was alive and breathing. Only now, he realized he couldn't feel anything in his feet when he tried to wriggle his toes. They were like blocks of concrete attached to his legs. Chance were McKenna's feet and legs were also similarly affected. It was hard to tell, given their current situation. Playing the light over her, Holt allowed himself the chance to study the woman, given this opportunity to watch her sleep. A strand of hair had come loose from the braid running down her back and had pasted itself to the corner of her mouth. Her lips were parted. He gently pulled away the hair, careful not to wake her, and the act reminded him of the feel of her lips. He always kept a firm, controlled rein on his emotions and tried to use deadpan humor to mask any sort of concern or building fear. He'd found, though, that it worked best when he was caught unexpectedly in the throes of a feeling which frightened him. Not because those feelings were alien to him, but because he was surprised by their sheer strength. Although his job normally required he work solo, he had worked with partners before. A couple had even been female. But for some reason none of them had ever made him take a second glance, much less consider bedding them. That also applied to the people he was hired to protect, despite the fact that some of them had blatantly hit on him during the job, men included. He'd reasoned that maybe he had some sort of subconscious rule preventing him from forming any sort of attachment to them. Which was why he was surprised by the way this woman tugged at him. And now he had to find a way to deal with it, and with the feelings she provoked in him. Holt gazed at McKenna as she slept. Now that he had the chance to think about it, why would he be paired up with a vet? To make the final determination that the creature was their elusive Breacher? Had she gone through some sort of training that he hadn't? Yes, she was strong, intelligent, and capable, and there was no question about her bravery, but ultimately she was defenseless. Guess that's why I was chosen to go with her. She's providing the brains, and I'm in charge of the brawn. In the flashlight's beam he examined the context of her face. His eyes traced the line of her jaw, the small ear with its single pearl stud earring, and the curve of her neck. He followed the smoothness of her shoulders, down to the collarbone, to where her chest was pressed against him. He noticed the swell of her breast and the way it moved as she breathed. It was mashed against him, ample proof she'd had no cosmetic enhancements.

The nipple was hidden from sight, and he resisted the urge to lean back enough to where he could see the color of the peak. Yes, she was the brains and he was the brawn, but he got the feeling there was much more to it that he hadn't yet figured out. But maybe that was why he felt comfortable around her. He loved mysteries. He enjoyed solving puzzles. And he had to admit that once he'd learned about Breachers, the biggest puzzle of all of mankind had been dumped into his lap. Then again, maybe the reason she'd punched his buttons was because her tenacity fit his bullheadedness. That, and the fact that there was so much more about her that he still didn't know. Like your first name. I never learned your first name. He was unaware that his other hand had been stroking her lower back, sometimes gently kneading the muscles. She moved, and he lifted his eyes to find her staring at him. She had noticed where his eyes had been directed, but she had also seen that his vision had been miles away. "How do you feel?" he murmured and readjusted the beam of his flashlight. "Better, but I can't feel my legs or my feet. Can you?" "No." He had no intention of stopping his hand from caressing her incredibly soft skin. Not only did it give him something to do, but the contact also helped to keep him calm and centered. "What do you think? Maybe it's frostbite?" "Let's hope it's just poor circulation." She shifted again, wincing. "I'm afraid, though, you're right. Oww. We must be a bundle of bruises." "At least you sound more lucid." McKenna smiled. Reaching up to scratch the side of her mouth where her hair had glued itself to her face, she took a deep breath. "Has the creature come back?" "If it has, it didn't leave a calling card. I'm...sorry, McKenna." "Sorry?" Her eyes widened. "For what?" "For not getting you out of here. The moment the creature had left, I should have hoisted you over my shoulder and taken you back to the lodge." The corner of her mouth slanted upward. "Oh, well, now's a fine time to apologize." "Better late than never?" "I'll forgive you this time," she teased. She paused, started to speak, then stopped. Noticing her reluctance, Holt grinned lopsidedly. "What? Tongue froze?" "Not yet. I was going to ask if you had considered the possibility that, even if the Breacher doesn't return, there's the bigger chance we could freeze to death before help arrives." "I'm more willing to place odds that the Breacher will come back. If these creatures are intelligent, it will." Her eyes narrowed. "You think they're intelligent?" "It can't be ruled out. Of course, it could also return because it's hungry." "Those men I examined didn't have any bite marks on them." "Then again, maybe it killed those people because it's territorial, and seeing them here pissed it off." He shuddered unexpectedly, remembering the dead, inverted trees. "Either way, we have to get out of here. We can't wait much longer."

"Do you still have your gun?" "Yeah. Can you move?" She tried to stretch. "Some. I doubt if I can sit up, much less get to my feet. Listen, Holt, if push comes to shove..." "Hush, McKenna. It's all or nothing. I'm not leaving you behind." She touched his cheek. "That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." "I mean it," he insisted. "All or nothing. I was born without the 'leave behind' gene." "We'll see." She trailed off, and they remained in silence to listen to the wind lessen in intensity. After a few more minutes, she asked, "How much longer until dawn?" "An hour. Maybe two. It's hard to tell with the cloud cover. Why don't you go ahead and grab a little more shut-eye? Build up your strength as much as you can? As soon as I see daylight, I'll wake you and we can make a run for it." She scrutinized his face. "You've hardly slept yourself. Why don't I take this shift?" "I'm too pumped up. Besides, with that head wound, you're liable to pass out without being aware of it." Softening his next words, he added, "I need you whole and well, McKenna. Conserve your energy while you can. I'll sleep on the way back to Washington after this is over." "I thought we couldn't go back until we'd killed the Breacher." "Get some rest, woman. That's an order." She laughed softly before resting her face at his throat. It wasn't long before Holt noticed she was unconscious once again. Relieved, he drew her back into the circle of his arms, rested his chin against her hair, and resumed his vigil.

Chapter Fourteen Attack

This time the timbers moved, and not because of the wind. Holt started, gripping the pistol firmly before rousing McKenna. "Game's afoot," he whispered, but she didn't move. "McKenna?" He tried again, giving her a little shake. Her head wobbled listlessly. Her lack of response worried him more than the continual shifting overhead. Hurriedly, Holt pulled their individual shirts and sweaters back on, minus the bra. The hooks would take up valuable time, as opposed to simply slipping her tops over her head. He forced himself to bite through the needles of pain in his arm where she had been lying on it, as well as the stiffness in his fingers. Zipping up her jacket, he started to pull up and tie the hood when he heard that sound again. That low almost-growl, like a cross between a roar and an insidious purr. Like a tornado striking from out of nowhere, the wooden boards began to fly in all directions as the creature sought its victims. In its search for the survivors, it had finally found the source which had been eluding it all night. In its haste and fury to get at the two people trapped inside, it began to rip apart and shred what was left of the break. Its screams of near-victory blended in with the howling wind as planks of wood were scattered. Holt rolled himself and McKenna as far into the narrow crack of the toppled wall, squeezing in as much as possible while trying to stay out of range of the creature's claws. Dimmed daylight bled into the hole created by the Breacher. It was finally dawn. A new day, and a whole new fresh set of troubles. Holt knew they wouldn't be able to use the ruined break for cover much longer, and watched for their chance to run for it. In the back of his mind, he noticed that the Breacher was using only its arms and hands to demolish the structure, and not its mouth or jaws—something no animal would do. Regardless, if this creature was the Breacher, it was huge. And it was either damned hungry or damned mad, or both. One time it managed to reach in far enough to snag the sleeve of Holt's jacket. He responded by firing up along the angle of the arm. The creature yelped in surprise and pain, then redoubled its efforts to get to them. Holt kicked at the hands that exposed themselves inside. Big hirsute appendages covered in pale yellow hair, and with knuckles and an opposable thumb. The nails were long but blunt instead of curved and sharp like an animal's. The creature roared, grabbed the building, and tried shaking it. The wall at Holt's back cracked and began to separate from the flooring, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the hut was nothing more than a pile of kindling. A beam of sunlight broke through the thick cloud cover and threw itself into the remains of the break, momentarily blinding him. The creature also paused for a splitsecond, either to adjust to the brightness, or to catch its breath. But for whatever reason, for that brief span of heartbeats, the man and Breacher saw each other full in the face. The sight of it nearly paralyzed Holt. This was no animal face. Neither was it vaguely human. It was definitely alien, and more frightening than anything his imagination or even Hollywood could imagine. It

was huge, nearly nine feet tall, and impossibly wide across the chest. Rows of what appeared to be fangs or teeth ran in a wide vertical slash from its head to its chest. And for every tooth there was a pure white eye embedded behind it, as if the eye was meant to guide the inches-long bicuspid. A horizontal slash at the very top of its head opened and closed, emitting a cloud of mist every time the Breacher breathed. The thing had two arms and legs, but its body was completely covered with a thick pelt of nearly white hair. Holt caught sight of a red stain near where he would guess the thing's hip was located. At the last second his eyes dropped lower, and the unmistakable sight of the thing's human-like cock hung down between its legs. Holt's mind barely registered the fact that the Breacher was male when it gave itself a rough shake and renewed its efforts, plunging an arm deep into the recess. Again Holt fired two shots, one directly into the arm and the other at the head where he thought he could do the most damage. The Breacher screamed, and the building shifted erratically. Boards popped like firecrackers. The floor shuddered. Without warning, the break tilted, and Holt suddenly found himself and McKenna rolling backwards into a pile of snow. The cold blast hit him with unexpected fierceness. Gritting his teeth against the pain of abused muscles, he forced himself to his feet, halfdragging, half-carrying McKenna against his chest. The wind was throwing too much into his face for him to get a good look at where the creature was located. Or even to see if it had realized yet that its prey was no longer inside the demolished hut, and was still intent on fishing them out. He knew he was downwind from the creature, and took the precious seconds the opportunity afforded him to hoist McKenna's still unconscious form over his shoulder before turning and running as best he could to someplace where they could hide. His legs sank into the fresh, soft powder, and the icy wind drew fingers across his unprotected face, leaving bright red patches. He was confused and disoriented. The sun was gone, swallowed again by the dirty gray clouds, and leaving him with no way of discerning which way was north. He was exhausted beyond thinking, and his vision was blurred. Had he known which way to go, he would have headed for the snowplow and hoped the keys were still in it. Or he would have given a thought to heading for the next break two miles away. But in his current situation, his sense of self-preservation told him to head down the mountain. And to keep a death grip on his pistol. A small copse of pine arose from out of nowhere some twenty feet in front of him. Gasping for breath, he managed to find space behind them that was out of the wind and gently laid McKenna against the boles of the trees. In the background Holt could hear the creature still raving amid the remains as he concentrated on reviving her. "Come on, McKenna. Get with the program!" He crouched down in front of her and slapped her cheeks, making the reddened spots on them even redder. He shook her, trying not to aggravate her injury even further. "McKenna, I need you. McKenna!" She moaned and shifted slightly. He could see her trying to move her limbs and fighting against the stiffness and pain. "Wake up, McKenna. Can you hear me?" He glanced up in the direction of the break. The roaring and sound of wood snapping had ceased, which meant the creature would be searching for them. It was just a matter of time before it would discover his tracks and come after them. Holt knew the

Breacher wouldn't stop until it had found the person responsible for putting three bullets into it. Holt shuddered violently, then took a deep breath. His lungs ached from the cold. His face felt numb, and his feet and legs were soaked from the snow. It was like trying to walk on stilts. Yet, for all his discomfort, his main concern was for McKenna. He didn't know if he was strong enough to carry her to safety. And if she didn't wake up soon, he was more worried about the long-term effects of hypothermia. Keeping one ear on the creature in the distance, he tried rubbing her hands and arms, blowing on them and pushing back the sleeves of her jacket and sweater to get up to the elbows. He then rubbed her legs as best he could through the jeans, all the while urging her to wake up. "Come back to me, McKenna. Wake up. Don't let this thing get to you. You can fight it. You can beat it! C'mon, McKenna! Listen to my voice. I know you're cold. You probably feel like parts of you are about to fall off. God knows I do. But you gotta hang in there, you hear me? Wake up, McKenna!" He saw her lips move. Readjusting the hood of her parka, he snapped closed the strap underneath her chin and tucked inside loose wisps of hair. He bent over her face and laid his cheek next to hers. Her breath tickled his ear. "Come on, McKenna. Wake up." She moved again, making soft grunts of pain as her body protested. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she tried to focus on his face. "Holt." Her eyes widened and she glanced upward. She must have realized it was daylight. "Come on, McKenna. We gotta get out of here. Can you stand?" Getting an arm about her waist, he helped her as she struggled to her feet. "Which way?" "Beats me," he confessed. "As long as it's away from that thing, I don't care." "It came back?" She took two steps before her knees buckled. Pain flashed across her face, making her cry out softly. Holt drew her tighter against him. "What's wrong? Are your legs okay?" "I can't feel them until I try to walk." He nodded, understanding. "We gotta keep going. Come one. Grab hold of me." He tucked the pistol into his waistband so he could easily get to it. It was like a lump of ice against his hip, but he needed both hands to help keep her upright. Still, using them was proving to be difficult. The long night, the cold, and the cramped conditions they'd been forced to remain in had taken their toll on both of them. Trying to carry her in the snow was nearly impossible, as well as physically draining. A loud rumbling noise echoed in the distance. It was answered back by an animalistic growl. Caught in the middle, Holt glanced from side to side, but he was unable to see anything moving. Furthermore, he doubted he would even see the Breacher coming. The thing was perfectly camouflaged for this type of weather. They managed to make it about twenty yards down the mountain, reaching an outcropping of rocks that resembled a large snow bank. As they tried to go around it, McKenna's legs gave way again, and she sat in the snow, panting heavily. "The sheriff...wasn't kidding."

"About what?" "Light air." Holt started to reply when, for whatever reason, something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His sixth sense had kicked in, and he took a step back to survey the landscape. Grabbing his pistol, he held it out in front of him. There was only one way the creature could get to them, and that was to directly follow the path he and McKenna had taken through the trees. Fortunately the outcropping gave them some concealment, as well as shelter against the wind. He hunched down, keeping his weapon at ready. "Come on, you furry som bitch. I'm tired of dis game and I wanna go home." His lips were numb. His mouth felt like a dentist had shot it full of Novocain, as well as in other parts of his body. All unmistakable signs of frostbite and hypothermia. The only good thing, if one could call it that, was that the bitter, knife-like cold no longer affected him. But he also felt very, very tired. Tired and sleepy. He caught a glimpse of McKenna trying to get back on her feet and waved at her to sit down. "We can't sit here and be targets," she argued. He started to reply when he was interrupted by a rumbling sound to their left that steadily grew louder. Confused, Holt wondered if the creature had circumvented the trees and planned on attacking from the rear. If it did, its actions would back his claim that the Breachers were intelligent. But he was also certain there was no way so large a bulk could find its way to them without creating an ungodly amount of noise, despite the snow. At that moment he heard crashing coming from the other side of the outcropping. His sanity nearly frayed to the point of snapping, he yelled out at it. "We're in here you fuck-faced monster! If you wan' us, come an' get us! But I'm warning you, if I go down, I'm taking you wi' me!" Holt stood perfectly still, pistol aimed at the spot beside the pile of rocks where he believed the Breacher would emerge. He didn't have long to wait. It lumbered into view, supported on top of the snow by clawed feet that were wide and thickly padded, and perfectly suited for the terrain. It stopped when it spotted Holt and let out a howl that in no way could be mistaken for anything human. Blood matted its fur in three distinct places where his bullets had met their target. If it weren't for the bright redness of the blood, the creature would have blended into its surroundings. Holt fired again, but the bullet went astray. His arms trembled uncontrollably and his fingers wouldn't work properly. "Fuck!" He tried a second shot. This time he managed to graze the Breacher's shoulder, further enraging the monster. It clashed its row of vertical teeth and started toward him. "McKenna, run f'r it!" He glanced back at where she should be. With the creature's attention focused on him, and the fact that it hadn't spotted her yet, there was a good chance she could get away. To his shock and disbelief, she was on her feet, divesting herself of her clothing. "McKenna! Wha' the fuck 'r you doing?" The cold had gotten to her brain. He'd seen this exact same thing occur up in Alaska when a guy kept complaining he was hot, and started stripping. There was a medical term for it, but he didn't have the time to remember it.

The Breacher was heading right for him. Taken off guard, Holt glanced from it to McKenna, and back. He tried to shoot again, but his shot went wide when the Breacher suddenly side-stepped. Suddenly, the creature came to an unexpected halt, as if it had run into a brick wall. Holt raised his pistol to take advantage of the pause, taking a bead on the thing's head, when a second unearthly growl sounded directly behind him. Stunned, he ducked and rolled toward the rocks, ending in a low crouch with his gun ready. Shock washed through him when he finally caught sight of the thing that had been standing not twenty feet away. It was another Breacher, but this one was different. It stood nearly eight feet high, but instead of having whitish fur, it had dark brown, glossy hair. Holt glanced at its genitals. There was no cock. It's female? His next thought send all the blood rushing to the center of his chest. The thing had a mate, and he and McKenna were caught right in the middle. He tried to look around the outcropping where he'd last seen McKenna stripping, but the brown Breacher spotted him and took a step in his direction. The white Breacher shrieked, bent over slightly, then charged straight for him. Seeing the creature coming toward him, he swung around and aimed to fire. To his shock, the female turned and began running away from him. Gasping for air, Holt watched as the brown Breacher headed directly for the white one, its arms extended. A roar of defiance ripped through the morning air, and the brown one plowed into the white one, knocking it off its feet. There was a scream of pain and an answering howl as the brown creature pounced upon the already wounded one. It dipped its slitted mouth over the other Breacher's mouth in what would have been a bizarre kiss if the female hadn't ripped a huge chunk of flesh away. Blood spurted high into the air, and Holt could smell the foul stench from where he squatted. The male struggled, but Holt's bullets had taken their toll on it, leaving it too weak to fight. Holt stood watching in rapt horror as the female continued to slice the other Breacher into pieces and toss the parts in all directions. Shredding it until there remained no recognizable chunk larger than his fist. The snow around the two creatures turned into a wide, bloody pool. Only when the male's struggles finally stilled did the female pause and watch the creature die, its dissected body steaming in the cold. Then the female straightened and turned blood-smeared eyes at Holt. His arms jerked up, his fingers clumsily tightening on the trigger as he aimed at the new menace, when the Breacher held out one clawed hand as if signaling him to stop, and tilted its head. "Holt." The word was scarred and crusty, but understandable. "Ever shoot the wrong person, Mr. Holt?" It was then he knew what the brown creature was. Or who it was. At that moment, the brown Breacher began to shrink, to change, taking on human form. He toppled face forward as the world gave way to blackness.

Chapter Fifteen Questioning

Holt awoke. It was a full minute before he realized he was in a hospital, and not still trapped by a ravenous creature in the shell of a destroyed break. An air mattress filled with warm air lay on top of him. The cord for the call button to the nurses' station was wrapped around the bed's side bar, the control dangling near his shoulder. He reached for it, and found that his hand was swathed in bandages up to his elbow. Same for his other hand. A quick examination revealed his legs and feet were likewise wrapped. A nurse answered his page and promptly began to check his temperature and blood pressure. She was soon followed into the room by a physician. "Good evening, Mr. Holt. I'm Dr. Burditt. How are you feeling?" "McKenna." It was difficult to talk since his face was coated with a salve of sorts. The doctor smiled understandingly. "The lady you were with? She's making remarkable progress, but both of you are not out of the woods yet. Please pardon the pun. You were very lucky out there." The physician paused and murmured something to the nurse, who nodded and left the room. "There are some men from the sheriff's department who've been waiting to ask you some questions. Are you feeling up to some company?" Holt nodded tiredly as the man checked his chest and bandages. "Good. After they leave, though, I strongly recommend you get some more rest. If you need help, I can have the nurse bring you something." "How...bad..." "How bad are your injuries? Right now we're not sure. We're waiting for the test results to see if any permanent damage has been done to the tissues or blood vessels. In my honest opinion, I think you might lose a couple of toes and maybe a finger. Don't plan on buying any open-toed sandals for the summer just yet." Giving Holt another smile, he slung his stethoscope behind his neck and tucked the end of the instrument into the breast pocket of his lab coat. "I'll be back later this evening to see how you're doing. If you have any concerns or needs, notify a nurse. Or if you want to speak directly to me, let them know and they'll contact me. I've given strict orders for them to give you whatever help you need." "Thanks." It was the best Holt could manage. Soon after the doctor left, two men entered the room. Holt vaguely recognized one of them. "Mr. Holt." One deputy stepped forward. "I'm Deputy Hovarth. This is Deputy Trumain. May we ask you some questions?" "Sheriff Bayer is dead." Holt spoke slowly, fighting to enunciate each painful word. "We know that, Mr. Holt. We found his remains not long after Search and Rescue picked up you and Miss McKenna. You two were very lucky. Whatever that thing was that killed him could have added you both to the death total if you hadn't managed to bring it down first." Holt stared at the man. "You f-found the creature?"

"We found its remains. It looked like animals had already gotten to it. There was hardly anything left to gather that was larger than my fist." He scratched the back of his head. "Our preliminary examination points to one huge mother-frickin' bear. Plus, I have to admit, that has to be the first albino bear I've ever seen." "It's the biggest bear I've seen," Deputy Trumain interjected. "How did...you find us?" "When the sheriff didn't return, we tried to send out Search and Rescue, but the storm was too intense. We had to wait until daybreak," Hovarth explained. "When we found the snowcat, we thought you all had probably taken refuge for the night inside the break." The man paused for a moment. "We found the sheriff's body and what was left of the break. There were some discernable tracks that we followed, and that's how we discovered you." We discovered you. "What about McKenna?" "We've already questioned her," Trumain told him. "We just need to know your side of the story before we can close this case." Holt spoke slowly. "There's not much to tell. We got to the break. The creature attacked us and killed the sheriff. McKenna and I hid in the break until dawn. When we tried to return to the lodge, that thing tried to attack us. I shot it and..." He slowly shook his head. "I don't remember much after that." Both deputies looked at each other. Hovarth nodded. "That's exactly what the lady told us. Good thing you're an expert with that pistol. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this discussion. Well, Mr. Holt, thank you for your time." "That's it?" Holt asked as they turned to leave. Hovarth smiled. "That's it. Thank you again for your cooperation." Holt watched them leave. Soon after a nurse entered his room to administer a sleeping pill. "Miss, can I see my friend? Or talk to her?" The woman gave him a patient smile. "Visitation is over." "No. She's a patient here. Her name's McKenna." The nurse shook her head. "I'm not familiar with the name. Sorry." "She was admitted the same time I was." There was that smile again. "I'll check the records and see what I can find. McKenna?" "M-C-K-E-N-N-A. Dr. Burditt is treating her, too." She gave him some water to chase down the pill, then fluffed the pillows behind her head. "Get some rest, Mr. Holt. When you awaken, I should have some news to pass along to you." By the time he regained consciousness again, another day had passed. And McKenna had been released from the hospital.

Chapter Sixteen Truth

Nine days later, Holt took a flight to Washington, D.C. and rented a car to look for the plain brick building that housed the secrets to the unknown group or committee, or whatever the fuck was running the death squad against Breachers. It was time they answered a few questions about what was going on. But more importantly, he had to know why no one had cared to inform him that his partner in their venture was one of those things. In the days during his convalescence, he had thought long and hard about what had occurred up on that mountain. And one very real truth continued to shine above everything else. He had fallen in love with McKenna. Now what in hell was he going to do about it? Hopefully, he would find that Morrow character and finagle enough information and/or answers out of him until those two days in Utah finally made sense. And then, maybe, he would be able to come to a decision that had been irking him from the moment he had accepted the fact that the woman he couldn't forget was a creature of nightmarish proportions. His memory was spot on. He found the building with little trouble. In fact, he had more difficulty finding a parking space. The scan at the door went without a hitch, although he expected the voice at any moment to tell him to go away. That his services were no longer required. Instead, the door opened, and he walked down the long hallway to the auditorium that was empty, as expected, although several lights were on. "Hello!" His voice sounded muffled. It wouldn't carry in a place like this, with its cushioned seats and thick carpet. "Hello! Mr. Morrow!" He jogged down the other corridor where he knew there was a second entrance. That door opened onto a side street. Frowning, Holt returned to the inner room. To his surprise, Morrow was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for him. As he had all the previous times, the man wore what appeared to be the same gray suit. Thinking back on the pilot that had flown him and McKenna to Utah, Holt figured it had to be the unofficial uniform. "Good afternoon, Mr. Holt." Holt paused at the edge of the ring of seats. "Let me guess. You already know why I'm here." The man smiled slightly. "I have a good idea. It's about your partner, isn't it?" "I want to know where she is." "Mr. Holt, your mission is over. And I must confess, we are very impressed by the way it was handled." Holt made a rude sound. "By the way it was handled? I want to know why I wasn't told the truth about her." "Would it have made a difference?" the man coolly questioned. It was enough to make Holt take a step back as he reconsidered. Would it have made a difference?

Damn right it would have. For one thing, I would not have been as trusting. For another, I wouldn't have spent as much time admiring her body. At the thought of her body, his stomach lurched. Neither would he have held her so tightly against him to keep her from freezing to death. Or kissed her to have her return it with the same amount of passion until she suddenly and inexplicably broke it off. And neither would he have fallen in love with her. But those concerns were no longer an issue. Morrow smiled again as he slowly nodded. "I can see the answer on your face, Mr. Holt." "Fuck it. What's done is done, and now I want to know where I can find her." "Why? Like I said, you've completed your mission. You have been handsomely paid for your time, plus we've generously covered all your medical costs. You've fulfilled all aspects of your contract, and you can be assured we will have no further use for you." "So that's it? I'm supposed to walk away as if nothing happened?" He froze as another realization swept over him. "When you pulled me into this mess, I thought I was the one who was meant to kill the Breacher. But I was wrong. McKenna was tagged to kill it. My job was to protect her, and to make sure she got the job done. That's what this whole thing was about, wasn't it? You need a Breacher to kill a Breacher, but you needed me along as insurance." "And like I said, you did your job excellently." Morrow got to his feet as if to leave, but Holt wasn't finished. "What are they, Morrow? They're some kind of shape shifters, aren't they?" The little man paused and turned back toward him. "Yes, they are." "All of them?" "As far as we know." "So they can move among us undetected?" "Precisely." "So what happens? Why do they change back to what they really look like?" "Are you asking why the Breacher you fought up in Utah attacked those people?" "Yeah. That, too." Morrow sighed deeply. "Who knows what sets them off, Mr. Holt? Who knows why humans suddenly go berserk and go on a killing rampage? There could be a hundred reasons why. But when they do, there's no reasoning with them. There's no way to stop them except to kill them. Which is why we're here, to prevent those that go ballistic from killing any more innocent people. "But you also need to know this. Breachers, or as they call themselves on their world, Phadreans, are a lot like us. Forget what they look like and realize they have feelings and emotions. They laugh and cry and love like us. They find mates and have families like us. And they do it under extreme circumstances when some of them suddenly find themselves transported over here with no idea as to why they were selected. And then realize they have no way of ever going back." Holt felt his hands forming into fists where they were jammed inside his pockets. "How long has McKenna been here? On this side?" Morrow's smile was barely noticeable before his face returned to stone. "Her situation is unique. She didn't come over like most of the others. She was born on our world." "She was born here? How? I mean, both of her parents are Breachers?"

"Although most Breachers are scattered far and wide around the world, it's not unheard of for some of them find each other and form permanent partnerships. Otherwise they're usually solitary creatures." "How do they find each other? Put a personal ad in the newspaper? Tall, hairy male seeks tall, hairy female for out of this world relationship?" As he expected, the joke fell flat. Morrow almost winced. "Not quite, Mr. Holt. If you must know, there is a small but very secure underground network of Phadreans, and through it they are able to keep in contact with others of their own kind." It was time to push the issue again. "I don't want to keep in contact with others. I want to contact McKenna." "Have you considered the fact that she may not want to have any further contact with you?" Holt narrowed his eyes at the man and started to respond when Morrow lifted a hand to stop him. "She left the hospital without saying goodbye, or even to thank you for saving her life, didn't she, Mr. Holt?" It took him a moment to hide the trembling inside. Damn the man for being brutally truthful. "Then I want to hear it directly from her. From her own mouth. If she doesn't want anything more to do with me, let her be the one to tell me, and I'll leave. But until that happens, I'm going to use all my expertise, and I'm going to call in every favor ever owed me, and I'm going to find her. One way or another, I'll find her. I don't care how long it takes. So you can tell me now what I want to know and save me a lot of time and trouble, or you can not tell me. Either way, I promise you, I'll find her." Morrow frowned, but the expression on his face was of infinite sadness. "You are that determined?" "Take it to the bank, Morrow." "Even though you know life with a Phadrean won't be easy?" "Neither will life without her." The little man bowed his head, took a deep breath, then looked back up at Holt. "There's a little town in North Carolina called Eden. It's right on the Virginia border. Her first name is Diana."

Chapter Seventeen Honesty

The clerk at the Gas-n-Go on the outskirts of town gave great directions. She had even drawn him a little map on the back of his gas receipt, explaining that a lot of the back roads weren't marked. Thus the proliferation of landmarks marked on the slip. Holt took his time maneuvering the county roads that were little more than singlelane caliche trails. The town of Eden was a nice size place, but apparently McKenna had chosen to live the rural life. He remembered she had told him she didn't have a private practice, but as he approached the small white farmhouse with its big brown barn, he could tell she hadn't totally abandoned her love for animals. He pulled his rental car onto the gravel drive, crossing over a cattle guard. He spotted horses and cattle and some goats, the usual farm fare, plus a few other species not normally associated with country life. There was a zebra, some emus, a llama, plus several head of spotted red deer. Most of the wildlife paid no attention to the blue vehicle slowly driving past them. The closer he approached the simple clapboard ranch house, the faster his heart beat. His mouth went dry and his palms grew sweaty in anticipation. Silently, he prayed the trip wouldn't be a bust. Emotionally, he had too much at stake. He kept his eyes open, hoping to spot her, but the place looked deserted. As he followed the trail, it brought him around to the back of the house where a white pickup was sitting, two bales of rolled hay in the bed. A glance at his watch told him it was a little past ten. No telling where she could be. He parked behind the truck and got out of the car. This time he could look around the place and get a feeling for the kind of life she led. Instead of fields of produce, the acreage behind the barn had more cattle grazing, as well as some bison and an... His eyes widened. An elephant? The big doors to the barn were open. Steeling himself, Holt let himself through the narrow gate that separated the backyard from the field and trudged over to the structure. The closer he approached it, he could see his original estimation had been way off. There was more to the barn than what could be seen from the road. In fact, from what he could now observe, the building could easily contain three or four of the ranch house. The massive doors were at least twelve feet high and more than six feet wide. But, then again, if she had elephants on the property, she'd need a place this huge to fit them in when the weather turned cold. "Hello?" His voice was lost in the immense building. The doors on the other side of the barn were also open, allowing a steady wind to pass through. The roof was filled with skylights, letting in lots of natural light. He saw some lamps suspended from overhead cross beams, but for the moment they were turned off. Apparently they were only needed once it got dark. "Hey, McKenna!" "Her first name is Diana." Diana McKenna.

When everything about her seemed so normal, so human, he sometimes had difficulty reminding himself that those two days up in Utah had not been a bad dream. And even then, he would have to look at his left foot and the two toes he lost to frostbite to convince himself. Nothing moved inside the barn. Frowning, Holt turned around and stopped. She stood at the back door, screen door held open, a look of shock on her beautiful face. She wore her hair in braided pigtails that ran down the front of her sleeveless blouse and curled right where her nipples would be. She also wore cut-off shorts that revealed more of those long, sexy legs, right down to the dark green cowboy boots. A small bandage along her hairline was the only proof of her injuries. She watched him in silence as he went back through the gate and started up the narrow path to the house. All the while Holt never took his eyes off of her, drinking in the sight of her as though it had been years since he'd last seen her. Looking for the first sign of anger or fear to cross her face. Waiting for her to order him off of her property. Praying he'd see and hear none of it. About ten yards away he stopped. Her eyes slid down his body, also taking in the sight of him, before returning to his face. "What do you want?" she finally voiced. Her tone was civil, as if she was addressing a stranger. Everything he had planned on saying, every word he had rehearsed, went out the proverbial window. "In all honesty?" he returned. "I want you." His remark made her head jerk upward in surprise, yet she never moved from where she stood on the small stoop. "Holt-" "Jerrod," he quickly corrected her. "My first name is Jerrod. Friends call me Jerry." McKenna stepped down from the stoop, allowing the screen door to shut behind her. "Listen. Holt..." He held up a hand to stop her. It was the same gesture she had used that day on the mountain, right before he almost gunned her down. "Ever shoot the wrong person, Mr. Holt?" "I know what you're going to say. Trust me, I've already had that lecture from Morrow." She pinched her lips together and let him talk. "You were about to tell me we can't be together. Am I right?" Her answer was a nod, which made her braids slide up and down over her breasts. "Why not?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?" "Okay. So I'm human, and you're a Breacher. Is there anything else I need to know, or is that pretty much your only defense?" "Holt-" "Jerrod." "All right. Jerrod." She took a deep, shaky breath. "We're not...compatible." "In what way are we not compatible?" She started to answer when he interrupted. "Are you telling me that none of your kind, that no Breacher has ever taken a human as a mate?" "Jerrod, I don't know if it's even possible for you and me to..."

He could tell she had thought long and hard about their relationship, or the possibility of one. He could also tell she had come to the conclusion it was not meant to be. It was not a conclusion he agreed with. Holt opened his arms, as if to encompass the whole farm. "You're living my dream right now. Did you know that?" She glanced out at the pastures. "Except I don't have any rabbits. Sorry." "Not yet, anyway." They stood a few feet apart, staring at one another, waiting for whoever would make the next move. Finally McKenna shook her head and moved as if to retreat back inside her house. "I can't." Her voice was faint and apologetic, and filled with tears. "I love you, Diana." She paused. He saw her chin tremble slightly as she pressed her lips together again and tried to present a stoic face. "One more question?" he ventured with a small smile. "What?" "Will you able to stay in human form when we make love?"

Chapter Eighteen Surrender

Before she could reply, he rapidly closed the distance between them. Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her, claiming her mouth as he waited for her response. He felt her hands cover his, and thought she was about to pull them away. The next instant, she surrendered to press against him and drape her arms around his neck. She kissed him back, hard. For a brief moment he remembered that moment back on the mountain. The moment he'd seen the look on her face when she had turned to him, and he had realized it was the real her. The Breacher she had become. The almost human look that pleaded with him not to shoot her, not to reject her, before his own eyes rolled up into his head and he fell face forward into the snow. She had truly believed he would reject her. It made him all the more determined to prove her wrong. Her breathing grew heavier until she was nearly panting. Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt almost to the point of tearing it. He slid one hand behind her back, then followed the shallow ridges of her spine down to her buttocks where he could finally clasp that gorgeous ass and hold it tightly against his hardening erection. Her mouth was magic. Never in his life would he have believed such a sensation was possible, but there was no other way to describe the perfection of her lips and tongue. There was an aftertaste of oranges, letting him know she had recently eaten one. He breathed in her faint floral fragrance that had taken on a new dimension, now warmed by the sun and her body heat. His skin tightened, making his dick ache from the strain. To make things worse, she was rubbing her mound against it, either consciously or unconsciously. The zipper was like a fingernail skimming over the front of his jeans. If he didn't get her inside the house immediately, there was the distinct danger he would be taking her on the grass. Groaning, Holt dragged his mouth away from hers and watched her open her eyes. Her face was flushed, her mouth wet. She gave him a dazed look as reality slowly crept back into her brain. Taking his hand from her cheek, she laced her fingers through his, turned to open the door, and lead him into the house. They entered the kitchen. Without stopping, she took him into the hallway, down to where her bedroom was located. He didn't have to ask her if she lived alone. Unless there was another Breacher, she would prefer her privacy and safety. Also, she would have told him there was someone else in her life. But her actions and her reactions spoke otherwise. They reached the bedroom and McKenna stopped to turn and look at him, waiting for him to make the next move. Unsure what to do next. With his free hand, he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. He studied her features, especially the beauty mark near her eyebrow. "I cannot imagine the kind of life you've been forced to live. No wonder you hide yourself out in the middle of nowhere." He got a trembling smile in response. Releasing her hand, he moved closer and began to undo her braids, combing his fingers through the thick locks until her hair was free. Spreading it over her shoulders and down the front of her shirt. He loved the way her hair shined in the sunlight coming through the windows. Lifting a handful of the

glossy curls up to his nose, he sniffed deeply, then laid the hair back over her breast, making sure to caress the firm globe with his palm. "You look much more beautiful with it down. Wear it down for me whenever you can, okay?" She nodded, and he reached down to unbutton her blouse, all the while talking to her to calm her fears. "I was pretty pissed at you that you'd leave the hospital without saying goodbye." "But you know why I had to." "Yeah, and it only made me that much more determined to find you." He finished with the buttons and slowly pulled open her blouse, revealing a sensible white bra. Holt stared for a moment at her full breasts, at the way they arched up over the confines of the bra cup. He reached out and cupped one in his hand, feeling her nipple poking through the thin fabric. Before she could object, he lowered his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder, where he tenderly placed a row of slow kisses along her skin. Her hands braced themselves against his chest, but he knew she wouldn't push him away. Not again. Not ever again. "Why aren't you afraid of me?" she whispered. "Because you're as willing to take this chance as I am." He nuzzled her warm skin as he lowered the sleeves of the blouse, then her bra straps. A short struggle with the hooks, and her breasts burst free from their confinement. Holt gently massaged them, capturing the pale rose nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and rolling them until they were stiff. McKenna moaned softly as she jutted her chest forward in a silent plea for him to continue. He bent down, lifting one round globe and taking a nipple in his mouth. He started to suckle on it when her knees gave way. Quickly, he released her and guided her back onto the bed, following her down to the bedspread. Now he could cover those beautiful breasts with his hands and mouth, and manipulate them. That was, until she grabbed his shirt and tried to tug it over his head. Holt lifted his arms to help. "You are so damn beautiful." Her eyes widened. "Which one of me?" "Both of you. And you're intelligent. And you don't take my bullshit as a personal affront. I think that's what attracted me the most." "Want to know what attracted you to me?" she whispered. He smiled as he shook his head. "You weren't put off by my size. You treated me as an equal." "So who's dominating whom tonight?" He grinned as he continued to touch her, running his fingertips lightly around her breasts, making swirling patterns to tease her skin, and occasionally flicking the taut peak with his thumb just to see her squirm. McKenna retaliated by reaching up and pinching his nipples. "No fair," he protested with a smile. "Tough titty." Holt chuckled. Next was the button and zipper on her cut-off jeans. To his surprise, she wore no underwear. He kissed the velvety skin below her belly button and wondered if she would have such an affectation when she was a Breacher. "You wear a bra but no panties?"

"I need the upper support," she retorted playfully. Two quick tugs removed her boots, and the shorts joined them on the floor. Holt took a step back to admire what he'd only glimpsed a few days ago. Her skin was flawless. Not even marked with tan lines. A thick triangle of curls lay in the juncture of her thighs. Holt nosed the soft hairs before laying a kiss on them. By this time his crotch was telling him his own jeans were cutting off the blood supply to his dick. Straightening, he toed off his loafers as he unbuttoned his pants and left them on the floor. Her eyes immediately locked on his horizontal appendage. Her scrutiny made him also look down at himself. Taking his thick length in one hand, he was reminded of the cock he'd seen the white Breacher sporting, and suddenly the cold truth struck him. The real reason why the Breacher had come after them. Or rather, after her. Holt stared at McKenna. "It wanted to mate with you." That was all he had to say. In reply, she slowly nodded. "You weren't just there to kill it. You were also the bait." Another silent nod. "So why... I mean..." "Why did I kill it?" "Yeah. Couldn't you have talked to it or something instead? Maybe let it fondle you a little bit before you knocked it out, or at least convinced it not to attack us?" "In your line of work, Holt, have you ever come across a person who was so strung out on drugs that he was completely out of his mind? Inarticulate? Unreasoning?" Yes, he could relate. And unfortunately this new revelation wasn't helping his planned seduction of her one bit. Already he could feel his dick was flagging in his palm. "Is that what it was that caused him to go berserk? Drugs?" "No." She rose up on her elbows and shook her head once, causing one long strand of hair to cover a nipple, drawing his attention to it. "There's something over on this world that gets to some of us. Some of us," she emphasized. "We have yet to figure out if it's the food, the air, the water, or something in the soil that affects us. But if and when a Breacher turns, we have to stop it, or else the killing continues." He reached down to pull the dark brown strands away from her breast, and replaced them with his mouth. He felt her moan vibrate against his lips. It was just the thing to get his erection back in ready mode. She raised her hips slightly, and the brush of her mound along his dick drew his attention south. He pulled her close to the edge of the bed so that her knees would bend over the side. Kneeling in front of her, he lifted her legs, spreading them to set them on his shoulders. When she tried to look down at what he was about to do, Holt reached out and lightly patted her belly. "Lie back. Close your eyes." She obeyed without question. He first used his fingers to find her lower lips, parting them in search of the clit he knew she would have. The hard little nub was waiting for him, stretched out like a small nipple awaiting his mouth. Holt eagerly lapped it once, twice, then closed his lips over it to draw it over his tongue. McKenna gasped. She tried to buck her hips, but he kept her held down with a firm grip on one thigh.

He continued to love her with his mouth, and her moans grew steadily louder. She tried to close her legs, but his head and shoulders blocked her. Harder and harder he worked her clit, suckling on it, scraping the sensitive inner flesh around it with his nails. At some point she'd stopped hitting him on the back of the head, and had resorted to grasping the bedspread with both hands. It wasn't until he heard a soft growl that he paused and glanced up across her body at her perspiration-covered face. She was literally panting and close to release. Crawling up onto the bed, he positioned himself at her wet entrance, holding himself there with one hand. "Lift your knees, McKenna." She peered at him through half-closed eyes but silently obeyed. Slowly, he lowered himself down upon her, trusting his weight wouldn't be too much as he brushed her lips with his. Then, he began to slide inside her. McKenna threw her head back and cried out, her body arching from his invasion as he began burying himself deep within her, pushing firmly in an inch at a time before withdrawing to coat his length with her juices and pressing in further. Working his way through her channel as her muscles squeezed down. Her hips bucked, and suddenly Holt felt himself sliding all the way to the root. It was then he realized he was her first. Her first man. And very possibly her first love. Most Breachers are scattered far and wide around the world. They're usually solitary creatures. He slid his body over hers as he pushed back inside. When he reached her face, he bent his head and kissed her, making it as tender and caring as he could. "I love you, Diana McKenna." She didn't answer him, but a tear rolled from the corner of her eye. He took care to bring her to completion. One hand he kept between her lower lips and manipulated her clit. Working her. Gradually building her toward her first climax. He knew he would eventually get his rocks off, but for the first time his focus was on her pleasure, on her achieving an orgasm. And that's how he knew how much he loved her. All thought of her turning into her Breacher self was gone, as well as any fear or worry. He kept a steady in and out movement going, forcing himself to build up speed with long, deep strokes. His muscles were tense, his body almost rigid with the sensations writhing across his nerves as he fought against coming first. A glance down showed that McKenna was also lost in the throes of their lovemaking. Both of their bodies shone with perspiration. The heat they were generating could have set the bedroom on fire. Suddenly, he heard her gasp. Her channel clamped painfully down on him, preventing him from moving, and her entire body arched upward. For several long seconds she remained bent backwards as her skin twitched with her release. Her teeth were gritted, her face pinched. And then, gradually, her muscles relaxed, giving him the chance to finish himself with almost a dozen hard and fast pumps before he cried out with release. His knees buckled. Falling beside her on the bed, he could hear her heavy breathing match his. Eventually she rolled over to face him. The pinched look had been replaced with a calm brow and a soft smile. He waited for her to open her eyes. "How do you feel?" "You surprised me." "Oh?"

Her smile deepened. "Thank you." "For what?" "For being so damn persistent. For...everything. You were right. Your experiment worked. I didn't turn into my ugly beast self. Now what do you propose we do?" "Exactly." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What?" "I'm going to propose, and you're going to accept. That's what's next." "Propose? You mean, like in marriage?" Holt propped his head on his hand and looked down at her. "I think we make a great working pair, but I can't have you gallivanting off anymore. I'm ready to propose a more permanent partnership. It was my original intent all along, McKenna. Diana. Shit, it's going to take me a while to get used to your real name. Unless there's another name you'd rather I use?" "No. Diana's my real given name." She leaned over and nuzzled his neck before kissing his jaw. "Okay. Let's say I accept your proposal. You know there's no chance we could ever have children, don't you?" "That's okay. We could adopt." She pulled back slightly. "Are you serious?" "Sure. Why not? Maybe there's a Phadrean adoption agency with a baby bigfoot out there who needs a mommy and a daddy." He glanced down at her and grinned, and she shook her head. "You are a very strange man, Jerrod Holt." Before he could come up with a reply, she settled her face back into the hollow of his shoulder. "In the morning, I'm going to wake up and find out this was all a dream." Rather than tell her she wouldn't, Holt drew his arm around her and pulled her more tightly against him. It wasn't until he was almost asleep that he realized they were lying in exactly the same position as they had that night inside the destroyed break.

Chapter Nineteen Contact

It was still dark when McKenna awoke to the sound of breathing in her ear. It took her a moment to realize who it was, and then the memory of their lovemaking came flooding back. She sat up in bed and looked down at the man lying asleep beside her. They had yet to crawl underneath the covers, but fortunately the night wasn't too cool. Getting to her feet, she reached for the extra quilt she kept on the quilt stand under the window, and noticed the huge, furry paw touching the fabric. Some time during the night she had shifted back into her true form. A smile touched her lips. And here she had believed she could only love another of her own kind. Taking the quilt over to the bed, she shook it open and laid it over Holt's unconscious body. She paused for a moment when she started to cover his feet and saw he was missing two toes. A memento of their experience on that Utah mountain. He didn't move when she tucked him in. When he didn't appear to awaken, she left the bedroom. She kept the computer in a corner of the kitchen. Of the few people she rarely allowed into her home, they all commented on how unusual it was to see it there, since most people kept theirs either in the living room or den, or in a study, or an extra bedroom. Usually she shrugged off their comments. She used her computer as a combination television and telephone, and her most favorite place, other than her bedroom, was the big, bright kitchen. Sitting down in front of it, she clicked the mouse to bring the machine out of sleep mode and quickly checked the messenger service. To her delight, a good friend was online, and she dropped a text to him. BeastieVet: Hi! Hwthne311: Hi, back. You're either up late or early. What's going on? BeastieVet: Woke up. Needed to tell someone. Guess you're it. Hwthne311: What's up? Do you need help? BeastieVet: I'm in love. There was a long pause before she saw the words "Hwthne311 is typing." Hwthne311: That's fantastic, Di! Who's the lucky beastie? BeastieVet: He's human. Again, there was a pause. Hwthne311: Di, are you sure? She was smiling as she replied. BeastieVet: Am I sure he's human? Or sure about my feelings? Or sure about what I'm about to do? Hwthne311: All of the above? What are you planning to do? BeastieVet: I plan to love him. I plan to live the rest of my life with him. Hwthne311: Has he asked you to do that? BeastieVet: Yes. Last night. Before we made love. A third pause. Hwthne311: Anything happen?

McKenna giggled. BeastieVet: You mean did I change? No. Hwthne311: Does he know what you really are? BeastieVet: Yes. He knew before we made love. Hwthne311: It's that guy Morrow paired you with, isn't it? BeastieVet: Yes. Hwthne311: I remember what you told us at the chat last week. Please be careful, Di. BeastieVet: I will. Hwthne311: And be happy. I wish you the best. BeastieVet: I am. I will. Thank you. Hwthne311: I need to go. See you at the next chat if we don't talk again before then. BeastieVet: Goodnight, Aric. She watched his name disappear from the list the same time her chat window announced "Hwthne311 has signed off". With her smile still pasted to her face, she left the kitchen to return to the bedroom where Holt hadn't moved. It wasn't until she crawled underneath the quilt that he finally rolled over, presenting his back to her. McKenna spooned behind him and threw an arm over his waist. She was asleep within seconds. **** At some point before daybreak, Holt became aware of something large, warm, and very furry draped over his hip. A tentative investigation revealed huge claws at the end of the appendage. Smiling, he went back to sleep.

Linda loves to write romance with a fantasy or science fiction flair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel. By day she is a Kindergarten teacher, wife, and mother who lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast. But at night she delves into worlds filled with daring exploits and sensuous, erotic romance. Author of 10 Consecutive #1 Best Sellers 2009 Whiskey Creek Press Torrid Author of the Year. 2011 EPIC Ebook Award for Best Erotic Science Fiction Romance You can email her at Linda(at)LindaMooney(dot)com Website: www.LindaMooney.com Other books now available: 36 Exposures AEquana The Battle Lord's Lady Her Battle Lord's Desire A Battle Lord's Heart Bequeathed Castle's Keep Cut Glass: Jewels, Book 1 - Diamond Deep A Different Yesterday Firelight From Out of the Shadows The Gifted Healer of the Heart HeartFast HeartCrystal My Strength, My Power, My Love Peter and His Wolf Possession Rhea 41070 Runner's Moon: Jebaral Runner's Moon: Tiron Runner's Moon: Simolif Sand Castle Sandeflay Lord of Thunder Passion of Thunder Wings of Thunder