Deadly Hunter. Rachel Lee

others?”

      “That’s the question. Was that bait the primary kill? Or have other animals died and spread the poison? I guess I’ll find out.”

      “Why is this stuff even still in use?”

      “Because it works.” She straightened and threw out her arms. “They use it in Australia, New Zealand and Tasmania. To get rid of rodents and other vermin. They’ve had some unexpected consequences, but they got the dose calibrated to do the job without killing too many other things, like the birds. The problem is these collars aren’t low dose. And someone using it illegally would probably overuse it. People have a hard time grasping just how little of this poison is needed.”

      “That seems to be a common human failing,” he remarked. Then he rose, went to the sink and rinsed out his mug.

      “Thanks for the coffee. See you around.”

      She stood to walk him to the door, but he moved fast and by the time she got to her small foyer, there was nothing left of him but the blast of cold that had entered when he opened the door to leave.

      “That was fast,” she said to the empty house. She wondered what was riding his tail.

      “Military,” she murmured to herself. That probably explained a whole lot more than she could even imagine. But at least he had tried to be polite. She gave him marks for that.

      It probably hadn’t been easy for him, either, judging by his initial response to her greeting.

      A glance at the clock told her it was still early. Back to grading papers. It was only as she sat at her desk with fresh coffee that she realized something.

      That man had gotten her motor running for the first time in years. For all he was a cipher, he’d still kicked her hormones into overdrive and she didn’t know why. Like she needed that? In fact, it was the last thing on earth she wanted from any man.

      She squirmed a little in her chair as her most feminine parts insisted on reminding her that she was a woman with very real desires. They happened. It only mattered what she did because of them.

      Right. With any luck, the chicken scratchings on the stack of papers in front of her would drive him right from her mind. And her rebellious body.

      Chapter 2

      Usually, walking and jogging over rough countryside for hours on end made Jerrod sleep well. That night he didn’t sleep well at all, and he wasn’t sure why.

      His thoughts kept straying to that pretty brunette next door, her soft sherry-brown eyes, her bright smile, her nicely curved body. She may have thought her assets were hidden beneath those baggy sweats, but whether she knew it or not, those loose clothes enhanced her appeal. It was almost like playing peek-a-boo to watch her move. There was something to be said for not flaunting it.

      Was a woman getting to him? It wasn’t as if he’d been doing without sex for very long. Sex came easy to a man like him, especially when he’d still been in uniform. He also knew that he could do without it for long periods. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

      He’d been attracted to Allison. No question of that, but maybe what was troubling him was that he’d been attracted to her in other ways than sexually. Something in her personality engaged him, even though they’d had only the briefest of conversations.

      He didn’t need that now, not when he was a long way from settled in himself.

      If his life was a ledger, he wouldn’t have known whether he was more in the red or the black. How would he? He seldom knew the real purpose behind much of what had been asked of him. He had been given mission briefings; sometimes he knew he was after terrorists, other times he just had to go on faith that his country needed this thing done.

      That left him suspended somewhere between heaven and hell, he supposed. In purgatory. Regardless, things came back to haunt him—everyone got haunted to some degree—and they’d flash through his mind. If nothing else, memories goaded him to find a different way to leave the world a better place. Problem was, he hadn’t found that way yet.

      Maybe that was because he felt like he’d been through an emotional blender. He hadn’t expected such an abrupt end to his career, although he was no fool and had known it was possible. If he’d expected anything, it was that he’d come home in a bag or box. He’d been wounded before and had recovered. So, idiotic or not, he hadn’t exactly planned for an abrupt shift into civilian life. Truthfully, he admitted to himself, in his job neither he nor anyone else looked that far down the road. It was dangerous. You had to live for the mission and then for the next mission, and keep your focus tight.

      Then, boom, every parameter of your life changed. You went from fitting perfectly into a machine to fitting nowhere at all.

      Interesting, really. A different kind of challenge, one he hadn’t been up to so far.

      But he supposed it was hard to go from a tight focus, where damn near every moment had been directed, to one where nothing was directed. It was like going from narrow tunnel vision to full vision. It was certainly a different way of existing.

      He dozed occasionally, but sleep was fitful, more as if he was in a dangerous situation than completely safe in a house in a nice little town. It was okay, though. He’d learned to get a whole lot out of catnaps, just as he’d learned to take one whenever he got the opportunity.

      He’d be fine in the morning.

      And maybe he’d go over and offer his assistance to Allison. Sampling for a poison that dangerous didn’t seem like something she should do alone.

      Maybe it was time he reached out to someone. Just one person. It would be a big step out of the shadows that dogged him still.

      * * *

      Allison blinked in astonishment as she looked up from loading her sample case into the back of her car and saw Jerrod Marquette crunching through the snow toward her. A cup of coffee and suddenly he was no longer a loner? Uneasiness trickled through her.

      She gave herself a mental shake, telling herself not to be ridiculous. If he’d moved in two days ago, she wouldn’t even question his approach. He was a guy with a shell, as she had seen last night, but he’d done not one untoward thing.

      “Good morning,” he said as he reached her.

      “It’s certainly a beautiful one. Cold, though.” Her breath was visible as she spoke, and she was grateful for her one-piece snowmobile suit. How much nicer if the weather hadn’t gone crazy or she could just let this ride until the unusual cold passed. But the toxin couldn’t wait.

      “I was thinking how dangerous it might be for you to hunt this toxin all by yourself. Is someone going with you?”

      She bridled. “I know what I’m doing.”

      “I’m sure you do. But if something goes wrong... Do cell phones even work when you get out of town very far?”

      “Intermittently,” she acknowledged. “Ranches are spread so far apart that it doesn’t seem worth the cost to put in a lot of towers. But the lines of sight are good until you get into the woods and mountains, so...intermittent.”

      Reluctantly, however, she admitted he was making a good point. She’d been thinking in terms of wandering ranch land, shoveling away a little snow and drilling contained cores of about six inches of dirt. No big deal. But he was also right about being out there alone. Any accident could cause serious trouble if she had no way to call someone.

      “I guess I need to get a radio,” she said finally. “To call the sheriff if I need help.”

      “Good idea. Can you get one this morning?”

      “I doubt it. I don’t know how long it will take, and while we’re standing here that toxin could be spreading.”

      “Okay, then, how about I tag along? I’ll bring my own truck if you would be more comfortable,