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Hostage Moon

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Hostage Moon

by

AJ Quinn

2011

HOSTAGE MOON

© 2011 By aJ Quinn. all RigHts ReseRved.

ISBN 10: 1-60282-568-8

ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-568-0

This Trade PaPerback Original is Published by

bOld sTrOkes bOOks, inc.

P.O. bOx 249

Valley Falls, ny 12185

FirsT ediTiOn: OcTOber 2011

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND

INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR

ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS,

LIVING OR DEAD, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES

IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

THIS BOOK, OR PARTS THEREOF, MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED IN ANY

FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION.

CRedits

ediTOr: ruTh sTernglanTz

PrOducTiOn design: susan ramundO

cOVer design by sheri (graPhicarTisT2020@hOTmail.cOm)

Acknowledgments

My heartfelt thanks to Radclyffe for drawing together an amazing

group of people and creating a place where storytellers can gather

and dreams really can come true.

Dedication

For BJ, who listened, encouraged, and supported me

throughout this adventure. Thanks for believing in me.

Hostage Moon

PRologue

March 22, 6:35 a.m.

Her first sensation was pain—blinding pain lancing through

her body. A wave of dizziness followed. Coming fast and hard, it

hit with such force that all she could do was keep her eyes pressed

tightly closed and try to ride it out. She repressed the urge to moan

as reality faded away.

“You are mine.”

The words seemed to reverberate around her as awareness

returned. She started to open her eyes, but the act triggered another

flash of pain. She immediately shut them, preferring the darkness

and the illusion of protection it offered. Confused and fighting an

unnamed fear, she tried to concentrate on the jumble of nearby

sounds—the muted rumble of traffic, a car horn, the wail of a siren.

But she didn’t know where she was and had no idea where she’d

been.With awareness came the realization that the air was brutally

cold. But in spite of the temperature, beads of sweat formed on her

brow. Involuntary shivers coursed through her body, and her jaw

clenched spasmodically. More than anything, she wanted to go back

to sleep, to escape the cold and pain, but some primal instinct knew

not to take that course of action.

Instead, she forced her eyes open and tried to bring into focus

a world that swirled around her like a mist. She tried to remember

• 7 •

aJ Quinn

what had happened to her, but she couldn’t push past the pain that

enveloped her mind and racked her body. With a low moan, she

slipped back into the comforting darkness.

“You are mine. ”

She awoke with a start, unable to tell whether someone nearby

had spoken or the words were simply in her head. Uncertain, she

began to assess her situation. Her throat felt as if she had swallowed

shards of glass. It hurt to breathe, and she was having difficulty

seeing out of one eye. She recognized the metallic taste of blood in

her mouth and felt the first hint of panic.

She lifted her head, conscious of her heart pounding erratically

in her chest. Her last clear memory was…Damn. What was wrong

with her? Why couldn’t she remember?

With concerted effort, she raised herself onto her elbows

and, after a brief struggle, managed to push her back up against

a cold wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. Taking shallow,

labored breaths, she waited for the dizziness to pass, braced herself

against the wall, and made it first to her knees, then onto her feet.

She shivered, swaying unsteadily, her legs threatening to buckle

and her vision swimming as she walked toward the light. A lifetime

later, she managed to get beyond the mouth of the alley and stood

by the water’s edge. Looking up, her gaze swept over a full moon

suspended above a familiar skyline.

Without conscious thought, her hand reached automatically

and found her phone hooked to her belt. She hastily unclipped it,

silently praying it still had a charge. An instant later, she turned it on

and hit a speed-dial number.

“Hey,” she said hoarsely when a sleepy voice finally answered.

“Hunter?” The sleepiness vanished instantly. “Where the hell

are you? Do you realize everyone’s been looking for you?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly. She hated that her voice

sounded so strained.

There was a moment of dead silence, followed by the sound

of a deep breath being released. “Shit—no, I’m sorry. Are you all

right? Where are you?”

“New York. Brooklyn, I think.”

• 8 •

Hostage Moon

“New York? What the…you were scheduled to leave New

York yesterday. But when the limo arrived to pick you up, you were

nowhere to be found. Where the hell have you been? Talk to me.

What’s going on with you?”

Her heart hammered in her chest as the lights in the sky danced

in a crazy pattern and adrenaline pumped through her in a fight-or-

flight rush. She gulped a deep breath, then another.

“I don’t know,” she said, unsuccessfully fighting the rising

panic evident in her voice. “Matt, I don’t know what’s going on. I

don’t know where I’ve been. And I especially don’t know why I just

woke up in an alley near the East River or how I got here.”

“Okay—okay. Take it easy. Are you hurt?”

She raised a hand and touched the side of her head where it

continued to throb. Drew it back and stared at the dark blood staining

her fingers and palm and tried to comprehend.

“Damn it, Hunter, answer me. Are you hurt?”

“I’m not sure…there’s some blood…I’m pretty sure most of

it’s mine.”

❖

He watched her from the shadows of the rooftop.

He had seen the confusion on her face from the moment her

eyes opened. Watched her struggle as she tried to think, tried to

move beyond the pain. But the drugs he had given her were still

flowing fast and hard through her system. It would be some time

before she would be able to think clearly.

Of course, she wouldn’t know that—at least not yet.

He continued to watch as she made her phone call. He was

disappointed that he couldn’t hear her conversation, but now

wasn’t the time to take any unnecessary chances, and he couldn’t

risk moving closer. So he waited. Once she completed her call, she

began making her way slowly toward the lights, stumbling as the

drugs played havoc with her body and mind.

Still he watched and waited. Just a little longer. Just a matter

of time.

• 9 •

aJ Quinn

It happened as she reached the intersection. She had thrust her

shaking hands into the pockets of her jeans, felt something, and

pulled out the note he had purposefully left there. He watched her

read it.

You are mine.

He smiled and walked away.

• 10 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR one

Six months later

All actions have consequences.

Sara Wilder knew that to be one of the basic tenets of life, and it

was certainly one she should have remembered when her cell phone

began to vibrate. For an instant, she stopped her restless pacing in

the departures lounge and considered not answering it. Even the

little voice of reason inside her head told her to ignore the incoming

call, reminding her that calls so late in the day seldom brought good

news.But it seemed the fates had conspired, and a sequence of events

had been set in motion. She should have been on a plane bound for

Bali and her first real vacation in years. Two weeks of glorious beaches

and dense jungles that beckoned and called out for exploration. But

her flight had been inexplicably delayed, leaving her stuck on the

ground at San Francisco International with her phone on.

In the end, she answered the phone even as she noted the name

on the call display. FBI Special Agent David Granger—former

mentor, friend, and, perhaps most importantly, her partner until her

resignation from the bureau eight months earlier.

She had met David when she had been a raw recruit out of

Stanford, armed with a brand new doctorate in psychology and an

indefatigable belief that she could make a difference. He’d been a

field counselor assigned to her training group, and initially, he’d

• 11 •

aJ Quinn

been tough on her. Demanding. Pushing her to excel, both during

and after completion of her training at Quantico. But over time, he’d

proven equally generous with his support, and she’d been able to

carve a niche for herself within the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

It wasn’t until much later, over shots of tequila in a bar

somewhere in Texas, that he admitted he’d seen something special

in her. And when all was said and done, they had made a formidable

team. Still—

“Whatever you want, the answer is no,” she said.

“It’s been a while,” David chided. “You could try saying hello

first.”Sara sighed. “Hello, David. Whatever you want, the answer is

no.” “Hear me out, Sara. I only want you to take a quick look at a

crime scene…and maybe give me your impression.”

“Not interested.” She swallowed hard. “I quit…eight months

ago. Remember?”

“I’m not likely to forget,” he replied softly. “But I’m not calling

to try to get you reinstated in your old job. And you know I wouldn’t

be calling if I didn’t really need your help. Please, Sara.”

In the end, it was the simple plea that worked. It was a tactic

Sara always found impossible to ignore—a fact David knew all too

well. Smiling tiredly at the customer service agent, she explained

her situation and made arrangements to have her luggage returned

to her. Thirty minutes later, with doubt and uncertainty shadowing

her footsteps, she walked out of the airport.

Just before midnight, the cab she had hailed pulled up to the

curb in an upscale residential neighborhood. The driver turned and

gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, but this is as far as I can take you,”

he said, although they were still almost a block from her destination.

A glance through the passenger-side window revealed several

black-and-whites blocking the road, their flashing red and blue lights

marking the perimeter of the site. Beyond them were the glowing

spotlights from several news vans that lined the street, backlighting

the growing crowd of curious onlookers drawn by the drama that

was being played out.

• 12 •

Hostage Moon

“Looks like somebody sent out invitations,” she said. She

paid her fare and exited the vehicle. Showing her driver’s license

in lieu of FBI credentials she no longer had, she gave her name

to the uniformed officer in charge of perimeter security. Intent on

keeping both the media and spectators behind the yellow tape, he

barely glanced at her and nodded.

David had obviously cleared her, Sara realized. She allowed

herself a ghost of a smile and gave a moment’s consideration to his

probable reaction when he saw how she was dressed. Khakis and

a red polo shirt instead of the conservative, tailored suits she had

always favored on the job in the past. She looked startlingly out of

place, a stark contrast to the uniforms and suits that now surrounded

her, and she hoped David, a stickler for protocol, remembered she

had been at the airport on her way to a tropical destination when he

called.

Giving a mental shrug, she pushed past the yellow tape and

along the narrow walkway. She carefully avoided the crime scene

markers that indicated evidence—in this case, what looked to be

bloody footprints—and made her way to the front of the house.

At the door, she paused briefly, inhaled deeply several times, and

cleared her mind before entering the house.

“Dr. Sara Wilder.” She flashed her ID to the uniform at the door

and watched him write down her name and driver’s license number

before stepping aside.

“They’re upstairs,” he said.

From the doorway, she could see various crime scene techs

engaged in the meticulous process of collecting physical evidence.

Just inside, to the left of the door, she paused long enough to grab

a pair of latex gloves and some booties from boxes on a table and

slipped them on. Moving farther down the hallway, a staircase

opened up on her right. At the top of the stairs, she spotted David

speaking to a couple of SFPD homicide inspectors.

A fifteen-year veteran of the FBI, David Granger was a solidly

built man of forty. Just under six feet in height, he had the muscular

build of a weight lifter and a long-standing affection for Italian suits.

He saw her as she approached and smiled.

• 13 •

aJ Quinn

“Sara. Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

“Well, it turns out the airport wasn’t that far away,” Sara

responded dryly, even as her lips curved slightly upward. There was

no denying they had a lot of history between them, and regardless of

the circumstances, it felt good to see him again. Even so, there was

no need to give everything away.

As David offered an apologetic shrug, Sara became aware of his

scrutiny. Beyond her attire, he was undoubtedly noting the physical

changes that were evident since he had last seen her. She knew she

looked different. Her pale blond hair was longer, falling just past

her collar, and she had managed to regain most of the weight she

had lost while working on the last investigation they had worked

together—the Pelham case. But more noteworthy, she knew she had

finally shed the haunted look that had seemed permanently etched

on her face during those last few months. Instead, her eyes were

now clear, and she looked and felt relaxed and healthy.

Just thinking about the Pelham case, even all these months later,

still made her shudder. But not because of the particularly heinous

nature of Pelham’s string of rapes and murders.

Instead, it was the reminder of how much she detested

politics. She’d underestimated the politics attached to the Pelham

investigation. Specifically, the political pressure that had been

brought to bear when one of the victims turned out to be the sixteen-

year-old daughter of a well-connected judge.

Politics had never been Sara’s forte. But politics and

circumstantial evidence had resulted in a rush to judgment at the

local level and led to the arrest of an innocent man. And in the time

it took Sara to convince anyone they had the wrong man, Hugh

Marshall had been brutally attacked by a gang of inmates at Rikers,

while Richard Pelham had remained free to commit two more

murders before ultimately being caught.

The overwhelming sense of failure had left a bitter aftertaste

and ended her career.

Clearly aware the two SFPD inspectors were standing back

watching them with apparent interest, David’s mouth quirked into

a wry grin. He quickly introduced Carlos Sanchez and Rick Wilson

• 14 •

Hostage Moon

and then added, “C’mon, let’s get started. Why don’t you take a look

around first? See what your Spidey senses pick up.”

Sara nodded wordlessly. For the next few minutes, David,

Sanchez, and Wilson stood back and waited, observing while Sara

seemed to communicate with the victim’s home, wondering what it

would tell her.

She remained motionless in the middle of the room for a

minute, her arms wrapped around her midriff. She felt nothing and

could see no visible signs that the space had been disturbed in any

way. It did not seem likely that the killer had come up here. But the

victim had lived here, had spent the last few hours of her life here,

and she needed to get to know her.

Sara believed it was important to study the victim. If she

understood the victim, she felt she had a much better chance of

figuring out how she’d crossed paths with her killer. Did she pick up

strangers at bars? Had she inadvertently invited a killer back to her

house? At first glance, it didn’t feel that way.

The master bedroom was decorated simply. Wooden blinds,

colorful throw rugs scattered over hardwood floors. The bed

had been neatly turned down, but the sheets remained crisp and

taut and had not been slept in. The dresser was covered with an

assortment of creams and lotions, their scents competing with the

faint but unmistakable odor of blood and death that hung in the

still night air.

The entire room was pristine. Only a dark blue sweatshirt

looked vaguely out of place, and even that had been carefully

folded and placed on a chair near the bed. But there were no scented

candles, no condoms, no toys, nor any other sign the bedroom had

been set up for seduction. What else could it have been? Maybe she

simply had recognized him from someplace and let him in.

David indicated vaguely with a nod of his head. “There are two

other bedrooms on this floor. One was set up as a home office. The

other looks like a guest room and doesn’t appear to have been used

in quite some time.”

She thrust her hands into her pockets and moved past David

out of the master bedroom. After briefly looking into the other two

• 15 •

aJ Quinn

bedrooms, she turned and headed back down the stairs. David and

the two inspectors followed.

“The victim’s name is Shelly Barrett. Neighbors describe her

as quiet.” Sara knew it was David’s habit to catalogue—people,

places, events—believing life was kept simpler if everything could

be neatly labeled. He pulled out a well-used notebook and glanced

at it. “Single. Twenty-six. She was a graphic designer.”

The body had already been removed and was in the hands of

the medical examiner’s office. But as Sara listened to the murmured

conversations swirling around her, it became quickly apparent the

members of the joint FBI and SFPD task force assigned to the case

already knew what they were facing. Shelly Barrett was the latest

victim—the fifth victim—of a serial killer.

The tension evident among the investigators spoke volumes.

Collectively, they would be fervently hoping this victim would give

them something the first four had been unable to provide. Sara had

been there often enough in the past. She knew they were praying for

a break. Something, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant,

that would help them identify a killer before he could strike again.

Just as she knew David was counting on his former partner to help

him in that regard.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they turned right toward the

rear of the house. By comparison with the nearly obsessive neatness

of the upstairs bedrooms, this part of the house was in total disarray.

Overturned furniture, a broken lamp, spatters of dark blood marring

the gleaming hardwood floors and whitewashed walls.

Here was the terror, the evil. It felt imprinted in the air.

“She put up one hell of a struggle.”

Sara wasn’t sure who made the comment but she silently

disagreed. Walking through the lower level of the house, she could

feel Shelly Barrett’s terror as she tried to elude her assailant. Terror

evident in the chaos and destruction she could see. But the chaos

wasn’t about struggle. Shelly Barrett had simply tried to throw

obstacles in her wake—a chair, a lamp, a small side table. A valiant

but ultimately fruitless attempt to slow down her killer’s relentless

pursuit.

• 16 •

Hostage Moon

“The ME’s initial estimate put the time of death sometime

between eight and midnight last night,” David said. “Barrett

frequently worked from home, but a co-worker got concerned when

she failed to show for a meeting this afternoon and wasn’t answering

her phone. When she came by the house to check, she saw the blood

on the front steps and called it in.”

David paused and consulted his notes. “There appear to be

defensive wounds to her forearms, but he didn’t use the knife to kill

her. Just to frighten her. Subdue her. That’s the one clear difference

between this and the other four crime scenes we’re attributing to the

same UNSUB.”

Sara frowned. Without knowing the details of the four previous

murders, she was left to speculate what the unknown subject of the

investigation had done differently this time. “What do you mean?

What’s different?”

“This one’s more…I don’t know…frenzied. As if either it

didn’t quite go according to plan or he started losing it. In all other

aspects, though, they’re all the same. No sign of forced entry. The

victim was killed by a single gunshot to the right temple. A contact

wound. If it’s the same as the others, it’ll be a thirty-eight. There was

blood splatter evident on the victim’s right hand. First officer on the

scene called it in as a suicide.”

Sanchez snorted. “Dumb rookie.”

Sara raised a questioning brow as she waited for the punch line.

When it came, it was Wilson who gave it.

“No gun,” he explained. “The UNSUB somehow gets the

victim to shoot herself. Same as all the others. But he’s not doing it

to make it look like a suicide. Otherwise, he wouldn’t take the gun

with him when he leaves.”

“Victim was fully dressed when she was found.” Sanchez

picked up the narrative from his partner. “No sign of sexual assault.

No sign of a robbery either. Just this.”

They turned another corner, and Sara got her first full view into

the mind of a madman.

The blood spatter on the wall and floor indicated where the

killer had finished what he started. Sara stared at the dark stained

• 17 •

aJ Quinn

floor and the outline where the body had been found. She tuned out

all distractions, concentrated on committing the scene to memory.

Looked for anything that would offer insight into the unknown

subject. She then let her eyes drift slowly upward.

He had spent a lot of time here. Had left numerous messages

scrawled across the walls, written in red. Simulating blood, no doubt.

At first glance, Sara could see most of the writing consisted

of rambling fantasies. But there, in the middle of the wall, an

island surrounded by the sea of disjointed thoughts, stood one clear

message, printed larger than the rest.

Hunter,

You are mine.

It’s time for daddy’s girl to come home.

• 18 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR two

Three hours later, Sara slipped on the rimless reading glasses

that had been nesting in her hair, as eyestrain competed

with the pounding in her head. She knew David was watching her

study the five photographs he had just removed from the case file

and spread across his desk.

“These are all the victims. One per month for the last five

months, starting with Sandra Holman.” David’s index finger

restlessly tapped the photograph corresponding with the first victim.

“Five foot nine, twenty-seven years old. An architect. She was found

in her apartment near Golden Gate Park back in April. Killed by a

single shot to the temple from a thirty-eight.”

As Sara watched and listened, she acknowledged if only to

herself that David was deliberately and indelibly planting the victims’

images in her mind. He was making them real. Their names, their

faces, their lives. Knowing that would make it all but impossible

for her to walk away from them, and therefore from him. But even

recognizing she was being manipulated, she couldn’t blame him.

After all, given a reversal in their roles, it was what she would have

done.David glanced at her as if he could hear the thoughts going on

in her head. He continued his narrative as he moved on to the second

victim.

“The same signature was repeated.” He tapped the next

photograph on his desk. “Deanna Gordon was a lawyer. Five foot

• 19 •

aJ Quinn

eight, and at twenty-nine, the oldest of the five victims. She was

found in her home in North Beach a month after the first killing.”

The litany of murder continued. June’s victim had been a five-

foot-ten, twenty-eight year-old associate professor named Nina

Tyler. July followed with another twenty-eight year old. A five-foot-

nine programmer named Rita Stavros. And then, of course, there

was Shelly Barrett, the victim corresponding to the crime scene they

had attended earlier that evening.

Sara felt drained as she studied the photographs. Five victims

dead as a result of self-inflicted wounds. Five young women whose

lives had been ruthlessly cut short. Five women who would never

have the opportunity to live out their dreams. The burning question

was why.

“The similarities between the victims are obvious,” she said

finally. “All were in their mid-to-late twenties, attractive, taller than

average. They all had dark hair, blue eyes. And all would appear to

have been successful professionals.”

“Mm-hmm. In addition, they all lived alone. But we’re not

talking victims of opportunity. Too many similarities to be just a

coincidence—”

“And you don’t believe in coincidences,” Sara finished for him.

“Right.” David smiled tiredly. “No question. They were spe-

cific targets. Still, as far as we’ve been able to determine, there’s

no connection between the victims. They didn’t live in the same

neighborhood. Didn’t shop in the same stores. Didn’t frequent the

same clubs. And there were no personal or professional connections.

Which means we don’t know where or when they crossed paths with

their killer.”

“Then what’s the common denominator?”

David responded by reaching into the case file. He extracted

another photograph and handed it to Sara.

For a long moment, she stared at a close-up of a drop dead

gorgeous brunette whose face was instantly seared into memory. Her

dark hair hung loosely past her shoulders and framed an exquisite

face with high cheekbones and intense blue eyes. Her lips were

full and had formed a sensuous smile as she stared directly into the

• 20 •

Hostage Moon

camera. It was, when all was said and done, an unforgettable face.

Heart-stoppingly beautiful and perfect but for a small scar that cut

the corner of her right eyebrow.

Sara looked back at David. “She’s stunning. And there is an

obvious superficial similarity to your victims. Who is she?”

“She’s the original,” David said. “Her name is Hunter Roswell.”

Sara’s eyes narrowed briefly. “As in ‘Hunter, you are mine’?”

“Yeah. We’ve managed to keep this out of the media so far,

but there were actually messages left at each of the crime scenes.

Our problem was until now, we weren’t clear who the UNSUB was

trying to communicate with, but this last one—the message you saw

tonight—tied it all together. We were finally able to identify who the

messages were meant for.” David tapped the photograph Sara was

holding. “Roswell.”

“How did you make the connection?”

“The reference to ‘daddy’s girl.’ It’s an old…nickname of

Roswell’s,” David explained. “But while it makes it easier to

know who he’s targeting, in some ways this thing’s gotten more

complicated and has political nightmare written all over it.”

“Why? Who is Hunter Roswell?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” David said and

absently rubbed his chin. “The short answer is she’s the head of a high-

tech security firm called the Roswell Group. Cutting edge when it

comes to biometrics. Retinal scans. Face and voice recognition. Hand

and palm geometry. Behavior pattern recognition. The full monty.”

As David explained, the Roswell Group was as good as it got,

handling both corporate and government contracts, but not limiting

themselves exclusively to the US government. His understanding

was Roswell was working with a number of governments in various

European countries and in the Middle East as well. They also worked

closely with law enforcement, both at home and abroad.

“The general consensus is Hunter Roswell can take a computer

system and a piece of software and make it howl at the moon. Her

company designs unbelievable security systems,” he said, “and they

also develop a lot of the offender and geographic profiling software

being used by law enforcement agencies.”

• 21 •

aJ Quinn

Something in David’s voice caught Sara’s attention. “I take it

she’s connected.”

“No question. She’s got powerful relatives that extend beyond

the Roswell Group,” David replied carefully. “We’re talking old

money and big business, primarily shipping and hotels, and Junior

provides the security for all of it.”

“Nepotism at its finest,” Sara said.

“You’d think so,” David grinned. “But the truth is she’s that

good. And at the end of the day, we’re still talking high profile.

What it means is we have to tread lightly and very carefully. We

can’t afford to make any mistakes. Otherwise, the family will put a

phalanx of lawyers around Roswell that no one will get through, and

we’re going to need her cooperation if we want to identify our boy.”

Sara’s expression grew thoughtful. “You mentioned messages

left at the other crime scenes. Were they similar to the one tonight?”

“Yeah. Although the earlier messages weren’t specifically

addressed to Hunter, like tonight’s, they shared one common theme—

‘You are mine.’” David fell silent, his eyes drawn to Roswell’s

picture. When he spoke again, both tiredness and frustration were

evident in his voice. “But there was no mention of ‘daddy’s girl’ or

any message about coming home before tonight.”

“And home for Roswell is San Francisco?”

“Um, yeah…or at least it was,” David said. “The Roswell

Group has offices in San Francisco, New York, and London. Until a

few months ago, Roswell traveled between the three offices, but she

worked out of their San Francisco office.”

“And that changed?”

“About six months ago. Since then, she’s been working

exclusively out of their London office. No idea why, and no one’s

provided any explanations. But we know there’s a connection

somewhere between our UNSUB and Roswell, and I don’t believe

it’s a coincidence the killing spree began just after she went to

London.” David paused and cleared his throat. “Our biggest

challenge is we don’t have the luxury of time.”

“Because the killer is decompensating?” Sara asked. “Or

because he seems to be following a lunar cycle?”

• 22 •

Hostage Moon

“Caught that, did you?” David gave her a weary grin.

“Come on, David,” Sara chided. “We both know the full moon

has always been linked to incidents that occur during its phase. But

in this case, it would appear to be warranted. Near as I can tell,

each of the murders you’re looking at has taken place around a full

moon.”

“Yeah,” David acknowledged. “Just one of the little details

we’re trying to keep out of the media. It certainly helped that in a

couple of the cases, the victims weren’t immediately discovered,

and the actual times of death haven’t been made public. Otherwise,

the headlines in the papers would be screaming about a full-moon

killer and scaring tall, dark-haired women half to death.”

Sara leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk. “And

the public would probably fail to make the distinction between

correlation and causation. Just because there is a relationship

between the full moon and certain behavior, it doesn’t mean the

moon caused the behavior.”

“Agreed, but while the full moon isn’t causing the UNSUB’s

behavior, he is definitely using it to establish his timetable,” David

said. “And with the last crime scene indicating a loss of control,

it may be he’s no longer satisfied with killing surrogates. He may

be getting ready to move on to Roswell herself, which means the

pressure to solve this—to find him before he goes anywhere near

Roswell—will increase exponentially.”

Politics.

Sara raised her eyebrows and stared at David for a long, silent

moment. Finally, she probed. “And what is it you want from me?”

“What I would really like is for you to come with me to London.

I got clearance to use you as a consultant on the task force, and I’d

like you with me when I meet with Roswell. I’d like your help in

further developing the profile.” He paused and rubbed the bridge

of his nose. “I know I told you I wasn’t looking to get you directly

involved in the investigation. But the truth is I could really use your

help on this one.”

Sara didn’t miss the uncertainty in David’s voice. “Why?”

• 23 •

aJ Quinn

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered. “I

don’t know how Roswell’s going to respond to any of this or how

much push back we can expect. But I think having you there will

help.”“Why?” she asked again.

David sighed and sank back in his seat. “Because I know her.”

“You know Roswell personally?” Warning bells sounded in her

head, and Sara began to wonder just how concerned she should be

by David’s revelation. “How well?”

“I certainly wouldn’t say we’re friends, and obviously we don’t

run in the same social circles, but we’ve crossed paths a few times

over the years.”

David’s answer was so vague Sara could all but visualize him

tap dancing in her head. She steepled her fingers and stared at them

contemplatively. It was one thing to feel she was missing something

vital. It was something entirely different to believe she was being

deliberately misled.

“Talk to me,” she said quietly. “Because I have to tell you, it

really looks like you’re holding something critical back for some

reason, and I don’t like it.”

“Sara—”

“No, I’m sorry, but if you truly want my help, then I would

suggest you come clean and make sure I understand everything

that’s going on.” She paused for an instant and deliberately kept her

voice devoid of sympathy. “As in right now, David, or I’m out of

here and on the first flight I can get to Bali.”

There was a long, tense pause while they stared at each other,

and Sara almost believed David would refuse, would let her walk

away. But then his shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes.

“You’re right, of course.” His voice sounded infinitely weary.

“I first met Hunter Roswell just about ten years ago. At the time, I

had been assigned to a team charged with protecting the US Attorney

General’s daughter after several specific and credible threats were

made against her. ‘Daddy’s girl’ was the code name the security

detail had for Hunter.”

• 24 •

Hostage Moon

Sara grew still. But then a sigh escaped as the pieces began to

fall into place. “Oh God, I never made the connection with the name,”

she said. “Hunter Roswell. Her father was Michael Roswell?”

David nodded and looked down at the expanse of desk that

lay between them. “It was a clusterfuck of epic proportion. I…the

security detail…we failed to protect Hunter. The militia group that

had made the threats succeeded in kidnapping her, and Michael

Roswell was killed during a botched attempt to rescue his only

child.”

Sara watched David carefully as she quickly tried to process the

information. “Is that what this is about?” she asked softly. “Do you

believe there’s a connection? Do you think there’s a chance what

happened to Hunter Roswell ten years ago is somehow connected

with the serial killer you’re currently trying to identify?”

David finally looked up. “I don’t know. It’s a distinct possibility,

and I think we need to find out.”

But that was his fear, Sara realized.

❖

David crossed to a pot of stale coffee resting on a hot plate.

After pouring himself another cup, he raised the pot in Sara’s

direction. “Want some?”

Sara stared at the muddy looking contents in the pot and

shuddered. “I think I’ve had enough,” she responded, glancing at the

untouched cup of coffee in her hand. Her head continued to pound in

a steady rhythm while she tried to gather her thoughts.

“Help me make sure I understand this,” she said. “You believe

Hunter Roswell is the key to whoever is killing these women. In

fact, you believe she’s his real target. But you’re challenged by the

fact that she’s extremely well connected, which makes the situation

politically dangerous and potentially career limiting. It also doesn’t

help that she’s currently out of the country.”

David nodded somberly.

Sara slid off her glasses and began absently gnawing on the tip

of one earpiece. “Then there’s the UNSUB. Based on his messages,

• 25 •

aJ Quinn

he’s probably an erotomanic stalker. Erotomanics typically react

badly to any perceived rejection by their victims and will turn to

violence when the relationship with the object of their affection

looks hopeless. It’s likely he interpreted Roswell leaving the country

six months ago as rejection, which triggered his killing spree.”

“Mm-hmm.” David drew the sound out.

“Obviously, part of what’s missing here is what motivated

Roswell to shift her base of operations to London. Have you

considered the possibility her move was precipitated by some kind

of contact with her stalker?”

David nodded again. “It’s certainly a possibility.”

Sara sighed. “Fine. Since she’s the key to all of this, what

can you tell me about Hunter Roswell? How involved is she in the

day-to-day operations of her business? What does she do for fun

and relaxation? Where might she have come into contact with her

stalker? In other words, what’s she like?”

David responded without any apparent conscious thought.

“She’s painfully beautiful and intimidatingly intelligent.” An instant

later, David looked up and met Sara’s eyes with some difficulty.

“Shit. Can you please pretend you didn’t hear that?”

“Not a chance.” Sara laughed and then relented. “But for old

times, I’m willing to save that conversation for later. Maybe over

drinks. In the meantime, you’re going to tell me all about Hunter

Roswell. She seems kind of young to head up a company. Is she a

trust-fund baby?”

Her shift in direction allowed David to move past his discomfort.

“Yes,” he said, then stopped and corrected himself. “I mean, no.”

Sara tilted her head. “Well? Which is it?”

“Both, I guess. She got control of her first trust fund at twenty-

five, and another is set to kick in on her thirtieth birthday. In the

meantime, she’s made a fortune of her own. She’s got a couple

of partners in the Roswell Group, but make no mistake: she’s the

brains behind the operation. She’s got more intelligence than should

be considered safe for one human being.”

“Just how smart are we talking about?”

• 26 •

Hostage Moon

David opened the case file once again and quickly scanned a

document. “Let’s see…an IQ estimated at somewhere around one

eighty. Private school education, graduated high school at thirteen.

A couple of PhDs from Oxford, and then she started the Roswell

Group. All before her twenty-first birthday.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Sara breathed. “That’s not even remotely

human.”

“I did warn you, but I know what you mean. You’ll find Hunter

is like no one you’ve ever dealt with. She mixes easily with Fortune

500 types, has a high-octane temper and a reputation for not taking

no for an answer. Put it this way—in this business, you learn to take

stories with a grain of salt. But in Hunter’s case, I always wonder

how much has been left out.”

Sara raised an eyebrow at the picture being painted. “And

there’s no question? No doubt in your mind Hunter Roswell is the

intended target?” She waited patiently—for about ten seconds.

“David?”

“No,” David replied. “No question. No doubt.”

Suddenly Sara’s eyes narrowed, and the smile left her face.

“That’s really what this is all about…why you want me to go to

London with you, isn’t it?” As she spoke, her frown deepened. “This

isn’t about cooperation or helping you to identify a killer. You want

to give the UNSUB what he’s asking for. You want to talk Hunter

Roswell into coming back to San Francisco. She’s your bait. Tell me

I’m wrong, David.”

There was a long pause before David responded. “You’re

not wrong. Yes, I want her to come back, but it’s not what you’re

thinking.”

“You’re willing to put her at risk?”

“No.” David shook his head adamantly. “In fact, it’s the

opposite. I need to prove we can cover her.”

“Why—” Sara froze for a moment, holding up a hand as

understanding dawned. “You do know you can’t undo the past,

don’t you?”

“I know that—damn, at least I think I know that. That’s not

important right now. What’s important is we’ll have her covered

• 27 •

aJ Quinn

by both FBI and local law enforcement, and she’s got an operations

team working with her that’s capable of providing her with personal

protection around the clock. They’re all former law enforcement or

former military and are considered second to none. She won’t be at

risk.”“And have you considered your objectivity might be in question

here? What if you’re wrong, David?” Sara asked softly.

“That’s the point, isn’t it? I’m not wrong, and with you and

me working together, we’ll make sure of it. It’ll be like old times.

Better. If I learned anything from the Pelham case, it’s that I should

have listened to you sooner. Please. I know this case is riddled with

politics, and I know how much you hate that. But I really need you

on this.”

Sara knew all the reasons she should simply walk away. Walk

away now, and maybe she could still salvage part of her vacation.

Instead, she heard her own voice saying, “I’ll go to London with

you. But I’m making no promises beyond that.”

• 28 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR tHRee

Hunter Roswell stepped outside to the sound of thunder

rolling in the distance. She paused long enough to pull up

the collar of her long black coat and tipped her head back, watching

as lightning cut jagged streaks against the dark storm clouds that

hovered overhead. An instant later, another flash split the sky,

tearing it open and allowing a soft rain to begin falling.

Despite the storm that had been threatening all morning, the

streets were alive. Filled with people and a frenetic energy Hunter

always thought of as distinctly London—a city that never failed

to exhilarate, stimulate, and invigorate her in equal measures. She

stood still, closed her eyes, and simply let the life force of the city

surround her and fill her senses.

It was noisy and vibrant, the air filled with fragmentary sounds.

Tourists crowding the sidewalk ducked under overhangs to wait out

the rain, their voices blending with the never-ending rumble of the

cars and buses going past. Somewhere nearby a police siren began to

wail, its mournful sound gradually diminishing as it moved toward

its destination. And clearly audible above the din was the sound of

the rain.

Hunter loved the rain.

Their lips brushed gently, light feather touches. She could taste

the rain on the soft lips touching her own, feel it on her skin. “Have

you ever made love in the rain?” she asked.

• 29 •

aJ Quinn

The memory washed over her, and for a fleeting moment,

Hunter became lost in the visceral recall. Hot, hungry mouths,

sweat-soaked bodies, and tangled limbs moving in synchronous

rhythm while thunder rumbled overhead and rain lashed against the

windows.

There was just something about rainstorms that always seemed

to awaken her id. Just the sound or scent of rain alone inevitably

fueled her libido and left her in a perpetual state of wanting. But

now was not the time, she acknowledged with a sigh.

Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and moved toward

the limousine waiting patiently at the curb. The sounds of the city

receded as she got in and the uniformed driver closed the door.

Moments after she was seated, the car began to maneuver slowly

through the congested, rain-soaked streets, edging its way into the

outside lane of traffic.

❖

Five minutes passed silently. Then, as if suddenly aware she

wasn’t alone, Hunter looked up. Seated across from her was Sir

Nigel Wainwright, the man who represented the closest thing to a

father figure in her life. A good friend of both her parents, he had

played an integral role in her life, starting from the time she had

enrolled at Oxford at the age of thirteen.

Her intellect hadn’t seemed to frighten Nigel, the way it did

most adults in her life at that time. Instead, it was as if he had

felt challenged by her insatiable appetite for knowledge and had

discovered in himself the joy of teaching her. They discovered a

shared passion for history, literature, art, and music, although he

failed to understand her love of progressive and psychedelic rock.

And while he didn’t share her fascination with computers

and technology, she knew he had come to rely on her insights and

suggestions when it came to securing his many business interests.

Just as she knew he appreciated her at times uncanny understanding

of the vagaries of the market, which continued to make him a

wealthy man.

• 30 •

Hostage Moon

Drawn back into the present, she felt the intensity of Nigel’s

gaze as he watched her and forced herself to remain cool, calm,

completely composed. Meeting his eyes, she raised an elegant

eyebrow.

“See something you like, old man?”

“Maybe.” He gave the expected reply, bringing a faint smile to

Hunter’s lips.

“Let me know when you decide,” she said. But then her smile

faded as she saw the expression on his face. She moistened her lips,

took in a deep breath of rain-filled air, and braced herself, turning

blindly to the window for a moment. “What is it you want to know,

Nigel?”

“On a serious note, my dear,” he said, “I’d like to know why

these American police officers have come to see you.”

Hunter shrugged and leaned forward, elbows resting on her

knees, as she grew pensive. All she knew was Quito, her personal

assistant, had sent her a heads up in a text message earlier. He had

warned her two FBI agents had shown up without prior notice and

were insisting on meeting with her. Coincident with the arrival of

the two agents, Matt Logan, one of her business partners, had flown

in unannounced, and wanted to see her.

Neither fact pleased her.

Straightening, Hunter frowned slightly and made a noncom-

mittal sound. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Seated to Hunter’s right, Peter McNeil stiffened perceptibly,

the first indication that he had been listening to the conversation. He

remained silent. But as head of security for the Roswell Group in

general and Hunter Roswell specifically, Hunter knew his preference

would be to get any questions answered up front, which in this case

meant before letting the two FBI agents anywhere near her.

But that wasn’t about to happen. Experience should have taught

him by now that Hunter maintained tight control over any decisions

that directly affected her. And on this particular occasion, she was

not only not asking for advice, she was not interested in what he

would consider to be due diligence.

• 31 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter felt Peter’s reaction and instinctively reached out with

one hand to reassure him. “It’s all right, Peter,” she said. “I wouldn’t

have agreed to meet with them if I thought it would cause a problem.

Besides, I know one of agents, David Granger, and at least for now,

I’m willing to trust him.”

“How can you say that? How can you even think it?” Peter

retorted. “He’s the bloody FBI, for God’s sake. You, of all people,

should know what they’re like.”

Peter’s off-hand comment penetrated her guard and had the

blood draining out of her face. She could feel it and knew her sudden

pallor would leave no room for doubt about where her thoughts had

taken her.

But Peter was still frustrated, angry. That she would deal

with, Hunter decided. She shuddered slightly then straightened her

shoulders and brought her eyes back into sharp focus. But before

there could be any kind of escalation of their disagreement, Nigel

intervened.

“Hunter,” he said, “are you certain you’re not in some kind of

trouble?”

“Me?” Hunter responded, grateful for his intervention,

gracing Nigel with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “To

my knowledge, I’ve done nothing that would warrant any level of

interest from the FBI.”

Nigel leaned back and sighed. “Then what is it? And don’t tell

me nothing is wrong, because I can see it in your eyes. You’ve not

been sleeping.”

Hunter looked up with a start. She had expected the question to

come from Matt, once he got a good look at her. But not Nigel, who

had played the role of surrogate father for so long she sometimes

forgot how perceptive he could be and how well he knew her. She

felt a pang of guilt. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just seeing that I

stayed out much too late last night and didn’t get any sleep.”

“And I suppose the papers will be full of speculation about you

and that politician once again. Or was it the musician this time?”

“Tennis player…” Hunter said and flashed a weak grin.

• 32 •

Hostage Moon

Nigel’s eyes narrowed. Hunter winced at that. Of all people,

Nigel would know there was something else at play and had been

for quite some time. She could feel his penetrating gaze as he studied

her face, and worried about how far he would push her.

As he continued to watch her, she began counting the seconds

as they ticked by. Just eight more minutes and they would arrive at

the Roswell building. She could meet with Matt, deal with the FBI,

and not have to contend with this conversation with Nigel. Just a

few more minutes and—

“Will you at least tell me if the arrival of these agents has

anything to do with whatever brought you to London and has kept

you here all this time?”

Hunter’s grin disappeared.

It had been six months since she had shown up at her London

office, no doubt looking as if she could feel the hot breath of the

hounds of hell on the back of her neck. She had dodged all of Nigel’s

gentle attempts at inquiry. Instead, she had simply stated her intent

to expand the Roswell Group’s European operations.

A force to be reckoned with when she set her mind on something,

she had spent the past six months accomplishing just that. Driven

like never before, she had worked nonstop, pushed relentlessly,

traveled constantly. But success notwithstanding, she was aware

Nigel—and possibly others—had been left with the impression that

she was running from rather than to something.

Rightfully so.

Thunder rumbled as Hunter considered Nigel’s question. She

wondered how best to answer. How much to prevaricate. Images

flashed in her mind of their own volition. The resulting emotions

briefly flickered across her unguarded face before she was able to

slip a practiced mask back into place. Taking a deep breath, she

made an effort to bring her heart rate back to normal. But the turmoil

in her soul remained.

“Hunter?”

Aware Nigel was waiting for an answer to his question, Hunter

swallowed and took another calming breath before smiling slightly.

“Sorry, mind’s wandering.”

• 33 •

aJ Quinn

As he waited for her response, Hunter wondered if she could

simply deny the existence of any problem. Deny anything other

than a business reason for her extended stay in the UK. But after

an interminable silence, she looked up and gave the only truthful

answer she had.

“I’m sorry, Nigel. It’s not that I don’t want to answer you. It’s

that I honestly don’t know if anything’s connected.”

“But the arrival of these agents does signal your imminent

return to California, doesn’t it.” He made it a statement, not a

question, because Hunter knew he could see his answer in her eyes.

“Probably…yes. It’s been good to be here. Really good. I’ve

missed London. I’ve missed you. But it’s probably time to go home.”

She’d been away for longer stretches of time in the past, but this

absence was weighing more heavily on her. Perhaps because this

time you’ve stayed away out of cowardice, her pragmatic conscience

pricked her.

Was that really the reason? Had what happened in New York

left her so unnerved she had opted to hide in England and bury

herself in work? Of course, that led to the real question. Why?

And she knew the answer to that question.

The incident in New York had left her battered physically. But

the toll had been greater emotionally, representing the second time

in her life a stranger had wrested control from her. And while there

was still much she couldn’t remember about what had happened

in New York, it had triggered such an onslaught of memories and

nightmares it had left her reeling.

But she ought to go home, she knew that now. She needed to

make her peace with the past. She needed to make her peace with

herself. And hiding out in London wasn’t going to get her what she

needed.

And perhaps, the pragmatist said, that was what going home

really meant. Perhaps it was simply a metaphor.

“Tell me what I can do to help,” Nigel said.

Hunter blinked, tried to bring things into focus. She had

expected pushback, not quiet acceptance and support. She closed

her eyes briefly, letting the emotions wash over her. Then, leaning

• 34 •

Hostage Moon

forward, she placed a gentle kiss on Nigel’s cheek, surprising them

both.“Thank you,” she said softly. “You have been my mentor and

my greatest ally for as far back as I can remember. Right now, I’m

not sure what the problem might be. But I promise if I find myself in

trouble and need any help, I will come to you.”

“Whatever you need. Whenever you need it, Hunter,” Nigel

stated unequivocally.

• 35 •

• 36 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR FouR

The uniformed security guard at the Roswell Group’s

London office stared impassively at the two FBI agents

as they displayed their IDs and made their request. A quick phone

call later, he informed Sara and David that Hunter Roswell was not

in the building. Nor had she advised anyone that she was expecting

visitors… which she certainly would have done had she known they

were coming. This was said with such obvious disdain Sara had to

bite her cheek to keep from laughing.

After several more phone calls, security personnel escorted

them to a small waiting room on the ground floor “until Ms. Roswell

could be notified.” As the door closed, David cursed under his breath

and slumped into one of the rich leather chairs. Sara took off her

jacket and did her best to relax while trying to ignore him.

She was quite thankful when it turned out they had to wait

less than an hour before the door opened again. Her first impression

was of a tall, slightly built Hispanic male in his early twenties, with

dark, nearly black eyes set in a beautiful face. He was dressed in

an impeccable gray suit, and a black shirt and tie. All of which

contrasted rather nicely, in Sara’s opinion, with his peroxide-tipped,

spiky hairstyle and the tiny diamond stud in one ear.

“Special Agent Granger? Special Agent Wilder? I’m Quito

Ramirez, Ms. Roswell’s personal assistant,” he said as he extended

his hand. “She apologizes, but she’s been held up in traffic and has

asked me to ensure you’re comfortable until she arrives. If you’ll

follow me, I’ll get you through security.”

• 37 •

aJ Quinn

Quito guided them to a discreet office on the ground floor, where

security staff obtained palm prints, fingerprints, and photographs

while running retinal scans and voice- and facial-recognition

programs. They were asked to relinquish their government-issued

Glocks, which Sara did gladly, David with some reluctance. In

response, a dark-haired man with a French accent flexed his muscles

and politely assured David he would not need his weapon while on

Roswell property. He then added, almost as an afterthought, that the

weapon would be promptly returned upon his departure.

Sara was impressed. The entire procedure from start to finish

was handled with absolute courtesy and efficiency. In what seemed

like no time at all, they were provided with temporary access cards,

which Quito informed them had to be worn visibly at all times

during their visit.

“I’m curious,” David commented casually as he clipped

the card to his lapel. “I’ve visited both your New York and San

Francisco offices in the past and didn’t have to go through this level

of clearance. Is there a reason for the heightened security?”

“I’m not sure when you visited previously,” Quito replied

politely, “but this is SOP for access to the executive-level floors,

and Ms. Roswell requested you be brought to her office.”

Sara noted that he hadn’t really answered the question. At the

same time, he left no room for doubt that what Ms. Roswell asked

for, Ms. Roswell got.

“Your access cards will be valid until midnight,” Quito added.

“What happens then?” Sara said. “Do we turn into pumpkins?”

“Nah.” Quito flashed a quick grin, providing a first glimpse of

youth under his carefully maintained professional persona. “It…just

stops opening things. You’ll be locked down until morning. Or until

someone comes along and finds you.”

As he spoke, he steered them through a series of metal detectors

and X-ray scanners, before continuing toward a bank of elevators.

Sara wondered what he would have said had he not censored

himself. She felt there was a great deal more to the access card than

the simple explanation provided but decided this was not the time to

challenge Quito on the subject.

• 38 •

Hostage Moon

“I notice you don’t wear an access card,” she said instead.

“I don’t need one,” he replied. “There are scanners located

throughout the building that are programmed to recognize authorized

personnel. A combination of handprints, fingerprints, retinal scans,

or the works depending on what area you want to access.”

He paused and indicated a small silver-and-black pin on his

lapel bearing the Roswell Group insignia. “I’m also wearing this.

From the time I enter the building until well after I leave, security

can pinpoint exactly where I am. They can also tell if someone other

than me is wearing it.”

“Good God,” Sara whispered. “Big Brother really is watching.”

“More like big sister,” Quito countered with another quick grin.

“Hunter…um, Ms. Roswell…she designed all the security systems

we use in each of our offices. Says it gives her somewhere to play

and razzle-dazzle…you know, try new things out that might impress

potential clients.”

An elevator door opened, and Quito inclined his head, indicating

that Sara and David should precede him. Once inside, he pressed the

only button on the wall panel. “This elevator only goes to the ex-

ec utive offices,” he explained in response to Sara’s quizzical look.

Fur ther conversation was pre-empted as the elevator swiftly reached

its destination and the door opened soundlessly. “Welcome to the

inner ring.”

Did he just quote C.S. Lewis? Sara stared at the young man

with growing fascination. As she followed him down a softly lit

hallway, she began to wonder at what point she would most likely

encounter a large white rabbit.

Near the end of the hallway, Quito opened the door to a corner

office suite. Leading them through the reception area, he opened

a second door that led into a large office. Tastefully decorated

in soothing shades of burgundy and gray, it was large enough to

comfortably accommodate a sleek curved desk and leather chair,

and two soft leather couches.

Classy and understated, Sara thought, but she noted the

remarkable lack of personal items. No framed diplomas. No

photographs. No fingerprints or clues to the personality that normally

resided within the office walls.

• 39 •

aJ Quinn

“Can I get you anything to drink while you’re waiting?” Quito

asked. “Coffee, tea, water?”

Sara and David responded simultaneously with requests for

coffee. Quito laughed softly and promised to return quickly before

excusing himself.

David immediately dropped onto one of the couches. Sara

walked past him and over to the large windows, from which she

could see the rain-drenched streets below. She wasn’t sure what she

was searching for as she watched the rain pour from the sky and

streak across the windows. But there was something comforting

about the thunderstorm, something familiar and special she couldn’t

put her finger on. Right now, she would take whatever comfort she

could get.

Why do I let myself get talked into these situations?

It was, of course, a little late to be asking that particular

question. She knew it was her need to find closure—not only for

herself, but possibly for David as well—that was, in part, driving

her present actions.

Over the past eight months, she had asked herself hundreds

of times if there was anything she could have done differently,

anything that would have changed what happened during the Pelham

investigation. The question had haunted her, and after months of

endless debates with Kate, her old college roommate and closest

friend, with her parents, and indeed with herself, she finally accepted

there wasn’t. It had come as an incredible relief to know that.

Perhaps that’s what made it easier for her to recognize David

still carried much self-blame and a tremendous amount of guilt over

what had happened ten years earlier when Hunter Roswell had been

kidnapped and Michael Roswell had been killed. It also made it all

but impossible for her to deny David’s appeal for help.

She was also sufficiently self-aware to recognize there were

enough similarities between the Pelham case and this one—two

high-profile serial killer cases—to cause her discomfort. But there

was also an undeniable pull to work on and solve a complex and

psychologically intriguing case.

• 40 •

Hostage Moon

But that didn’t stop her head from aching and her body from

desperately craving caffeine. It also didn’t help that she had just

spent far too many hours in an overheated airplane packed full of

bodies—her personal idea of hell. She rubbed her temples and tried

to ignore the fatigue she was feeling.

Behind her, David continued to mutter about being made to

wait. Sara wanted to point out they had arrived without warning, and

unless she was psychic, Hunter Roswell would have had no prior

knowledge her presence would be required at the office today. But

she decided it wasn’t worth the argument with a tired and obviously

irritable David. Instead, she concentrated on watching the storm as

it slashed across the city. She had almost succeeded in tuning him

out when a low, husky voice interrupted her musings.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me, Special Agent Granger.”

Sara heard David respond as she turned away from the window.

She didn’t need his greeting to identify the tall, slim woman standing

at the door. But the photograph David had shown her notwithstanding,

the woman wasn’t entirely what Sara had expected.

Perhaps it had something to do with the white linen shirt

left carelessly untucked or the threadbare blue jeans with holes

in interesting places. Hardly the expected attire for a CEO doing

business with numerous governments and Fortune 500 companies.

Still, even casually dressed, wearing little makeup, and with

her hair windblown and damp from the rain, Hunter Roswell had

something that David’s photograph had failed to capture. It went

beyond the stunningly beautiful face and the intense blue eyes.

Beyond the long and lean body and a heady, tantalizing scent.

Unexpectedly, Sara felt something inside her stir, and her

professional façade slipped slightly as she caught herself staring

longer than she should have. The realization caused a hot blush to

spread across her face while she tried to figure out what the hell

had just happened. But try as she might, she couldn’t pull her eyes

away long enough to discern what it was about Hunter Roswell that

drew her in and held her. And perhaps it didn’t really matter because

Hunter seemed equally content to stare back, her killer blue eyes

pinning Sara where she stood.

• 41 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter recovered first and pushed off the doorframe. Entering

the room with a fluid grace and an aura of confidence, her face gave

nothing away. But as she extended her right hand, her cool gaze

seemed to warm, and her lips curved ever so slightly.

“Hi. Hunter Roswell. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—?”

The voice was deep and whiskey-warm, the accent unmistakably

American laced with a hint of England. It rolled over Sara, and she

smiled wryly as she found herself looking up. Although she stood

just over five-eight, Hunter Roswell topped her by at least a couple

of inches. She took the long and slender hand, adorned with a single

wide platinum ring, and returned the handshake. And as their hands

connected, she could feel both warmth and strength.

“Sara Wilder,” she responded. Her voice sounded unusually

husky to her own ears, and she blushed again as she cleared her

throat.Hunter’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Sara knew those cool,

quick eyes were assessing everything. An instant later, the moment

was broken when Quito returned with a tray from which wafted the

rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Just the scent of the strong coffee alone provided Sara with an

immediate and welcome kick, and she anticipated the warm rush of

instant energy coursing through her tired body. Nodding her thanks,

she gratefully accepted a cup and took a sip.

“God, this is really good,” she said with pleasure and let the

caffeine do its job.

After ensuring both visitors had been looked after, Quito

handed a tall silver-and-black mug to Hunter. She responded by

unleashing a grin like a thunderbolt and mouthed my life saver in

the young man’s direction . Quito returned her grin with obvious

adulation before asking whether anything else was needed. Taking

his cue from Hunter, he quietly left the room.

Hunter’s grin had Sara staring at her mouth. It was full and

sensual, evoking an almost visceral response. Her pulse stuttered

and it became difficult to think. No, David’s photograph had not

done Hunter Roswell justice at all. But there was something else.

She groped to identify it but a definition eluded her.

• 42 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter watched Quito leave before turning and motioning

toward the two couches. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Sara glanced at David. They automatically chose to sit on

the same couch and waited expectantly for Hunter to follow suit.

Instead, she roamed the office with a restless energy before stopping

in front of the window to stare out at the endless mist, much as Sara

had done earlier.

Unwillingly fascinated, Sara took the opportunity to observe

Hunter. She watched her rake her fingers through her damp hair, a

nervous habit she was probably unaware of, and it wasn’t difficult

to see the subtle signs of strain that were evident. Hunter’s body was

tense, her shoulders were stiff, and there were faint lines of fatigue

and shadows darkening her eyes. Was it merely unhappiness with

the FBI’s unexpected intrusion into her life? Or was there something

else?As if sensing her thoughts, Hunter turned away from the

window and stared at Sara. Openly. Deliberately. Blatantly. Then

slowly, very slowly, she smiled, and Sara felt the power of that smile

ram into her.

Sex, Sara realized abruptly as her mouth went dry. Hunter

Roswell exuded raw, unapologetic sex.

❖

Seemingly unaware of the undercurrents, David cleared his

throat. “I really appreciate your agreeing to see us, Hunter. I know

we arrived without any notice, but if you give us the chance to

explain, you’ll quickly understand the urgency of our situation.”

Hunter lowered her coffee mug and tilted her head. “It’s not

a problem. I hope you don’t mind, but since one of my business

partners, Matt Logan, happens to be in town, I’ve asked him to join

us.” Hunter glanced absently at her watch. “He was wrapping up a

conference call, so we shouldn’t have long to wait.”

David stiffened slightly before murmuring his acquiescence.

Sara maintained a neutral expression and remained silent, continuing

to watch Hunter as she closed her eyes and sipped her coffee.

• 43 •

aJ Quinn

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did you find Quito?”

Sara asked, hoping the conversation would enable her to gain

some insight into Hunter Roswell. But if she was honest, she was

also responding to an intrinsic need to connect with her and chose

what she thought was a safe starting point. She was ill-prepared for

Hunter’s response.

“The Latin Kings,” Hunter said nonchalantly, naming a youth

gang with a history of guns and violence.

Sara’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding?”

“I think it was about five years ago. I was in L.A. on business

when Quito and some friends decided they wanted the car I was

driving.”

“And?”

“I decided I wasn’t ready to give it up.” Hunter shrugged,

sipped her coffee, and closed her eyes again, momentarily caught up

in the past. “It turned out there wasn’t a lot of room for negotiating.

When the dust settled, all that remained standing was me and this

skinny sixteen-year-old holding a three fifty-seven that was bigger

than he was. He was shaking so badly I was afraid he was going to

shoot me by accident.”

“What did you do?”

Hunter’s eyes opened and she flashed Sara a grin. “I took him

home with me.”

“You what?”

“Well, I fed him first.” She said it as if that explained everything.

“It’s amazing what two people can work out over burgers and fries.

In fact, more people ought to try it.”

“And he’s been with you ever since?”

“We hammered out a deal we could both live with,” Hunter

replied enigmatically.

“What kind of deal?” Sara asked.

Although the soft voice was serious, Hunter thought she

detected a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “He told me about his

family, and one of the first things we agreed on was if his mother

concurred, I would move the family to San Francisco.”

“And she agreed just like that?”

• 44 •

Hostage Moon

Actually, when I showed up at her door with her errant son in

tow, Cecilia Ramirez thought heaven had sent her an angel—a tall,

dark-haired angel. “We talked, and Cecilia agreed because it got both

her children away from the gang influences in their neighborhood. It

didn’t hurt that Quito also agreed to go back to school, and I agreed

to tutor him whenever my schedule permitted. If I was unavailable,

we both agreed a member of my OPS team could fill in and help him

with his studies.”

“That’s quite the deal. You must be one hell of a negotiator.”

“So they say.” Hunter grinned. “It also didn’t hurt that I threw

in some additional incentives.”

Sara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What kind of incentives?”

“For one thing, shortly after they moved, Cecilia began training

at one of the de León family hotels under my mother so she no longer

had to work three jobs. And when he finished high school, I arranged

for an internship for Quito as my personal assistant and agreed to

cover his tuition while he completes his degree in business. And

when she’s not in school at Stanford, his sister Annie’s interning

in the legal department at Roswell. She thinks she wants to be a

lawyer.”

Sara shook her head and looked as though she was trying very

hard to stifle a laugh. “That’s crazy, you know that?”

“Certifiable,” Hunter said affably. “More coffee?”

The conversation was interrupted as the office door opened,

and they were joined by Matt Logan. Rangy and just a little over six

feet tall, he had dark eyes that missed nothing and closely cropped

dark hair.

“Sorry to have kept everyone waiting,” he said.

He passed Hunter, touching her lightly on the shoulder. He then

shook hands with Sara and David before dropping onto the vacant

couch opposite them.

Hunter remained standing. When she turned back to David and

Sara, the warmth and humor that had been present a moment earlier

were gone.

“Before we start, I would be remiss if I didn’t ask. Do I need to

have legal representation? My chief legal counsel is in California,

• 45 •

aJ Quinn

but I’m sure one of our local lawyers will be more than happy to

fill in.”

“Christ no,” David replied quickly and seemed surprised.

“But I take it you’re here in an official capacity?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, yes, we’re here as part of an official

investigation. But it’s not like you’re a suspect.”

“That’s a relief.” Hunter smiled humorlessly and thrust her

hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Then why don’t you tell

me what has brought two federal agents to my doorstep?”

As she watched, David and Sara glanced at each other. Sara

shrugged in a barely perceptible move and remained silent, while

David took the lead. “We’re dealing with a situation back home—in

San Francisco—and we’re actually hoping you can help us. Maybe

shed some light,” he began tentatively. He inclined his head and

appeared to consider his next words carefully. “Perhaps it would

help if I started at the beginning.”

“Why not?” Hunter said.

“Over the past five months, we’ve had five women murdered

by what is clearly the same perpetrator. Same weapon was used in

all five instances, a thirty-eight caliber. But the physical evidence

is nonexistent. All the kills are clean, no DNA, no tangible leads.”

“And you want me to try running the data from your murders

on the new program we’re beta testing?” Hunter’s lips curved in a

faintly perplexed smile.

David frowned and shook his head. “I wasn’t aware you were

testing any new software.”

“We’re always testing new programs, David. It’s what we do,”

Hunter admonished gently. “If that’s not the help you want, then

why are you here?”

“Actually, we’re here because of the victimology. When we

looked at the victims, while there were no obvious links connecting

them to each other, they had a number of things in common.”

Hunter felt the faint stirrings of impatience as David paused

once again. “I’m sure there’s a good reason you’re delivering this

piecemeal. Are you going to make me ask?”

• 46 •

Hostage Moon

David straightened his shoulders. “Point taken,” he acknowl-

edged. “All the victims were single, professional women in their

mid-to-late twenties, and they all fit a specific physical type. Taller

than average, between five eight and five eleven, with dark hair and

blue eyes.”

Hunter turned and stared in silent contemplation at her

reflection in the window before looking back at David. “Tell me

you’ve got more to go on to bring you all the way to London. For

God’s sake, David, there’ve got to be literally hundreds of women

other than me who live in and around the Bay Area and match that

physical description.” But before David could respond, she already

knew she wasn’t going to like the answer. She could see it in his

eyes. “What is it? Why are you connecting this to me? What haven’t

you told me?”

“You’re right, there’s more. In each instance, the killer left a

message at the crime scene. His earlier messages contained one

brief sentence: ‘You are mine.’”

Unable to prevent it, Hunter’s mind flashed to New York and the

carefully printed message she had found in her pocket. She closed

her eyes and fought something akin to panic that welled up inside

her, spreading through her chest and threatening to overwhelm her.

Sara noted the almost immediate state change David’s words

elicited in Hunter. There was a sharp, indrawn breath and a tightening

of her shoulders as a fleeting shadow crossed her face.

“However, in the most recent crime scene, he left a considerably

longer message, and for the first time, his message was addressed,”

David continued. “That’s what brings us here today. We’re here

because the message was addressed to you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Temper flashed visibly in her

eyes before she reined it in. “Damn it, David. What’s going on?”

Sara watched Hunter turn and look at Matt, holding his eyes

briefly as she searched for some kind of answer. Nothing.

Hunter’s frustration came out in her tone as she turned back

expectantly to face David. “I really need someone to explain.”

“Hunter, the message was addressed to you by name,” David

said quickly and raised his hand to discourage any disagreement.

• 47 •

aJ Quinn

“And before you start arguing with me, there’s something else you

need to know. The message also said it was time for daddy’s girl to

come home.”

David pressed on, even as Sara saw his words hit home. “I’m

sorry, but unless you’re prepared to show me another Hunter who

was once called daddy’s girl, there can be no question you are the

intended recipient.”

In the silence that followed David’s revelation, Hunter wrapped

her arms tightly around herself. The reference to daddy’s girl was

obviously not what she had expected, and watching the exchange,

Sara knew David’s words had wounded Hunter severely. She stood

hollow eyed, holding her body deathly still, and for an instant, she

glanced down at her chest as if possibly wondering why the damage

David had inflicted wasn’t bleeding visibly. At the same time, her

face became frighteningly pale.

But it wasn’t the lack of color that worried Sara. It was the slow

deadening in the previously clear blue eyes and the first signs of

mild shock as evidenced in the slight loss of focus.

Though obviously shaken, Hunter appeared to try to regain

control. “Jesus, David, I can’t do this. I can’t go back there again.

You, of all people, should know that. You were there.” She paused,

momentarily unable to speak, then struggled to continue. “I’m sorry.

Will you excuse me for a moment.” Hunter bolted for the door.

“Hunter—”

Hunter flinched and looked back at Sara, pain starkly evident in

her eyes. She swallowed hard and moistened her lips. But whatever

she might have said, the words simply died in her throat. She turned

away, grabbed the doorknob, yanked the door open, and was gone.

The door automatically closed behind her, leaving the room far

emptier without her vibrant presence.

Matt jumped up, reached for the telephone on the desk, and

quickly punched in a number. “Peter? Hunter just left her office.

She’s…Don’t let her leave the building…Yeah, that’s right…Just

find her, damn it. Make sure she’s okay. And as soon as you find her,

let me know where the hell she is.”

• 48 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR Five

Leaving her office, Hunter moved quickly down the hallway

and ducked into a small bathroom. It wasn’t until she was

behind the closed door that she allowed herself to feel anything.

Fighting waves of nausea, she splashed some cold water on her face

and then dried off with a towel, before facing her reflection in the

mirror. It was a reflection she barely recognized these days. Her eyes

were bloodshot and burning with fatigue, her face unnaturally pale

and drawn.

Trying to keep herself from groaning, she sank to the floor,

dropping her head between her knees as she took a number of

long, deep breaths and let them out slowly. After a few breaths,

the tightness in her chest began to ease, leaving her physically and

emotionally drained. But she couldn’t shake the sense her carefully

structured world was imploding and tumbling into chaos.

She knew she didn’t have a lot of time before someone—most

likely Peter—found her. On cue, she heard a soft knock on the door,

followed by the muffled sound of someone calling her name as the

doorknob turned.

As the door opened, she glanced up and was surprised to see

Sara leaning against the frame, a bottle of water and something

that promised pain relief in her hands. She noted the concerned

expression on her face and, after a brief hesitation, managed to give

her a weak smile.

Sara silently regarded Hunter’s tense form before entering and

dropping to the floor beside her. She opened the ibuprofen container,

• 49 •

aJ Quinn

then handed her the water bottle and two tablets. With a short nod

of thanks, Hunter downed the tablets and followed them with a few

swallows of water.

“I hope you don’t mind. Someone named Peter let Matt know

where you were, and I figured you’d be about ready to deal with

that headache I could see brewing a little earlier,” Sara said. “I also

wanted the chance to talk to you. Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive,” Hunter replied. She deliberately kept her voice

light but knew her face would tell a different story. “Of course, I’d

probably do even better if I thought there was a chance I could sneak

out of here without anyone seeing me.”

“Sorry.” Sara shook her head ruefully. “Matt and David are still

waiting for you in your office. And then, of course, there’s me.”

“Right.” Her voice was both weary and resigned.

For a few minutes, neither one spoke. Finally, Hunter turned

her head toward Sara and looked at her. “Maybe you can help me

with something.”

The temperature had dropped, but Sara didn’t flinch. At least

not visibly. “I’ll certainly give it a try.”

“Given the fact that he and I share some history, I can come up

with a pretty good explanation as to why Special Agent Granger is

here. But I can’t seem to make you fit into the equation. So, if you

wouldn’t mind telling me, why exactly are you here?”

“Ah. Well—” Sara paused uncertainly, as she contemplated

how best to deliver an appropriate response to Hunter’s question.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired and I’m being rude.” Hunter lifted a hand

to rub at her temple.

“No, it’s all right. It’s just that David and I also share some

history. I suppose I should start by telling you I’m a psychologist

currently consulting with the FBI on the serial murders David

mentioned to you.” Sara felt an almost imperceptible change in

Hunter’s body language. Uncertain of its cause, she took a careful

breath before continuing. “Before that, until about eight months

ago, I worked with the FBI in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. David

was my partner.”

“What happened eight months ago?”

• 50 •

Hostage Moon

“I resigned.”

“Why?”

Sara shrugged. “I don’t know how much news you follow—”

“Try me.”

“Okay. For a period of almost a year, up until eight months ago,

I was part of a joint NYPD and FBI task force working on a case

involving a serial rapist-murderer.”

“You were part of the Pelham investigation?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed as she nodded. “Right the first time.”

Hunter tilted her head and assessed Sara. “I ran the data on

Marshall after he was arrested. According to the offender-profiling

software we were testing, in spite of the circumstantial evidence

piling up against him, there was less than a forty percent probability

he committed those murders. He didn’t have the intellectual

capacity—”

“I know. I tried to convince them they’d arrested the wrong

man,” Sara said softly. “But no one up the chain of command was

interested in hearing it. By the time I got someone to listen to me,

Marshall was already in the hospital, and Pelham had increased the

victim count.”

“I’m sorry. That had to be hard.” Hunter grimaced. “Do you

blame yourself for what happened to Marshall?”

Sara shook her head. “No. It’s not that I blame myself for what

happened. But the bottom line is I do share in the responsibility.”

“Is that why you quit?”

She released a breath, then shrugged. “I resigned two days after

Pelham was arrested.”

“And started consulting?”

“Initially, I did some consulting work with Seattle PD. More

recently, I’ve been staying in San Francisco with my old college

roommate and doing some guest lectures at Berkeley. I just

completed a twelve-week series in criminal and abnormal psych.”

Hunter moved her shoulders restlessly. “How was that?”

“Different.” Sara gave a slight grin. “But I liked it enough that

I’m weighing an offer from Stanford and considering relocating

permanently to the West Coast. I went to school there and still have

• 51 •

aJ Quinn

family in the area. And in the meantime, I’m helping David out with

this case.”

“Interesting.” The word was said in a carelessly polite tone that

seemed to indicate the end of their conversation.

“Listen,” Sara said. “It’s all right to ask for help, and for what

it’s worth, I’d really like to help you. Just let me do my job.”

“Right. You’re a psychologist.” Hunter dragged a hand through

her hair and sighed. “The only problem could be I have this thing

about shrinks. Psychiatrists, psychologists. It really makes no

difference. Nothing personal, you understand. Just a case of some

bad history, which makes it impossible—”

“I can appreciate that, but it only makes it difficult, not

impossible.” Sara could feel the increase in Hunter’s tension.

Deciding she had gotten as far as she was going to for the time

being, Sara pushed herself to her feet. “Will you at least think about

it?” Hunter sighed again, let her head fall back, and closed her eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” she agreed softly and kept her eyes closed as

Sara left.

❖

Almost twenty minutes after Sara had left her, Hunter re-

entered her office, straightening her shoulders as she stepped back

into the room. She remained by the door with her arms crossed

loosely across her chest, glancing from Matt to David and finally

to Sara. She could discern nothing but concern from the benign

expressions on their faces.

“My apologies,” she said quietly. She was still feeling off

balance, and in spite of her best intentions, her voice still held an

edge, and a frown creased her forehead. She narrowed her eyes and

tried to ignore both the throbbing at her temples and the emotions

that were vibrating through her. But she could see no escape and

braced herself for a fight.

“You okay?” Matt asked. He should have known better, and the

look she gave him was cold as winter.

• 52 •

Hostage Moon

“I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s put everything on the table. David,

if I understand correctly, you have five murder victims you believe

were killed for no reason other than they happened to bear some

resemblance to me. You also have a killer leaving notes at the crime

scenes that would seem to connect him to a time in my life I would

just as soon forget. You’ve come a long way to talk to me, so you must

have something in mind. Where do you see us going from here?”

David cleared his throat. “I believe we need to take a fresh

look at what happened ten years ago. The fact that the killer knows

enough to call you daddy’s girl tells us his connection with you most

likely originates there. We just need to find it.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“Well, the first thing we should do is review the original case

files with you. See if that triggers anything—”

“You mean other than nightmares?” Hunter let out an explosive

breath of frustration. “Thanks, but I already have those.”

David took a reflexive step back.

“We believe the killer started as a stalker. Specifically an

erotomanic,” Sara interjected softly, drawing Hunter’s attention away

from David. “That’s a stalker with a delusional belief that the object

of his or her attention reciprocates the affection. Or will, given time

and opportunity, come to share a desire for intimacy. Erotomanic

stalkers may know they are not actually having a relationship with

their victims, but firmly believe they will someday.”

“And that means—”

“It means he believes he is destined to be with you, and if he

only pursues you hard enough and long enough, you will come to

love him as he loves you.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed warily. “Go on.”

“But there are associated behaviors and psychopathologies in

the evolution of these types of stalkers, and the fact that he’s trying

to contact you through the message he left at the last crime scene is

not good.”

“Why?”

“It’s indicative of a stalker who feels as if he’s been, in some

way, betrayed by the object of his affections. Betrayed by you, in

other words,” Sara explained.

• 53 •

aJ Quinn

“Considering his message says he wants you to come home,”

David added, “it’s likely the trigger to his killing spree was your

extended stay in the UK.”

Sara noted another brief state change in Hunter before her

expression resumed its carefully guarded state. Definitely something

there, she thought, but this was not the time to pursue it. Instead, she

picked up where David left off.

“When that happens, when an erotomanic stalker feels

betrayed, it often leads to violence against the target,” Sara said.

“But the stalker in this case, at least for the time being, has been

either venting his anger or practicing on surrogates—women who

bear a close resemblance to you, at least physically. And possibly

more deeply, if you consider the women he chose lived alone and all

were successful professionals.”

Hunter closed her eyes and raked her fingers through her hair.

“You’re really saying those women died because they reminded

someone of me, aren’t you?” she said, her voice filled with fatigue

and resignation.

“Hunter,” Matt interjected. “This is not your fault.”

“I’m not trying to take blame here. I’m merely clarifying the

facts,” Hunter responded quietly. “You said earlier there were no

obvious links between the victims, but that’s not quite correct, is it?

I’m the link. They all died because they looked like me. At the very

least in the eyes of someone connected to me. And from what you’re

telling me, it’s likely more women will die unless whoever is doing

this is stopped.”

“Yes,” David said. “That’s why we’re here, which I believe

was your original question.”

“And the answer would be?”

“We’d like you to work with Sara. She’s a psychologist. Works

with our Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Used to work with the BAU,” Hunter corrected. She crossed

her arms, temper smoldering visibly in her eyes. “Not being straight

with me is not going to earn you any points, David.”

“Look, it’s clear whoever is doing this—stalking you and

killing these women—is connected to what happened to you ten

• 54 •

Hostage Moon

years ago. The reference to daddy’s girl makes that abundantly clear.

That connection belongs to a specific time period, and the number

of people who would know to use it in reference to you has got to

be pretty select.”

“And?”

“Do you think it’s just a coincidence we’re coming up on the

tenth anniversary of everything that happened?” David asked. “Our

challenge is that beyond the official storyline, we actually have

very little concrete knowledge regarding what happened back then.

Your father’s family—Patrick Roswell specifically—managed to

keep a lot of the details under wraps. Especially where you were

concerned.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with

anything?”

“If we’re going to identify and stop this guy, we need to consider

everything. The FBI and SFPD already have a task force working on

this case. They’re currently interviewing and re-interviewing family,

friends, coworkers, and neighbors of the victims. The UNSUB spent

time following them. Watching them. Someone has to have seen

something. In the meantime, we need to look at anyone who was

around you or connected to you in any way ten years ago. Because

that’s where we’re going to find our killer.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hunter asked in a cool, even tone.

“I’m suggesting as both a psychologist and someone with

extensive experience with the BAU, Sara can help you revisit what

happened and help you…help us identify whoever’s doing this

before he kills again,” he said. “At the same time, we’ll be able to

provide you with round-the-clock protection.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning Sara stays with you at all times, and we’ll assign a team

to provide you with twenty-four seven surveillance and protection.”

Hunter stared at David for an interminable moment. Her eyes

never wavered from his, her expression intent. “For how long?”

“For as long as we need to.”

In the ensuing silence, Sara wondered if in that moment, Hunter

had seen David not as he now appeared, but as he had been ten years

• 55 •

aJ Quinn

earlier. Part of some nameless, faceless security detail assigned to

protect daddy’s girl. Eager to prove himself, but ultimately failing.

And she couldn’t help but wonder if both David and Hunter were

looking for the same thing.

The possibility of absolution. Redemption.

“Sorry, but I’ve no real interest in opening up and spilling the

details of my life story to anyone. No offense intended, Dr. Wilder.

I’m sure you’re very good at what you do. But if that’s what you’re

all waiting for, you know where the door is,” she said flatly, closing

down the lines of communication. “I’ve even less interest in having

the FBI assign a security detail to protect me. As I recall, the last

time the bureau tried to blanket me with protection, it didn’t turn out

too well for anyone. So thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Hunter, you can’t—” David took a step forward and reached

for Hunter’s arm.

Without warning, Hunter stopped David mid-reach, holding

his arm with what appeared to be a surprisingly strong grip. “I’m

sorry. Did you think that was a suggestion on my part?” The words

were said softly with anger just behind them. “Be careful, David.

You’re on my territory right now, and ‘you can’t’ are words I don’t

tolerate very well.”

She continued to stare at David, trapping him with her eyes. “I

know I’ve always had a reputation for having a temper. But it’s only

fair that I warn you…I’m not the kid I was ten years ago. I tolerate a

lot less bullshit now than I did when you first met me.”

Sara could feel the heat of Hunter’s temper and decided she

preferred it to her icy control. She watched her for a moment longer

and waited to see if Matt would say something. But when he failed

to react, she decided to take pity on David and intervened. “Hunter,

since you obviously have no desire to follow David’s suggestion,

why don’t you tell us what you think might work for you?”

Hunter drew a deep breath, then another, as she obviously tried

to pull some of her self-control back around her. Her hands twisted

together before she clenched her fists and held them still. She took

one more breath, and in the ensuing silence, it was clear she had

come to some decisions.

• 56 •

Hostage Moon

“All right,” she said, sounding calm, almost bored. “It would

seem to me the logical next step will be to convince me to go home

to draw out this stalker.”

As David nodded, Sara narrowed her eyes and tried to

anticipate where Hunter was leading them. In spite of her spiking

anger, her voice was remarkably cool. Hunter fascinated her, and

Sara studied her face more closely, watched the emotions play over

it. And because she could also see the fatigue and the ghosts and the

grief, she realized Hunter was walking a fine line.

“Let me save you the time and trouble. There’s a fundraiser

this evening for the children’s hospital I’ve committed to attending.

Once the dinner’s over, I plan on taking one of the corporate jets

back to San Francisco.”

Hunter paused and turned to look directly at Sara. “You and

David are both welcome to fly back with me. Unless, of course,

you have a particular affection for sitting elbow-to-elbow while

someone kicks the back of your seat.” She flashed a hint of a grin.

“If that’s the case, you’re more than welcome to fly commercial.”

“I’m going to need some time to set up protection—” David

began.

Hunter froze him with a look. “I’m going back on my terms,

David. That means no FBI security detail. No surveillance.

Nothing.” She paused and shifted her gaze until it met Sara’s once

again. “When I get home, I will give serious consideration to how

the doctor and I might work together. In the meantime, if I detect a

hint of FBI surveillance anywhere near me, any cooperation on my

part will vanish. Am I making myself understood?”

David glanced at Sara and then gave a slight nod.

Sara looked on with rising concern and disbelief. Hunter, in

her present frame of mind, without adequate protection and in close

proximity to her stalker, was a disaster waiting to happen. She found

herself wishing she’d had the time before coming to London to learn

more about what had happened ten years earlier and resolved to correct

that oversight at the earliest possible moment. Preferably directly from

Hunter. In the meantime, she took comfort in knowing she would be

working with Hunter and could provide some level of protection.

• 57 •

aJ Quinn

Clearly satisfied she had made the right decision, Hunter turned

to leave when David called out to her. “Hunter, wait.”

She stopped with her hand on the door, glanced back at him,

and waited.

“About that new program you said you’re beta testing,” he

said. “I know you’ve no reason to want to do me any favors right

now, but is there any chance you could run some of our current

data and maybe some stuff from ten years ago and see if anything

interesting pops up?”

“Already started the process of downloading what I’ll need to

run it.” Hunter sounded no more than casually interested. “I haven’t

looked at it in great detail, but I can tell you the data from your

San Francisco murders comes up a little light. But if you can add

anything of value—like the missing ME reports—e-mail them to

me. In the meantime, I’ll run what’s available and let you know if I

come up with anything.”

Allowing no opportunity for further discussion, Hunter turned

and walked out of the office, leaving Sara with an aching head as

she tried to make sense of what had just transpired. “What did she

mean? How can she already be preparing to run the data?”

Matt grinned broadly. “I would say she accessed the FBI files.”

“Accessed?” Sara’s eyes widened slightly and her eyebrows

rose in disbelief. “Are you telling me she hacked the FBI?”

“No one would ever suggest such a thing,” Matt said mildly.

“That would be illegal. To say nothing of the fact that the FBI files

would at best get her the current data. To access the old stuff from

ten years ago, she’d probably have to tap into the Justice Department

archives as well.”

As Sara shook her head, Matt paused and flashed another grin.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said. “That’s my girl.”

• 58 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR six

The converted Boeing 767 belonging to the Roswell Group

departed London shortly before ten p.m. local time and

began making its way back to the US. Once the jet achieved cruising

altitude, Sara finally began to relax and found herself taking an

interest in her surroundings.

The aircraft’s luxurious interior had clearly been designed to

maximize comfort, and she glanced appreciatively at the natural and

tranquil tones that had been incorporated in the decor. The leather

seats were butter soft, the lighting recessed, and there were crystal

vases with fresh-cut flowers. It was, she acknowledged, a far cry

from the overcrowded flight that had brought her to London. Was

that only yesterday?

Her thoughts were temporarily disrupted as the pilot’s voice—

soft, feminine, and distinctly British—came over the speakers and

advised the passengers they were now free to move about. Seated to

her left, Matt and Quito immediately unbuckled their seatbelts and

excused themselves from the main lounge. Matt disappeared into

what looked like a well-appointed office, while Quito laid claim to

a leather sofa and plugged his headphones into the onboard sound

system.

A moment later, a leanly muscled man approached and crouched

down beside her seat. Peter McNeil quickly introduced himself to

Sara as Hunter’s chief of security. In his late thirties with short blond

hair and blue eyes, he had a slow, sharp smile.

• 59 •

aJ Quinn

“I thought I should introduce myself, since I believe we’ll

be crossing paths frequently once we get home,” he said. “In the

meantime, the princess doesn’t stand much on ceremony, so make

yourself comfortable, and help yourself if there’s anything you

want.”

Sara nodded, her smile never faltering. “Okay.”

After sending a curt nod in David’s direction, Peter stood and

followed four people Sara understood to be the members of Hunter’s

operations team as they raided a well-stocked galley. In a matter of

minutes, they returned with platters heaped with sandwiches and

a bucket of beer, before setting up a poker game at a nearby table.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” David said, “but I understand

there’s actually a small theater on board with a good collection of

first-run movies. Interested?”

Sara shook her head. “I’ll pass,” she said and watched David

amble away.

Trying to ease the low-grade headache that seemed to have

lain siege permanently in her head, she rubbed her temples, then

picked up a magazine. But she was unable to concentrate as her

mind replayed the latter part of the day.

She and David had run into Hunter outside the Roswell building

while trying to decide where to grab a quick bite to eat. The rain had

stopped, and as they discussed possible options, Hunter materialized

on the steps beside them. She looked positively stunning in a black

silk dress with a tantalizingly deep neckline and a slit up the side

that showed off a long smooth thigh. She had left her hair falling

loosely over her shoulders, and diamonds glinted brilliantly in her

ears.Feeling vaguely nonplussed, Sara took in the elegant hollows

and angles of her face, the finely delineated arms and shoulders,

the long and slender body. She sucked in an involuntary breath as

she caught herself staring and tried to focus on what Hunter was

saying.

“There’s a small pub a couple of blocks up,” Hunter offered. “It

has an excellent kitchen and a good atmosphere. Tell Shelby I sent

you, and she’ll take care of you.”

• 60 •

Hostage Moon

As she spoke, a limousine pulled up to the curb. Sara watched

the driver open the door, allowing a distinguished silver-haired man

in a tuxedo to exit the vehicle. He smiled and climbed the steps

toward them.

“Hunter,” he said, gently taking Hunter’s hand and bringing it

briefly to his lips. “You look positively exquisite, my dear. You’ll do

wonders for both my reputation and my ego this evening.”

“I see you’re on your best behavior, old man,” Hunter teased.

She softly brushed her lips against his cheek before turning to

facilitate introductions. “Sir Nigel Wainwright…Special Agent

David Granger and Dr. Sara Wilder.”

“Of course, the two American FBI agents,” he said.

Sara felt his eyes shrewdly assessing both her and David as they

shook hands. He appeared to dismiss David almost immediately

before turning his attention to Sara. “May I ask who I’m holding

responsible for keeping this wild child out of trouble once she’s

stateside? Would that be you, Dr. Wilder?”

Sara looked into Nigel’s eyes and noted both humor and

affection evident there. She was also keenly aware Hunter was

watching their exchange with great interest.

“To be honest, I’m not sure how to answer you,” she said. “As

a consultant on this case, I imagine I will be working quite closely

with Hunter, but I’d wager no one keeps her out of trouble unless

it’s what she chooses.”

Nigel laughed with delight as he turned to Hunter. “You’re in

trouble, my dear, if after such a short time Dr. Wilder has figured

you out.”

Hunter arched an eyebrow.

“I certainly wouldn’t say I’ve figured her out,” Sara interjected

quickly before Hunter could speak. “But I’m certainly up for a

challenge,” she added with a grin.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Nigel responded. He watched

Hunter trying not to laugh at their conversation before she turned

and walked away to speak with David. Sara watched his expression

soften and gentle. He remained silent until Hunter was far enough

away to ensure she was unable to hear their conversation.

• 61 •

aJ Quinn

“I look at her like this and wonder why there’s someone out there

who wants nothing more than to hurt her. But I know he exists, and

unless you can stop him, I’m afraid he may succeed in killing her.”

“All I can tell you is I’m going to do everything in my power to

see that doesn’t happen,” Sara responded.

Nigel nodded. He watched Hunter a moment longer before

turning to look at Sara, his expression resolute. “Hunter won’t make

things easy for you.”

“Why is that?”

“Her intellect is both her greatest strength and weakness.

It allows her to make great leaps in logic the majority of people

cannot follow. But she also uses it to substantiate her disregard for

most authority, which leads her to take risks others might consider

unacceptable.”

Sara considered the implications of his words. “I take it she’s

spoken to you about what she’s facing in San Francisco?”

“Michael Roswell was a good friend, as is Marlena, Hunter’s

mother.” It might have been ten years since Michael Roswell’s

death, but Sara could still hear the sorrow in Nigel’s voice. “I would

never presume to fill Michael’s role in Hunter’s life. But she’s been

like a daughter to me for many years and often comes to me when

something’s troubling her.”

“As she did six months ago?” Sara probed.

Nigel looked at her as if reassessing his opinion and smiled.

“As she did six months ago.”

“Do you know—?”

“No.” Nigel shook his head. “I only know something happened

in New York, but I don’t know the specifics of what drove her here.

I merely provided the shelter she needed. A place where she could

heal physically and emotionally.”

“Why did she need to heal?” The question came out more

sharply than Sara intended, but Nigel seemed not to notice.

“When she first arrived, her face was bruised, and there were

bandages around her hands and wrists. She also moved stiffly as if

she was in pain. But she never mentioned what had happened, and

I didn’t press her.”

• 62 •

Hostage Moon

Nigel lifted a brow and continued to watch Hunter. “All I can

tell you is I saw something in her eyes I’d never seen before. It

looked like fear. But I have no idea what put it there, and she has

never talked about it. Consequently I don’t know how to help her.”

Sara thought about what Nigel was saying and tried to put his

words into context with who Hunter Roswell appeared to be—a

woman who wanted no one’s protection and clearly intended to look

after herself.

As if reading her thoughts, Nigel turned to her. “Don’t let her

fool you. Hunter is more vulnerable than most people realize and

certainly more than she will ever admit, even to herself. That said,

her happiness and well-being are of the utmost importance to me. I

cannot stress that enough.”

He paused, lowered his voice, and handed her a card with all of

his contact information on it. “We almost lost Hunter ten years ago,

and no one is prepared to face that risk again, especially not like

this. If you need anything—anything whatsoever to ensure she is

kept physically and emotionally protected—I expect you to contact

me. I will put whatever resources I have at your disposal. Whatever

it takes to keep her safe. Do you understand?”

Sara nodded, and a silent understanding passed between them.

A moment later, they both smiled as Hunter approached and wrapped

long, slender fingers lightly around Nigel’s arm.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Nigel, but if we’re going to make the

fundraiser and still leave enough time for me to fly out this evening,

we really should be going.”

“Of course, my dear,” Nigel said before turning back briefly to

look at Sara. “A pleasure, Dr. Wilder. I’m quite certain we will see

each other again before too long.”

Sara watched them make their way to the waiting limousine

and drive away before rejoining David.

When she next saw them, Hunter and Nigel were standing

beside the limo, parked on the tarmac in the shadow of the Roswell

jet. They were engaged in what looked to be a very intense

conversation. A conversation which continued long after the jet was

loaded and everyone else was on board.

• 63 •

aJ Quinn

From her vantage point near the door, Sara observed the

discussion continue until finally, in what could only be interpreted

as capitulation, Hunter threw her arms up and nodded. Obviously

pleased with the outcome, Nigel enveloped her in his arms. A

moment later, he watched her turn and board the jet. She proceeded

directly into the cockpit, where she remained until the jet achieved

cruising altitude. Shortly thereafter, she walked through the cabin

and headed to an enclosed area near the rear of the jet.

❖

As the jet drew inexorably closer to San Francisco, Hunter

began to pound on a heavy punching bag set up in a small gym

near the rear of the aircraft. She attacked it relentlessly as if her life

depended on it. Left, right, left, right. Again and again in time with

the driving beat of the music she had selected, expelling her breath

each time she connected with the heavy bag.

Even as a child, she had always been filled with a kind of

restless energy, physically and mentally. No matter how hard she

tried, she could never slow her mind down enough to relax, and her

body slowed down only when there was no other choice.

Tonight she desperately wanted sleep…sleep without dreams,

without guilt, without fear. But she knew just as a killer waited for

her at home, nightmares were lurking in the shadows waiting to

begin. Recurring dreams populated with ghosts conjured from the

past. If she couldn’t sleep, at the very least annihilating the heavy

bag would stop her from thinking. And not thinking ranked very

high on her priority list.

Still, she couldn’t help but imagine Sara, as an FBI psychologist,

would probably have a field day interpreting her dreams.

Dropping her hands, Hunter rotated her shoulders and tried to

loosen up. Then with lightening speed, she resumed her assault on

the bag, her hands moving in a series of explosive jabs as she circled

left to right and worked the bag up and down.

Damn Matt. Damn David. Damn the FBI. Damn them all.

• 64 •

Hostage Moon

As the flurry of punches continued, her movements picked

up speed, and she pushed herself harder until all that powered her

was adrenaline. Her breathing became ragged, and pain and strain

reminded her of physical limitations. But she continued to push

herself beyond them, pushing as her mind emptied, pushing until

she could no longer lift her arms. Until all she could do was drop to

her knees in exhaustion, stretching a hand out to catch herself as she

hit the floor. Surprised to feel a sob constrict her throat, she closed

her eyes.

She wasn’t certain how long she remained like that, but when

she opened her eyes again, she knew immediately she was no longer

alone. Looking up, she saw Sara Wilder standing in the doorway.

Hunter closed her eyes and then slowly blinked to make sure

she hadn’t conjured her out of her overtired imagination. But when

she opened her eyes, Sara was still standing there, holding the towel

Hunter had dropped on the floor in one hand, a bottle of water in the

other.She looked serious and supremely self-assured in her

impeccably tailored blue suit. But then she smiled, for just an instant,

and Hunter’s eyes were drawn to her mouth. Sara’s lips were soft

and full. And as Hunter stared a moment longer, she found herself

lost for several heartbeats in an arresting face framed by pale blond

hair and a pair of misty green eyes that seemed filled with quiet

understanding.

Realizing she was staring, Hunter eased back and met Sara’s

gaze. “Hey, doc. Wanna spar?” she asked, while trying to catch her

breath.

Sara glanced down, pale eyebrows rising slightly, her lips

curved into an amused, self-deprecating smile. “So you can kick my

ass? Go figure, but I don’t think I’m ready for that right now. But

thanks for the offer.”

Sara looked at Hunter a little longer, watching as emotions

she couldn’t name danced across shadowed blue eyes. Hunter let

out a shuddering breath and flashed an apologetic smile, but she

didn’t say anything else. Her face was flushed, her chest heaving,

her breathing fast and audible. All bearing testament to the display

• 65 •

aJ Quinn

of lethal grace and power Sara had just witnessed. But also making

her look wild and untamable.

Sweet Jesus. She could be the poster child for transgression.

The thought worried Sara. Under the present circumstances,

it was totally inappropriate, even if it was also undeniably true.

Pushing it aside, she tossed Hunter the towel she had been holding

and dropped to the floor beside her. After helping her remove the

hand wraps, she offered the water bottle.

“You okay?”

Hunter nodded as she brought the bottle to her lips and drank

deeply. It was obvious the adrenaline rush had dissipated, but she

didn’t appear any more relaxed. She gave a rueful laugh and tried

to flex her left hand, her knuckles already swollen and bruised. She

immediately hissed and cradled her throbbing hand.

“You’re going to want to put some ice on that,” Sara said mildly

before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hunter took a moment before responding and then lowered her

voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You should probably know I’ve

been giving serious thought to turning the plane around and heading

back to London.” She bit her lower lip as her eyes met Sara’s, and

Sara thought she detected a flicker of humor once again. “Of course,

I can always be persuaded to head for Paris, if you would prefer a

different destination.”

“Since I’ve never been to Paris, I can’t really offer an opinion.

I guess that means I’ll leave the decision up to you,” Sara conceded,

smiling. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Her question elicited a shake of Hunter’s head and a weak

smile. “Having second thoughts about going home would imply I

had first thoughts, wouldn’t it?”

Sara laughed. “That’s true.”

They sat without speaking for a couple of minutes as Hunter’s

labored breathing returned to normal. After another minute passed,

she tilted her head back, and when at last she spoke, her voice

sounded tired and uncertain. “The problem is I don’t want to do

this.”“What don’t you want to do?”

• 66 •

Hostage Moon

“I don’t want to sift through the rubble and ashes of the past.”

Hunter stopped as if trying to collect her rambling thoughts. “Don’t

get me wrong, I know I don’t have a lot of choice. I know my past is

where we’re going to find this killer you’re looking for. It’s just that

there are other things buried back there, and I’m pretty sure I’m not

ready to deal with any of it.”

“It might help if you remember a couple of things,” Sara said

gently. “The first is you won’t be alone. The second is I can help

you not only to identify a killer but to deal with those other things as

well…if you’ll let me.”

She sensed the moment Hunter began to withdraw and gave her

arm an urgent squeeze. “Hunter, I really want to help you. Please

don’t look at me as the enemy…”

She let her words trail into silence, uncertain how to

continue. Hunter met her eyes for an instant, and Sara felt a stab of

disappointment when Hunter closed her eyes and turned her head

away. But not before she saw the grief and pain swimming in their

depths.

So she sat back and waited.

Almost a full minute passed before Hunter opened her eyes

again. Raking a hand through her hair, she drew in a deep breath and

then released it on a sigh. “Can you teach me to live with the past?

With what happened to me?”

Sara’s pulse jumped. She knew only the bare bones of what had

happened to Hunter ten years earlier. But there was no questioning

the profound effects that still lingered.

“I can try.” Her gaze trailed across Hunter’s face, and her voice

dropped to a whisper. “You’d be surprised how much it can help just

to talk about things, and most people will tell you I’m a really good

listener.”

Hunter stared into Sara’s face. Her eyes were soft and clear,

and her voice was full of compassion waiting to be shared. But the

question remained. Ten years spent burying her feelings had left her

ill-prepared for the level of introspection required of her. It wasn’t

like she could change the past, she mused. The question was whether

she could open herself up. Did she even know how?

• 67 •

aJ Quinn

“Right now, all I really want to do is stop thinking,” she said.

Making the admission was as difficult as trying to stop thinking, and

she forced herself to release a cleansing breath.

Sara’s expression softened. “It doesn’t really work. But you

already know that, don’t you?”

Hunter stared at Sara intently, trying to read the expression on

her face.

Was Sara trying to let her know she too was familiar with those

dark and desolate moments? Had she experienced moments when

she wanted nothing more than to close off her mind? When she

didn’t want to think about the past or the future? When the moment

was complicated enough and more than she could handle?

For some reason, she didn’t want to think of Sara hurting to

that extent and kept her voice mild to counteract the sudden surge

of confusing and conflicting emotions. “It’s a bad habit of mine…

wishing for the impossible.”

“Which is why the better option would be for you to talk to

me,” Sara continued, “and let me help you.”

Hunter acknowledged the wisdom in Sara’s words. But as she

pushed her damp hair back behind one ear, she felt a flash of wary

uncertainty. “The problem is…Look, it’s not you. It’s just that I

don’t have a great track record doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking about what I’m thinking or feeling.”

“Try,” Sara encouraged gently. Talk to me. Please let me help.

The music suddenly stopped, and as a pervasive silence

enveloped them, Sara let her head roll back and come to rest against

the wall. When the silence lengthened, she tilted her head to one side

and regarded Hunter. What was it she had said? Something about

having a thing about shrinks. Nothing personal, you understand.

Just a case of bad history.

“Maybe that’s where we need to start,” she said out loud.

“Where’s that?”

“When we were back at your London office. You said you have

a problem with my profession.”

• 68 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter arched one dark brow. “That’s true, but…just so you

understand, I have nothing against you personally—”

“Does it matter?” Sara asked bluntly. She could see Hunter

starting to close herself off. “What’s important here is you need to

move beyond those issues, whatever they may be, if I’m going to

help you.” She stopped short as she heard the edge creep into her

voice. Not the recommended approach.

She leaned closer and consciously softened her voice. “What

I’m trying to say is I want to help you—and I believe I can help

you—but we don’t have the luxury of time. We need to identify

whoever is stalking you, and we need to do it quickly before he

strikes again.”

Hunter nodded.

“So I guess I need to know what I can do to make this easier

for you. To make you feel more comfortable talking to me, working

with me. I can’t change my profession. Tell me what I can do. Is

there something I can tell you about myself that you don’t already

know?”

Hunter took another long swallow from the water bottle and

then leaned forward, dangling the bottle from her fingertips between

her knees. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what could you possibly need or want to know? From

what I’ve been told about the Roswell Group, I can only surmise

your chief of security will already have developed an in-depth file

on me. I can’t begin to imagine what he won’t have covered. So

what can I possibly add?”

“To Peter’s file?” In response to Sara’s nod, Hunter frowned. “I

wouldn’t know. I haven’t read it.”

“Why not?”

“Saw no reason to,” Hunter replied mildly. “The truth is unless

I’m negotiating a business deal, I’ve always preferred getting to

know people on my own terms, over time. Face-to-face rather than

by reading one of Peter’s files.”

Sara considered Hunter’s response. “I guess that’s something

we have in common.”

• 69 •

aJ Quinn

“Does that mean you haven’t read the file David has on me?”

A second passed, then another, while Hunter waited for an answer.

When Sara shook her head, Hunter expelled what was possibly a

sigh of relief.

It seemed some levels of trust were more easily achieved than

others, Sara realized, and as she looked at the fatigue etched on

Hunter’s face, she came to a decision. One that would not make

David very happy.

“I know there’s a lot of pressure to resolve what’s going on,”

she began. “But we don’t need to do everything right now. Why

don’t you try to get some rest. Once we get back home, as soon as

you’re ready to talk, I’ll be there to listen, and we’ll figure this all

out. It’s all going to be all right.”

Hunter didn’t respond immediately. When she did, her voice

was filled with emotion, her angular face pale and intense. “Thanks.”

For the longest time after her simple reply, Hunter remained

silent. After several minutes of silence elapsed, Sara was on the

verge of accepting Hunter wasn’t going to talk further when she

heard her sigh.

“My father died when I was seventeen.” Hunter paused,

needing to push past the tightness in her throat but obviously

wanting to choose her words carefully. “When he died, my mother

was devastated. She fell apart, unable to handle her own grief, let

alone mine. My father’s family, my grandfather Patrick specifically,

stepped in and took over. I know he was only trying to help…”

Sara watched Hunter struggle to give voice to her pain. Unable

to help without running the risk of shutting her down completely,

she sat back and waited for Hunter to continue. A minute later, her

patience was rewarded.

“My grandfather Patrick…the senior senator from California…

is nothing if not determined. During that first week I was hospitalized,

he arranged for virtually every specialist in the country to come see

me and assess what was going on inside my head.” The words were

softly spoken but revealed a multitude of emotions, not the least

of which was residual anger. “It seemed like an endless parade of

psychiatrists and psychologists, all dropping by my room. Each of

• 70 •

Hostage Moon

them wanted to be the hero. Each of them wanted to be the one to fix

me. I can’t remember how many actually came to see me.”

Sara’s eyes reflected empathetic understanding, her voice

gentle. “But you did eventually find someone to talk to, didn’t you?”

“That’s true. Ironically, she was actually on staff at the hospital

but hadn’t been asked for a consult. Too young, too inexperienced

to satisfy Grandfather Patrick, I guess. But she quickly became my

safe haven and over time we became, and are still, good friends.”

Hunter smiled as she focused on the one good memory,

remembering her first encounter with Lindsay. “We met by accident.

All I really wanted was to breathe fresh air and be alone for a little

while. That’s when I discovered the roof garden.” She gave a rueful

laugh. “I began by pretending to swallow the pills intended to help

me sleep, and then I’d pretend to be asleep when the night nurse

came to check on me. One night in particular—”

She paused at the memory of falling asleep on the roof staring

up at an endless sky. “I woke up mid-nightmare, screaming, while

this woman I’d never met held on to me,” Hunter said starkly. “She

eventually told me her name was Lindsay Carson, and she promised

to stay with me for as long as I needed her. I didn’t want to let go.

Eventually, I calmed down enough that she was able to get me back

to my room, and she kept her promise. She stayed with me until

daybreak, and then she came back when I asked her to, regardless of

Grandfather Patrick’s objections.”

As the memory receded, Hunter turned toward Sara. “You must

be really good to get me to say any of that out loud.” She offered

Sara a smile that died before it reached her eyes. “In fact, you’ve

gotten me to tell you more than I told most of my other psychiatrists

combined. You should be quite pleased with yourself, Dr. Wilder.”

In spite of the attempt at humor, Sara heard the stormy emotion

in Hunter’s voice, saw the muscles along her jaw tighten. All without

the benefit of actually addressing her demons. Just circling around

them. She weighed the need to push Hunter for more against an

inexplicable urge to provide succor. A minute passed, then two,

while she found herself waiting once again.

• 71 •

aJ Quinn

“I adored my father,” Hunter said at last, when Sara remained

silent. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of the circumstances—that I was

there with him when he died.” She stopped for an instant and shook

her head. “No, that’s not quite accurate. He was carrying me to safety

when the shooting started. Which is ironic, don’t you think, because the

bullet that killed him went through him and ended up lodged in me.”

Her hand moved unconsciously, and her fingers searched out

the spot. She appeared almost surprised not to find it bleeding.

“Sometimes I can still hear the killshot.”

Unable to stop herself, Sara reached out and curled her fingers

around Hunter’s wrist. “Hunter—” she said, only to have Hunter

shake her off.

“No, please let me finish this,” she persisted, her voice flat

and remote, struggling even as the words sat perched on her tongue

begging to be released. Her eyes grew unfocused and her face paled

as the memories rushed to the surface, and the edges between the

past and present blurred. Unconsciously, she hugged herself as she

attempted to control the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She

looked at Sara, looked through her, seeing only the past.

“Everything happened so damn quickly. One minute he was

there, carrying me. Telling me to hold on. Promising everything

would be all right. The next minute, he was hit, and we were both

falling to the ground. I watched him die, and there wasn’t a damn

thing I could do except tell him I loved him and try to hold him

while we both bled.”

Hunter stopped, caught in the nexus between the past and

the present. She stared down at her own hands not really seeing

anything, then refocused on Sara and pushed on.

“In case you’re wondering…the reason I’m telling you this is if

you need to know who I am…if you need to understand who I am in

order to catch the bastard that killed those women in San Francisco

just because they looked like me, then you need to know that was

my single most defining moment.”

Hunter’s words hung suspended in the air between them for

seconds that felt like forever. Sara felt the silence lengthen as she

tried to formulate a response.

• 72 •

Hostage Moon

“I won’t trivialize it by telling you I know how you feel, because

I don’t,” she finally said. “I’ve never lost someone I love, and I

can’t imagine losing anyone I care about like that. I do, however,

understand this is difficult for you, and the last thing I want to do is

to cause you any more pain.”

Hunter’s brow rose. “I can sense a but coming.”

“You’d be right,” Sara said. “That’s because no matter how

difficult—how painful—I know this process is going to be for you,

we don’t have a choice. We know the five murder victims were

chosen because they reminded the killer of you, and the killer’s

reference to daddy’s girl tells us his connection to you dates back to

the time when your father died. We’ll have to examine that period

in your life, look at everyone who was with you, around you, even

peripherally—even knowing it will be painful for you—because

that was when he chose you.”

“That makes sense.” Hunter’s voice was remarkably calm.

She leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, as if

resigning herself to the inevitability. She confirmed it a moment

later when she asked, “Will you give me some time and let me work

through this?”

“Of course.” Sara shifted slightly and glanced at Hunter, then

found she was unable to look away. Hunter’s world had been rocked

off its axis, and sitting emotionally and physically exhausted and

disheveled on the floor, the protective shell of arrogance she usually

wore had slipped off. It left her clearly exposed for Sara to see

that beneath the strength and intelligence, beneath the passion and

temper, resided an unexpected vulnerability. Unbidden, Sara’s own

feelings made her furrow her brow. Protectiveness. Tenderness.

“You’re nothing like I expected,” she found herself saying.

“I’m well aware of the tabloid image I have,” Hunter said. “I

can imagine what you expected. To think you still agreed to come to

London with David to meet with me.”

As she turned to face Sara, a slow, sexy smile touched her

lips and made Sara’s mouth go dry. “But here you are, so let me

see if I can help you separate fact from fiction. I’m almost twenty-

eight years old and have an education in electrical and computer

• 73 •

aJ Quinn

systems engineering. I’ve known both my business partners since I

was fifteen, one of whom happens to be my best friend. I’m highly

competitive, can’t resist a challenge, and enjoy almost any kind of

physical activity.”

Unbidden, Sara’s pulse began to race, and she couldn’t help but

smile. “Is there anything else you think I should know?”

Hunter’s eyes glinted dangerously, and her voice seemed to

drop an octave. “Yes. I have a weakness for fast cars, classic rock,

and intelligent women.” She paused ever so briefly. “Now you’ll

have to decide if coming to London to meet with me is going to be a

good thing or a bad thing. Which will it be, do you suppose?”

Oh God, that voice needs to be declared a lethal weapon. And

then a second thought occurred to Sara. Is she flirting with me? She

swallowed hard and found herself struggling to respond as a shiver

ran along her spine.

“I’ll have to let you know,” she said.

In that instant, she became acutely aware of Hunter’s body

pressed against hers. She could feel the heat, the subtle shift of

muscles, and the soft and steady heartbeat as well as her own almost

immediate physical response to the currents suddenly running

between them. Her thoughts drifted momentarily, and she shivered

again.Reluctantly, she exhaled and shifted away just a little. She

cleared her throat and tried to think. Tried to remember a time when

a woman she had just met managed to intrigue and captivate her so

thoroughly. Somehow, she couldn’t think of a single instance.

In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like

this. She felt disoriented, her heart was hammering, and in the

back of her mind, Sara thought she heard a warning sound about

the dangers of getting too close to this particular woman. But the

sound was almost instantly lost in the heated rush of blood she felt

coursing through her veins.

Struggling to refocus on the job at hand, Sara sensed Hunter

was at her emotional limit. She knew if she pushed too hard, the

small opening she’d just been given would quickly disappear.

• 74 •

Hostage Moon

Instead, she let the silence settle comfortably between them before

changing the subject.

“Could I ask one more personal question?”

“One more? I guess it would depend on the nature of the

question and whether I can tell you it’s none of your business.”

Hunter studied her bruised knuckles before looking up. “Listen,

don’t believe everything you’ve heard or read about me in the

papers. If there is something you need to know, just ask me, and I’ll

do my damnedest to give you a straight answer.”

“Okay.” Sara smiled. “I know you were at a fundraiser earlier

this evening. Or was that yesterday?” She shook her head and gave a

soft laugh. “No matter. At a guess, your mind was probably occupied

with other things, and I was wondering when the last time was that

you actually had anything to eat.” She laid her hand on her own

abdomen, and as if on cue, her stomach grumbled. “Because I don’t

know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Personal question, hmm?” Hunter’s grin was audible. “The

truth is I can’t remember having anything other than coffee in the

last twenty-four hours.”

“That is so not good, Roswell,” Sara chided and was rewarded

with a genuine laugh. “But the question is whether there happens to

be any food on board this fancy jet of yours.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Hunter’s grin widened as she

leaned forward. “My team is aware I’m hopeless in a kitchen. I

mean, hitting the switch on the coffeemaker is about the extent of

my cooking skills. So under normal circumstances, you can expect

to find the galley stocked with everything imaginable.”

Sara gave Hunter an appraising glance, gliding over the lean,

sculpted body before moving slowly down her long jean-clad thighs.

“You’re a little skinny. I guess they want to make sure you eat every

now and then, right?”

“I guess, but I’m afraid we’re not going to find anything fancy on

board tonight. I really didn’t give much advance warning to prepare

for the flight.” She laughed as Sara affected a pout. “Still, if it’s just

something to eat you’re interested in, I’m sure I know where we can

find something to tide you over. Just give me a minute to clean up.”

• 75 •

aJ Quinn

She got to her feet with effortless grace, pausing for an instant.

“Maybe when this is over, I’ll take you to see Paris. You said you’ve

never been, and it’s one of my favorite cities. A little bit of notice and

you’d be amazed what we can cook up,” she added with a cheeky

grin before disappearing into an adjoining lavatory.

Sara felt an inexplicable sense of loss from almost the moment

Hunter closed the door between them. She pondered the unexpected

turn in the conversation and found she missed the contact with

Hunter’s warm skin. It would seem when Hunter left a room, she

left a vacuum. One that retained faint traces of her deliciously sexy

scent.

• 76 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR seven

Hunter freshened up and exchanged her damp T-shirt for a

clean shirt that, at a glance, probably belonged to Matt.

Rolling the sleeves halfway up her forearms, she splashed cold

water on her face and ran her still-wet hands through her hair. After

a cursory glance in the mirror, she shrugged at her reflection before

rejoining Sara.

Sara’s warm hand gripped hers, and their fingers entwined as

she tugged Sara to her feet. Their touch brought a flash of pleasure

that was both unexpected and a little surprising. And when Sara

didn’t immediately release her hand, Hunter was startled to realize

she wasn’t quite ready to let go. Instead, something irrepressible

deep inside made her hold on until after she had led the way through

the main cabin toward the front of the jet, where a card game was in

progress. Only then did she regretfully pull her hand away.

They found four of the players frowning over their cards, while

Peter leaned back in his seat, a large stack of poker chips in front

of him and a self-satisfied grin on his face. The chatter and teasing

at the table melted momentarily as they approached. Hunter readily

accepted a lollipop Peter handed her and stuck it in her mouth while

she watched the hand get played. When it was over, she grinned in

delight.

“Well done,” she told Peter before turning back to Sara. “Sara

Wilder, meet my wolf pack.”

• 77 •

aJ Quinn

At Sara’s inquisitive look, the player closest to her spoke up.

“We’re the operations team for the Roswell Group, better known as

Hunter’s wolves.” He stuck out a large, callused hand. “I’m Scott

Prentiss and this is the rest of the pack—Rachel Jones, Conner

Reese, and Adrienne Beaumont. I believe you’ve already met Peter.”

As they went around the table, Sara acknowledged the flurry

of introductions with brief handshakes. When they finished, Peter

looked at Hunter expectantly. “Are we dealing you in, or should we

just get out our wallets now and hand them over to you?”

His comment elicited laughter from the other team members

as they began to make room for Hunter and Sara at the table. But

Hunter shook her head and smiled wryly, shifting the lollipop from

one side of her mouth to the other.

“Thanks, but I don’t think it looks good for me to keep winning

all your money. Next thing I know, you’ll all be asking for a raise.”

She paused and raised an eyebrow at what little remained of the

original sandwich platter on the table. “Besides, we were just

passing through on our way to get something to eat. I trust you left

something worth eating.”

“What can I say?” Peter shrugged and his boyish face split with

a sheepish grin. “Some of us didn’t go to a fancy fundraiser, and we

were hungry.”

Hunter rolled her eyes and gave Sara’s hand a little tug, pulling

her along as she led the way to the galley.

Sara leaned against a counter while Hunter reached into an

overhead cabinet, pulled down a tray, and placed it on the counter.

An instant later, she bent over, head in the fridge. “Not a lot of

choice, but I think we might have the makings of a picnic,” she

said as she pulled out an assortment of containers and placed them

on the tray. “We’ve got roast beef, some hard rolls, lettuce, tomato,

and mayonnaise. There’s also something that looks like potato

salad.”

She opened another cabinet and added china plates to the tray,

along with some cutlery, before ducking her head back into the fridge.

“Do you want beer or water? Or there’s a bottle of Chardonnay here,

if that interests you.”

• 78 •

Hostage Moon

Sara inhaled sharply as she watched Hunter’s denim-clad hips

do a quick, enthusiastic bump and grind as she found some dijon.

Distracted by the view, it took her a moment to realize Hunter was

waiting for an answer.

“Beer’s good,” Sara said. As she watched, a bottle of Corona

made its way onto the tray along with a bottle of water. “If you’d

rather have the beer, I’m good with the Chardonnay.”

Hunter’s quick, amused grin flashed over her shoulder, lingering

in her eyes as they connected with Sara’s. “There’s plenty of beer.

But I’m planning on flying later, and I generally find it works better

for everyone if I haven’t been drinking. Bottle or glass?”

“Bottle’s fine.” It took a moment for Sara to process what Hunter

had said and her eyes narrowed. “You’re planning on flying—as in

this plane?”

That elicited a genuine laugh. “Don’t look so horrified, Sara.

I’ve been a licensed pilot longer than I’ve had my driver’s license.

Trust me. You’re in good hands.”

Sara found herself staring at Hunter’s hands and lost track of

the conversation.

Having fit as many items as possible into a haphazard pile, Hunter

grabbed the tray and indicated with her head Sara should follow as

they made their way into what appeared to be a small stateroom,

complete with a double bed and a comfortable seating area.

Hunter placed the overloaded tray on a table and then walked

over to a cabinet housing electronic equipment that would make

even the most technologically savvy envious. Soft jazz, bluesy and

mellow, immediately filled the room, and for the next few minutes,

they concentrated on pulling their meal together. Finally satisfied

with what she had created, Sara took a large bite of her sandwich

and groaned in ecstasy. A couple of bites later, she washed it down

with the ice-cold beer. And then, she decided, it was time to ease

back into work.

“Your team seems quite impressive. Have they been with you

long?”

“That depends on who you’re talking about,” Hunter replied

easily. “Peter and Scott were in the military with Matt, and they

• 79 •

aJ Quinn

were both there when it all got started so I guess you could say

they’ve been part of Roswell the longest.”

“And when was that? How did it come about?” Picking up her

sandwich, she took another bite before meeting Hunter’s gaze.

“That would have been almost eight years ago, in a little

godforsaken corner of South America.” Hunter poured some water

into a crystal glass filled with ice and watched Sara over the rim.

“Matt and the guys were attempting to start up a private security

business and had gone down there to meet with one of the British

oil companies. As I recall, the company was pumping the oil to the

Caribbean through a pipeline, and it had become a regular target for

the Marxist guerrilla forces and drug cartels operating in the area.

Matt convinced them he should have a look to assess their situation

and see what could be done to better secure the pipeline.”

“So, what happened?”

“While they were there, a group of guerrilla fighters overran

the security at the drill site and took Matt and a pair of oil company

execs hostage. They demanded several million in exchange for their

release and threatened to kill them if their demands weren’t met.”

Sara’s eyes widened as she set her beer on the table. “Jesus.

Obviously the oil company paid the ransom—” Something in

Hunter’s expression stopped her and her mind flashed back to an

image of Nigel Wainwright. Warning her Hunter was inclined to

take risks others might consider unacceptable. “What did you do?”

Hunter reached for the bottle of water, refilled her glass, and

took a drink, her gaze never leaving Sara’s. “We’re not that different,

you and I.”

“That’s an interesting statement, but I’m not certain I understand

what you mean.”

Amusement darkened Hunter’s eyes. “You came to London—

and, in fact, you’re sitting here with me right now—because of your

relationship with David. I was motivated to help Matt in much the

same way, and as a good friend, I did what I felt I had to do. I just

happen to be an obsessive overachiever.”

“What did you do?”

• 80 •

Hostage Moon

“When I first learned Matt was being held hostage, I flew

into Bogota, then met up with Peter and Scott somewhere near the

foothills of the Andes. They wanted to mount a rescue operation and

had put together a plan, including hiring some local talent.”

“You mean mercenaries, don’t you?”

Hunter hesitated and then shrugged. Slowly, she lowered her

glass, set it aside. “I suppose…yes. The challenge was the only way

to access the drill site was by helicopter, and Matt had taken the oil

company chopper with him. Peter knew where there were some Mi-24s

that belonged to the local military unit, but they weren’t being exactly

cooperative, and we didn’t have a lot of time if we were going to act

before the deadline the guerrillas had given…So I borrowed one.”

“You borrowed…wait a minute…what’s an Mi-24?”

“It’s a Russian attack helicopter. After the fall of the Soviet

Union, a lot of Latin American countries bought old Soviet aircraft

for their armed forces.”

“And you borrowed—” Sara braced her hands on the table and

aimed a narrowed look. “No, sweet Jesus, you stole a military attack

helicopter to conduct a rescue operation against a group of armed

guerrillas? And you knew how to fly the thing?”

“Sara…” Hunter drew in a deep breath and settled back into

the soft leather of her chair. “I borrowed the helicopter. The reason I

say that is because I brought it back after we’d rescued Matt and the

oil company execs. And yes, I knew how to fly the damn thing. I’ve

always had this thing with flying machines. I can’t explain it, but you

can put me into anything that flies, and I can figure out how to fly it.”

Sara couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh, allowing the

vague tension between them to dissipate. “You’re crazy, you know

that, don’t you?”

“I believe you’ve told me that before.”

Still shaking her head, Sara drained her beer and placed the

empty bottle on the table. “Okay, so you returned the helicopter you

borrowed. Were there any repercussions from the local military?”

Hunter grinned. “Well, they weren’t too pleased their helicopter

had some holes that hadn’t been there previously, and they arrested

Peter and Scott.”

• 81 •

aJ Quinn

“What about you and Matt?”

“Well,” Hunter shifted uncomfortably, “it turned out I picked

up a bit of shrapnel—”

Sara searched Hunter’s face. “Oh God, how bad?”

“It was nothing. Just a scratch really,” she said, “but it was

enough to put me in the local hospital for about a week. The military

kept me under armed guard and were waiting to arrest me, but the

doctor looking after me wasn’t a fan of the military and wouldn’t

release me. And by the time I was medically cleared, Matt had

gotten hold of the chairman of the oil company. Did I mention that

happened to be Sir Nigel Wainwright?”

Sara shook her head and laughed once again. “I guess it helps

to have friends in high places.” Of course, she also understood

wealth—the kind Hunter Roswell could claim in her own right—

could have smoothed any bumps she’d encountered if Nigel hadn’t

been available.

“Yeah, well.” Hunter’s lips curved. “Nigel quickly flew in and

took charge of the situation. By the time I was ready to be released

from the hospital, he had cleared up any outstanding issues with the

military. And in the meantime, Matt and I had spent a lot of time

talking and agreed on the foundation for what became the Roswell

Group. The rest evolved over time, and we began recruiting key

personnel from law enforcement and the military, staring with Peter

and Scott.”

“That’s one hell of a beginning,” Sara said softly.

“It was.” Hunter’s amused eyes remained steady on Sara’s.

“But I’ve always believed anything worth starting should start out

with a bang.”

• 82 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR eigHt

After clearing the remnants of their meal, Hunter grabbed

a fresh pot of coffee from the galley and brought it back

to where Sara was seated in the comfort of the small stateroom.

Watching Sara as she poured them each a cup, she decided it felt

nice having her here on board the jet. Almost as if they were friends.

As if she wasn’t sitting there on behalf of the FBI, waiting to get

into her head.

The thought made her frown and she began weighing the

seemingly infinite courses of action that would be possible once she

got home. She needed to talk to Tessa. She needed to—she bit her

lip and began making mental notes. Several more minutes passed in

silence before she glanced up and realized Sara had been watching

her. Studying her intensely, as if trying to read something in her

face, and yet patient with her reflective silence.

Hunter smiled hesitantly. “What?”

“I’d love to know what’s been going through your mind for the

last few minutes,” Sara responded with a slow smile.

“Trust me, it’s not that fascinating. Let’s see if I can help you.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Mostly, I’ve been putting together

a list of all the things I need to do once I get home. I’ve been away

for about six months, which means there’ll be some catch-up to do

at the office. There are also a couple of contracts that still need to

be finalized.”

“Is that it?”

• 83 •

aJ Quinn

“Hardly.” Hunter smothered a grin. “On the personal side, I

was thinking I need to let my mother know I’m home again and find

a way to tell her what’s going on before she hears it from someone

else or through the media. I’ll also need to get my house in order,

call the cleaning service, maybe get some groceries. Not that I’m

planning on doing any cooking or anything crazy.”

“Of course not.”

“No, but with how Matt and Peter are reacting over this whole

stalker situation, I’ve got a feeling I’m going to find myself having

a lot of company.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about how little I actually know about

stalkers, but I’m sure there’s a wiki I can start with and then take it

from there.”

“You think too much.” Sara looked amused. “Do you always

create mental lists of things to do?”

Hunter thought about it and gave a wry grin as she made

another mental note. “Sometimes. Sure. Why not?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “I can’t do much to help out with some

of what’s on your list, but maybe I can help you with answers to

whatever you’d like to know about stalkers. In fact, maybe we can

do something quid pro quo.”

“Quid pro quo?” Hunter looked at Sara cautiously as she

considered what her offer meant. She was former FBI. Smart,

competent, confident. She had eyes that missed very little and it

would be perilous to take her lightly. “And what do you want in

exchange?”

“For you to answer some personal questions,” Sara said softly.

“You know the sooner we understand the connection between you

and the stalker, the faster we’ll be able to identify and stop him. But

to do that, we… I need to understand you. It’s how I work—how I’ve

always worked.”

Hunter’s shoulders tensed. “What does that mean exactly?”

“That means I need to ask a lot of questions, especially about

who you were ten years ago and who might have been around you at

that time. Small details you might not even think will help.”

• 84 •

Hostage Moon

A myriad of feelings flashed through Hunter’s mind. Fear,

indecision, grief, and deep weariness. She had known this was

coming. It had only been a matter of time. But for some reason, she

hadn’t expected it so soon. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate for

calm. For control. For a wisdom that suddenly seemed beyond her.

Confused and uncertain, caught in a wave of emotions that almost

brought her to her knees, she got up and poured herself another cup

of coffee.

As she stared at the coffee she had just poured, she felt a hand

on her arm. For just a moment, a fraction of a breath, she remained

frozen. And then, finally, she turned to find Sara’s gaze upon her.

Offering compassion. Support. Solace.

“It’ll be okay, Hunter. Trust me. You can do this.” Her voice

was pitched low. Soothing. The kind of tone psychologists and

psychiatrists probably used the world over.

Without saying a word, Hunter sat back down. She swallowed

nervously and stared at her shaking hands. She didn’t know what to

do, and she couldn’t seem to engage her brain enough to figure it

out. That was a first. But she could also hear the soft-spoken, nearly

hypnotic words of assurance, and she wanted to believe her. Almost

believed her. And maybe that was enough for now.

Her eyes remained steady on Sara’s. “Can I ask you something?”

she asked.

“Of course.”

“Why are you so certain the stalker is male?”

Sara stared at her and then, slowly, understanding dawned

in her eyes and a faint smile appeared. “Realistically,” she said

softly, “stalkers can be either male or female, but the majority

of documented stalking cases—approximately eighty percent—

involve men stalking women. The initial FBI profile concurred and

has him pegged as a white male in his late twenties to early forties.”

“What else is the profile going to tell me?”

“The typical profile of a delusional stalker is an unmarried loner,

unable to establish or sustain close relationships. Since delusional

stalkers are both threatened by and yearn for closeness, they often

pick victims who are unattainable in some way.”

• 85 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter noted that Sara slipped easily into the role of teacher,

and she found herself enjoying the soft cadence of her voice.

“Like a celebrity stalker?”

Sara nodded. “That’s right. His—for the sake of argument,

let’s say it’s a man—obsession is based in fantasy. What he can’t

get in reality, he achieves through fantasy, and when he tries to act

out his fantasy in real life, he expects the victim to play their role

and return his affection. But when the affection isn’t returned, when

the victim doesn’t fall in line and play along, he’s likely to become

violent. What makes delusionals even more dangerous is they tend

to objectify their victims—an object they alone must possess and

control.”

“And what do you think?” When Sara’s eyes narrowed, Hunter

laughed softly. “Come on, Sara, David wanted you to be part of this

for a reason. You just gave me an overview. Now tell me what you

think.”

Sara hesitated and appeared to consider her request. “All right,”

she said after a moment had passed. “I think he’s highly intelligent

but has an inflated sense of his own intelligence, and he’s driven

by ego to improve with each killing. He sees himself as dominant,

controlling, and he needs to get it right. He’s educated, financially

independent, and has had ample time to follow you and study your

habits. And his MO—his modus operandi or method of committing

the crime—shows he’s organized, meticulous. He’s planned each

of his crimes carefully and has left no forensic evidence or clues.”

Hunter remained silent for a minute as thoughts chased each

other in her head, before finally raising her gaze so she could stare

levelly at Sara. “What about the fact that he knew to call me daddy’s

girl? I mean Jesus, that goes back almost ten years. How is that even

possible? I can’t wrap my brain around it.”

“Actually, some studies show delusional stalkers are the

most tenacious of all,” Sara said. “In fact, erotomanic delusions

themselves typically last an average of ten years.”

Hunter folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath.

“Do you think it’s possible you’re looking for someone who was

part of the original security detail assigned to protect me? Or maybe

• 86 •

Hostage Moon

involved in the aftermath of the kidnapping as part of the negotiation

and recovery team?”

“You mean law enforcement? It’s certainly something we have

to consider, insomuch as the man we’re looking for not only knows

the code name that was used but also knows enough to leave no trace

evidence behind,” Sara admitted. “David filled me in on the basics

of what happened ten years ago, and while I don’t know precisely

who was involved, I do know the case involved law enforcement

personnel from local, state, and federal levels. That’s why I need

your help. But there are other possibilities we need to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Like the studies that show only twenty percent of female

victims are stalked by strangers.”

Hunter frowned. “Someone close to me?”

“It’s possible, Hunter. Almost sixty percent are stalked by

either intimate partners or ex-intimate partners. That scenario

would put the UNSUB close enough to you to be familiar with your

security code name. I know you were only seventeen, but I’m going

to need to know if you were involved with anyone immediately

before or after the kidnapping. Anyone with whom you might have

shared the code name or who was close enough to overhear it being

used.”Hunter’s instincts screamed for her to stop this conversation.

The smart thing—the prudent thing—would be to have someone

else provide Sara with the details she was seeking about parts of her

less-than-illustrious youth. Matt came to mind.

Sara felt Hunter stiffen and saw something that looked like

regret and unease flash across her face. In the deafening silence that

followed, she became aware she had inadvertently stumbled onto

a sensitive subject. With rising concern that Hunter could end the

conversation, Sara changed tactics. “Can we talk a bit about what

happened? About the kidnapping?”

Hunter stared at her in silence before finally nodding stiffly. She

seemed calm enough, but Sara could sense the turmoil beneath the

deceptively calm expression. “How much do you already know?”

she asked.

• 87 •

aJ Quinn

Sara closed her eyes and tried to recall what David had told her.

“I know your father was the US Attorney General at the time, and

you were kidnapped by a survivalist group led by a man named…

damn, I’m sorry, I can’t remember his name.”

“Kyle Brenner.”

“Brenner, right. If I remember correctly, the kidnapping was

tagged as retribution for the death of Brenner’s son, who was killed

during a joint ATF-FBI raid on a militia compound somewhere in

Oregon. And I know the hostage recovery went horribly wrong, and

people on both sides got killed, including your father.”

“You’ve got the gist of what happened,” Hunter said. She took

a deep breath and then glanced up at Sara, her face pale and strained.

“What was never made public was after the Oregon raid, Brenner

threatened my father.”

“Threatened him how?”

“Sent him a message telling him he should hold his little girl

and tell her he loved her while he still had a chance. Because she

wouldn’t be around much longer.”

Sara nodded her head mutely. Her throat was dry, and she

sipped her coffee as she waited for Hunter to continue. She wanted

to ask how Hunter knew this level of detail, then realized she was

better off not knowing the answer. She probably hacked the files.

“You need to understand my father never wanted the dark part

of his world to touch his family, so he did what he thought was

best under the circumstances. He brought me home from England

where I was going to school and surrounded me with round-the-

clock security, code-named daddy’s girl. But he never told me about

the threats. Never explained why he had brought me home.”

When Hunter paused, Sara found herself waiting with growing

concern, her dread increasing with each passing second. She

watched as Hunter’s chin dropped, and when her eyes finally lifted

once again, they revealed a world of sorrow.

“The day Brenner grabbed me, my father and I had one hell

of an argument. I confronted him that morning, demanded to know

what was going on.”

“What did your father do?”

• 88 •

Hostage Moon

“He blew me off.” Hunter shrugged tiredly. “Except he forgot

we were really very much alike. He forgot there was simply too

much of his DNA in me for me to do what I was told without

question. He forgot I’d inherited his damned temper. His headstrong

will. His single-minded intensity.”

Sara closed her eyes. Her chest tightened; she knew what was

coming next. “You slipped away from your security detail, didn’t

you?”Hunter exhaled deeply and nodded her head. “And Brenner and

four of his boys were able to grab me.” She swallowed hard, and

Sara could see the pain so readily apparent on her face. “They held

me for just over three weeks.”

Hunter’s earlier question came back to her with a vengeance.

Can you teach me to live with the past? With what happened to me?

Swallowing hard, Sara squared her shoulders. What had they done

to her during those three weeks? She wasn’t certain she wanted to

know as she waited for Hunter to continue.

“I won’t get into what happened during those three weeks,”

she said softly, staring at Sara unflinchingly as if reading her

mind. “That’s for another place and time. Or maybe never. What’s

important here—what no one counted on—was Brenner had a

change of heart at the last minute.”

“What do you mean?”

“For whatever reason, Brenner couldn’t bring himself to kill

me, and instead, he contacted my father and began negotiating for

my release. But then it all went to hell and what was meant to be a

hostage recovery turned into a bloodbath. In the end, my father, an

FBI agent named Robert Simms, and four of the kidnappers were

killed.”

“And what about you?” Sara asked. “What happened to you?”

“I was admitted to the trauma center at San Francisco General

just after three in the morning,” Hunter replied quietly, “covered in

my father’s blood.”

“Jesus Christ, Hunter. How the hell did you survive?”

“Sometimes, I’m not certain I did,” Hunter replied starkly.

“But it brings us back to your earlier question.”

• 89 •

aJ Quinn

“What question was that?”

“Earlier, you started to ask me about any personal involvements

I might have had ten years ago.”

“That’s right. I know you were only seventeen—”

“Sara,” Hunter interrupted her gently. Her tone was dry and a

wry smile curved her lips. “I was never seventeen. At least, not in

the way you mean it.”

Sara nodded, not certain how to respond.

“After the kidnapping and after my father was killed…it was

like I became a different person. When I was finally released from the

hospital, I didn’t know where to go. My mother was still struggling

to cope, and I felt like I was a constant reminder of everything she’d

lost.”“You blamed yourself.”

“Yes. I couldn’t handle it, ended up handling it all rather badly,

and ran away to Europe. And…well, you might say I went a little

crazy. Got a little out of control.”

Sara looked at Hunter and was shocked to see her blush

unexpectedly. “How out of control?”

“At seventeen, I was…damn, how can I put this? At seventeen,

finding any number of willing partners was never a problem for me.

And that might become a problem for you.”

“Why?”

Hunter turned away. “Because they were mostly one-night

stands, Sara, and I didn’t always know their names,” she said flatly.

“And the ones that weren’t…let’s just say one or two might not take

it lightly if the FBI were to suddenly start directing any level of

scrutiny into their private affairs, particularly if it means revealing

the existence of an intimate relationship with me ten years ago.”

Sara blinked slowly. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re

saying. We’re trying to find and stop someone who has killed five

women so far and poses a very real threat to you. Surely, if they

were once intimate with you, that has to count for something?”

“Of course it counts, but—look, does the name Dimitri Kozlov

mean anything to you?”

• 90 •

Hostage Moon

“The Russian billionaire? Runs a global empire and has his

fingers in shipping, mining, electronics, and armaments?” Sara’s

eyes narrowed. Kozlov was a handsome, ruthless businessman in

his late sixties—making him forty years Hunter’s senior. “You were

involved with Dimitri Kozlov?”

“I was involved…I had a relationship with Dominique—his

wife.”“The model? Sweet Jesus, Hunter. What were you thinking?”

“That she was beautiful,” Hunter replied softly. “That she was

gentle and kind. She found me on a beach one night and was worried

I meant to harm myself.”

“And did you? Did you mean yourself harm?”

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know for sure is she

helped me to see alcohol and parties and an endless string of one-

night stands wouldn’t make it hurt any less.”

Sara’s eyes met Hunter’s, fierce with determination, achingly

sad, and she touched her cheek in a tender gesture. “I’m glad she

was there for you. That she was able to help.”

“Then maybe you’ll understand why I wouldn’t want to put our

relationship under a spotlight. Dimitri knew, but it would still hurt

them both if Dominique was forced to openly admit that ten years

ago, she had an affair with the seventeen-year-old daughter of an

assassinated American politician.”

“I do understand,” Sara said.

“Thank you.” Hunter flashed a smile filled with gratitude. “You

didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you?”

Sara’s grin fought its way to the surface, and she laughed softly

in response.

• 91 •

• 92 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR nine

Sara awoke to the gentle pressure of a hand shaking her

shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she found Peter

McNeil standing over her.

“We’ll be landing in less than an hour,” he said, “and I thought

you’d appreciate the opportunity to freshen up. You’ll find all the

comforts of home in the bathroom on your right. In the meantime,

can I get you some coffee?”

“That’d be great. Just cream, thanks.”

Sara spent several minutes freshening up and chasing away the

edges of sleep. When she returned to the main cabin, she glanced at

her watch, only to realize she no longer had any idea what time it

was. “It’s just before midnight, San Francisco time,” Peter provided.

“Thanks. I’ve changed time zones so many times in the past

few days I’m no longer sure if I should be considering breakfast or

dinner when I get home,” Sara said. She sipped the strong coffee

Peter gave her and sighed. “This is really good.”

Peter laughed. “Hunter considers coffee a basic food group, so

she has the stuff delivered by some guy who I swear only handpicks

the beans under a waning moon.”

At the mention of Hunter’s name, Sara automatically looked

around, but failed to catch sight of her and hoped she was finally

sleeping. “Where is Hunter?” she asked.

• 93 •

aJ Quinn

Peter indicated the cockpit. “She chased J.J. out of the left seat

about four hours ago.”

“She’s flying the plane?” Silence pressed in and Sara frowned.

“Do you know if she got any sleep?”

“No idea,” Peter replied and shrugged. “But it’s no great

surprise. When she gets focused on something or is working out a

problem in her head, she tends to forget to eat and sleep and doesn’t

stop until she’s exhausted. Even then, she keeps going until she

drops. I think it has something to do with the fact that her brain

doesn’t function like a normal person’s.”

“You’re saying she’s always been like this?”

“At least for as long as I’ve known her, and I’ve known her since

Matt introduced us about ten years ago,” Peter replied carefully. “If

you want to know more, you need to speak to Matt. He’s known her

the longest.”

“And how long is that?”

“Since she was fifteen. I met Hunter when my father was

working for Michael Roswell in the Department of Justice,” Matt

Logan answered as he approached. “You should have seen Hunter

back then. All legs and sass.” He broke off and gave Sara a slightly

self-deprecating smile. “Let’s just say after I met her, it came as a

shock to discover she was only fifteen. Any coffee left?”

“There’s a fresh pot,” Peter answered. “I was about to get

myself a cup. I can get some for you if you’d like.” He walked away

without waiting for a response.

Sara turned and faced Matt. “I hope you don’t mind all these

questions,” she said.

Matt shook his head. “Anything that’s going to help,” he

said. “Look, I know the FBI wants Hunter back in San Francisco

in response to the killer’s message found at the last crime scene.

But maybe, instead of bringing her closer to this guy that’s stalking

her, we should be thinking about taking Hunter off the streets

completely.”

David, tired and rumpled, looked up from the coffee he was

mindlessly stirring. “Why would you want to do that? You know

• 94 •

Hostage Moon

we’re prepared to protect her going forward. Hunter just needs to

say the word.”

Sara noted an almost imperceptible state change in Peter, and

wondered once again if there was more at play than she knew. “You

head up security for her, Peter,” she said. “What do you think?”

“I’m all for removing Hunter from any possible danger,” Peter

replied without having to give the matter a moment’s thought. “But

if we do move her, we really should take her to a safe house. It’s a

pretty good bet this stalker knows where she lives, where she works,

where she hangs out.”

“I disagree,” David fired back. “Hiding Hunter will accomplish

nothing other than to possibly feed this guy’s rage. We just need

to be smart about this and make sure we’ve got her covered at all

times. Then, when he makes his move, we can nail him.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Hunter’s voice was mild, but there was

a discernable edge as she approached from the cockpit.

Peter and David started to speak at the same time. Hunter stared

impassively at them until she had heard enough. Finally she raised

both hands in an unmistakable cue for silence.

“Let’s be clear about this. I decided it was right for me to go

home, not anyone else, and that’s what I’m doing,” she glanced at

her watch, “in less than an hour. And while I’m not sure what I’m

going to do after we land, I can tell you this much. I won’t have my

life ruled by fear of what this stalker may or may not do. And I don’t

give a damn whether anyone agrees with me. In case you haven’t

noticed, I am not asking for opinions.”

She paused, suddenly aware of how very tired she was. Worse,

she could only imagine how difficult things would get in the coming

days. But there was nothing she could do about that. Not now.

“Don’t try to make my decisions for me,” she continued more

calmly, straightening her shoulders. “And just so we’re clear, neither

am I going to accept being wrapped in cotton and surrounded with

FBI agents.”

Before anyone could say a word, Hunter turned and walked

toward the galley, her long strides quickly eating up the distance.

• 95 •

aJ Quinn

After a moment’s hesitation, Sara followed her with no clear

plan of what she would say. She couldn’t blame Hunter for being

angry, but as much as she might wish she could change things,

the reality of what awaited them in San Francisco was dictating

the course of action. As she approached, she watched Hunter pour

herself some coffee and noted the slight trembling of her hand, the

shadows under her eyes.

“I’m sorry. We were being insensitive,” Sara said. “Believe me.

If I was in your position, I’d be just as upset. But you don’t want

to do anything to put yourself at greater risk just because you’re

angry.”

Hunter glanced up, bristling visibly, and Sara could see both

fury and fatigue. “Have you ever been? In my position? Having

people expecting you to relinquish control of your life while they

make decisions for you as if you’re—”

“As if you were incapable of making decisions for yourself?”

Sara finished for her. Reacting without thinking, she curled her hand

around Hunter’s wrist. “No, but that’s not the point. What you need

to understand is that top of mind for everyone right now is keeping

you healthy and whole. Alive.”

“And you were hired to do that, I know.” There was no more

anger in Hunter’s voice. It had dissipated as quickly as it had

appeared, leaving only a bone-deep weariness.

I’m trying very hard to remember this is a job, Sara thought,

her gaze dropping to where her hand lingered on Hunter’s wrist.

She squeezed it once before letting go, but swore she could still feel

the warmth of Hunter’s skin, smell the faint and intoxicating scent.

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Hunter paused and looked as

if she had more to say. As they stood silently staring at each other,

she gnawed on her bottom lip then reached into the pocket of her

jeans and pulled out a card. She held it in her hand a moment longer

before she handed it wordlessly to Sara.

Sara stared at the card and tried to make sense of what she was

looking at.

• 96 •

Hostage Moon

“That’s every conceivable means of contacting me,” Hunter

explained softly. “Home and work addresses, cell, home and office

numbers.”

Glancing at the card one more time, Sara looked up at Hunter,

the question evident in her eyes.

Hunter smiled wistfully. “I guess I thought if you and I are

going to try to work together, you should know how to reach me at

any time.”

Sara found she liked the sound of that. As she absorbed the

words, she watched Hunter pick up her coffee, take a sip and

grimace.

“God, I’ve maxed out on coffee,” she said. “I didn’t think that

was possible.”

❖

Just before one in the morning, the jet touched down in San

Francisco and taxied to a stop in front of a hangar owned by the

Roswell Group. On board, everyone waited to be processed by US

Customs and Border Protection. The CBP official barely glanced at

Hunter’s documents before allowing her to slip out of the plane and

into the misty night.

Sara could only observe and smile wryly. Roswell jet, Roswell

passport, in the home state of Senator Patrick Roswell.

Through the open hatch, she watched as Hunter stopped on

the apron just beyond the jet’s wing. In less than a minute, a black

Maserati pulled alongside. When the driver’s door opened, a long-

legged brunette exited the vehicle. She tossed the keys to Hunter,

who caught them easily before being enveloped in a full-bodied

embrace.

“Aw, shit.”

“Problem?” Sara asked Peter as she watched the unknown

woman kiss Hunter soundly. She couldn’t see her clearly, but there

was something vaguely familiar about her, and Sara looked around

for a better observation point. An instant later, it was no longer

relevant as Hunter slipped into the driver’s seat. Barely waiting for

• 97 •

aJ Quinn

the brunette to get in beside her, she gunned the engine and, like a

chimera, disappeared from view.

“Damn. Hunter must have arranged this so she could make her

escape,” Peter said. “I should have anticipated this.”

A few minutes later, Peter’s suspicion was confirmed with

the arrival of three limousines to take everyone to their respective

destinations, courtesy of Hunter Roswell. Too tired to argue, Sara

relinquished her bag to a dark-suited driver and got into the closest

limousine. Matt followed Sara and David into the vehicle and

stretched his long frame into the leather seat.

Sara asked, “Is Hunter going to be okay? She really shouldn’t

be alone before we know what we’re dealing with.”

Matt smiled reassuringly. “She’ll be fine. She’s tougher than

she looks.”

Sara wasn’t entirely convinced.

“We need to consider her stalker has been watching and

following her for a long time,” David said. “He’ll know all her

habits. That means some changes will have to be made in Hunter’s

routine, at least in the short term, and that includes not leaving her

alone.”

“Then we can be grateful that, at the moment, we know she’s

not alone,” Matt responded.

“Speaking of not being alone, do you know the woman that

picked Hunter up?”

Matt turned back to Sara and nodded. “Tessa Kinser.”

A warning bell sounded in Sara’s head, and then the fog cleared

and it came to her. “Tessa Kinser…the lawyer?” Kate’s current

lover? Sweet Jesus, talk about six degrees of separation.

“Mm-hmm. The one and only. Do you know her?”

“We’ve had occasion to meet.”

“Tessa heads up legal for both the Roswell Group and Hunter

personally. They’ve been best of friends for years.”

Her instant relief that the gorgeous brunette with Hunter was

just a friend concerned Sara. It shouldn’t matter. And maybe if you

tell yourself that long enough, you’ll start to believe it, she thought

before grinning uncertainly.

• 98 •

Hostage Moon

“Hunter’s best friend is her lawyer?” she asked wryly, then

relaxed into the seat and let her eyes close.

“Yeah, strange as it might sound.” Matt laughed. “As I recall,

they originally met while at Oxford, and then hooked up again

stateside. But Tessa showing up does make me wonder whether she

came as Hunter’s lawyer or her friend. It also makes me wonder

what the hell is going on in Hunter’s oversized brain.”

An interesting question that needs to be answered quickly, Sara

thought. Because somewhere out there, a killer is planning his next

move.

• 99 •

• 100 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR ten

The air was whisper soft and carried the scent of the sea.

Drawn to the window by the first light of day, Hunter faced

the panoramic views that stretched out before her and felt something

shift inside her.

She had missed this, she realized, more than she had known.

Missed the moodiness of the ocean and the breathtaking vistas across

the Pacific, the Marin Headlands and the Golden Gate Bridge. She

had even missed the soothing presence of the fog which shrouded

the bridge in the distance.

Inside the house, the shadows were close and the silence

pressed in all around her. The stereo was silent, the TV was dark,

and the thick panes of window glass shut out the noises of the night

other than the persistent sound of the waves that stirred the pebbles

along the shoreline.

She was finally alone. With that realization, some of the tension

she had been feeling dissipated. Her head still ached and her eyes

burned, but the agonizing pressure in her chest had eased.

Swirling the coffee in her mug as she paced, she stopped in

front of the baby grand piano which sat glistening and hauntingly

silent in the barely furnished living room. With one hand, she ran

her fingers along the keyboard, letting the notes echo through the

empty room. Unable to resist, she played the first few chords of a

Chopin étude before turning away.

• 101 •

aJ Quinn

The house was exactly as she had left it six months earlier.

Sparsely furnished with unopened boxes still leaning haphazardly

against the whitewashed walls. She knew the cleaning service

Matt had arranged to come in once a week could have unpacked

the boxes. But it hadn’t been her intention to have strangers decide

where things should go. Of course, neither had it been her intention

to leave the house vacant for so long when she had purchased it.

The purchase had been a rare spur-of-the-moment decision.

She had fallen in love at first sight with the house—its romantic

architecture, the serenity of the grounds, and the unbelievable

views. Buying it had also given her a vague sense of establishing

roots. Of belonging. But she had barely taken possession and begun

the process of moving in when she had flown to New York for a

meeting and had not been back since.

Until now.

Hunter suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary, her legs seemingly

incapable of holding her up. Putting her coffee mug in the kitchen

sink, she walked back into the living room and sank down on the

leather couch. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped both

arms around her legs and pressed her face to them.

The stress of the last twenty-four hours hit her all at once,

including the inescapable reality that her life would only get worse,

not better, over the next few days. She was equally aware she alone

was responsible for setting events in motion, and if things got out of

hand, she had only herself to blame.

After leaving the airport, her team, and the FBI behind, she

had called in a few favors and arranged an encounter with Ellis

McKay, a syndicated columnist she knew fairly well. Ellis gladly

accommodated her and suggested they meet at a popular underground

club where people went for no reason other than to be seen. That

more than suited Hunter’s purpose. The resulting photograph of

Tessa and Hunter set to run in the paper would hopefully be enough

to make the stalker notice daddy’s girl had come home.

Foolish? Perhaps. But Hunter desperately wanted to do

something to stop another woman from being killed. She needed to

• 102 •

Hostage Moon

figure out who he was. Where he fit in her past. More importantly,

how to stop him.

Tessa hadn’t agreed with the tactic and had strongly voiced

her opinion against Hunter’s plan. But in the end, she had come

through for her, supporting Hunter partly in the name of friendship,

but mostly because at two in the morning, she was incapable of

coming up with a reasonable alternative.

A quick glance at her watch confirmed it was coming up on

six a.m., and after almost thirty-eight hours with little sleep, Hunter

knew she had nothing left in reserve. She needed to sleep. She

needed to empty her mind. Not spend two hours tossing and turning

on the couch, hoping for sleep while at the same time dreading the

nightmares she knew were waiting just beyond her field of vision.

But the shadows from her past were always there, haunting

her. And therein lay her dilemma. For all her wealth and intellect,

for all her connections, she had no weapons in her arsenal to deal

with ghosts. Maybe coming back to San Francisco hadn’t been such

a good idea after all.

She sighed as the tendrils of the ever-present dream continued

to swirl around her. It was always the same. Kyle Brenner. Her

father. Rivers of blood. Images of a time that had forever altered her

life and left her too often with a scream trapped in her throat. The

problem was now, much like then, there was nothing she could do

to alter the inevitable outcome.

Releasing an oath, she got up and made her way up the winding

staircase, heading for the master suite bath and the enormous steam

shower. She quickly undressed, fiddled with the temperature controls,

and turned on the water, then stepped into the cross streams.

A moan of pure relief escaped her as the jets of steaming water

washed over her body from three directions. Bracing her hands

against one wall, she dipped her head and let the near-scalding water

flow over her. Felt it soothe her tired body while she slowly turned.

Allowed it to wash away the fatigue while the heat massaged and

loosened her muscles.

As the water began to ease some of the tension, she reached for

the shampoo and found her thoughts drifting to Sara Wilder. In short

• 103 •

aJ Quinn

order, the former FBI agent had somehow managed to penetrate her

defenses, and Hunter found herself intrigued. Because there was no

question. One look at her and she’d been interested. One word and

she’d been captivated.

And it wasn’t just that she found her beautiful, although her

body hummed with awareness, and she felt a nearly irresistible

urge to explore the physical attraction. Sara was the kind of woman

who could make Hunter look, and then look again. To pretend to

be anything other than attracted to her was simply a lie, and Hunter

could easily foresee a time when it would become difficult to

maintain an appropriate distance.

But could she really consider acting on the attraction with

everything that was happening? Something inside her wanted to

take a chance.

So what are you going to do about it?

The thought that she would probably see Sara again today

made her smile.

Twenty minutes later, she shut off the water and grabbed a

towel as she wandered into the bedroom. Glass doors and windows

extended from floor to ceiling and led to a terrace with a spectacular

view of the ocean and Marin Headland. Gazing quietly into the early

morning light, she quickly dressed.

A few minutes later, having pulled on well-worn jeans, a white

polo shirt, and her leather jacket, she headed back down the stairs

and out the front door. And immediately came face-to-face with

Peter, leaning casually against the wall.

“Good morning,” he grinned. “Going somewhere?”

“Try not to sound so chipper, and I might not have to kill you,”

Hunter responded in a low, tired voice as she slipped her sunglasses

on. “Why are you here?”

“We thought it might be a good idea to keep you covered.” He

cocked his head and indicated the dark SUV where she could see the

silhouettes of two other team members. “At least until we can get

the lay of the land. Maybe then we can actually have a plan instead

of having to improvise.”

• 104 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter heard the unmistakable reprimand, rolled her eyes and

sighed. “Did you at least manage to get some sleep?”

“Scott and Rachel had the house covered from the time we

landed until I got here just a few minutes ago.” He paused and gave

Hunter a look that said he was about to get serious. “It was the best

we could do under the circumstances, especially since we had no

idea where you went when you took off with Tessa. I don’t need to

tell you no one was very happy about that. Not me. Not Matt. And

certainly not the FBI.”

“I’m sure,” Hunter said dismissively then stopped short. Her

lack of sleep was making her hold on her temper tenuous at best,

and Peter had done nothing to deserve her anger. Sighing softly, she

allowed well-ingrained manners to take over. “Look, I’m sorry, I

don’t mean to take it out on you. And I didn’t mean to make things

difficult. I just had some things I needed to do that wouldn’t have

worked out quite as well with an entourage.”

“Don’t you mean you needed to do some things you knew I’d

never approve or agree to from a security perspective?”

Hunter lowered her sunglasses until her eyes cleared the bridge,

and she flashed an unrepentant grin. “Yes.”

Peter grinned back. “Damn it, Hunter, you’re still a brat.”

“I can’t help it,” she laughed, hooking his arm with hers as they

walked down the long cobblestone drive. “And I wouldn’t mind the

company, so why don’t you come with me in my car. Just let Conner

and Adrienne know we need to stop and pick up some food before

we get to the office.”

Peter grabbed the small two-way clipped to his belt, speaking

softly as he relayed the information while matching Hunter’s long

strides toward her car. A minute later, the front gates opened and the

Maserati joined the early morning traffic, with the black BMW SUV

following close behind.

They stopped at a local café along the way and picked up a bag

of beignets and several large coffees. The French-style doughnuts,

lavishly covered with powdered sugar, were a favorite indulgence

of Hunter’s. The breakfast of champions, she sighed with a grin, as

they reached their destination.

• 105 •

aJ Quinn

The Roswell Group’s corporate headquarters occupied most of a

two-building complex in the city’s financial district. The guard raised

the gate as the Maserati and BMW approached and waved the two

vehicles through. Minutes later, Hunter led the way as they entered

the first building and took the elevator up to the top floor, which

housed both the executive offices and the primary operations center.

“What’s the plan?” Peter asked, looking eager to get started.

“Before we left London, I asked Quito to get me copies of the

old case files and anything related to the current murders,” Hunter

explained. “Hopefully everything will have been delivered here by

now.”She entered her office and opened the door that led to the

adjoining conference room. In spite of the early hour, Quito was

already opening boxes and sorting the documents. He quickly

moved to Hunter’s side, grinning happily as he reached for the bags

of take-out and placed their contents on a nearby credenza.

Once food and coffee were distributed, Hunter gave a sigh of

appreciation as she bit into a beignet and selected a file from the

pile closest to her. “I want to review and break everything down,

case by case. Maybe you can set up the whiteboard over there.” She

indicated the far wall with her hand.

She stared at the volume of information in front of her. At best,

it would take several hours to sift through all the material Quito had

pulled together. Muttering to herself, she settled back into a chair

and began to read.

The original FBI profile, developed before Hunter had been

identified as the primary target, had been included in the first file she

opened. It expanded on the summary Sara had provided, indicating

a stalker driven by his all-consuming loneliness and all-pervasive

fantasies. It surmised he would have a well-established delusional

fantasy in which he had a special relationship with his chosen victim,

based on the belief she was the perfect match for him.

It also indicated while efforts to contact victims were common,

erotomanic stalkers were known to keep their delusion a secret.

They studied their victims, often from afar, and reacted badly to

any perceived rejection by their victims. The profile concluded

• 106 •

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with a rather prophetic warning that when the relationship looked

hopeless, many erotomanic stalkers embarked on a violent spree of

self-destruction.

She read the document several times, each time wondering

when and how she had first encountered him. She knew it was

inevitable they would eventually meet face-to-face. Would she know

him? Had they ever really met? Connected? Or was it all part of a

twisted fantasy in a deluded mind? The questions looped endlessly

in her mind.

As seconds stretched into minutes, then morphed into hours,

Hunter switched her focus from the killer to his victims until it

felt like she knew each of the women—where they lived, where

they worked, where they played. But she was no closer to finding

anything that might identify where or when they came into contact

with their killer.

After four hours, having used up an all too brief second wind,

her mind began to stutter. Stacks of paper and folders were now

scattered on the table around her, in a pattern recognizable only to

her. The walls, however, were covered with meticulously arranged

photographs and documents corresponding with the deaths of the

five victims, including crime-scene photos and investigator’s notes,

organized in painstaking chronological order by Quito under Peter’s

watchful eye.

One box remained unopened. It held the case files pertaining to

the incident ten years earlier. But Hunter wasn’t ready to confront

the part of her life she desperately wanted to keep buried deep in her

mind. She wasn’t ready to view the photographs she knew the box

contained. She wasn’t ready to read the formal, emotionless reports

that detailed her kidnapping and her father’s death.

Not yet.

Instead, she rested her chin on her fist and stared balefully

at the computer in front of her. She silently scanned the data that

scrolled by and contemplated doing another search. Reaching for

the keyboard, she quickly tapped a query then waited for a response.

The frown creasing her forehead deepened as she continued to read

the endless loop of information that appeared on the laptop screen.

• 107 •

aJ Quinn

Frustrated, she swiveled her chair away from the table and

stared out the window. It was there, laid out in front of her, like a

picture just out of focus. What was she missing?

“I guess it would be kind of stupid to ask how you are. You

look like hell.”

Startled, Hunter stiffened and looked up. She felt the heat of

temper dance along her skin as she cast a glance up at Matt and bit

back an automatic retort. He was probably right. “Then I look as

good as I feel,” she said finally, directing a scowl in his direction

before leaning back into her chair. Closing her eyes, she wondered

if she could get away with killing a business partner. Probably not.

Matt gave a shrug and walked around the table, looking at the

documents displayed on the walls. Photographs, computer printouts,

newspaper articles.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, clearly astounded at the amount

of information which had been gathered in such a short period of

time.“Quito did an amazing job.”

Matt nodded. “But why are you all alone? I thought you had

help.”“Hmm…I did…I do. I believe the last time I saw them, they

were going to make a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Not wired enough?” he asked with a grin. He then indicated

the files on the table. “How’s this coming?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter responded, frustration evident in her

voice. “There’s something here I’m not seeing.” She paused and

looked around the conference room. “Mostly, I’m not seeing how all

of this connects with anything that happened ten years ago. I know it

has to, because there’s no other rational explanation for him to have

known to call me daddy’s girl. But—”

“You’re not going to be able to figure it out until you get some

rest.” Matt regarded Hunter silently. “Tell me truthfully. Have you

slept at all?”

“A couple of hours. Sort of.” She shrugged and worked to keep

her expression nonchalant. “I tried for more, but I couldn’t find a

way to shut down.”

• 108 •

Hostage Moon

“Hunter—”

“I’m all right.” She sat up a little straighter and tightened her

fingers on the edge of the table. “Don’t pick a fight with me, Matt.

Not today.”

It should have worked. Matt should have known, from the set

of her jaw and the edge in her voice, not to push. And for an instant,

she almost believed he would leave her alone as he walked toward

the wall and stared at the documents neatly pinned there. But then—

“Is it everything in general or is there something in particular

that’s not letting you shut down?”

Isn’t having a serial killer targeting me enough? Hunter

pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off a headache. “I

can’t stop thinking he killed those women because of me…because

he couldn’t get to me. And he couldn’t get to me because I ran away

to London.”

“C’mon, Hunter, lighten up and give yourself a break,” Matt

said gently. “If you weren’t so tired, you would know responsibility

for the deaths of those five women lies squarely with the man who

pulled the trigger. No one else is to blame. But you’re not ready to

accept that. Not until you get your ass home and get some sleep.”

But Hunter was no longer paying attention to him. Instead, she

sat in front of the laptop, her gaze glued to the monitor. Her fingers

flew over the keyboard as she opened and scrolled through a series

of new e-mails.

“Hunter?”

“Oh, shit,” she whispered.

She heard Matt walk up behind her as she continued to softly

swear. Felt him peer over her shoulder at the documents she had

called up on the split screen, and knew that, at a bare minimum, he

would recognize them as the medical examiner’s reports David had

sent her. But he wouldn’t understand what had caused her reaction.

And there was no question it had shaken her. Her mouth was

slightly open and she could hear her own shaky breaths as she

struggled to inhale under the weight of emotion that had her in its

grasp.“Hunter? What is it?”

• 109 •

aJ Quinn

She couldn’t answer. She had stopped listening, stopped

scrolling, and as she stared at the documents on the screen, she

began to shake, but could do nothing to control it. No more than she

could stop the voice, whispering incessantly in her ear.

Tell me, Hunter, what’s it worth to you?

Matt reached around her and closed the laptop, then grasped

Hunter’s wrists. He held them tightly as he turned her chair, forcing

her to face him. Feeling his gaze on her face, she squeezed her

eyes shut, trying to stop the tears that pooled in their depths and

threatened to fall. She knew that in itself would stun him. Especially

since he was one of the few people who would know she hadn’t

cried since the day her father died.

“Hunter? Damn it, talk to me. What’s in the ME’s reports?”

“It’s been here all along. How could I have missed this?” She

hated that her voice was shaky and fought to regain control.

“What the hell do you think you missed?”

“The connection…the connection to daddy’s girl. He didn’t

pull the trigger, Matt. They did. That’s what was missing—what

was in the ME’s reports. All of his victims shot themselves. That’s

the damned connection between then and what’s happening now.”

Hunter reached for the phone on the conference table and hit an

extension. “Tessa? How quickly do you think we can pull some

strings?”

• 110 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR eleven

Late morning sunlight dappled the room, but as far as Sara

was concerned, getting out of bed was proving to be a

challenge.

Still groggy from too many time zones and too little solid sleep,

she groaned as she pushed back the covers to get up. Stumbling

into the bathroom, she grabbed a toothbrush and squeezed out some

toothpaste and then turned on the water and stepped into the shower.

But the cool spray did nothing to dispel her desire to go back to bed.

Nor did the scent of coffee a short while later, which preceded a soft

knock on the bathroom door.

“Good morning, sunshine. I didn’t hear you come in last night,

so I’ll assume you got in late. I checked in on you when I got up, but

you were really out of it.”

Kate Montgomery stood in the doorway, warm dark brown eyes

smiling as she held a heavenly scented mug. The trauma surgeon

looked lean and athletic, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a white

T-shirt. Her auburn hair fell in a carelessly casual style and framed

an attractive face that reflected her keen intellect.

“I’ve brought you some coffee.”

“You’re a goddess among women, Kate. Thanks,” Sara said as

she shut off the water, wrapped herself in an oversized towel, and

knotted it just above her breasts. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital

saving lives?”

• 111 •

aJ Quinn

“I’m not scheduled to work until this afternoon.” Kate’s

welcoming smile froze as she got a closer look at Sara. “Jesus, Sara,

what’s going on? For someone who just got out of bed, you look all

done in.” As she pulled her closer and pushed blond hair back from

Sara’s forehead, Kate’s brow creased. “When was the last time you

had a physical?”

“Good Lord, Kate, I’m fine. I certainly don’t need a physical, so

stop playing doctor. I’m just overtired , ” Sara said. She moved out of

Kate’s reach, picked up the coffee mug, and sipped the strong brew.

“Damn, you make good coffee. Rest assured I’m not coming down

with anything. I just didn’t get in until almost two this morning and

I was so wired I had a hard time falling asleep. So instead, I spent

some time reviewing case files and making notes.”

Kate continued to study Sara’s face, gazing silently a little

longer. It was quickly apparent she sensed something was amiss but

wasn’t certain what she was reading. “What else? Tell me what’s

happened.”

“Nothing’s happened,” Sara answered, her response coming

out more sharply than she intended. Not unless you count being

knocked on your ass by the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever met,

she thought wryly and then wondered why she was prevaricating.

She and Kate had been friends since their student days at Stanford,

and Kate’s ability to see right through her no longer came as a

surprise.

“Uh-huh.” Watching Sara dry her hair, Kate leaned back against

the doorframe. “Try again. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Sara sighed before continuing in a quiet

tone. “If you must know, I’ve been thinking about someone I just

met. I can’t seem to stop, and I have absolutely no idea what, if

anything, I’m going to do about it.”

“Well, I’d say only a woman could put that look on your face,

and you’ve got to know if that’s the case, I think it’s great.” Kate

grinned broadly. “You need a life. And if she’s local and will keep

you in San Francisco instead of going back east, so much the better.”

Kate continued to probe. “Tell me about her. Where did you

meet and when are you seeing her again? Better still, when do I get

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Hostage Moon

to meet her? You know, to make sure she’s good enough for my best

friend. I assume she’s hot.”

“Hot?” Sara closed her eyes and flashed to an image of Hunter.

No, not hot. More like sizzling. She sighed softly as she considered

the implications of her attraction to Hunter. Lectured herself on the

futility of her interest, not the least of which was Hunter Roswell

was absolutely off-limits. “Yeah, she’s hot, but it’s not like that.”

Opening her eyes, she tilted her head and glanced at Kate. For

as long as they’d known each other, Kate had been her confidante.

Even when they had been on opposite coasts—Sara in New York

and Kate in San Francisco—it had always been Kate she had called.

And day or night, whether she needed a sounding board about a case

that was frustrating her or to commiserate about a relationship that

had run its course, Kate had always been there for her, listening and

providing sage advice.

But sometimes talking, even with an old friend, wasn’t easy.

What could she say? The physical attraction was easy to explain.

But Hunter had also gotten under her skin. You’re a fool, Wilder.

There’s not a chance in hell.

“What’s going on?” Kate asked gently.

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Kate laughed. “Want to talk about it?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Sara quipped. “If you must

know, she’s someone I met through this case David Granger asked

me to consult on.”

Kate had always been easy to read. In that instant, her

expression became one of guarded concern. “The serial killer case?

Is that going to be a problem?”

Sara thought carefully before replying. “No. At least I don’t

think so.” She hesitated as she met Kate’s steady gaze. “It’s not

about professional boundaries or ethics. I mean, we don’t have a

doctor-patient relationship, and it’s not like she’s a suspect.”

“Then what do you have?”

Sara shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s directly involved in the

case. Actually, all the evidence would seem to indicate the serial

killer is stalking her, and the FBI has determined it’s someone from

• 113 •

aJ Quinn

her past. David wants me to help her identify him so he can be

stopped.”

“Does helping her put you in any kind of danger?” Kate

regarded her steadily.

Sara knew the risks inherent in her job when she had been with

the FBI had always been of concern to Kate and quickly shook her

head. “Danger?” she said. “Only of being foolish.”

Still she hesitated.

How did she explain that she found herself inexorably drawn

to Hunter? That the combination of intelligence, strength, and

vulnerability added layers to the attraction? And if she was being

honest, that Hunter was drop-dead gorgeous and stirred in her a

surge of pure, unadulterated lust?

How did she explain that, in so many ways, Hunter Roswell

seemed to represent everything she ever wanted in a woman, and

everything she feared? That she knew, on an intuitive level, Hunter

could leave her aching with just one look but also had the power to

leave her heart shattered and bleeding if she wasn’t careful?

She wondered when the last time was she’d been this attracted

to someone and realized she couldn’t remember the last time she

had even been on a date.

“Sara? What is it, hon?”

Sara caught Kate’s reflection in the mirror, saw the concern in

her eyes and shrugged. “This is going to sound cliché, but she’s not

like anyone I’ve ever met. I barely know her, but somehow she’s

managed to stir all these feelings in me. And I know it’s probably

just a silly infatuation, but I swear I felt something the moment I saw

her…as if we had some kind of connection.”

“No one you’ve previously met was able to hold your interest

for very long,” Kate reminded her. “While there may be things

about this woman that complicate your life, I’m going to go out on

a limb and suggest that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I think

you should stop overanalyzing and just go for it. Just remember I’m

always here for you, okay?”

“Thank you,” Sara responded, closing her eyes. A brief smile

crossed her face. “How about I get dressed and then join you

downstairs for more coffee?”

• 114 •

Hostage Moon

It didn’t take long for Sara to get dressed, and a few minutes

later, she followed the scent of freshly brewing coffee into the

kitchen. There she discovered a rumpled and tired-looking FBI

agent sitting at the table with Kate.

“Special Agent Granger, is this going to become a habit?” Sara

teased.

David rubbed his face with both hands. “Sorry,” he said.

Examining her with tired brown eyes, he shook his head and grinned.

“I know you didn’t manage to get much more sleep than I did. How

the hell do you manage to look so good?”

“Good genes.” Sara laughed. “But compliments from David

Granger? You must really want something.”

“Actually, I’m here because I can answer the question everyone

was asking only a few hours ago. But yes, it also means I need your

help again. That’s why I come bearing gifts.” As evidence, he held

out a bag of bagels.

“Smart man.” Sara flashed him a smile and grabbed a still-warm

bagel from the bag, nibbling on it while Kate brought the coffeepot

to the table and refilled Sara’s mug. “So, what’s this question you

can answer?”

“Where our runaway genius went after she disappeared from

the airport in the wee hours of the morning,” David responded

triumphantly. “It would seem our girl has been very busy.”

“What makes you say that?”

In response, David produced a copy of the Chronicle and

placed it on the table. As he indicated a photograph above the fold

with a tap of his finger, a quick glance confirmed what Sara already

suspected.

The photograph was a candid shot of three remarkably beautiful

women at a trendy club. The dark-haired woman on the left was

identified in the caption as Tessa Kinser while the exotic Versace

model on the right was further identified only as Rafaela. Both

stood with their arms draped around the beautiful woman who had

haunted what little sleep Sara had managed to get. Hunter Roswell

stared up at her, a sexy half-smile on her face.

• 115 •

aJ Quinn

“Shit,” Sara exclaimed. At the same time, she heard Kate’s

sharply drawn breath and glanced in her direction.

Kate’s face was impassive, and Sara briefly wondered if she had

simply reacted to a newspaper photograph of her lover, obviously

enjoying herself with two beautiful women. The other possibility,

which she was now forced to consider, was Kate had reacted to who

was with Tessa.

She stared at Hunter’s image, at the smile that could melt the

hearts of women from eighteen to eighty, and considered that Kate

had been dating Tessa for several months, ostensibly while Hunter

was in England. Wasn’t it still possible she knew Hunter as well?

And what does that mean?

Pushing that thought aside for the moment, Sara tried to

concentrate on what the photograph meant for their case. That

was where her focus needed to be. On the case. “Someone worked

awfully hard to get that photo into today’s edition, don’t you think?

It’s a dangerous move.”

“Exactly,” David responded. “It’s as if she’s trying to wave a

red flag in front of the UNSUB to let him know she’s back. But we

don’t know how or when he’ll respond. In part, that’s why I need

you to come with me.”

“Oh? Do tell. Where are we going this time? And please, tell

me we don’t need to fly anywhere,” Sara whined good-naturedly.

“I can assure you we won’t need a plane for where we’re going,

because we’re going to San Quentin.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Whatever for?”

“As I said, our girl’s been busy. I’m not sure how many strings

they had to pull, but Tessa Kinser arranged for Hunter to meet with

Kyle Brenner this afternoon. And between the two of them, they’ve

somehow managed to bypass the time it typically takes to get a visit

approved. In fact, I’m told they got everything arranged in less than

an hour.”

Sara looked up in undisguised surprise. “It’s called connections.

But Kyle Brenner? Isn’t he—”

“The man who kidnapped Hunter ten years ago. He was

charged, tried, and convicted in the deaths of Michael Roswell

• 116 •

Hostage Moon

and Special Agent Robert Simms,” David finished for her. “He’s

been sitting on death row since his sentencing while his case goes

through the appeals process. I understand that until today he’s had

no visitors, with the exception of his lawyers.”

“And Brenner agreed to meet with Hunter?”

David scowled. “I’m told he couldn’t agree to the meeting

quickly enough.”

“How did you find out?”

“I’ve had someone keeping an eye on Brenner ever since

Hunter’s name first came up in our investigation,” David admitted.

“With the reference to daddy’s girl and the probability the current

murders are somehow connected to what happened ten years ago,

I thought there was a very real chance this might happen. That

someone would want or need to see Brenner.”

“I don’t know, David,” Sara rubbed her temple as it began to

throb. “I’m concerned about how Hunter will deal with actually

seeing Brenner. I don’t think people realize just how emotionally

fragile she is. I also don’t believe she’s ever reconciled herself with

what happened back then.”

David shrugged. “That may be the case, but there’s not much

you or I can do to stop this. All we can really do is be there to pick

up the pieces if things go south.” He glanced at his watch. “And

that means you’ve got to get ready if we want to actually get there

before Hunter.”

Sara glanced down at her casual attire and smiled. “I guess

that means you want me to change into something a little more

appropriate.” Without waiting for David to respond, she turned and

headed upstairs, aware that Kate was trailing her.

❖

“Hunter Roswell?” Kate asked incredulously as soon as they

stepped into the guest bedroom Sara was using. “Hunter Roswell is

the woman you were talking about earlier, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Sara admitted reluctantly.

• 117 •

aJ Quinn

“Honey, that’s not a minor complication we’re talking about.

Hunter Roswell’s in a league of her own where complications are

concerned. And for the record, she’s as hot as you can get.”

“I know.” Sara exhaled softly. “It occurred to me you might

know her, considering you’ve been dating Tessa and she just happens

to be Hunter’s closest friend.”

“I can see how you might think that, but I actually met Hunter

first.” There was a slight hesitation before Kate continued. “It

was Hunter who introduced me to Tessa rather than the other way

around.”

Sara quietly processed that piece of information while pulling

clothes out of the closet. “How long have you known her?” she

asked, managing to keep her tone even and curious. But she knew

exactly what kind of woman Kate found attractive, and Hunter

Roswell more than filled all of Kate’s requirements.

“About five years.” Kate watched while Sara dropped the

shorts and T-shirt she had been wearing onto the bed and changed

into a conservative dark suit and a pale-blue silk blouse. “I met her

just after I finished my fellowship and started on staff in the trauma

center. We were both involved in a fundraiser for the children’s

health center at the hospital.”

Kate reluctantly admitted she had felt both challenged and

more than a little embarrassed that Hunter turned her down late

one evening when she suggested they go somewhere a little more

private for a drink.

Sara raised an eyebrow and sent Kate a long, contemplative

look . “What do you want me to say?” As Kate reacted to the look, her

voice took on a slightly defensive tone. “Everyone was trying to get

close to her. And why not? She was rich, successful, more intelligent

than any one person had a right to be, and she had a reputation for

being adventurous—in and out of bed. It also didn’t hurt that she

was goddamned gorgeous.” Kate continued, the defensiveness gone,

a wry note in its place. “I had just completed six grueling years of

surgical residency and suddenly found myself face-to-face with a

woman who encompassed all the complexity and intensity I thrived

• 118 •

Hostage Moon

on. I was cocky and full of myself, and when I met her, I honestly

believed Hunter was meant to be my reward for all the years of hard

work. I wanted her like I had never wanted anyone else before.”

Sara wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the rest and tried to

smother the unexpected bolt of jealously that lanced through her.

It didn’t make her feel particularly happy, and she wasn’t prepared

to question the reasons, but one thing was abundantly clear. She

didn’t want to even think of the possibility Hunter and Kate had

been lovers.

Still, she forced herself to ask. “What happened?”

Kate laughed and looked a little self-conscious as she shook

her head. “I was relentless in my pursuit, and Hunter was exquisitely

gentle in suggesting we would make better friends than lovers. Who

knew she would be right?”

Sara closed her eyes as a tremulous wave of relief coursed

through her. She was aware Kate was still watching her and felt

her concern when she reached out tentatively and put a hand on her

shoulder.

“Sara?”

Opening her eyes, Sara glanced at Kate. “Hmm?”

“Just be careful, okay? Hunter’s been running from something

for a long time, and until she stops, she’s not going to be able to let

anyone get too close. That makes her heartbreak territory.”

Sara’s smile faded slightly. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Kate nodded. “Are we going to be okay with all of this?”

“Of course,” Sara said softly.

• 119 •

• 120 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twelve

For an early weekday afternoon, traffic proved surprisingly

heavy. Sara watched as David tried not to lose his patience

when they were forced to remain behind a truck intent on driving

well below the speed limit. But in spite of his best efforts to make up

time, they arrived half an hour later than intended.

Their destination, San Quentin, was the oldest prison in the

state. Overlooking the bay just north of San Francisco, it was home

to California’s only death row chamber, housing all of the state’s

male death row inmates among the over five thousand inmates

residing within its historic walls. It was also the only home Kyle

Brenner had known since his conviction nine years earlier.

Clearly visible from the San Rafael Bridge, from the outside

the prison looked like any aging building. The bricks were faded

and worn, the metal trimmings old and rusty. But as Sara and David

drew closer, there was no mistaking this was no ordinary building.

The sight of the looming, fortresslike walls and the grim series of

sally ports and security gates sent an involuntary shiver down Sara’s

back, as if an icy hand had touched her.

The guard at the first gate verified their identification, pointed

the way, and directed them to the main visiting area. The gates

closing behind them gave an echoing clang as they moved to the

next security gate. There, another guard sitting in a booth rechecked

their paperwork, then buzzed the door open. Glass and metal slid

heavily and they went through.

• 121 •

aJ Quinn

At the next clearance checkpoint, the man that met them greeted

David by name. David quickly introduced Sara to John Rayburn,

who provided an update as he escorted them through a labyrinth of

dim cement passageways to a small room.

“The show’s about to begin so you’re just in time. The guards

are on their way down, escorting Brenner to the visiting room,”

Rayburn stated. “You know, I don’t know how the hell Roswell

managed it, but she actually arranged a private contact visit.”

Sara spun around in disbelief. A contact visit wouldn’t

offer Hunter even the illusion of protection. There would be no

Plexiglas partition separating her from Brenner. They would not be

communicating over a telephone. Instead, she would be sitting at a

table across from Brenner, meeting with him face-to-face.

“For God’s sake, David. Tell me this is some kind of joke,” she

snapped in frustration. “You’re not going to let her meet Brenner

like that, are you?”

“She’s Patrick Roswell’s only grandchild. That carries a lot

of political clout, so it’s not like we have any choice in this,” he

responded.

“If it makes you feel any better, Brenner will be fully shackled,”

Rayburn added, “and there will be guards posted outside the room

who can intervene at a moment’s notice in case the situation starts

to tank. Best we can do under the circumstances, because the set-up

wasn’t our choice. It’s what we were asked to provide.”

Sara opened her mouth to protest but could form no words. It

wasn’t the risk of Brenner inflicting physical injury that concerned

Sara. She worried about the psychological impact on Hunter of

meeting her old nemesis face-to-face. But it wasn’t something she

was prepared to discuss with David or Rayburn, so she nodded,

slipping into her own façade of control.

Rayburn pointed to the video monitors lined up along one wall

in the room and handed Sara a headset that had been lying on the

table. “The room where Roswell is meeting Brenner is wired for

sound and there are video cameras set up. We should be able to see

and hear everything.”

• 122 •

Hostage Moon

The monitors displayed a bleak gray room where every other

hue seemed to have bled away. As Sara adjusted the headphones,

the screen in front of her suddenly came to life, and a muscular man

wearing prison blues shuffled into view. His wrists were handcuffed

and attached to a belly chain, and his ankles were shackled. Flanked

by four guards, he was pushed unceremoniously into a chair.

“Just remember we’re watching you,” one of the guards said

before they left and assumed their positions outside the room.

Kyle Brenner sat at the table with a bored expression on his

craggy, once-handsome face as he looked around. His complexion

was prison pale, and he was sporting a series of tattoos spreading

from under his shirt collar up his neck. When his eyes settled on the

camera, his body stiffened before a cruel smile flashed briefly on his

face and he sat back to wait.

A few minutes later, Hunter appeared, escorted by a guard. Instead

of her customary casual style, she was dressed monochromatically

in a charcoal-gray silk suit, the blue of her eyes providing the only

points of color. She looked, in a word, dangerous.

Sara saw the guard whisper something to her before leaving.

But Hunter didn’t react to whatever he said. Nor did she move farther

into the room. Instead, she remained standing by the door, casually

assessing the room before finally turning and staring at Brenner. He

stared back and a long silence ensued.

To no one’s surprise, it was Brenner who broke the silence first.

“Well, well, Hunter. You were a knockout at seventeen, but

mm-hmm, I had no idea. You look so fine, babe.” As he spoke,

he stared insolently at her, but Hunter gave no indication that she

noticed, even as his eyes seemed to take in every visible inch of

her. “Since you’re so good at pulling strings and calling in favors,

perhaps next time you could arrange for us to have a conjugal

visit.”“What?” Hunter’s low voice drawled. “Are you telling me the

prison doctors have been able to fix your little problem?”

On the video monitor, Brenner’s shoulders stiffened perceptibly

and his face grew dark and taut. Behind Sara, David said, “Ouch,”

and Rayburn snickered.

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aJ Quinn

Hunter paused and let out a humorless laugh. “What’s the

matter? Did I hit a nerve?”

“Don’t make me laugh, Hunter. I don’t have nerves.” He smiled

at her and seemed so calm that Sara was instantly on alert.

“I thought it was a conscience you didn’t have,” Hunter

countered. “Or was that a heart?”

Brenner’s eyes narrowed, and in Sara’s estimation, appeared to

reappraise the woman in front of him. “You asked for this meeting,

babe. You obviously want something from me, so it’s best you

remember how this works and play nice.”

Brenner’s tone sounded threatening. But Hunter’s reaction

gave Sara no indication she felt any fear. Instead, she simply sighed

and sank into the chair across the table from him, her expression

neutral.

“You’re right,” she said. She leaned heavily on her arms, her

eyes shadowed. “I do want to talk to you. About what happened ten

years ago.”

“Our time together? That sure was a fun time, wasn’t it?”

Brenner’s face broke into a leering smile. “I knew we made a

connection back then. Just like I knew you couldn’t stay away from

me forever. It was just a matter of time before you came to see me.”

Brenner laughed softly. “Do you still dream about me? Do you miss

my special touch?”

Sara grew increasingly uncomfortable with the direction the

conversation was taking. “David,” she said hesitantly. “Brenner held

her for what…three weeks? At that time, was there any indication

he—?”

David stared at Brenner’s image on the monitor. “Physically

abused her? Yes, because it was obvious from her injuries.

Psychologically abused her? Again, there was no doubt. We might

not have known what that bastard did to her, but the kid was so

damned messed up it was virtually impossible to get a coherent

statement from her. Sexually abused her? That what you’re asking?”

David shook his head. “She claimed not to remember anything.”

“You didn’t believe her?”

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“There’s more to it than that. One of the residents at the hospital

implied there were signs of what he would only describe as torture.

And the shrink who ended up treating her suggested she might be

suffering from some kind of dissociative amnesia.” David shrugged.

“But she didn’t rule out the possibility that Hunter’s lack of recall

might have been caused by physical trauma.”

“Was there evidence of a head injury?” Sara asked.

“No one was volunteering to share the details of her medical

records with us. We could only go by how things looked,” David

answered bluntly. “And in that regard, her own mother must have

had a hard time recognizing her for all the bruises and bandages.”

He paused as if trying to recollect long-ago details. “We picked

up bits and pieces, mostly gossip from the EMTs and nurses. In terms

of a head injury, she had a pretty severe concussion, and there was

some kind of facial fracture. Anything else would be pure conjecture.”

“How come?”

“By the time she came out of surgery, her father’s family had

closed ranks around her,” David responded. “They weren’t sharing

information with us, and Patrick Roswell carried too much political

clout for anyone to go up against him. Afterward, not a lot was made

public during the trial.”

Sara jotted some notes while maintaining a vigilant eye on the

monitor where Kyle Brenner could be seen leaning back in his chair.

It seemed as if he was trying to reconcile the adult version of Hunter

sitting across from him with the teenager he had kidnapped. She

wondered if Hunter was scared. She wondered if Hunter suspected

Sara was watching.

❖

“You want to talk about old times, go right ahead,” Brenner

said. “I ain’t got nowhere to go, and you’re better looking than

anything I’ve seen in a long time.”

They stared at each other like two gunslingers waiting to see

who would draw first. The silence went on interminably, before

Hunter lifted a dark eyebrow. “Just like that?”

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aJ Quinn

Brenner nodded. “Sure, babe. Why not? What have I got to

lose? And if I help you, maybe you get Granddaddy to put in a good

word with the governor.”

Taking a deep breath, Hunter crossed her arms to hide the fact

that her hands were shaking. She wondered who was watching them.

She wondered if Sara was there, if she could see her hands tremble.

That Brenner could still elicit a fear response in her was enough to

ignite her temper, and when she spoke, her voice held a discernible

edge of anger.

“All right. Ten years ago, there were five of you in the house

with me. Geddrick, Watters, Johnson, and McSwain never made it

out,” she stated. “Only you got out alive.”

“You too, babe,” Brenner corrected. “Let’s not forget you got

out alive.”

“And me,” Hunter acknowledged, her voice soft. “Who else

would know what happened in that house?”

Whatever motive Brenner had attributed to Hunter’s sudden

desire to see him, this obviously wasn’t according to his game plan.

Her question had caught him by surprise. His eyes narrowed and he

sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“I mean”—Hunter leaned forward, paused to push back the

hair falling in her eyes—“six people knew what went on inside that

house. Four never made it out alive, leaving just you and me.” She

stared at Brenner intently and her voice became softer still. “I need

to know if there is anyone else who would know what happened in

that house during those three weeks. I need to know who you told.”

Brenner stared at Hunter, his expression unchanging. And then

he began to laugh, leaving little doubt he was enjoying the moment.

“Aw, is someone messing with your head, babe? C’mon, tell Kyle

all about it. It’ll be just like old times.”

Hunter leaned across the table toward Brenner and didn’t bother

to mute the anger in her voice. “Just answer the damned question.”

Brenner stopped laughing abruptly and stared back at Hunter.

“They’ve really gotten to you, haven’t they. How much do they

know?”

“Enough,” she answered starkly. “Maybe too much.”

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Hostage Moon

Brenner leaned closer, obviously aware if he moved too far, got

too close, the guards would come in and end the visit. An outcome

he was obviously not prepared to accept just yet. “What’s my answer

worth to you, Hunter?” he whispered.

Hunter froze.

She made a small, choked sound deep in her throat that spoke

of anger and fear and grief.

Why have you brought me home…Damn it, why won’t you tell

me what’s going on…Well, look what we’ve found…I do believe

it’s daddy’s little girl and she’s all alone…What’s it worth to you,

Hunter…Hold your fire…Hold your fire…He’s down…They’re both

down…We’re losing him…

And through sheer strength of will, Hunter pulled herself

together.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter…

She took a deep shuddering breath to steady herself and used it

to help stay in the moment.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter…

Fear abated and anger took its place. This was the man who

had killed her father. This was the man who had left her mother

devastated and barely able to cope for far too long. This was the

man who had left her with her psyche shattered and driven her to the

edge of self-destruction. She felt her temper flare, and as she used it

to gather strength, she mimicked Brenner’s pose. Leaning in toward

him. Bringing their heads so close she could feel his breath, hot and

fetid against her skin.

“Fuck you, Brenner,” she hissed.

Kyle Brenner sat back, a startled expression on his face

combined with something else. And then he threw his head back

and gave a sharp laugh. “Got your fight back, haven’t you, babe.”

“You have no idea.” Her voice dropped to a low growl.

Brenner’s eyes glinted, and then surprisingly, he nodded his

head. “Okay. I’ll give you this one. You might even say maybe I owe

you something—for old times,” he said. “The answer is no. No one

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else would know what went on. Not even my goddamned lawyers

knew. If someone’s playing games with you, I sure as hell didn’t

give them the ammunition, ’cause I told no one.”

❖

As she watched the interchange play out, Sara frowned. “Damn

it,” she said. “She knows more than she’s told us.” She turned to

look at David, her eyebrows raised in question. “Do you have any

idea what they’re talking about?”

But David shook his head.

Had Hunter figured out the connection between what had

happened to her ten years earlier and the man who was presently

stalking her? Everything Sara had just witnessed would seem to

indicate she had, but if that was the case, how quickly could they

use the connection to identify the UNSUB? She felt like a voyeur

as she continued to watch Brenner inch close to Hunter once again.

“Listen, babe. I got something you need to know.”

Intense blue eyes glinted preternaturally as Hunter looked at

Brenner. “Other than the answer to my question, what could you

know that would possibly be of interest to me?”

When Brenner glanced briefly at the video camera, Sara felt a

red flag go up. What the hell is he up to? Fascinated, she watched

Brenner lean closer still.

“Don’t you want to know why, Hunter? Why I never killed

you like I said I was going to?” he asked as his voice dropped to a

whisper.

Sara could not hear everything he was saying. But Hunter’s

reaction told her all she needed to know. Her face became impossibly

pale, and there were waves of white-hot pain emanating from her.

She stood up abruptly, sending her chair crashing to the floor.

“Get her out of there, David,” Sara cried out.

She continued to watch, horrified, as Hunter leaned across the

table toward Brenner, her mouth pressed close to the inmate’s ear,

and she whispered something.

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Hostage Moon

Brenner’s face immediately hardened. Clearly enraged, he

tried to raise his hands in an attempt to grab Hunter’s arm. The chain

linking his handcuffs to the belly chain he wore prevented the move

and stopped him abruptly. “Goddamnsonofabitch—”

Sara could hear Rayburn on the phone issuing instructions, and

in a matter of seconds, the guards who had been stationed outside

the visiting room quickly entered and roughly pulled Brenner away.

Holding him between them, they began to drag him out of the room.

Too late, Brenner realized his time had run out, and he looked

over his shoulder at Hunter.

“You’ll come back to visit me, babe. You know you’ll need

to come back to see me, and I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he

shouted, before he disappeared from view as the door closed.

❖

Hunter moved quickly. Endeavoring to outrun the memories

that held her ensnared, she exited the oppressive building by the

shortest route, making her way back to the parking lot while trying

to avoid looking like she was running away. She reached her car and

blindly keyed the remote, intent on escaping.

And just what are you trying to escape, the pragmatist asked.

This oppressive and depressing place? The past is done and can’t

be changed. The future has yet to be determined. So what are you

running from?

“Hunter, wait—”

The soft voice calling out her name compelled her to stop the

incessant debate before she could formulate an answer. Almost

grateful, she turned and saw Sara approaching her. She paused, her

eyes narrowing as the realization hit that she was happy to see her.

With a shrug, she moved away from her car and walked toward

Sara, aware she was being openly and rather intently scrutinized.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Hunter’s voice

trailed into silence and she stuck her hands in her pockets. She drew

closer as she spoke, slowing down until they stood only a few feet

apart. It was then she noted David was there as well, approaching

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aJ Quinn

from the left. The smile that had been playing on her lips faded and

revealed her disappointment.

“Since I’m pretty sure we agreed to work together, I thought

I’d check and see how you’re doing.”

Hunter stiffened and every muscle in her body tensed. It was

taking everything she had just to keep her emotions in check, and

she felt a sudden flash of concern that the walls she had spent years

erecting were in danger of breaking apart. Her heart was hammering,

and she found herself vacillating between digging in for yet another

battle and total surrender.

Sara stared at her in silence, a focused look in her eyes as if

reading her mind. “Have you ever thought of sleeping? You look

like hell, Roswell.”

Unexpectedly, Hunter laughed and discovered laughter released

some of the tightly wound tension. “I get the feeling having you

around will not be very good for my ego,” she said.

Sara looked at her for an instant, a faint smile on her lips.

“Somehow, I don’t think your ego needs any help from me,” she

responded dryly, but her eyes softened as they met Hunter’s gaze.

Moving closer, Sara touched Hunter’s cheek, tracing the slashing

cheekbone and the shadows under her eyes with her thumb. “How

about we get out of here and you tell me what that conversation with

Kyle Brenner was all about?”

Hunter swallowed and tried to formulate an appropriate

response. But before she could put voice to her clouded thoughts,

the ground beneath their feet shook with a powerful tremor.

She saw a brilliant flash of light and felt an intense blast of heat

as the force of the explosion hit them. Dimly, she realized she was

airborne. The blast knocked her off her feet and then slammed her

to the ground. Head pounding and ears ringing, she felt her breath

driven from her lungs, and for the longest time, drawing in any air

to breathe was a physical impossibility.

Something sharp glanced off her temple, something hot struck

her shoulder, and she could feel bits of glass and metal showering

down all around them. As more debris landed, in a move driven

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Hostage Moon

more by instinct than thought, Hunter threw herself protectively

over Sara and then covered her own head with her arms.

She remained motionless until she was reasonably certain

the debris had stopped falling. Only then did she raise her head.

Ignoring the stinging pain in her shoulder, she glanced around and

slowly became aware that beneath her, Sara was deathly still. Her

eyes were closed, her face pale.

“Sara?” she whispered. “Please answer me.”

There was no response, and Hunter felt an irrational flash of

fear. With unsteady fingers, she shifted to check for a pulse. Relief

coursed through her as she found one, the heart beneath her fingers

beating clear and strong, and she dropped her head until her forehead

was pressed against Sara’s.

As she took several deep breaths and considered her options, she

heard someone talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The voice seemed to be coming from a distance, but she wasn’t sure

if that was a result of the impact of her head against the asphalt or

because the echo of the explosion was still resonating in her ears.

Something wet and warm trickled down her face. Irritated, she

brushed it aside only to find blood painting her fingers when she

brought them away from her face. Pain was also seeping through.

With her lungs still struggling to pull in some much-needed oxygen,

she attempted to lift her body off Sara, whose eyelids were beginning

to flutter. She saw Peter approaching, weapon drawn as he tried to

assess for any additional threat. And by this time, David was also

upon them.

Peter quickly knelt down beside her and put a hand on her

shoulder.

“Take it easy, Hunter. You’re bleeding,” he said. “You probably

don’t want to move until—”

“I’m okay.” She managed to focus and winced as she made it to

her knees, breathing haltingly. “Shit,” she gasped, holding her head

with both hands. She closed her eyes against a wave of pain as she

tried to ride it out.

Sara lay on the ground a minute longer, peering up at Hunter in

confusion. Pushing up onto her elbows, she looked beyond Hunter

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aJ Quinn

and Peter to the flames that consumed what had once been a black

Maserati. “Your car,” she said.

Hunter nodded and then winced as the motion caused the

throbbing in her head to intensify. She could see emergency

personnel doing what they could to contain the fire and could

hear the sound of several vehicles pulling up and stopping, brakes

squealing and voices shouting as fire and rescue took over the scene

and paramedics began to assess the damage.

Sara’s eyes followed the activity before she turned back and

looked at Hunter. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better. You do this often?”

“What, get blown up?” Sara grinned weakly and opened her

mouth to say something else. But another explosion, this one feeling

almost as strong as the first, sent a shockwave that drove her head

into the pavement. She gave a small sigh as her eyes closed.

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Hostage Moon

CHaPteR tHiRteen

Sara fought her way up through several layers of disjointed

images and finally opened her eyes. She felt groggy and

disoriented, but she knew instantly where she was. The scent of

antiseptic and the IV dripping slowly into her arm made that much

readily apparent. She also remembered why she was there—the

sound of the explosion and the smell of smoke had stayed with her.

What she couldn’t automatically determine was the nature and

extent of her injuries. All she knew for certain was her entire body

ached, and her head throbbed.

Gradually she became aware someone else was in the room.

She turned her head toward the sound, but when she tried to speak,

her mouth was too dry and the words became trapped in her throat.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to move but was stopped by the pain and

found herself unable to hold back the groan that worked its way up

from deep inside her.

Almost immediately, a familiar face came into view as Kate leaned

forward and placed a featherlight kiss on Sara’s brow. When Kate

straightened, she smiled and lightly brushed Sara’s hair off her face.

“Welcome back, sweetie.”

“Thanks, I think,” Sara said hoarsely. She tried to push herself

up and groaned before sinking back onto the bed. “How long was

I out?”

“Keep still,” Kate instructed as she pressed the button on the

control panel which raised the top of the bed. “You haven’t been

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unconscious the whole time. You actually came around a couple of

times. Once in the ER when they brought you in, then again when

they took you down to X-ray. Don’t you remember?”

Her brows furrowed in concentration, and Sara realized she

had lost all sense of time. “I don’t remember,” she said. “Is it still

Wednesday?”

“Yes, and Luke Skywalker is still the president,” Kate said with

a grin.“Smart-ass.”

Kate fussed and adjusted the pillow for her. “You got off lucky.

I thought you told me you weren’t in any danger?”

“I wasn’t…I’m not,” Sara quickly replied. “I think I was

unintended collateral damage. Just happened to be standing too

close to the car when it blew up, I guess.”

Kate looked down at Sara and brushed her fingers across her

cheek. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you being wheeled

into the ER on a gurney,” she said, looking visibly shaken. “You

scared several years of life out of me.”

“Sorry about that. Really I am, but it couldn’t be helped,” Sara

said so dryly Kate’s lips twitched. She shifted slightly, reaching

out and squeezing Kate’s hand. “So what’s the prognosis, Dr.

Montgomery? Will I live?”

Kate smiled weakly in response. “The worst of it is a mild

concussion. But you do have an interesting assortment of colorful

bruises. You’re going to be sore as hell for a few days, but that’s as

bad as it gets.”

“Good to know.” Sara started to laugh. An instant later, she

froze and her heart began hammering painfully in her chest, causing

one of the monitors to beep.

“What is it?” Kate asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit. Kate, what about Hunter? We were talking in the parking

lot when her car exploded, and I’m pretty sure she was hurt. She was

bleeding—I remember seeing blood on her face and neck. Where is

she? Do you know if she’s okay?”

“Is Hunter okay?” Kate smiled, moved slightly to her right, and

indicated with a sweep of her hand. “You tell me.”

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Hostage Moon

As Sara slowly turned her head to the side, she could see a

body sprawled in a chair next to the bed. Hunter looked slightly

singed, her face still smudged with soot and ash. There was some

bruising evident on her right arm, along with a nasty scrape that

looked to be seeping blood, and there was a neat white bandage on

her forehead. Somewhere along the way, she had also exchanged

her torn and burned silk suit for dark blue surgical scrubs.

But she was still the most beautiful sight Sara had seen in a

long time. And the almost fierce sense of protection Hunter inspired

no longer surprised her.

“Is she actually sleeping?” she whispered.

“Closer to unconscious, but yes, she’s asleep.” Kate lowered

her eyes and looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Who would have

guessed she could manage to do it without hanging upside down in

a cave somewhere.”

Sara laughed and immediately grabbed her abdomen and

groaned as various aches and pains made their presence known.

“Well, if you’re trying to tell me she’s Batgirl, then that means I flew

back from London in the Batplane and I guess that was the Batmobile

that blew up.” She peered closer at the long body awkwardly folded

and deathly still in the high-backed chair. How the hell can she sleep

like that? She can’t possibly be comfortable.

“I don’t know about that. All I can tell you is she’s been quite

a handful to deal with.”

“Why is that?”

“When they brought her into the ER with you, she was barely

coherent and could hardly stay upright. To top it off, she initially

didn’t want to let me stitch up the cut on her head or treat the burns

on her shoulder, and she flatly refused to let me admit her. Wouldn’t

listen to a word Tessa had to say either, even though she had to know

being admitted would be the best thing for her. Said she would sign

whatever papers were necessary and she would leave AMA if that’s

what she had to do.”

It all made perfect sense to Sara, but Kate wouldn’t know

finding herself in the emergency department at San Francisco

General would be enough to send Hunter into a panic. Especially

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aJ Quinn

right now, at a time when she was being forced to confront all her

memories of the darkest time in her life.

“She hates hospitals, which makes it understandable she would

be willing to leave against medical advice.” Sara’s eyes narrowed.

“Tessa was here?”

Kate nodded. “Hunter’s bodyguard called her. But she wasn’t

able to influence Hunter either. Since there was nothing we could

do, we simply kept an eye on her until she finally crashed. Which

seemed to take forever, I might add.” Kate paused and raised a brow,

giving Sara a speculative look that made her shift uncomfortably.

“She happened to be in here because she wanted to check on you.

She made it clear she was going to stay by your side until you woke

up. Don’t you find that the least bit curious?”

Sara shook her head. “Natural concern,” she said, watching as

Kate gently lifted Hunter’s wrist and checked her pulse. Kate then

found an extra blanket and draped it over Hunter’s inert body. A

short time later, she was paged to trauma admitting. Uttering a quick

“Catch you later,” she hurried out of the room.

Sara watched her leave and released a long, slow breath. She

ran a trembling hand back through her hair and sighed again. Unable

to go back to sleep, she lay back, content to watch the steady rise

and fall of Hunter’s chest as she slept.

❖

Hunter stirred restlessly in the darkness, her body vibrating

with tension as the dream began. She whimpered softly and tried to

curl up into a protective ball, but the dream still managed to slip past

her defenses and left her helplessly caught in its grasp.

She was back where it had all started, locked in a small, dark

room.

She had lost all sense of time.

When they first brought her to the room, they had kept a hood

over her head, tied tightly around her neck, which prevented her

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Hostage Moon

from seeing anything. During that time, her arms had been tightly

bound at the wrists, and although she had twisted her hands until

her wrists were raw and bleeding, she had been unable to loosen the

hood.No food. No water. They also prevented her from getting

any sleep, so she spent the endless hours pacing the room out.

Fifteen steps by fourteen steps. Near as she could tell, the room

was windowless, cold, and dirty. From the smell, it was probably

in a basement, and had only a battered mattress on the floor for

furnishing. There was a single wooden door representing the only

point of exit, but that was always locked.

By the end of the first day, she knew every nook and cranny,

every crack in the walls. She thought endlessly about escape. Of

finding a way to get past the locked door. But she was too much of a

realist and knew with doomed certainty there was no way out.

With the passage of time, she became tired and cold and hungry.

So very hungry. And she hurt everywhere. A whimper tore from

her throat, but she would not give in to the scream that desperately

sought to escape.

You want food? You want to sleep? Then tell me, what’s it worth

to you, Hunter?

The disembodied voice coming from the darkness made her

stomach clench in fear and anticipation. She hadn’t heard him

unlock the door. Hadn’t heard him come in. How had she missed

that?The first blow, when it came, stunned her. She fell hard to the

floor and curled into a fetal position.

I asked you a question.

Rough hands reached for her, held her, hurt her, striking her

again and again.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

Again and again, she tried to crawl away. Again and again, the

hands stopped her. Again and again, the voice demanded she answer

the question.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

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aJ Quinn

“Hunter—”

“I don’t know.” The words were torn from her throat and

echoed in the room.

“Hunter, it’s just a dream,” the soft voice said. “You’re safe now.”

Hunter awoke with a start, gasping for breath. She felt herself

surface as if from a dive, fighting to break through the barrier

between dreams and reality, aware her heart was beating fiercely,

threatening to explode in her chest.

She blinked several times and ran her tongue slowly over dry

lips while she tried to focus burning and gritty eyes. It was still

dark, and it took a moment longer before she knew for certain she

wasn’t in the old house with Brenner. Instead, she was in the private

hospital room she had arranged for Sara to be moved into when she

had been admitted.

“It was a nightmare, Hunter. It’s all right now. Everything is

all right.”

Dazed, Hunter’s eyes tracked to the figure kneeling beside her.

Gradually, the face came into focus, until Hunter could clearly see

her, her concerned expression readily apparent.

“Sara?”

“Yes. Are you okay?”

“I’m all right.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose between

her thumb and forefinger and tried to clear her head. As usual, the

nightmare had left her with a throbbing headache. “How long was

I asleep?”

“Does it really matter?” Sara asked pragmatically. “You

obviously needed the sleep, and if you know what’s good for you,

you’ll try to get a few more hours. If it’ll help, you might consider

asking for something. We are in a hospital, after all.”

Reaching out slowly with one hand, she gently encircled

Hunter’s wrist. Almost immediately, Hunter’s body went rigid with

tension but Sara didn’t release her hold. After a couple of minutes

during which neither of them spoke, Hunter gradually began to

relax as the nightmare loosened its grip on her and receded into the

shadows. But her breathing remained rapid and shallow, and her

heartbeat danced skittishly.

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Hostage Moon

“Do you want to tell me about the dreams?”

The instant she said it, Sara knew she’d made a mistake. She’d

pushed too fast, too soon. In the span of a few seconds at most,

she watched Hunter’s expression change from distressed to the cool

façade she was quickly beginning to recognize.

“I’m sorry,” she said before Hunter could respond. “I only asked

because I thought it might help you to talk about them. Sometimes it

helps just to say things out loud, and as I’ve said before, I’m a good

listener.”

Hunter nodded noncommittally and closed her eyes. When

she spoke, her voice seemed calmer, almost resigned. “What’s

there to tell? I can’t control the dreams. They’ve been coming more

frequently, and I can’t seem to stop them no matter what techniques

I try.”“Have you tried—”

“Nothing works. And while sedatives may help me sleep, they

don’t stop the dreams. They only make it more difficult to wake up

from the nightmares.”

Sara heard the tension in her voice and stayed where she was,

kneeling on the floor beside Hunter. Without thinking, she pushed

aside an errant wisp of dark hair that had worked its way across

Hunter’s cheek. She continued to watch her, gently stroking her

arm and calming her just by her very presence. When Hunter didn’t

move, didn’t say anything, Sara began to wonder if she had fallen

back asleep. But then she heard her sigh.

“Sara, I’m so sorry you were hurt because of me. You…

those other women…you have to believe I’d undo it all if I could.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “You might want to

reconsider working with me on this. Getting too close will only get

you hurt.”

On so many different levels, Sara thought as she looked at

Hunter’s face, pale and bruised and filled with sorrow. When Hunter

opened her mouth to speak again, Sara silenced her with gentle

fingers pressed against her lips. “Hush for a minute and listen to

me, okay?”

Hunter nodded mutely.

• 139 •

aJ Quinn

Seeing that she wasn’t going to be interrupted, Sara removed

her fingers from Hunter’s mouth, almost immediately missing the

soft, warm contact.

“Please don’t apologize for something you can’t control. None

of this is your doing, Hunter. And as for my getting hurt, I’m the big

bad FBI agent, remember? That means I’m supposed to be faster

than a speeding bullet and able to leap tall buildings.”

Looking remote and introspective, Hunter remained silent.

Finally, she nodded, a smile hinting at the corners of her mouth.

“Ex-FBI agent…which probably means they changed the secret

handshake and took away your secret decoder ring.”

“Okay, ex-FBI agent.” Sara rolled her eyes and grinned. “But

sort of back on the job, even if it’s only temporary, which means

I’m both willing and able to do what it takes to find whoever is

responsible for all of this madness and help bring him to justice. To

do that, I’m going to need your help. So no more apologies and no

more regrets, okay? We just need to be careful.”

“Okay.” Hunter turned her head as if to study Sara more closely.

“You know, for a big bad former FBI agent, you look like a feather

could knock you down right now. Shouldn’t you still be in that bed

over there instead of trying to look after my sorry ass?”

“Probably,” Sara responded, a faint smile on her lips. “I feel

like I’m wading in quicksand and things are getting a little fuzzy

around the edges.” She paused for an instant. “Can I ask you a

personal question?”

Hunter’s smile faded. “I believe I told you before. You can

always ask.”

“It’s not that complicated.” Sara squinted and looked more

closely at Hunter’s face. “How many eyes do you have? How many

should I be seeing?”

“Two. Just two.”

“Damn. Wrong answer.”

“It’s probably the concussion.” Hunter raised her eyes to Sara’s

face. “How about I help you get back into bed?”

“Kate said it’s just a mild concussion,” Sara grumbled. She

tried to ignore the pounding in her head but found it was difficult to

• 140 •

Hostage Moon

ignore the heat in Hunter’s gaze. Relenting, she gave a slight nod.

“But going back to bed sounds like a plan.”

She watched Hunter rise to her feet and allowed her to slip an

arm around her waist for support as she slowly stood up. Fighting

the vertigo that was brought on by the movement, she let out a low

groan and felt her knees turn to water.

Hunter immediately stopped and tightened her grip. She

managed through sheer force of will to keep both of them upright

and was grateful they didn’t end up on the floor. Keenly focused on

Sara’s face, she waited a few seconds before saying, “Let me know

when you’re okay to move.”

Sara blinked and nodded. Turning her head toward Hunter, she

managed a weak smile and indicated the hospital bed that suddenly

seemed very far away. “Shall we try that again?”

Moving slowly, Hunter held Sara tightly and helped her back

into bed. As Sara’s head hit the pillow, the two women regarded

each other. “You know, I usually require a date of some sort before

letting a woman take me to bed,” Sara murmured as she sank deeper

into the bed. “Even a gorgeous one.”

Sara was asleep before Hunter finished pulling a blanket up

over her. She watched her a moment longer as an unguarded smile

curved her lips.

❖

The psychiatry floor was relatively quiet as Hunter stepped

off the elevator and made her way down the hall. It was still too

early for morning rounds, but she knew from experience the chief of

psychiatry would already be in her office. She knocked softly then

opened the door as a warm and vibrant voice called out enter.

Dr. Lindsay Carson’s office was a reflection of the woman

herself—classy and soothing. She was a petite woman with short

dark hair threaded with silver framing delicate features. She also

had remarkable dark-chocolate eyes that reflected an equal mix of

compassion, humor, and a love of life.

• 141 •

aJ Quinn

Looking in, Hunter could see Lindsay’s face register first

surprise and then genuine pleasure as she opened the door and

stepped into view. Lindsay quickly pushed her large leather chair

away from her desk and stood up, her smile widening as she moved

quickly toward her visitor.

“I don’t see you for more than—what’s it been now? Six…

seven months? And now look at you,” she admonished gently as

she brushed Hunter’s hair back and touched the bandage on her

forehead. “What have you done to yourself this time?”

When Lindsay looked at her and winced with sympathy, Hunter

decided she probably looked worse than she felt. That was saying

something, since the lightweight cotton scrubs she was wearing felt

heavy on her bruised body.

“I forgot to duck and cover,” she said wryly.

Lindsay’s eyes narrowed briefly on the surgical scrubs. “Did

they give you something for the pain?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I can tell by the way you’re moving that you’re hurting. When

did you last take something?”

“A while ago,” Hunter responded vaguely, glancing away

from Lindsay’s patient gaze for an instant before looking back and

smothering a sigh. “Yesterday afternoon in the ER. You know I

don’t like taking meds. They muddle my brain so I can’t think.”

Lindsay nodded. “All right. But at least take some aspirin. It’ll

give you some relief and help with the inflammation.”

Her smile widened as she pulled Hunter into a fierce embrace.

“It’s so good to have you home, Hunter. If it’s at all possible, you’ve

gotten more beautiful in the last few months. But you look tired.

Now come and sit down. Tell me what you’ve been up to and why

you’re showing up at my office door at six thirty in the morning

looking like one of my residents after a rough night in the emergency

department.”

With an arm tucked around Hunter’s waist, Lindsay guided

her to a pair of comfortable wing chairs that sat by the window,

choosing one while motioning for Hunter to take the other. “You’ve

not been sleeping,” Lindsay noted with some concern.

• 142 •

Hostage Moon

“I’m fine, don’t fuss.”

Lindsay laughed. “Sorry. Can’t help it—it comes with the

territory, and with you in particular, it seems to be a constant refrain.

But for now, I’ll leave it alone. I get the distinct impression this isn’t

a social visit, so talk to me. Tell me, how can I help?”

Hunter let herself sink into the deep, comfortable cushion and

leaned her head against the back of the chair. She gathered a breath

and made a conscious effort to keep her voice slow and easy.

“I need to ask you a question,” she began. “But I don’t want to

hurt or insult you, and I’m afraid I will end up doing both.”

Lindsay reached out, took Hunter’s right hand in both of hers,

and squeezed reassuringly. “Hunter, we’ve known each other for

almost ten years, and you should know by now, without my telling

you, that you are one of my favorite people. I should think you

would also know I can handle one of your direct questions without

taking offense. Go ahead. Ask your question.”

“I need to know—” Hunter hesitated and, in an uncharacteristic

move that was likely to raise Lindsay’s level of concern, averted

her gaze briefly before starting again. “I need to know if you shared

what we talked about during our sessions with anyone.”

Obviously baffled, Lindsay released Hunter’s hand and sat

back. “Hunter?”

“You once told me anything I said to you would stay here.”

Hunter indicated the elegant office with a hand gesture. “That our

conversations would stay just between us.”

“Of course. What’s going on, Hunter? I thought we moved past

trust issues a long time ago. What’s happened to make you question

it now?”

Hunter didn’t respond immediately. When she finally spoke, it

was tentative as she searched for the words. “There’s someone out

there who knows far too much…I don’t know, maybe everything.

About things I’ve talked about only with you.”

Lindsay leaned forward. “Hunter—” she started to say, but

Hunter stopped her.

“Please, just listen for a moment,” she managed. “All I know

is he’s replicating what happened ten years ago in order to kill

• 143 •

aJ Quinn

women. Five so far. Women whose only mistake is they looked

enough like me to catch his attention. I know he’s not finished yet.

And I know—I know when he’s finished practicing with them, he’s

coming after me. I have to stop him before he does that. I have to

stop him before he kills someone else.”

“Why aren’t the authorities dealing with this? The police, the

FBI?” Lindsay asked.

“They are.” Hunter looked up and met Lindsay’s eyes, feeling

vulnerable and unsure of herself. “The FBI came to see me in

London. After the last murder. The killer…the killer left a note

addressed to me at the crime scene. The note said he wanted me to

come home.”

She felt Lindsay’s eyes on her face, searching for answers. And

then she heard her sigh and felt her gentle touch on her hand. And

the soft question. “What you’re telling me is bad enough. And that’s

starting to frighten me, so I need to know. What are you not telling

me?”Hunter stood and began pacing the length of the office, arms

folded across her chest. And then slowly she stopped and turned to

face Lindsay.

“He knows too much—” A muscle in Hunter’s jaw twitched as

memories flashed and shattered in her mind. Her hands shook as she

forced herself to slow down and continue. “And he’s using what he

knows. He’s using his knowledge of what happened to me…what

Brenner did to me…to murder his victims.”

“What do you mean?”

“All of his victims shot themselves.” Hunter drew a deep,

shuddering breath. “Damn it, Linds, he’s playing Brenner’s damned

game with them, except so far, they’ve all lost. So far, I’m the only

one who’s managed to walk away. But this person—whoever he

is—he wants to change that.”

Lindsay stood and gathered Hunter into her arms. “Shh, it’s

okay, Hunter. I’ve got you,” she said gently. “We’re not going to let

him hurt you. I promise.”

• 144 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR FouRteen

Sara finished toweling her hair as she stepped back into

her hospital room. She felt much better after the shower,

which had removed the lingering traces of smoke and eased some

of the stiffness in her body. Dropping the towel on the chair, she

immediately noticed the stack of neatly folded clothes at the foot of

the bed.

Yes. Clean jeans and a polo shirt. At least she wouldn’t be

going home wearing the faded blue hospital gown she currently had

on, she thought with a grin. Thank you, Kate.

“A tall redhead dropped them off. She said to tell you she’d be

waiting downstairs with a limo to take you wherever you want to go,

whenever they decide to release you.”

Sara turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Standing in

the doorway was a petite, forty-something brunette wearing a white

lab coat over a cream-colored silk blouse and black slacks. Clipped

to her left breast pocket was a plastic hospital ID card identifying

her as Dr. L. Carson.

“Sorry, I was expecting Dr. Montgomery.” Sara smiled

uncertainly. “Can I help you?”

“If you mean Kate Montgomery, I saw her heading into the OR

with an MVA emergency case about an hour ago. I wouldn’t count

on seeing her for at least two or three more hours. I’m here because

a mutual acquaintance asked if I would stop by and talk to you. I’m

Lindsay Carson.”

• 145 •

aJ Quinn

“Sara Wilder.” Sara shook the doctor’s hand and frowned in

confusion. “We have a mutual acquaintance?”

“Hunter Roswell,” Lindsay responded with a warm smile.

Intrigued, Sara quickly realized who this had to be. “You’re

Hunter’s safe haven.”

Lindsay laughed with delight. “I haven’t heard that term in a

long, long time. You must know Hunter quite well if she told you

about that.”

“Not really. I mean I’ve not known her for very long.” Along

with being her safe haven, Hunter had also described Lindsay

Carson as a good friend, and Sara did not want the doctor to be

under any misconception.

“Well, I’d have to say ‘very long’ is a relative term,” Lindsay

said. “You’ve obviously known Hunter long enough if she told you I

was her safe haven. And you must have breached some of her walls

since she’s asked me to come talk to you.”

“You’ve seen Hunter?” Sara stood stiffly and could feel a blush

rising on her face. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she

must have done so almost immediately after Hunter had helped her

get back into bed. Nor could she shake the sense of unease she’d

been feeling since awakening to find Hunter gone. “When did you

see her? Was she okay?”

Lindsay nodded reassuringly. “She came to see me early this

morning. As to how she was, I’d say that’s a matter for some debate.

By that I mean she was sporting an assortment of relatively fresh

bruises, stitches, and burns. She also seems to have lost some weight

she could ill afford to lose over the past few months.”

She paused and smiled as she tilted her head to one side. “This,

of course, made me wonder what she’d gotten herself into this time.

Then she told me a tale about an exploding car and a stalker-serial

killer. And then she told me about you, how you are trying to help

her figure out the identity of the person stalking her so he can be

stopped.”

“That’s certainly my intention. But I believe Hunter is finding

it to be a rather painful process.”

• 146 •

Hostage Moon

“That would explain why she asked me to come talk to you,”

Lindsay said gently. “If you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you get

dressed, and we’ll go to the cafeteria and have some coffee while we

talk. In the meantime, I’ll let the nurses’ station know where you’re

going to be in case anyone comes looking for you.”

Sara agreed and fifteen minutes later, they went through the

cafeteria line and took their coffees to a small unoccupied table in a

relatively quiet corner.

“Hunter tells me you’re a psychologist as well as former FBI.

How much do you know about what happened to her ten years ago?”

Lindsay began without preamble.

“Right to the point,” Sara commented dryly. “I would have to

say my knowledge is limited.”

“How limited?”

“I know the basics. I know Hunter was kidnapped by Kyle

Brenner and held for three weeks, and her father was killed while

trying to rescue her. But I’ve no knowledge of what Brenner did

to her during the three weeks he held her captive. I’ve been told

Hunter’s family made sure no details were ever leaked. Not even

during Brenner’s trial.” Sara paused and then added, “That’s pretty

much what I know.”

Lindsay looked quizzically across the table at Sara. “Considering

who Michael Roswell was and the circumstances surrounding his

death, I would have thought the FBI would have a rather extensive

file on the subject.”

“They probably do.” Sara shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t

read it.”

“Why not?”

There was an awkward silence. Sara stared at the table and

reminded herself that Lindsay Carson was not only Hunter’s friend,

she was also a highly regarded psychiatrist. She cleared her throat

and lifted her chin. “For some reason, my not reading her file seems

important to Hunter.”

Lindsay’s warm chocolate eyes gentled. “Good enough reason,”

she said. “And what has Hunter told you?”

• 147 •

aJ Quinn

“Not a lot.” Sara leaned back in her seat as she recalled her

conversation with Hunter during the flight from London. “She

described what happened to her as being the defining moment in

terms of who she is but admits she has difficulty talking about

it. She also mentioned she has issues talking to psychiatrists and

psychologists, other than you.”

“And now you,” Lindsay added, sounding pleased.

“And now me,” Sara agreed.

Lindsay nodded slowly. “You should know there have been

many times when I have cursed Patrick Roswell. Regardless of

intentions, his arrogance and highhanded tactics in dealing with

Hunter after her father was killed caused a lot of damage and left a

lot of residual scars. But that’s for another time.”

Dark brows creased in thought. “Hunter explained her

connection with her stalker is somehow tied to what happened to

her ten years ago. And she recognizes that no matter how painful it

might be, opening up about what happened will be critical to your

being able to identify him before he kills someone else. But she’s

not yet able to talk to you about what happened, and right now, there

are some things you need to know. Let me tell you a story.”

Now that she had Sara’s undivided attention, Lindsay seemed

uncertain where to start. After a protracted silence, she looked up

and cleared her throat. “On the night Michael Roswell was killed,

Hunter was brought into the emergency department conscious and

nonresponsive. And in less time than it took to complete morning

rounds several hours later, she was the talk of the hospital.”

“Why is that?”

Lindsay leaned forward. “It helps if you understand that

hospitals are filled with every kind of human drama—birth, death,

and everything in between. They are also notorious for gossip. And

Hunter’s situation might well have been scripted in Hollywood.

Stop and think about it. The beautiful, wealthy, young kidnap

victim. The gun battle between the authorities and the kidnappers.

And the kidnap victim’s father tragically killed while saving his

only child.”

Sara nodded thoughtfully. “I never thought of it like that.”

• 148 •

Hostage Moon

“It didn’t help that within minutes of her being brought here,

there was a media scrum on the front lawn which lasted for days,

and at times, it seemed as if there were more Secret Service and FBI

agents in the hospital than there were medical personnel.”

Lindsay grew quiet. After what seemed to Sara like a long

stretch of silence, she sighed, and with her coffee cup cradled in her

hands, she sat back in her chair.

“A lot of what I’m about to tell you isn’t public knowledge,”

she began again. “After her father was killed, Hunter’s mother fell

apart completely. It was totally understandable. Marlena had just

spent three weeks under enormous pressure trying to cope with

Hunter’s kidnapping when she suddenly lost the love of her life and

her only child was hospitalized in critical condition. It all proved

too much and left her in no shape to deal with things when Patrick

Roswell, with all his political clout, took control, determined to fix

Hunter.”

“Funny, that’s exactly the term Hunter used,” Sara mused.

“Not really surprising. Patrick Roswell can be quite overbearing

at the best of times, and in this particular situation, he pulled out

all the stops. He used his considerable resources and influence and

brought in every renowned specialist in the country to treat Hunter.”

Lindsay sat up straighter. “By the time I actually met her, Hunter

had been in the hospital for just over two weeks. During that time,

she had been examined and treated by an endless array of medical

practitioners—neurologists, orthopedic surgeons, ophthalmologists,

and psychiatrists, as well as a number of physiotherapists.”

Sara winced as she tried to imagine what it must have been

like. “How did Hunter react to all of that? Somehow, I can’t imagine

her not objecting.”

“Initially she was all but catatonic, and I’m not sure how much

she was aware of the circus surrounding her. Things didn’t get really

bad until she actually started to improve. That was when it hit her

that her father was really dead and she had missed his funeral.”

“Oh hell. I didn’t know that.” Sara felt empathetic pain flare

deep within her. “What did she do?”

• 149 •

aJ Quinn

“She shut down. She stopped communicating with everyone,

and it became a kind of power struggle. The more the experts

pressured her to talk to them, the more she refused and the more out

of control things became. Two weeks into her hospitalization, she was

barely eating or sleeping, was suffering from night terrors, and began

exhibiting signs of claustrophobia. But no one picked up on it.”

“Why not?”

Lindsay shrugged. “I suppose, in part, because Hunter wasn’t

telling anyone anything. The nursing staff was too busy trying to

deal with the FBI, the Secret Service, the media, and all the medical

specialists that had been brought in, and unfortunately, no one

noticed when Hunter stopped taking her meds and started sneaking

up to the roof at night.”

Lindsay’s pager went off at that moment, and their conversation

was put on hold while she left the table to respond.

While she waited, Sara stretched out her bruised and aching

body and nursed her coffee. She let her thoughts drift back to Hunter.

Tried to sort out and define her feelings. She recognized that she

needed only to think her name and emotions tumbled forth, leaving

her struggling to contain an undeniable and growing attraction.

Images of hot, uninhibited sex came immediately to mind. But

just as quickly came the realization that there was more drawing

her to Hunter than a suddenly reawakened libido. But what did that

mean?She knew Hunter was bright, sensitive, funny, caring. She knew

she liked her—a lot—and wanted to get to know her even better.

She could see them developing a real friendship. The problem—the

temptation—was if she allowed herself to think about it, she could

see them developing so much more.

With a sigh, she acknowledged she was quickly drifting into

dangerous waters, and sooner rather than later, she would have to

deal with that. But for now, there was only one thing she knew with

absolute certainty. She was going to do whatever it took to help

Hunter get through this.

She was still lost in thought a few minutes later when Lindsay

returned.

• 150 •

Hostage Moon

“Sorry about that. Sometimes residents just need to be

reassured.” She frowned and tilted her head as she looked at Sara.

“Where was I?”

“The roof?”

“Right…the roof. On one particular night, as luck would have

it, Hunter wasn’t the only one seeking fresh air and open spaces on

the roof. I saw her almost immediately when I went up and knew

who she was, of course. But I quickly ascertained she had no intent

to harm herself and figured she could use a break, so I let her be.”

“Did she know you saw her?”

“Oh yes, she knew. We actually made eye contact. And when

I didn’t immediately report her presence to her watchers, she gave

me a little nod and seemed to relax. A short while later, I was about

to head back down when I noticed she had fallen asleep.” Lindsay

closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t know why I decided to stay close. I

think I just wanted to make sure she would be okay.”

“What happened?” Sara prodded gently.

“She scared me half to death when she suddenly started to

scream. By the time I got to her, she was deep in the throes of some

hellish nightmare and was oblivious to her surroundings. I was

terrified she would hurt herself. I grabbed her and held on until she

was calm enough that I could get her back down to her room. From

there, it was like a dam had burst, and I spent the better part of that

night listening to a battered and broken teenager try to talk about

things no one should ever have to experience.

“In the morning, the chief pulled me aside just as we were

about to begin rounds and told me Patrick Roswell wanted to talk

to me.” Lindsay’s lips quirked into a small grin at the memory. “I

figured he had heard I had talked to Hunter without his permission,

and I was about to lose my job.”

“But obviously, that turned out not to be the case.”

“Indeed.” Lindsay’s smile broadened. “Instead, it turned out

Patrick Roswell’s granddaughter had started communicating again.

With her first words, she demanded to see her grandfather and told

him, in no uncertain terms, not to bother arranging for any more

specialists because she would refuse to see them. And then she told

• 151 •

aJ Quinn

him Lindsay Carson—a doctor he had never heard of—was the only

doctor she was willing to see.”

“That must have gone over well,” Sara said. Lindsay laughed

and some of the tension dissipated. But the respite lasted only for

the time it took Lindsay to resume her story.

“To say Patrick Roswell was not a happy man would be a gross

understatement. He threatened Hunter with a competency hearing.

Thankfully, that seemed to energize Marlena, and she responded

with a threat of her own. She told Patrick if he didn’t leave Hunter

alone, she would guarantee he would never see his only grandchild

again.”

Sara raised both eyebrows. “From what I’ve read and heard

about him, I can’t imagine Senator Roswell backing down.”

“Marlena left him with very little choice.” Lindsay paused

and took a deep breath. “Over the next several days, Hunter started

talking to me about what had happened to her. And considering

how she looked when she was admitted—the extent of her physical

injuries—I expected it to be bad. But somehow, it was worse.”

Sara found herself bracing as if in anticipation of a physical

blow. “What did Brenner do to her?” she asked in a hollow tone.

“Hunter said the first few days following her kidnapping

were all about breaking her psychologically. This was apparently

something Brenner had been studying for some time. They kept her

awake, cold, hungry, and blindfolded, and subjected her to random

physical attacks.”

Lindsay explained most of the physical trauma Hunter had

suffered happened during those first few days. “She said they would

always ask her the same question—‘What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

You want to eat? Sleep? What’s it worth to you?’ The only problem

was she didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know what they

wanted to hear.”

Closing her eyes, Lindsay paused once again. “I’m sorry,” she

said softly. “You need to understand that, at seventeen, Hunter was

this unbelievably gifted, beautiful young woman with no frame of

reference for the evil she had encountered.”

• 152 •

Hostage Moon

Sara considered Lindsay’s choice of words. “Do you believe in

evil, Doctor?”

“Not previously,” Lindsay answered without hesitation. “But

after listening to Hunter describe what was done to her? Yes.

Without question.”

Watching her, Sara realized the intervening years had blurred

and ultimately erased the lines that denoted the doctor-patient

relationship. Lindsay and Hunter had become close. Good friends.

Recognizing just how difficult this was for the psychiatrist, Sara laid

a comforting hand over Lindsay’s, squeezed it briefly, and waited

for her to continue.

“I’m not going to go into great detail about what was done to

Hunter. It’s not relevant to the point at hand. But when we’re done

here, Hunter authorized me to give you copies of the notes from my

sessions with her. What’s important for you to know is after they

figured they’d softened her up enough, Brenner introduced Hunter

to what she called his game.”

Something in Lindsay’s voice had Sara’s heart feeling like it

was going to pound right out of her chest. “Brenner’s game?”

Lindsay nodded. “According to Hunter, Brenner handed her a

revolver loaded with only one bullet and gave her the opportunity to

gamble for favors. Brenner’s game was his own version of Russian

roulette. One pull of the trigger—one favor earned. And if she didn’t

feel like playing, his boys simply beat her until she agreed to play.

She ended up with two facial fractures, a concussion, a separated

shoulder, and most of her ribs broken before it was all over.”

Oh God. A strangled sound escaped Sara’s throat, and she

was afraid she was going to be sick. She looked across the table at

Lindsay, the horror she felt undoubtedly reflected in her face, in her

eyes. And then it hit her—the reason Lindsay was telling her this

particular story. More importantly, the reason Hunter wanted her to

know.“The stalker. He knows this is what Brenner did to her,” she

said flatly. “That’s why all the victims have shot themselves. He’s

replicating Brenner’s game.”

“Yes.”

• 153 •

aJ Quinn

“And Hunter knows this.” It was all making a horrible kind of

sense. “That’s why she went to see Brenner yesterday. She wanted

to know if he had told anyone about what happened in that house ten

years ago. He told her he hadn’t.”

“Did you believe him?”

Sara didn’t have to give the question any thought. “Actually,

yes. I did.”

“It would seem Hunter believed him as well,” Lindsay said.

“That’s why she came to see me earlier this morning. She wanted

to know if I had shared any part of what she told me with anyone.”

“And had you?”

“No. Not before today. At least not directly.” Her voice trailed

off. “But this is a hospital, Sara, and at the time, everyone knew I

was working with Hunter. Initially I saw her daily on an in-patient

basis. But I continued to work with her for some time after she was

released. Even when she took off for Europe. She would phone me

from wherever she happened to be at the moment, and we would

talk until she could get to sleep. If anyone really wanted to know

what we talked about, it would have been relatively easy to find

out.”“How?”

Lindsay tugged on the sleeves of her lab coat. “Sadly, medical

files can be accessed. Computer records can be hacked. And before

you ask, you need to know there are over five thousand attending

physicians, residents, interns, nurses, healthcare workers, and other

professionals working here. And they serve an endless stream of

people on a daily basis—both in-patients and out-patients. That

leaves a lot of potential suspects.”

“Maybe,” Sara responded thoughtfully. “But it narrows the

initial point of contact between Hunter and her stalker to a specific

place and time. That gives us somewhere to start, which is more

than we had an hour ago.”

“Even if you had the ability to narrow it down to anyone who

was at the hospital during the nearly four weeks Hunter was a

patient, do you have any idea how many people that might be?”

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“No,” Sara said solemnly before flashing a smile. “But with

your help, we can start by eliminating anyone who doesn’t match

the profile we’ve developed. And maybe you can think back and see

if anyone stands out in your mind. Someone who maybe showed a

little too much interest in Hunter. Maybe asked too many questions

or watched her a little too closely.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But you need to understand I won’t do

anything that will put Hunter in greater jeopardy than she is already.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.”

“Actually,” Lindsay said with a sigh, “the problem is knowing

Hunter as I do, I can tell you she’s going to be doing her own search

and may try to draw the stalker out on her own. Get in his line of

sight and make him turn to her before he’s ready. That way, another

woman won’t be forced to play the game in her place.”

Sara felt her chest tighten painfully, and her heart skipped a

beat. “What do you mean before he’s ready?”

“Hunter believes the killer won’t come after her until the

full moon in October. That means there’s still another woman out

there who doesn’t know she’s about to become a killer’s target for

September.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he wait until October when

Hunter’s home now, just like he wanted?”

“To understand, you have to know lunar folklore,” Lindsay

said. “You’re dealing with a killer who is following a lunar cycle,

and in myth and folklore, each full moon is given a name.”

“Shit…that’s right…and October’s moon is known as the

blood moon.”

“Indeed. The name is said to have been used by Native

Americans as they tracked and killed their prey by autumn

moonlight,” Lindsay said. “But the full moon in October is also

known as Hunter’s Moon. And I happen to agree with Hunter. Even

if it wasn’t part of his original plan, symbolically, October’s full

moon is too perfect for him to pass up.”

Unhappily, Sara concurred. “But I will tell you this. Whether

he comes after her now or in October, Hunter is not about to become

his sixth—or seventh—victim. Because whoever is stalking her will

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not only have to get through Hunter’s own security team, he will

also have to get through me.”

Lindsay stared at Sara. “Why? I understand from Hunter you

are no longer with the FBI. Why are you willing to go to the mat for

Hunter?”

Sara waited just a heartbeat before shrugging. “Why doesn’t

matter. The only thing that’s important right now is figuring out

how.”

• 156 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR FiFteen

The late afternoon sun was sinking fast on the horizon, its

fading light brushing the pale walls of Hunter’s office with

muted shades of gold. As the light slashed across the room, Hunter

looked at the chaos that surrounded her and groaned. Reaching for

the bottle of water on the desk, she took a sip as she sent the final

report to print. She then swiveled her chair toward the window,

leaned back, and stared at the dying sun.

Somehow the day had gotten away from her, and now her eyes

burned and her head ached from studying the endless streams of

data. She closed her eyes for just a moment, let exhaustion creep

in, and allowed her mind to wander. There was so much she didn’t

know. So many how and why questions without answers and so

many possible places to look for them. She let her mind drift back

over the long-ago events, wondered what details lay in the rubble

that might provide direction to her search.

The parameters, as she saw them, were simple enough. She

had been brought to the trauma center at San Francisco General on

October third almost ten years earlier and had been released on the

morning of the twenty-ninth. Sometime during that twenty-seven

day window, the first encounter with her stalker had occurred.

The challenge was he could have been anyone. An attending

physician, a resident, or an intern. Or he could just as easily have

been an EMT, a nurse, an orderly, or a janitor. In fact, she realized

dejectedly, he could simply have been one of the countless people

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who had been a patient or a visitor to the hospital during that time

period. But it made the most sense that he was an employee, if for

no other reason than the heightened security provided by the FBI,

SFPD, and Secret Service, which had ensured she had no interactions

with other patients or visitors.

She would focus on hospital employees. She would trust the

profile the FBI had developed was accurate and begin to eliminate

anyone who didn’t fit. She would look for a single male, currently in

his late twenties to early forties and living in the Bay Area. Should

be simple enough. It’s like a puzzle. You find the pieces, you fit them

together, and you get the answer.

Feeling the solitude of the office pressing in on her, Hunter got

up, stretched, and crossed the room to the window. Turning her back

on the humming computer, the mess of files scattered on the desk,

and the continuous stream of documents collating on the printer, she

rested her forehead against the cool glass and rubbed the back of her

neck, as the toll of the past week washed over her in waves.

She was feeling both listless and unnaturally calm. She knew

she’d not been eating or sleeping much, and if her reflection in the

window was any indication, it showed. Particularly in the shadows

beneath her eyes which stood out starkly against the paleness of her

face. The only consolation was she was making progress. Wrapping

her arms securely around herself, she stood motionless and stared

out the window, her gaze following a sailboat tacking against the

wind as it made its way across the bay.

She wasn’t certain how long she remained staring out at the bay

before she recognized she was no longer alone. Tessa stood in the

doorway to her office, her reflection staring back at her in the glass.

Hunter didn’t want to see the look of compassion that darkened her

eyes. And yet, as she looked at her reflection—at once so familiar

and so dear to her—she couldn’t help but recall the girl she had met

at Oxford.

The Brits had probably found it amusing to pair the two

disparate Americans as roommates. The gifted young prodigy from

California working on her second PhD, and the brash and cocky

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New Yorker who wanted to see and experience everything the world

had to offer. It certainly shouldn’t have worked.

But instead of a disaster, it had been the start of an amazing

and enduring friendship. It was Tessa who had willingly followed

her lead as they backpacked through Europe. Tessa who had walked

away from the partnership track at the law firm she had joined to

come aboard the fledgling Roswell Group. Tessa who had taught her

the infinite wonders of loving a woman.

“Hey,” Tessa said as she stepped into the room. “Are you

okay?”

Hunter sighed. “Yes. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Her voice was soft with exhaustion and strain.

There was a pause the length of a heartbeat before Tessa

responded. “Maybe because it’s late and everyone else wants to call

it a day, but you’re oblivious to what’s going on around you,” she

said, clearly watching Hunter’s face reflected in the glass.

“I didn’t ask anyone to stay here with me.”

“I know you didn’t, but Jesus, look at you.” Tessa’s face

softened for the briefest moment and she expelled a long sigh. “Your

team is here because they’re concerned about you, just as I am.”

“I don’t need anyone worrying about me. I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” Tessa snapped back. “That’s why you’re

losing weight and there are shadows under your eyes. It doesn’t

look like you’ve eaten or slept in days. Why would anyone be

concerned?”

Hunter’s anger rose and evaporated in the span of the same

heartbeat. Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,

Tessa. It’s just been a long day. Can we start over?” She lowered

her voice to an almost-whisper then arched both brows. “Why are

you still here? I thought you had a hot date tonight with a lovely

doctor?”

Tessa tilted her head in silent acknowledgment and waved the

file in her hands before dropping it on Hunter’s desk. “I wanted to

finish reviewing the new casino contract before I left. It took longer

than I expected, and I lost all track of time. But that shouldn’t come

as a surprise considering Channing drafted it. My God, but that man

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can go on.” She sighed melodramatically, and then looked at Hunter.

“What about you? What have you been working on?”

“Accessing the hospital database.” Hunter grinned at the pained

look Tessa gave her. “The first cut’s not quite finished, but the last

time I checked it had well over a thousand possibilities.”

“Jesus.” Tessa looked suitably overwhelmed. “Do you have a

way of narrowing the search any further?”

“Sort of. I mean, this is just a preliminary list of people who

were employed at the hospital ten years ago who would match the

profile today. Once the initial cut is complete, I plan on looking

closer at anyone associated with the ER, psychiatry, and neurology

that fits the profile. Those would be the departments I had the

most interactions with at the time, so they present the most likely

possibilities. I know it’s not much, but at least it gives us a place to

start.”Tessa flashed a wicked-looking grin. “For good measure,

you should also run the list of specialists your grandfather Patrick

brought in for consults.”

“I doubt any of them would fit the profile in terms of age,”

Hunter responded dryly. “In fact, knowing my grandfather, I’m

surprised any of them were still practicing medicine ten years

ago. After all, he couldn’t have his only granddaughter treated by

someone who was…oh, I don’t know… young.”

“God forbid.” Tessa laughed and then glanced at her watch.

“Oh shit. Look at the time. Are you hungry? I bet you haven’t eaten

anything all day.”

Hunter shrugged and shook her head. She hadn’t had dinner

and couldn’t remember lunch. In fact, she couldn’t remember having

anything all day other than coffee, something that was becoming

habitual.

Tessa slipped her arm around Hunter’s shoulders. “Come on

then, you need something to eat. I was supposed to meet Kate at

Vertigo and I’m late.” Tessa began to gently coax Hunter in the

direction of the door. “If you come with me, you’ll be able to catch

up with what we’ve done at the club over the last six months and,

more importantly, distract Kate from the fact that I’m late again.”

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Hostage Moon

Hunter sighed and stopped their forward motion. “Tessa, you

know normally I would love to go with you, and I do want to see

how the club looks with all the work that’s been done. But today has

been a pretty long day—”

“That feels like it’s already lasted a week,” Tessa deadpanned,

finishing for her.

“Yeah, something like that.” Hunter grinned tiredly. “I was

really looking forward to some downtime. Can I take a rain check?”

“You can always have a rain check.” Tessa’s eyes softened as

she framed Hunter’s face between her hands. “But I know this face.

I know when you’ve pushed yourself past the point of exhaustion.

I know when you’re sad or unhappy. I know when something’s got

you teetering on the edge. And right now your face is telling me you

really need to go out and have a little fun.”

Hunter raised one eyebrow. “Really? My face told you all that?”

“Yes, really. Just answer one question for me. When was the

last time you went out just for fun and cut loose?”

“Um…my second-to-last night in London. I believe the story

and photos appeared in the Tattler.”

“The tennis player. Right. Okay, I concede.” Tessa laughed.

“But I still think you need to come out with me.”

Something in her tone had Hunter’s eyes narrowing with

suspicion. “Why is that?”

Tessa shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe because Kate’s bringing

a friend—”

“Damn it, Tessa. I’m really not interested,” Hunter said through

gritted teeth. “Jesus, isn’t my life already complicated enough

without you and Kate trying to fix me up with someone?”

“Not even if it’s with Sara?” Tessa asked before adding softly,

“Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll call Kate and put her off. But

be honest with me, and more importantly be honest with yourself.

Because I saw the way you were looking at Sara in the hospital. And

just for the record, I think it’s about time, my friend.”

Feeling inexplicably panicked, Hunter turned toward Tessa but

remained silent. When did I lose control over my life? Unsure what

to do with her hands, she thrust them into her pockets.

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aJ Quinn

There was no disguising Tessa’s look of triumph. Picking up

Hunter’s jacket from the back of the chair, she held it out for her.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” she said. “Let’s go eat and have a little fun.”

❖

Club Vertigo was an old converted warehouse. A once-

dilapidated brick building, it had been restored from the ground up

and now housed one of the area’s hottest nightspots. “Good luck

getting in,” the cab driver said with cheerful pessimism as Kate and

Sara exited the vehicle.

But in spite of a queue wrapped partway around the building,

Kate and Sara were quickly ushered in by the black-clad doorman.

Once inside, a similarly attired hostess took over. Flashing a

welcoming smile, she led them past the dinner crowd waiting at the

bar for a second-floor table to clear. With friendly efficiency, they

were ushered up the stairs to a booth.

Sara looked at Kate in surprise.

“Trust me, it’s not whatever you may be thinking,” Kate said

with a laugh. “Tessa’s one of the owners, and we’ve been here a

number of times—both while they were doing renovations and since

the club opened. A lot of the staff know me.”

“I thought Tessa was the chief legal counsel at Roswell.”

“She is,” Kate replied. “She and Hunter bought this place

about a year ago and totally gutted it. They had a soft opening

about a month ago, in part because Hunter was away. The grand

opening is planned for a couple of weeks from now to coincide with

Tessa’s birthday. It’s by invitation only, and they’ve got Darcy Cole

headlining the evening’s entertainment. Wanna come?”

“Absolutely. I caught her as part of a benefit concert series in

Central Park last summer. I thought she was amazing,” Sara replied,

then frowned as she thought about what Kate had just said. “Wait a

minute. Are you suggesting Hunter was already scheduled to return

for the grand opening?”

“Without a doubt. Tessa told me there was no way Hunter

would miss her birthday. But if you’re wondering whether whoever

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is stalking Hunter knew she was coming back, I would have to say

no. My understanding is it’s a personal thing, not something that

would be widely known. Apparently, it’s got something to do with

keeping an old promise.”

Kate’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh Christ. You don’t suppose

they made some stupid schoolgirl promise about marrying each

other if they were both still single by the time Tessa turned thirty,

do you?”

Sara laughed and shook her head. “Somehow, I can’t picture

it.” “That’s because you haven’t seen them together.” Kate’s voice

held a slight edge. “There’s this…this chemistry between them. It

sizzles. In fact, I’m pretty sure they used to be lovers.”

Sara heard the uncertainty in Kate’s voice and kept her tone

light. “If that’s true, I would focus on the used-to-be part. I mean,

it’s not as if you were celibate before you met Tessa,” she chided

gently and then paused as a waiter approached.

“Buenas noches, Katarina…señorita,” the waiter said as chilled

champagne in a bucket appeared at their side and four glasses were

placed on the table, reflecting the candlelight. “Compliments of the

house.”

Sara’s gaze narrowed as she looked from the glasses to Kate.

“Katarina? Do you want to tell me why you were insistent on having

a third wheel tagging along this evening?” She stared meaningfully

at the four glasses. “Or is there something else you were meaning to

tell me, and it just slipped your mind?”

Whatever Kate said as she responded was lost.

In the midst of the noise, chatter, people, and music that made

up the ambient sounds of the restaurant, the room suddenly seemed

to fall silent as Sara caught sight of the two women approaching

their table. Tessa nonchalantly sauntering through the room, Hunter

slightly behind her, strolling casually, one hand tucked in her pocket.

Both women looked relaxed and absolutely comfortable in

their surroundings, in their own skin. They were obviously working

the room, stopping briefly here and there, talking to both restaurant

patrons and staff as they slowly moved through the crowd. And in a

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aJ Quinn

club where people came to see and be seen, they were turning more

than their fair share of heads as the restaurant filled up.

It should be a sin to look that good, Sara thought wryly. But

it was an honest assessment. For the first time, she realized both

women were remarkably similar. Although Tessa was slightly

taller and Hunter slightly leaner, both were tall, dark, and model

gorgeous. In addition, the two women exuded an air of confidence,

intelligence—and yes, arrogance. The difference that defined who

they were was in their eyes. Tessa’s were a cool slate gray. Hunter’s

were a hot laser blue.

In that instant, Hunter’s gaze suddenly lifted above the crowd.

Her head tilted slightly, and she met Sara’s eyes with a look that

was piercing and intense. Even as they connected, Hunter’s eyes

darkened, smoldered, and emitted one hundred thousand volts of

pure sexual energy.

Everything else faded dimly into the background, until all that

remained were two women, drawn inexorably together. Sara felt her

pulse racing and sensed the unmistakable stirring of desire, the heat

settling deep within her.

“If you don’t stop staring at her like that, she’s going to

spontaneously combust.” Kate’s amused voice sounded in her ear,

causing Sara to jump.

Sara felt a deep blush heat her face and neck, and she shot Kate

a look that was a mixture of amusement and embarrassment tinged

with insecurity. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Of course you don’t,” Kate said with a laugh. She

wrapped her arm around Sara’s shoulder and gave her a friendly

squeeze. “But you have to admit—they’re really something, aren’t

they? Lesbian poster girls . ”

“I suppose,” Sara nodded appreciatively. “I mean, if you

happen to like your women drop-dead gorgeous.”

They were both laughing when Tessa and Hunter reached their

booth. Tessa slid in easily beside Kate, while Hunter sat on the

opposite side beside Sara.

“Hey there,” Hunter said softly, the beginnings of a beguiling

smile touching her mouth.

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Hostage Moon

Sara’s stomach fluttered, and she licked her lips before offering

a smile of her own in response. “Hey there yourself.”

She caught a trace of Hunter’s enticing scent, and a tiny shiver

of anticipation ran along her spine as heat sparked between them.

Already forgotten was the tension she’d felt when she’d thought

Kate was trying to set her up with someone. Instead, she realized she

was relaxed and happy.

For a moment, Sara considered hiding her unexpected pleasure

with the direction the evening was taking and with life in general.

But then, just as quickly, she dismissed the thought, choosing instead

to revel in the unexpected and leaving herself open to whatever the

night might bring.

• 165 •

• 166 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR sixteen

I hope you don’t mind,” Tessa said as Hunter’s leg brushed

against Sara’s under the table, “but in honor of Hunter’s first

visit to the club since we opened, I’ve taken the liberty of arranging

a meal that you won’t find anywhere on the menu.”

Sara nodded absently, not caring if they dined on hot dogs and

fries as long as Hunter’s leg didn’t move away.

“Hunter?” Tessa asked. “Is that okay with you?”

Hunter raised her head and gazed blankly at Tessa. “Hmm?”

“To think, she used to be so articulate,” Tessa said with a laugh.

For the next two hours, they were kept wined and gastronomically

entertained, while Tessa and Hunter shared amusing stories about

their days at Oxford. The teasing banter between the two women

was fast paced and at times acerbic, but was obviously borne of a

deep and enduring friendship. The jibes and jokes flew constantly,

and Hunter and Tessa seemed equally adept at holding her own.

Sara leaned back in her seat and sipped her wine. She marveled

at the easy conversation they shared during dinner and could not

remember when she had laughed as much over the course of an

evening. Hunter appeared relaxed, and Sara was glad to see that, at

least for the moment, most of the tension had faded from her eyes.

As the evening progressed, much to her delight, Sara discovered

Hunter not only possessed a razor-sharp wit but knew when to use

it. She also learned, unexpectedly, that Hunter expressed herself

through touch. On several occasions during dinner, she had reached

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out quite naturally and squeezed Sara’s hand or touched her arm.

Fleeting connections that had nevertheless felt like caresses.

She saw Hunter laugh in response to something Tessa was

saying and enjoyed the opportunity to simply watch her. Be with

her. It was the first time she had seen her so unguarded, although she

had to know every diner’s gaze had been drawn to her at some point

during the evening. Sara could hardly blame them. Sitting there with

a sexy smile on her face and the candlelight reflecting in her eyes,

Hunter was easily the most compelling woman in the room.

She was also beginning to feel very much like Hunter’s date,

which meant her social life had just taken a very intriguing turn.

Especially if she considered this would make it her first date since

before the start of the Pelham case.

Christ. That’s almost two years ago. What am I doing?

Sara felt the onset of a sudden attack of nerves and wondered

how one slim woman could knock her feet out from under her in

a way no one had before. She repressed a shudder and felt totally

self-conscious. She no longer knew how to act on a date, and despite

their obvious chemistry, she really didn’t know Hunter. The only

thing they had in common was the stalker. What exactly did that

mean?Abruptly, she realized she had drifted away from the conver-

sation at the table. She brought her attention back only to find Hunter

staring at her with hot eyes and a lazy half-smile on her face. She

closed her eyes, shivered, and felt the breath leave her body—the

flash of arousal in response to that brief look was instantaneous and

nearly overwhelming. She sighed and acknowledged that before the

evening was through, she would need to find some semblance of

self-control.

After dinner, by unspoken consensus, the four women moved

to a table being held for them on the patio and ordered a round of

drinks. The seductive beat of the music was drifting out, and after

a few minutes, Tessa grabbed Hunter’s hand and pulled her to her

feet. “It’s been a while, but I seem to recall you were pretty good

on the dance floor,” she said. “Come and dance with me, Roswell.”

• 168 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter smiled nonchalantly and let Tessa take her by the hand

and lead her onto the dance floor. The two women danced with

a sexy grace and rhythm, and Sara was not surprised to see they

fit together perfectly. As she watched, Hunter led Tessa through a

complex set of moves. Tessa followed flawlessly, and they looked

as if they had been dancing together for years.

Of course, why wouldn’t they.

Kate seemed to be enjoying the show as well, smiling as

Hunter spun Tessa and then came up slowly behind her and started

to gyrate sensuously against her. When Hunter placed her hands on

Tessa’s hips, Tessa’s eyes drifted closed. She moved her hips against

Hunter’s pelvis and then pressed closer. An instant later, her face

became suffused with what could only be described as pleasure as

Hunter ran her hands intimately along her sides and brushed her lips

against Tessa’s neck.

That elicited a jealous growl from Kate who got swiftly to her

feet and moved in the direction of the dance floor.

“Time to separate those two before they burst into flames or

get arrested,” she said before turning back to Sara. “Don’t just sit

there, girlfriend. If they get arrested, we’ll have a hell of a mess

on our hands. Between the two of them, they represent both the

lawyer we’ll need and the source of bail money. Come and dance

with Hunter while I remind Tessa she’s supposed to be with me.”

Dance with Hunter? Now there’s a hardship.

Sara got to her feet, aware she was a little lightheaded, and

remembered too late she had consumed a fair amount of champagne

and wine with dinner. Moving a little more slowly, she followed

Kate onto the dance floor. She couldn’t help but laugh as Kate stood

in front of Tessa and pantomimed that she was cutting in.

In response, Hunter released Tessa and swept an unsuspecting

Kate into her arms. She then dipped, spun, and held Kate close

before spinning her again directly into Tessa’s waiting arms in a

well-choreographed move.

Laughing, Hunter turned to Sara and held out her hand. Almost

instantly, the look in her eyes changed. Amusement faded and was

quickly replaced by heat.

• 169 •

aJ Quinn

“Dance with me, querida?” she said, her voice dropping to a

lazy, liquid purr.

The low, sexy voice wrapped itself around Sara’s senses and a

delicious shiver ran down her spine. Just the thought of being on the

dance floor moving to the sensual beat with Hunter’s body pressed

close was enough to make her mouth go dry. Her heart began to beat

faster and breathing became a conscious act.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she answered, allowing Hunter to

pull her toward the dance floor, willingly losing herself in the blue

of her eyes.

As she moved closer to Hunter, Sara became conscious of

the heavy bass beat vibrating through the floorboards. She was

cognizant of every place their bodies touched. She could feel the

heat radiating from Hunter’s body against her skin as their bodies fit

together, thigh between thighs, and felt instantly intoxicated by the

increasingly familiar scent of Hunter’s perfume.

Pressing closer still, she could feel Hunter’s abdominal muscles

twitch as a tremor ran through her. She could feel Hunter’s heart

start to race. Closing her eyes, Sara allowed herself to enjoy this

unexpected pleasure—the knowledge that she was not alone in how

she was feeling.

When the music ended, she stood an instant longer, swaying to

a rhythm that lingered in her head before fading like whispers in the

night air. For that moment she just breathed, willing her racing heart

to slow down. She felt a strange sense of loss as Hunter released her,

but shook it off. Then she turned her head a little, opened her eyes,

and was startled to realize just how close they still were.

Hunter didn’t move, didn’t say a word. She just kept her eyes

on Sara, making her feel as if she’d been touched. Intimately.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hunter murmured and reached for her

hand.Danger signals flared, warning Sara of an impending train

wreck, both personally and professionally. Then without hesitation,

she accepted Hunter’s outstretched hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked, curious.

“Does it really matter?”

Wordlessly, Sara shook her head.

• 170 •

Hostage Moon

❖

The night breeze toyed with Hunter’s hair as she and Sara

stepped outside the club. The streetlights cast a soft glow around

them, and they continued to hold hands as they walked. Sauntering

slowly past the clubs, bars, and restaurants that lined the street,

enveloped by the competing strains of blues, jazz, and classic rock

that spilled out into the night through numerous open windows and

doors.As they passed others who were likewise enjoying the sultry

summer evening, Hunter tried to imagine how it would feel to be

just like everyone else. Anonymous. Living an ordinary life. Simply

out for an evening with good friends and then walking a beautiful

woman home.

But that would mean imagining she didn’t have a serial killer

stalking her. And pretending there was no security team trailing her

somewhere in the shadows. And acting as if the beautiful woman

holding her hand wasn’t really a former FBI agent, who was, even

now, probably carrying some kind of weapon.

Still, if only for a little while, Hunter wanted nothing more than

to pretend.

Walking beside her, Sara began to slow her pace until she

forced them to come to a standstill. “You know we really shouldn’t

be doing this, don’t you?” she said softly when Hunter looked at her.

Hunter froze. She glanced at their still-joined hands and quickly

released her hold on Sara’s hand as if it was a live electrical wire.

What are you doing?

She took a step back while murmuring, “Oh Jesus. I wasn’t

thinking. My personal life has never been much of a secret. What

people think about who I’m with…man or woman…it’s not

something I’ve ever worried about…I’m sorry if—”

Just as quickly, Sara moved forward until their bodies were

as close as they could get without actually touching and their

breath mingled in the stillness of the evening air. She then reached

out, grasped Hunter’s hand once again, and threaded their fingers

together, watching Hunter’s face as their fingers became entwined.

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aJ Quinn

“You misunderstood me,” she said as she squeezed Hunter’s

hand. “I simply meant we shouldn’t be out unprotected in the dark

when we still don’t have the slightest idea who is stalking you.”

“Oh.” Hunter smiled again, a little laugh on her lips, and she

did not pull her hand away. Instead, she raised their joined hands

and touched her lips to Sara’s fingers. “We may not know everyone

who’s stalking me, darlin’,” she drawled wryly, “but I can assure

you we’re hardly what you could call alone and unprotected.”

Hunter chewed her lower lip and considered her options.

Truthfully, she wasn’t that worried for herself. But the last thing

she wanted was to place Sara in the midst of a situation that was

eventually going to become dangerous. Even if Sara was a former

FBI agent.

“But you’re right,” she concluded, her voice soft and tinged

with regret. “There’s no sense in taking unnecessary chances.”

Having made the decision, she raised her free hand and signaled

with her fingers. Within seconds, a dark limousine pulled up to the

curb, and simultaneously, Peter materialized from the shadows.

Hunter had a quiet word with him while the limo driver held the

door open for Sara to get into the vehicle.

A couple of minutes later, Hunter got into the limousine beside

Sara and sank back into the soft leather seat with a sigh. Sara slid

along the seat until their thighs touched and laid her hand on Hunter’s

leg. Smiling, Hunter responded by raising her arm and wrapping it

around Sara’s shoulders, pulling her even closer until Sara’s head

was resting against her shoulder.

Hunter felt the proximity acutely, and for a little while, she

closed her eyes and relished the sensation, allowing herself to enjoy

their closeness as well as the energy that seemed to be sparking

between them. And yes, the sexual tension, she acknowledged with

a smile. Feeling strangely content, she relaxed her head against the

back of the seat. Then opening her eyes once again, she watched the

lights of the city stream by through the darkened window.

“You know, I’ve always hated riding in these things,” she said

after a few more minutes had passed. “It reminds me I need to pick

up my new car in the morning.”

• 172 •

Hostage Moon

In the brief silence that followed, Hunter could feel Sara

studying her, could see her biting her lip against whatever question

she obviously wanted to ask. “Go ahead. Ask your question.”

Sara watched her for another few seconds then gave an odd

smile. “It’s just I’m not sure what kind of car you’re picking up in

the morning,” she said casually. “But you do know everyone would

prefer that you replace the Maserati with something a little less

conspicuous, don’t you? Or maybe even consider only using the

limo until this is all resolved?”

Hunter dismissed the notion with a laugh. “If that’s the case,

I’d say everyone will have to learn to live with disappointment.”

Sara nodded, as if she had expected Hunter’s response. She

tapped her fingers on the seat and they continued in silence a minute

longer. “So what is it with you and limos?”

“I grew up being driven to places in them. They’re just big

and boring…not exactly what a girl needs to make a good first

impression.” Hunter rolled her eyes, her sigh long-suffering and

exaggeratedly dramatic.

Sara chuckled. “I wouldn’t think you need that much help to

make a good first impression. After all, you’re employed, don’t have

a criminal record, you’re reasonably bright, and you’re not that hard

on the eyes. Hell, when you stop and think about it, you’re actually

a pretty good catch.”

“Thanks, I think. Good to know your criteria. But my grandfather

Patrick would have to disagree with you. He thinks that’s part of

why I’ve made it to the advanced age of twenty-seven—almost

twenty-eight—without having found and married Mr. Right.”

“And have you been looking?” Sara asked. “For Mr. Right?”

“Not exactly, no. And Grandfather Patrick would tell you that’s

the other part of the problem. Or at least as far as he’s concerned.”

“What do you mean?”

Hunter grinned. “He would say I’ve been wasting too much

time fooling around with Ms. Right Now to find Mr. Right.”

Sara turned and gently punched Hunter on the arm.

• 173 •

• 174 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR seventeen

It turned out to be another restless night. Shortly after Hunter

got home, the skies opened up, and for a long time she lay

alone in her bed, watching lightning cut jagged streaks against the

black sky through the skylight above the bed. She finally tumbled

into sleep to the sound of the rain and the waves crashing on the

shore.Almost immediately, the dream returned.

It was always the same. No matter how fast she ran, Brenner

still caught her. No matter how hard she tried to hold out, he still

forced her to play his game. And no matter how well she played the

game, her father still died.

As the night waned, she remained trapped in the past. Heart

pounding, her breathing fast and irregular, her skin glistening with

sweat, she struggled to break free until at last her own scream jolted

her awake with a violent start. She opened her eyes to the crimson

numbers on the clock beside her bed, watched them coalesce into

the numerals four-three-nine. She groaned.

Terrific, she thought, conceding there would be no more sleep.

She struggled to untangle herself from the sheets that had twisted

around her and got out of bed, deciding a run in the predawn air

would be preferable to spending more time lying in bed with ghosts.

She had always loved running early in the morning and tried

to get in a run no matter where she found herself. But there was no

comparison between running through congested city streets and the

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aJ Quinn

early morning solitude the beach offered. It was in the quiet of the

early morning that she did her best thinking, and running, or any

other kind of physical activity, always seemed to help her sort her

thoughts—something she was particularly eager to do.

After a quick wash, she dressed in a pair of running shorts and

a cutoff sweatshirt. She grabbed a baseball cap and slipped it on,

adjusting it so her hair poked out the back in a loose tail.

A light rain was still falling as she stepped out the front door

into the ethereal light of the misty dawn. The cool air brushed the

bare skin of her abdomen, and she took a moment to breathe deeply

as she stretched. She vaguely acknowledged when Conner and

Adrienne got out of the black SUV parked near the front entrance to

the house without saying a word, joining her in completing a series

of stretches. They then set off, breaking into a light run along the

cobblestone drive.

Beyond the gate, they jogged briefly along the road before

turning onto a narrow path that meandered down toward the water.

At the end of the footpath, they hit the sand running. Hunter chose

to go in the direction of the Golden Gate Bridge, and running at

a steady pace, their long strides began eating up the distance. The

moist air was heavy with the smell of salt, pine, and cypress, and

for the next hour, the only sounds that surrounded them were their

running shoes hitting the wet sand and the colorful pebbles dancing

in the waves along the shore.

As she ran, as if of their own volition, Hunter’s thoughts kept

returning to the previous evening. And Sara.

She had spent the better part of the evening enthralled by Sara.

Imagining how her lips felt when she kissed, how her skin tasted.

Wanting nothing more than to lose herself in her. But when Sara

had raised the question of safety, it had been as effective as a cold

shower on her libido.

In the end, she saw Sara safely home to Kate’s house and left

her with only a chaste kiss on the palm of her hand. For now, at least,

that would have to be enough.

Hunter sighed as she remembered the look on Sara’s face

when she had dropped her off at the door. A look of confusion and

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Hostage Moon

disbelief—Sara undoubtedly wondering if she had misread the

signals Hunter had been sending her all evening.

You certainly didn’t, Hunter thought wryly and knew she would

have to make amends at the earliest opportunity.

When the three women returned to the house just after six,

Hunter wordlessly continued up the stairs until she reached the third-

level master suite, leaving it to Conner and Adrienne to sort out

between themselves who would shower first and who would make

the coffee. She quickly stripped her rain- and sweat-soaked running

gear as she walked into the bath. Then setting the water temperature,

she slid into the shower. A moment later, she was enjoying the hot

water cascading over her body. Briefly, she ducked her head, then

slicked her hair back and just let the heat envelop her.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, the scent of fresh

coffee was beginning to permeate the air. Standing in the doorway,

she stared as she saw Conner by the fridge, her hair still damp from

her shower. She was pulling together breakfast possibilities, and as

Hunter watched, eggs and aged cheddar quickly joined the bread

and half a stick of butter already on the counter.

“I take it you won the coin toss.”

Startled, Conner looked up, then smiled sheepishly and nodded.

“What can I say? Adrienne just seems to make better coffee than I

do. And you really need to restock. You’re out of milk. Can you

handle the toast?”

“Possibly.” Hunter reached for the bread and popped two slices

into the toaster. “When do you suppose Adrienne will figure out

you’re using a two-headed coin?”

Conner grinned but didn’t respond.

Hunter watched as Conner cracked the eggs into a bowl, added

salt and pepper, then whisked them before pouring the mix into a hot

skillet. When she turned down the heat and began to stir the eggs,

Hunter drew closer. “I have to admit, I’m in awe of anyone who

can fix a meal and have everything ready at the same time. But that

doesn’t look too difficult.”

“It’s not—difficult, that is. Is it something you’re interested in

learning?”

• 177 •

aJ Quinn

“Maybe. Why not?” For an instant, she pictured herself sharing

a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bagels, and coffee, along with the

Sunday paper, while spread out lazily in bed. Natural, normal, almost

domestic—the image startled her back to reality. “Just because I’ve

never done it doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”

Conner refrained from commenting. Instead, she handed the

wooden spoon she was using to Hunter. “Just keep stirring them,”

she instructed, “gently. Now let’s add the cheese.”

By the time Adrienne returned from her shower, Conner was

buttering toast while Hunter piled scrambled eggs onto three plates

and carried them to the table where juice and coffee had already

been poured.

“Which one of you cooked?” Adrienne asked, her tone clearly

suspicious as she stared at the plate in front of her.

Hunter raised a single eyebrow in a challenging gesture. “Is

there a problem?”

Adrienne said a quick no and reached for a piece of toast before

she changed the subject. “Anything on the agenda today?”

“I just need to pick up my new car this morning,” Hunter

responded calmly before adding, “and then I thought I’d go in to

the office and meet with the whole team, so we can discuss who

authorized these damned changes to my personal security. After

that, I thought I’d lay out what will be considered acceptable on a

go-forward basis.”

She could see Adrienne swallow thickly and glanced at Conner,

who was suddenly focused rather intently on her breakfast and did

not look up. Obviously choosing discretion over valor, Adrienne

ducked her head and followed suit. But Hunter could hardly blame

her. After all, since it was likely either Matt or Peter arranged for all

the security measures that were causing her displeasure, it was only

fair they should be the ones to face her wrath.

Watching Adrienne and Conner, Hunter hastily swallowed a

mouthful of coffee so she wouldn’t lose it laughing.

❖

• 178 •

Hostage Moon

By early afternoon, Hunter was in possession of her new

car, the rain had stopped, and her team was in a conference room,

poring over reports. Connecting the dots on names in the hospital

database of everyone who worked at the hospital ten years earlier

and matched the profile in terms of age and gender. Welcome to the

information age.

The reports they were generating were extensive and would

eventually cover everything from employment histories and financial

activities to relationships and travel patterns. Given a bit more time,

they could probably determine what each of the subjects had for

breakfast, Hunter thought dryly. More to the point, she wondered

how many of the people on the list had traveled to New York in

March.

Sitting at her desk, she twirled her pen absently in her hand

while she scanned the latest contracts Tessa had drafted, giving

them one last read over before scrawling her signature at the bottom

of each page. Satisfied, she threw both her arms over her head in a

stretch and was just about to wade into the next stack of printouts

when Quito appeared at her doorway.

He smiled tentatively. “This came for you a little while ago,”

he said and waved the large manila envelope in his hands. “The

courier was adamant it be delivered to you immediately, but I didn’t

recognize the sender. I hope you don’t mind, but I had security scan

it.” “Right thing to do. Thanks,” Hunter replied easily, taking a sip

of coffee. “Just leave it on the desk, and I’ll take a look at it in a

minute. I’m finished reviewing these contracts. Can you get them

back to Tessa?”

She stared at the envelope Quito placed on the corner of her

desk while waiting for him to leave. Once the heavy door clicked

shut behind him, she took a deep steadying breath and picked up

the envelope, uncertain why such a simple act was causing her

trepidation. Chagrined, she ripped it open and spilled its contents

on the desk.

And found she was staring at a photograph of herself. Holding

hands and laughing with Sara as they left Club Vertigo just last night.

• 179 •

aJ Quinn

The blood drained from her face, and Hunter felt anger laced

with fear welling up within her. Her nostrils flared, and her grip on

her coffee mug increased until her knuckles stood out in vivid relief

against the black mug.

Alongside the photograph was a note, handwritten and ad-

dressed to her.

Hunter,

Enjoy the doctor while you can. Just remember…

When the time comes, you are mine.

Her eyes closed momentarily and she took another sip of

coffee. Letting out a shaky breath, she made her way to the window,

then about-faced and hurled her mug at the wall.

“Son of a bitch.” Turning away from the coffee-stained wall,

Hunter stormed out of her office past the conference room where her

startled team watched her, questions in their eyes. “I’ll be in the gym

if anyone’s looking for me.”

❖

It was late afternoon when Sara exited the cab and approached

the entrance to the Roswell building. She struggled to relax, anxious

and uncertain because the previous evening had ended on what

could only be described as a confusing note. The problem was

compounded because Sara wasn’t sure where the night had gone

off the rails.

Although they had not spoken about it directly during the drive

back to Kate’s house, Sara knew she hadn’t imagined the electrically

charged atmosphere. There had been one moment in particular. A

moment when her eyes had locked with Hunter’s and the energy

around them seemed to burn even brighter and hotter. As Sara had

sat transfixed by Hunter’s gaze, her heart rate had increased and

her vision had narrowed until all she could see was this woman she

barely knew yet felt she had known for a lifetime.

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Hostage Moon

Unconsciously she had leaned forward, an inch at a time, then

pulled back awkwardly, stopping at the last second as she realized

she was about to kiss Hunter. The moment passed without either of

them openly acknowledging it. But Sara had fully expected Hunter

to follow her inside when they’d arrived at Kate’s.

Instead, Hunter had walked her to the door, lifted Sara’s right

hand, brought it to her lips, and lightly kissed her open palm. She’d

whispered good night, and without so much as another word or a

backward glance, she’d moved down the walkway, her long strides

taking her swiftly back to a waiting limousine.

What the hell did it all mean?

Sara hoped she was about to find out. Her throat was dry and

her stomach was churning, but in spite of her nerves, she finger-

combed her breeze-tousled hair, held her chin up, and entered the

building.

As she reached security, she pulled out her ID and handed it to

one of the uniformed guards, along with her weapon. He glanced

at the ID before returning it—and her gun—and then passed her a

small envelope.

“What’s this?” Sara asked, not recognizing the bold handwriting

that addressed the envelope to her.

“Ms. Roswell left it for you, Dr. Wilder,” the guard responded.

“The executive offices and operations center are on the top floor.

The elevator’s straight ahead, stairs are on your right.” He then

tapped his forehead in a brief salute and resumed checking visitors.

Moving to the side, Sara opened the envelope and found a

small silver-and-black pin bearing the Roswell Group logo. The pin

was accompanied by a brief note.

Thought this might help you keep my wolves at bay…H.

Sara looked down at the pin and recognized it as similar to the

one Quito had been wearing in London. Well, at least she’s been

thinking about you. Smiling softly as she attached the pin to her

collar, Sara easily cleared security and continued to think about the

events of the previous evening.

• 181 •

aJ Quinn

Her recollections weren’t coherent. Just a kaleidoscope

of images of Hunter. The way she moved when she danced. Her

incredible face. Her heart-melting smile. And her amazing eyes.

Idly, Sara wondered what it would be like to see those eyes burn

with passion, and she sighed.

Jesus, get a grip.

Any way she looked at it, she was asking for trouble. Hunter

did you a favor last night, she told herself, by stopping things from

escalating any further and walking away. Because getting involved

with Hunter Roswell, on a personal level, had trouble written all

over it.

If she was making a list, the fact that Hunter was a person of

interest in a high-profile case should be near the very top of reasons

not to get involved. The rules—both written and unwritten—were

there for a reason. She was also Senator Patrick Roswell’s only

grandchild and the heir to the de León family empire. That made her

bona fide royalty.

What could come of it?

If she wanted what was best for Hunter, she should keep

their involvement to a business relationship. No strings, nothing

personal.

But there was no denying she had one hell of a face. A dangerous

face. A woman who allowed that face to draw her in would get

exactly what she deserved…and probably enjoy every minute of

it. Because she hadn’t imagined the chemistry. Hunter could make

her body sing and caused tiny sparks of sexual heat to sizzle along

her nerve endings without even trying. And there was something

deeper, something on a level Sara couldn’t remember experiencing

before. Something was telling her this gorgeous, enigmatic woman

should be a part of her life.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, she was damned well going to

see where this could lead. And at the same time, she was going to

do her damnedest to protect Hunter from whoever wanted to play

games with her. Simple. Nothing to it.

When she reached Hunter’s office, she was surprised to find

David there, conferring with Matt, Conner, and Adrienne by Hunter’s

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Hostage Moon

desk. Just beyond where they were gathered, Quito was quietly

picking up the remnants of a coffee mug, the pieces scattered on the

floor in front of what looked like a huge coffee-colored Rorschach

test gracing the far wall. Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s happened?” she asked as she entered the room.

David shot her a tight-lipped look while Matt beckoned her

over to the desk. Without saying a word, he placed the photograph

and handwritten note he had been holding on the desk for Sara to

see. “What the hell is this?” As Sara glanced at the photograph, her

breath caught in her throat. She looked back at Matt and David.

“I think this qualifies as direct contact, don’t you?” Matt

replied. “It was delivered by courier a little over two hours ago.

The courier’s behavior was a bit erratic, and Quito didn’t recognize

the sender’s name, so he had security scan the envelope. It came up

clean for chemicals and foreign substances and—what a surprise—

no fingerprints, not even the courier’s.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“The sender’s address turns out to be a parking lot. And while

the courier company is legit,” Matt added, “they have no record of a

delivery being made to this address today.”

“Son of a bitch,” Sara repeated, and then froze. “Do you think it

was him? Do you suppose he tried to deliver the envelope himself?”

“That’s a distinct possibility,” Matt responded tightly. “I’ve

already asked to have all of today’s security discs pulled for both

the parking lot and the lobby downstairs. If he attempted the actual

delivery, we’ll not only have him on the discs, we should be able to

identify his vehicle tags as well.”

“Exactly,” David said softly. “Sara, can I talk to you in private?”

Distracted, Sara glanced at him. “Yeah, sure. In a minute.”

Turning to Matt, she asked, “Where’s Hunter?”

“She went down to the gym,” he responded.

“Then what the hell are we doing here?” Sara asked, her voice

touched with incredulity and concern. “If the courier turns out to

be her stalker, then he’s escalating at an unanticipated rate. Hunter

shouldn’t be wandering anywhere by herself.”

• 183 •

aJ Quinn

“The building is secure, but I agree with you she shouldn’t be

by herself.” Matt shrugged and indicated the doorway. “Let’s go.”

After asking Adrienne and Conner to pick up the discs from

the security office, Matt waited for Sara to precede him. But as Sara

moved toward the door, David reached out and loosely grabbed her

arm to stop her. “Sara?”

Exasperated, Sara shook his hand from her arm. Turning to

face him, she snapped, “What is it, David?”

“I really need to talk to you before we go any further.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Matt leave the office and

close the door, giving them some privacy. She took a deep breath

and slowly let it out, trying to calm herself before turning to face

David.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

David moved closer. He indicated the photograph on the desk

with his index finger. “What’s going on?”

“With what? That photograph? I’d say it means the UNSUB is

following Hunter rather closely. Wouldn’t you?”

“I can see that,” David said, frustration creeping into his voice.

“But let me tell you what else I can see. I can see trouble. You want

to know why? Because I see a picture of you holding hands with

someone who had been deemed a person of interest in a series of

homicides. Christ, Sara. What the hell were you thinking?”

Sara was momentarily stunned. She looked at David in

disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said, David,” Sara shot back. “I just can’t

believe you said it. I’m also trying to figure out what concern it is

of yours.”

“Rule number three,” he responded. “Never get involved with

someone connected to a case.”

She stared at him in silence, gathering her thoughts. “I’m

making my own rules now, especially when they pertain to my

personal life. And even if I wasn’t, Hunter changes all the rules.”

“Damn it, Sara. Don’t you know this kind of thing can—”

• 184 •

Hostage Moon

“What, David?” Sara challenged, meeting his rising temper

with her own. “Out me? I’ve been out since I was sixteen. Damage

my career? Get me fired? The FBI can’t fire me since I don’t work

for them anymore. And I haven’t for almost eight months. It would

seem you’re the only one that’s having a problem accepting that.”

David sagged as if he had been punched, and his shoulders

slumped. “You’re right,” he said. “I just thought—”

“You thought getting me to work this case with you would

maybe get the juices flowing again. Maybe make me want to come

back to work for the bureau,” Sara finished softly. She looked her

former partner in the eye, a gentle smile making its way to her lips.

“I still have every intention of helping you with this case, David.

But in my own way. Not as an agent. And I’m not coming back to

work for the bureau. Not now and not when this case is over. I’m

sorry.”

“And the photograph…you and Hunter? You seem to have

gotten close rather quickly. Is there something going on between the

two of you?”

“Ah hell. I don’t know.” Her voice trailed off and she sighed.

“All I can tell you is although I haven’t known her for very long, she

makes me feel things I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.”

She looked up at him and cringed slightly, aware that on some level,

David also had feelings for Hunter. “I can imagine what this sounds

like to you. But it’s the truth. As for where this is going, I have no

idea.”“Well,” David said, “if the way Hunter’s looking at you in that

photograph is anything to go by, I’d say something is definitely

going on.” He paused for just a second. “Strictly speaking, you’ve

never been one to follow rules. But just be careful, Sara. Hunter

Roswell’s—”

“Hunter’s what, David?”

Lowering his eyes, David shrugged awkwardly. “She’s got a

reputation, and I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, I guess only time will tell,” Sara replied. “In the

meantime, I think we have our work cut out for us, don’t you? We

need to head down to the gym and talk to Hunter. See how she’s

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aJ Quinn

doing and make sure she’s okay. And then we need to check the

security discs and see what we have there. Maybe we caught a

break.”

David agreed thoughtfully. “He wanted to deliver the envelope

directly to Hunter and he got foiled. That had to make him angry.

Maybe angry enough he’ll make a mistake we can use to find him.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Sara paused then asked softly, “Are we okay?”

David responded by draping a beefy arm around Sara’s

shoulders and squeezing. “Yeah, we’re good.” He opened the door

and together they joined Matt who was waiting patiently by the

stairway.

“Everything okay?” he asked, eyeing Sara and David as they

approached.

Receiving twin nods, the three of them simultaneously hit the

stairs.

• 186 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR eigHteen

As they approached the gym, the pounding rhythm of the

music emanating from the sound system threatened to

deafen anyone who dared come too close. Undaunted, Sara, David,

and Matt stopped at the doorway and peered into the large area.

Not surprisingly, given the wall of sound, there were only two

people working out—Peter, backing up and on the defensive, and

Hunter, attacking aggressively. Judging from the saturation of their

clothing and hair, they had been at it for quite some time. Hunter’s

skin was slick, and her ponytail scattered droplets of sweat with

every movement.

“According to Peter, she’s been working out like this since she

went to London,” Matt commented as he observed Hunter with a

critical eye.

“What do you mean?” Sara asked.

“All out. Complete and total focus,” he responded. “It’s like

she gets in a zone. Almost like a trance. At this point, Peter’s the

only one willing to spar with her.”

Hunter seemed oblivious of her audience. She continued

attacking with a near-absolute ferocity and tunnel-vision focus.

As Sara watched, Hunter erupted in a series of explosive jabs and

a sweeping high kick, her movements matching the hard-driving

music pouring from the speakers. An instant later, she spun 360

degrees while airborne, dark hair flying wildly about her face as she

delivered a kick that lifted Peter off his feet before dropping him

hard, while Hunter landed with the grace of a cat.

• 187 •

aJ Quinn

For an endless moment, she stood with her sparring-gloved

hands hanging loosely at her sides as she struggled for breath. Then

she turned, and her eyes narrowed slightly as she caught sight of the

trio standing by the gym entrance.

She inhaled and exhaled for several breaths, her eyes hot and

brooding, her shoulders stiff. Tugging her gloves off and tucking

them under one arm, she walked to the sound system and turned

the music off. The sudden silence in the room seemed almost as

deafening as the music had been.

When she turned back to face them, her face was devoid of

expression. “Is there something someone wants?”

Her question hung suspended in the silent air between them

until Matt finally responded. “We thought you might want to join us

for a little show and tell. But if you’re busy—”

“Planning on reviewing the security discs without me?”

Hunter’s voice was cool and calm, reflecting no trace of amusement.

But Sara could see her eyes were laughing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Matt replied.

“Damn, she’s good,” Sara murmured.

From across the room, Hunter’s eyes met hers and Sara felt

it. Instantly. A spark ignited deep within her and spread like a fire,

burning away any thought of resistance she might have had. She

didn’t bother trying to hide her reaction from Hunter.

“I’ll need a bit of time to get cleaned up before we review

the discs. Say in an hour in conference room two?” Hunter’s eyes

remained locked on Sara’s, and for a brief instant, a smile touched

her face. “I believe I need a cold shower first.”

❖

It was almost exactly an hour later when everyone gathered in

the large top-floor conference room. Sara settled back into a chair at

the long table and watched Quito set up the series of monitors and a

large video screen while Conner cued the security discs.

Hunter was dressed in a cotton shirt and baggy jeans that hung

low on her lean hips. Her hair was wet from the shower and falling

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Hostage Moon

freely around her face. As she leaned against the doorframe, she

could hear the others talking tersely around her as if she wasn’t

there, and she knew if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend

she wasn’t. But reality beckoned.

Matt caught her eye. “Back among the living?”

Hunter laughed softly and moved into the room. She chose a

seat at the head of the table between Sara and Tessa. The tension in

the room eased considerably, and she let the conversations drift as

she watched the monitor in front of her come to life. Conner set up

a split screen to cover both the exterior and interior views. “Hey, Q,

what time did you get the call from security?”

“Twelve twenty-two.”

“I’ll start the disc at twelve hundred.” Conner glanced at Hunter,

received a nod of agreement. She swiftly input her selection then

leaned back to watch her monitor as the images appeared. Beside

her, Adrienne leaned forward in total concentration.

The exterior scanners enabled them to watch a steady stream of

vehicles—cars, SUVs, vans—pull in and out. The vehicles picked

up or dropped off passengers, and any arrivals were then captured

by the interior scanners as they approached security. There seemed

to be a lot of traffic.

“Smart boy, picking the lunch hour,” Peter commented. “Lots

of people coming and going. Maybe he thought that would help him

slip through security.”

Sara shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully.

“He may be escalating but he’s not a fool. He’d have done his

homework and had a good idea of the security systems that are in

place. In fact, I’d hazard a guess this was not his first visit.”

“How far back do you think we’re talking?” Matt asked.

“We could be looking at anytime since you moved the Roswell

Group into this location.” Sara glanced at Hunter and saw her nod

her head. An instant later, she saw her stiffen.

“Stop. Freeze that frame.”

All conversation ceased and everyone directed their attention

to the white courier van with green markings currently frozen on

the screen. Almost immediately, Conner split the screen further,

• 189 •

aJ Quinn

narrowing the focus and increasing magnification until the license

plate became clearly visible.

David said, “Gotcha, you bastard.”

At the same time, Hunter gave a sharp laugh.

“What is it?” Sara asked as she turned toward Hunter.

An uneasy silence fell in the room as faces turned to look at

Hunter. “Don’t bother to run the plates,” she said easily.

“Why the hell not?” David asked.

“Because they’re mine,” she drawled easily. “The son of a bitch

must have lifted the plates from the Maserati before he blew it up in

the San Quentin parking lot. His idea of a joke, I guess.”

“Cocky bastard. I’m not sure I like his sense of humor,” Conner

said as she tapped some keys and sent the frozen image of the van

to the printer.

“Let’s see what he does,” Hunter said to Conner, who tapped

another key. Hunter was watching intently, her eyes never leaving

the screen, taking in every detail. The van on the screen resumed

moving until it pulled into a designated short-term parking spot near

the front entrance. A minute later, the driver’s door opened and a

man stepped out.

Sara felt immediate disappointment when she saw the brim of

the baseball cap he wore pulled low, and his face further obscured

by wraparound sunglasses. At best, they were left with an image of

a pale face, a thin mouth, and short, light brown hair. He appeared to

be of average height and weight and was dressed in dark green work

pants and a pale green short-sleeved shirt with the courier company

logo prominently displayed on the left pocket.

Hunter left her seat and moved swiftly over to where Conner

was seated. Conner slid the keyboard toward her and in a heartbeat

Hunter began to quickly tap a series of keystrokes while muttering

softly to herself.

“What are you doing?” Sara wanted to know.

“Creating a sample biometric image.” The answer came

simultaneously from both Conner and Hunter.

“Hearing it in stereo doesn’t help some of us,” David chimed

in. “Can we get that in English?”

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Hostage Moon

“Most of the time, when I try to explain to someone what it is

I do, they get this glassy look in their eyes,” Hunter joked, never

taking her eyes off the screen while her fingers continued to fly over

the keyboard. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Try us,” Sara challenged. “But keep it simple.”

“I’m not sure I can do simple, but I’ll try,” Hunter laughed.

“Okay, I’m converting his image into something called a biometric

template. Once we have that, we’ll be able to do two things. First

we’ll take the partial image from the security video and construct an

entire face from it using 3-D face-recognition technology. We will

then be able to compare the output to previously stored templates

and see if we can come up with a possible match that can be used to

identify him.”

David dragged his hand through his hair. “Assuming I

understood half of what you just said, exactly what do you mean by

previously stored templates?” He looked like he didn’t really want

to know the answer.

“The database containing staff photo IDs from San Francisco

General,” Hunter replied, grinning unrepentantly when David winced.

“It’ll be a bigger challenge because we’re missing some key features,

particularly his eyes. It just means it’ll take longer, but it can still be

done. We’ll run what we have using a biometric face-recognition

algorithm which calculates a match score. A high match score indicates

a likelihood the corresponding images are from the same individual.”

David sat up straighter. “I still don’t fully understand, but I

think you’re telling me that just possibly he got cocky and screwed

up.” He whistled. “Son of a bitch.”

“Let’s hope so,” Hunter replied softly, her eyes still glued to the

face frozen on her monitor. “I’ll let you know.”

Hunter slipped back into her seat while Conner resumed

running the security discs. Sara could see their target retrieve a

large envelope from the van and enter the building, at which time

the interior scanners immediately picked him up. He paused as he

entered, and then looked up to his left and smiled directly into one

of the cameras. Just before he turned away, his lips moved and he

appeared to say something.

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aJ Quinn

“Damn,” she whispered. “He knows—”

“Mm-hmm,” Hunter replied. “Just maybe he didn’t screw up.”

They continued to watch as their target reached the security

desk. They could see his lips move as he spoke to one of the guards.

Conner glanced at Hunter.

“I can give you audio if you’d like,” she said.

Hunter nodded. “Do it. But back it up to where he first looked

into the camera. See if you can pick up what he said.”

Although Hunter had spoken with a practiced nonchalance,

Sara watched as stormy emotions flashed in her eyes and noted the

unmistakable tension visible in her neck and shoulders. Reaching

under the table, she placed her hand on Hunter’s thigh and squeezed

it reassuringly.

It was a small gesture and at first there was no discernable

response. But then she felt the warmth of a hand as it covered her

own, which she kept pressed firmly against Hunter’s thigh. Hunter

turned to look at her and gave her an appreciative glance. An instant

later the audio came on.

“You are mine, Hunter.”

Almost immediately, Sara felt Hunter freeze. Turning, she saw

her close her eyes. Watched as a fast-beating pulse danced at the base

of her throat, and a sheen of perspiration filmed her skin. Saw her take

a deep breath and fight to steady herself.

“Shit…” Hunter’s voice died.

It more than what he’s saying, Sara realized as she watched

something resembling panic flash across Hunter’s face. It’s his

voice. She recognized his voice.

“Are you all right?” Sara asked.

Sara’s question allowed Hunter to focus on something other

than the voice coming through the speakers.

You are mine.

She stared at Sara for long seconds, the muscles in her jaw

clenching and unclenching in a rhythmic dance as she tried to

maintain her composure. She wanted to move. Needed to do

something. Anything to escape what she was feeling.

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Hostage Moon

Finding it hard to breathe, Hunter closed her eyes and took a

shaky breath. When she opened her eyes, she pushed her chair away

from the table, stumbling slightly as she got up and moved to the

window. She stood there for endless moments, just staring. Looking

out but seeing nothing, she fought to keep herself from feeling too

much, remembering too much.

You are mine.

As Hunter struggled to hold it together, Sara stood up and

moved behind her. “Take long, slow breaths. Nice and easy,” she

instructed quietly. She placed her hands on Hunter’s shoulders, her

thumbs resting against the back of her neck, and gently kneaded the

tense muscles under her fingers until she could feel them start to

loosen.

Not caring that the others might be watching, Hunter sank into

the touch with a sense of relief.

“Better?”

“Hmm.”

“You need to take a break.”

Hunter nodded as she turned her head and returned Sara’s gaze.

“I think you’re right,” she said. “Will you come home with me? I

think…I think I’d like to talk to you about New York.”

There was no hesitation, no question. “Of course.”

As Sara waited for Hunter to speak with Matt and gather her

things, she locked eyes with Tessa who gave her what looked like

a quick nod of approval. Feeling pleased, Sara distracted herself

by wondering what kind of car Hunter had bought to replace the

Maserati .

• 193 •

• 194 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR nineteen

This is one hell of a car,” Sara sighed, reverently running a

finger along the side of the sleek Lamborghini. “Somehow

I don’t think it qualifies as anyone’s idea of inconspicuous, but it’s a

really, really nice car.”

“I like it,” Hunter replied, but her voice held an edge of

unanticipated anger, and a frown creased her forehead as she held

the door open for Sara.

Hunter’s tone sent a chill creeping across Sara’s skin, and her

concern increased as she glanced over. Something had obviously

happened during the twenty minutes between the end of their

meeting and the time Hunter reappeared by the elevator. It was also

readily apparent to Sara that whatever transpired had triggered the

anger that had been on simmer all afternoon, so it now bubbled

dangerously close to the surface.

“Do you still want to do this?”

“Yes.” Hunter slowly let out a breath of air and didn’t say

anything else.

Once she was ensconced in the butter-soft leather seats, Sara

leaned back and tried to relax. She watched as Hunter dropped

into the driver’s seat beside her, and seconds later, the powerful

engine roared to life. A blip on the throttle yielded instantaneous

acceleration, and the security guard manning the booth had to

scramble to raise the gate. Sara saw him give a thumbs-up and heard

him laugh with delight over the roar of the engine. Hunter gave him

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aJ Quinn

a cheeky salute in return before turning out of the parking lot and

onto the busy street. A black SUV followed at a discreet distance.

“Brat,” Sara said, admiring the smooth way Hunter handled

the powerful car, downshifting and merging into traffic with a

combination of ease and a requisite amount of aggression.

As she drove, Hunter glanced over periodically, her eyes

intense and serious. Tilting her chin, Sara met Hunter’s gaze the

next time she looked over and felt something almost tangible pass

between them.

Well, at least that answers one question, Sara decided,

noting the look on Hunter’s face and the corresponding heat that

immediately radiated through her body in response. The seemingly

mutual interest and attraction she had felt the previous evening was

definitely alive and well, regardless of how the night had ended.

Turning her face, she looked out the passenger window

and found herself staring at a reflection of the Lamborghini

as they drove past a gleaming storefront. The reflection raised

another question that needed to be answered. Sara frowned and

contemplated broaching what would undoubtedly be a contentious

subject. With all the security concerns circling in her head, the

question begged to be asked. Even so, she silently waited for what

she hoped was an appropriate length of time before venturing into

turbulent waters.

“Has it occurred to you driving this car is a bit like having a

matador wave a red cape in front of an already angry bull?”

Hunter felt the surprising slash of hurt and struggled to hide

it behind a blank mask. The car was an argument she’d already

endured twice. Once with Matt and again with Peter. And while she

appreciated their concern, she was tired of defending her choices and

felt frustration bubble to the surface. Shifting gears, she responded

with an immediate, hard burst of acceleration, the roar of the engine

coinciding with the surge of resentment rising from her core.

It took less than thirty seconds for the anger that flared to burn

out. And once Hunter’s anger was spent, she was left with only a

curiously numb feeling as she slowed the car down. “If you have a

point, make it.”

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Hostage Moon

“I thought I just did,” Sara responded gently. “I think this is an

amazing car, and I’d do just about anything for a chance to drive it.

But the truth is it attracts too much attention. It is also far too easy to

spot and will give your stalker an unnecessary advantage.”

Hunter remained silent, focusing on traffic while maintaining a

white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Her concentration broke

when Sara reached out, her fingertips touching Hunter’s arm. “You

might want to consider—”

“I got the car because it was what I wanted,” Hunter interrupted.

She didn’t want to argue, didn’t have the energy to defend herself.

But she didn’t have a choice. “If this stalker has been watching me

for the past ten years, he’ll know I have a reputation for getting

what I want. And since everybody knows I have a weakness for fast

cars, I can’t see how the damned car can be that much of an issue.

In fact, I think the car is a good choice, since it’s a match for what

he’ll expect from me. It will also give him the impression he’s not

getting to me.”

She had a point, Sara conceded. She considered what she knew

about Hunter’s public persona—part genius, part rich playgirl—

compared to the sometimes sweetly uncertain woman she thought

she was getting to know. Studying Hunter’s profile, the smooth line

of her jaw, the subtle shift of muscles as she concentrated on the

road, she found herself wondering what it was like to try to live up

to an image that wasn’t necessarily real.

After a moment, she folded her arms across her chest and

stared out the window. But she could still feel Hunter’s withdrawal,

and part of her feared she would simply pull the car to the side of

the road and tell her to get out. But instead, Hunter continued to

stare straight ahead as she maneuvered through heavy traffic, the car

negotiating the hills with ease.

Leaning back, Sara watched the city stream by. The late

afternoon sun felt warm on her face, and music played softly on the

stereo. When a telltale rumble in her stomach reminded her the last

meal she ate felt like days ago, she looked at her watch. Glancing at

Hunter, she made a swift decision.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

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aJ Quinn

The question appeared to startle Hunter out of her thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“Food, Hunter. Sustenance. Have you eaten today?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. I haven’t really thought

much about food lately.” Hunter eased the car past slower-moving

traffic. “Why? Are you hungry?”

“I’m a little hungry.” Sara’s stomach grumbled once again and

she laughed. “Okay, actually, I’m starving. Do you want to stop and

get something to eat first? Or do you want to wait until we get to

your place? We could order takeout. Maybe we can talk about what

happened in New York over a meal.”

“Takeout sounds like a good idea.” Hunter grinned unexpectedly.

“Especially if we want you to live through the experience of eating

at my place.”

“You really don’t cook?”

“Not much, no. Although, if you promise not to tell anyone,

I’ve been experimenting a bit. How do you feel about Thai?” She

reached for her phone as Sara nodded and punched in numbers from

memory. “Is there anything in particular you like? Or do you trust

me to order?”

“Implicitly.” Sara was pleased to see Hunter starting to relax.

Hunter placed their order, a ghost of a smile hovering on

her lips as she made her choices and arranged for the meal to be

delivered. After their dinner had been taken care of, a comfortable

silence settled between them. A short time later, Hunter turned onto

an oceanfront cul-de-sac and hit the remote that operated a set of

classic wrought-iron gates. The gates opened soundlessly, granting

them access to a long cobblestone driveway that led up to the house.

Hunter bypassed the attached four-car garage and pulled up

near the front door. The trailing SUV remained at the gate. As Sara

stepped out of the car, the first thing she noticed was the quiet. There

were no city noises here, no sounds of people or traffic. Instead there

was only the sound of the surf and the rustle of a light breeze as it

stirred the nearby trees.

❖

• 198 •

Hostage Moon

Sara had not given a lot of thought to where Hunter might live.

At a guess, she might have pictured a high-tech condo or a trendy

downtown loft. Instead, what she found was romantic architecture

at its best and another glimpse into who Hunter Roswell really was.

The entrance to Hunter’s home featured a two-story foyer turret

with a spiral staircase. Beyond the entrance hall, Sara could see a

large sunken living room with walnut floors, beamed ceilings, and

vast unobstructed ocean views from almost every vantage point.

“Wow,” Sara said.

“I know,” Hunter smiled wryly, looking around at the mostly

empty rooms. “I’ve not gotten around to unpacking and decorating.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I was simply going to say

it’s beautiful.”

“Oh…thanks. I bought it not long before I went to London.

There are still a lot of rooms that are only partially furnished and a

lot of boxes that still need to be unpacked.”

They stood overlooking the living room, where the late

afternoon sunlight was reflecting on the gleaming surface of the

baby grand piano, making Sara smile. “You play?

“Yeah. Next to running, playing is probably my favorite way to

relax.” Walking across the room, she ran her fingers across the keys,

letting the notes resonate in the room. “Want to eat out by the pool?”

“Sure, it’s a nice evening for it.” Sara followed Hunter into the

kitchen. “And…oh my God. This kitchen was taken straight out of

my dreams.” She turned in a circle, an expression of awe on her face

as she took in the chef’s kitchen with its limestone floors, granite

counters, professional appliances, and built-in espresso machine.

“It’s a real shame you don’t cook much.”

Hunter glanced over, giving her a droll look. “At the moment,

I don’t cook anything most people would recognize or want to eat.”

She shrugged as she opened a cabinet. “I take it you do?”

“You play the piano, I cook.” Sara grinned. “It’s one of the

things I do to relax.”

“Well, Kate’s always warning me about my poor eating habits.

Anytime you’re in the mood to relax and maybe take pity on me,

you’re more than welcome to come over and use my kitchen,”

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aJ Quinn

Hunter offered. “If you can grab some plates and napkins out of

there”—she indicated with a nod of her head—“I’ve got the rest.”

Again, Sara thought she caught a flash of something in Hunter’s

eyes. She couldn’t identify it, and in another instant it was gone,

almost as if she had imagined it. She thought about pressing the

issue, but decided to let it go. Instead, she opened the cupboards,

picked up the items Hunter had asked for, and followed her outside.

“This is absolutely beautiful.” Sara let a sigh escape as she

stood on a multi-level patio surrounding a large swimming pool and

Jacuzzi. It was unbelievably peaceful, the air blending the tang of

salt and cypress with the intoxicating scent of sweet wisteria and

other magical blooms.

She set the plates and napkins down on a table near the edge

of the pool. She then finished opening the bottle of merlot Hunter

had brought out, letting it breathe while Hunter responded to the

intercom announcing the arrival of their meal. When she returned

a few minutes later, the packages she carried added the tantalizing

aromas of chicken, shrimp, jasmine rice, and spices to the evening

air. Hunter laid the food out and poured Sara a glass of wine, then

one for herself. After casting a quick glance at the table making sure

nothing was missing, she sat down, propped her bare feet on a spare

chair, and picked up what looked like a complex TV remote. As she

touched a series of buttons, the lights in the bottom of the swimming

pool came on and Enigma drifted from unseen speakers.

“Food looks good, don’t you think?” she asked softly.

Sara readily agreed as she plucked a fat shrimp with her

chopsticks. She popped it into her mouth and gave an audible moan

as she savored the delicate blend of spices. “Oh God, this is really

good.”

Hunter nodded and sent Sara a self-deprecating grin. “I make

it a point to know where all the really good takeout can be found.”

Sara ate a few more bites while watching Hunter’s silent

profile, and then bowed to the inevitable. “Tell me about New York.

I know this was about six months ago. How long were you there?”

she prompted gently.

• 200 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter’s animated face became instantly still, and the sparkle in

her eyes disappeared. The change was dramatic, and Sara regretted

she’d been the cause of it.

“Hey. You okay?” she asked, when Hunter didn’t speak.

Hunter didn’t even try to lie. “No.”

Instinct had Sara not touching her. “If you’d rather not do

this—if you can’t talk to me—you’ll have to talk to someone. You

know that. Look what it’s costing you.”

Hunter drew a deep breath to steady herself. But where the hell

do I start? Stalling for time, she picked up a spring roll and dipped

it into the sweet red chili sauce. Then, with a sigh, she said, “I really

do want to explain myself to you. Explain what happened. It’s just

I’m not sure where or how to begin.”

After a long stretch of silence, Sara reached out and gently

turned Hunter’s face toward her. “It’s all right, Hunter. I’m not

going anywhere. Take your time.”

Hunter dropped the spring roll onto her plate untouched and

drank her wine instead, barely tasting it. “New York was supposed

to be a quick turnaround,” she said softly. “I flew in that morning,

and I was only supposed to be there a few hours. One meeting, in

and out.”

“Who were you meeting?”

“The client was Braddock Worldwide. They were looking

to do a major upgrade on their security systems. We had already

carried out intrusions at three of their locations and determined they

were extremely vulnerable. We proposed a complete redesign and

had been talking for a while, ironing out all the details. This was

meant to be the final meeting to seal the deal. Just their CEO Max

Braddock and me.”

“Isn’t that a bit unusual?”

“For someone else, maybe, but not for Max. Rumor has it that’s

how he made his fortune. One deal at a time and always personally

involved at the end.” Hunter turned her wineglass in her hands and

looked a bit lost in thought.

“You like Braddock.”

• 201 •

aJ Quinn

“More than that…I respect him.” After a few seconds, she

looked up, her expression pensive. “I never sit at the table without

knowing who I’m going to be facing.”

“And Peter McNeil gave you a file on Braddock at least an inch

thick prior to your meeting,” Sara said with a grin.

Hunter might have laughed if she hadn’t been so tied up in knots.

“Actually, Peter provided me with his usual thorough background

check long before the meeting in New York,” she said. “When Max

dismissed his negotiation team and took over personally, then asked

me to fly out and meet with him, it was right on schedule. I expected

it.” Sara looked quizzically at her as if she could sense her

sudden discomfort, hear the uncertainty in her voice. As if she

knew intuitively Hunter’s discomfort had nothing to do with Max

Braddock or the negotiations they had conducted in New York. But

instead of delving deeper, Sarah merely smiled. “Try the shrimp.

It’s really good.” She topped up their wine glasses before gently

nudging the conversation forward. “What happened next?”

Hunter struggled to recall the blurred memories she had of that

fateful day. “As I said, I flew out in the morning, and I remember

arranging for the limo to pick me up and take me back to La Guardia

at six forty-five. But things went really well, and we were able to

finalize the deal early, finishing everything just before five.”

She paused and met Sara’s eyes as she reconsidered the options

she had faced and the decisions she had made that afternoon. “I

suppose—no, the smart thing would have been to call and have the

limo pick me up early. Or simply grab a cab. But we’d been working

nonstop on this deal for so long, and the thought of having almost

two hours to myself was too damned appealing to pass up.”

Sara listened quietly to what was being said—both the spoken

words and the unspoken ones—and tried to anticipate the events

as they had occurred, trying to stay ahead of wherever Hunter was

leading her. So much hurt there, she realized. So much pain. She

wondered where it had its roots. “Where did you go?”

“That’s the funny thing. I didn’t actually go anywhere. Max

and I had chosen to meet at a small boutique hotel on Park Avenue.

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Hostage Moon

More informal, neutral territory. The hotel had a fairly nice little bar,

and I just went in for a drink.”

“And some quiet anonymity?”

Hunter’s eyes widened slightly, and she gave Sara a startled

glance. “Yeah, something like that,” she confessed. “It was quiet,

not too many people, but I remember this guy came over and sat

down beside me. Kept insisting he wanted to buy me a drink and

didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

“What did you do?” Sara asked quietly.

“I blew him off, finished my drink, and left shortly thereafter.”

She paused, moistened her lips, and when she looked up, her eyes

seemed dark and haunted. “That’s just about the last clear memory

I have of that day.”

“What did he look like?” Did he have a pale face? Did he have

a thin mouth and light brown hair? Did he look anything like the

man on the security video?

Hunter shook her head, her frustration evident. “That’s just it,”

she said. “I don’t remember. I mean, he could have been anyone.

Nothing about him really stood out, and I wasn’t paying much

attention because I wasn’t interested in whatever thrill he was

selling. I just wanted him to go away and leave me alone.”

Sara regarded Hunter silently. “What do you remember next?”

“Waking up in an alley near the East River about twelve hours

later,” Hunter said. The flatness of her delivery hid most of her pain

behind a cool façade. “It was dark, and I was cold and dizzy and

nauseous. I hurt all over and I kept passing out. I have no idea how

long it was before I could remain conscious for more than a minute

or two at a time.”

“Sweet Jesus.” Sara leaned forward. She noted Hunter was

beginning to breathe more rapidly and resisted the urge to touch her.

“What did you do?”

“When I was finally able to manage a coherent thought, I called

Matt and let him know where I was,” Hunter replied. “I told him

what I could—which wasn’t a lot. By the time I finished, my right

eye had swollen nearly closed and my left eye wasn’t far behind.

I also seemed to be bleeding from a cut on my ribcage. I got the

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aJ Quinn

hell out of there while I still could and managed to get myself to

an ER.”

“Christ, Hunter. How badly were you hurt?”

Hunter smiled weakly for just an instant. “I looked like I went

ten rounds with a Golden Gloves champ and lost every round.

Fortunately, I really looked much worse than it was. Aside from the

black eyes, a split lip, and an assortment of contusions, the worst

injuries were a couple of cuts, bruised ribs, and a bruised kidney.”

“If you say so,” Sara responded. She waited a few seconds and

then prodded gently. “But that’s not all, is it?”

Hunter shook her head, reached for her wine, and drank it down

in one long swallow. Her voice broke slightly on her next words.

“There were abrasions…ligature marks, actually…on my

wrists. And the staff in the emergency department expressed surprise

I was able to make it in under my own steam. According to one of

the doctors, I was a chemical stew.”

Sara studied Hunter’s face and raised her eyebrows. “What

exactly does that mean?”

“The toxicology screen came back positive for Ecstasy,

benzodiazepine, and Rohypnol.”

“And you didn’t—”

“Not knowingly.”

“Do you know if the doctor did a rape kit?” Sara asked evenly.

Hunter nodded. “Some of the blood on me wasn’t mine, so

unless there was a third person there, I can tell you he’s A positive.

But so is thirty-five percent of the US population.”

She stopped and glanced at Sara before continuing. Her next

words were stark and devoid of emotion. “There was also a fair

amount of bruising, but according to the doc, there was no evidence

of any recent sexual activity.”

Sara’s chest tightened as she heard the clinical response to her

question, and she took a grateful breath. As selfish as it seemed, she

didn’t want to hear any more right now. She reached out tentatively

toward Hunter before stopping herself from touching her. She wasn’t

sure the physical contact would be welcomed, and she was already

treading on dangerous ground.

• 204 •

Hostage Moon

“There are a couple of other things you need to know about

that night.” Hunter’s words continued to be delivered in a detached

monotone. “He may not have left a lot of trace evidence, but he did

leave me a note. I found it tucked in the front pocket of my jeans.”

Sara gazed into stormy blue eyes and asked the question

although she already knew what the answer would be. “What did

the note say?”

“It said ‘You are mine,’ of course. Did you have any doubt?”

Hunter stared down at her hands. “I should have told you before

now. I mean that I’d had previous contact with your serial killer.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sara said. “You said there were a couple of things

I needed to know. I’m going to assume the other is you recognized

his voice this afternoon when we were viewing the security disc.

Am I correct?”

“‘You are mine.’” Hunter repeated the phrase like a mantra.

Her words were whispered and toneless, but the flash of anger in the

blue eyes was unmistakable. “He must have said that to me during

those missing hours. It’s the one thing I remember clearly. The

damned phrase was still echoing in my head when I first regained

consciousness in that alley.” With suddenly trembling hands, Hunter

reached for the wine bottle and emptied the remains into her glass.

“How did you know?”

“Your reaction to the sound of his voice on the security disc

this afternoon left little room for doubt.”

Hunter gently swirled the wine in her glass. She watched as the

glow from the swimming pool was reflected in the translucent liquid

and swiftly downed the contents of the glass. Placing the empty

glass on the table, she stood up abruptly and went into the house.

Once in the kitchen, she stopped, feeling her knees go weak, and

leaned against a wall for support until the sensation passed.

Her confidence had deserted her—that edge that helped her

keep one step ahead—and she’d never felt more lost. She stood

there for a long, hard moment while she shored up her defenses and

battled an inexplicable and uncharacteristic need to weep.

Sara looked up when Hunter returned a short time later with a

freshly opened bottle of wine in her hand. “What is it?” she asked

in a soft voice.

• 205 •

aJ Quinn

“Sorry. I guess I had a bit of a flashback.” Their eyes met, and

Hunter let herself absorb the empathy she found mirrored there. “It

also suddenly occurred to me I’ve no idea what he intended to have

happen in New York. And for some reason, it’s important.” Her gaze

was unwavering as she looked at Sara. “Do you think he meant for

everything to begin and end there?”

“What exactly do you want to know?”

Hunter drew in a ragged breath and stared over Sara’s shoulder,

not really seeing anything. “Do you think he meant to play out the

game to its logical conclusion?” She tried to keep herself together

long enough to get out the next few words. “Was I meant to die in

New York?”

When Hunter sat down, Sara took the wine bottle from her

hands and refilled both their glasses. “I’m not sure what answer

you’re looking for, Hunter. I can only tell you I doubt he intended to

kill you. What’s important—what you need to focus on—is even if

that was his intent, he didn’t succeed.”

Hunter nodded her head absently, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

“No, he didn’t succeed,” she repeated. “My problem is I’ve no idea

what happened that night. No idea where he took me. I don’t know

if he let me get away because that was his plan all along or whether

I got away from him on my own. All I know for sure is five women

have died since that night.”

“You couldn’t have stopped that from happening,” Sara said

softly. “For what it’s worth, I believe he saw New York simply as an

opportunity to escalate.”

Hunter folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing as

she turned toward Sara. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a stalker,” Sara replied. “He’s been following you for

some time, playing a game and enjoying it. He knows you have a

security team that’s seldom far away. When he followed you to New

York and saw you alone in the bar, it was an opportunity too good to

pass up, and he decided to approach you.”

“And it angered him when I blew him off.”

“Probably,” Sara replied carefully. “He slipped you some-

thing—most likely the Rohypnol—and simply waited. Roofies can

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have no color, smell, or taste, so there would have been nothing to

alert you.”

“And when I left the bar a short while later, he just followed

me out?”

“You would have been dizzy. Disoriented. Having difficulty

with motor function, difficulty speaking,” Sara continued. “He may

have had a car nearby, but considering you were in Manhattan, it’s

more likely he hailed a cab. He would have easily explained the

condition you were in by saying you’d had too much to drink. He

would have played the attentive lover.”

Hunter nodded and tiredly rubbed her eyes. “I just can’t

remember any of it.” She tried to ease the pounding headache that

was beginning to make its presence felt and was making it difficult

for her to think. “Or maybe I just don’t want to remember any of it.

I’m not really sure.”

“It’s okay, Hunter,” Sara offered gently.

Hunter let out a shuddering breath. The fatigue was bone deep,

leaving her too tired to argue. As if from a distance, she watched

Sara capture one of her hands, squeezing it gently as she smiled, and

knew she was trying to let some of the emotion bleed away.

“We’ve covered a lot of territory tonight. We’ll talk again later

if you’re okay with that. In fact, why don’t we put it away until

tomorrow and simply enjoy the rest of the evening? Just two friends

having dinner.”

Feeling emotionally drained, Hunter readily agreed as relief

settled over her and the last vestiges of tension melted away. She

picked up her wine glass and slumped back in her chair crossing

long, jean-clad legs. “I can do that,” she said.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, and Hunter knew

the next move was hers. She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

“Lord of the Rings,” she said softly.

Sara paused in the act of snaring another shrimp. “I’m sorry,

what did you say?”

“Lord of the Rings.” Hunter gave her a small crooked grin and

shrugged sheepishly. “My favorite movie. What’s yours?”

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aJ Quinn

They looked at each other a moment longer before Sara started

to laugh, as if she had clued in Hunter was attempting to make small

talk. “All right, it’s a start.” She looked at Hunter and grinned,

her smile widening when it was instantly mirrored. “Shawshank

Redemption. Favorite musical?”

“Movie or live theater?”

So it went for the next hour. They continued to exchange

bits of personal information, maintaining a steady stream of easy

conversation while they ate. Sara laughed easily and shared stories

of her early days at Quantico. Hunter found herself relaxing and

enjoying the easy camaraderie that unfolded.

Once they finished eating, they cleared the table, placed the

leftovers in the fridge, and washed the few dishes. Returning to

the patio, they sat in the gathering darkness as the wind whispered

through the trees and the rays of the sun setting low painted an

infinite horizon in shades of red and gold. Soon after, darkness

descended completely, and it wasn’t long before the glow from the

swimming pool was the only source of light as they sat under a

black, starless sky.

Eventually, Sara glanced at her watch. Beside her, Hunter had

her head back and her eyes closed and as much as she didn’t want to

disturb her, Sara knew she should make arrangements to leave. “It’s

getting kind of late,” she began.

Hunter gazed, heavy-lidded, at Sara. Her voice was soft and

low, and she let the words slide out lazily. “Why don’t you stay the

night?”

“Hunter…” Sara whispered uncertainly.

Caught in the crystalline blue of Hunter’s eyes, Sara remained

silent while seconds ticked by. She wanted to ask Hunter what

she was thinking, but some instinct told her now wasn’t the time.

She inhaled deeply, absorbing the scent of Hunter’s perfume and

something else that was distinctly her. And even though she knew

Hunter’s offer was meant to be strictly platonic, Sara still felt desire

stirring deep within her.

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Hostage Moon

“Sara?” Hunter gave her a lopsided grin. “Darlin’, I’ve had too

much wine to drive you back to Kate’s tonight.”

“I know.”

“Which means I’ll have to call the limo. But it’s late, and there’s

no real reason why you shouldn’t stay here. Logically, it just makes

better sense to have you spend the night.”

“I could just call a cab.”

“You could,” Hunter agreed. “But why bother? It’s not as if

we’ll be tripping over each other in the dark.”

“No, but—”

“Sara,” Hunter said. “There are three guest rooms on the second

floor plus a fully self-contained guest suite on the lower level. And

while I may not have a lot of furniture, the guest rooms all have

beds, and you can take your pick. I’m sure you’ll find one of them

to your liking. So please stay.”

The dimly reflected light of the pool cast shifting shadows

across Hunter’s face, and Sara thought she had never looked more

beautiful. Or more vulnerable. She could think of a handful of

reasons why she should leave. But none of them could override the

one reason she was choosing to stay.

Because Hunter wanted her to stay.

• 209 •

• 210 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty

Sara chose the second-floor guest room at the end of the hall.

Spacious and bright with whitewashed walls and hardwood

floors, it overlooked the patio and swimming pool, and offered an

expansive view of the Pacific, currently cloaked by darkness and

fog. There was a light breeze coming through the open window, and

as she stood in front of it, she enjoyed the feel of the salt-tinged air

against her face and the soothing sound of the waves.

Minutes later, Hunter came up behind her. She carried an

oversized T-shirt and a blue silk robe. “I wasn’t sure what your

preference might be so I brought you something to sleep in. Is

everything else in here okay for you?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Towels are on the top shelf of that cabinet,” Hunter explained,

indicating the adjoining private bath. “You’ll find toothbrushes and

toothpaste in the drawer. Shampoo and body wash in the shower.

Feel free to use whatever you need. Sleep well, Sara.”

“Thank you. You get some sleep, too, and I’ll see you in the

morning,” Sara responded. When she turned, she was surprised to

find Hunter only inches away. Their eyes locked as Hunter moved

closer, gently brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Sara’s

face with her fingertips.

“Sara.”

She said it softly, her lips hovering only an inch away, and there

was a slight tremor in her voice. Leaning closer still, she placed

a gentle kiss on Sara’s lips—the sweetest and most fleeting of

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aJ Quinn

touches—before she stepped back. A moment later, Hunter slipped

quietly from the room.

Her lips had been softer, warmer, and more gentle than Sara

had imagined. She whimpered at the loss of contact as images of

Hunter’s lips on hers flashed repeatedly through her mind. Hunter.

She closed her eyes as the name echoed maddeningly.

A few minutes later, she padded into the bathroom and started

the water running. A shower is what you need. A cold shower. The

shower proved to be refreshing, and Sara found herself grinning as

she pulled on the cotton T-shirt with Marvin the Martian on it, then

sprawled out onto the bed, pleasantly tired if not necessarily sleepy.

Sometime later, she couldn’t say what exactly awoke her from

the deep sleep she had been enjoying. Feeling vaguely unsettled,

Sara reached for her watch and saw it was just after three in the

morning. She sat up, wincing at the twinge in her neck as she took in

the room around her, listening for the sound she thought she’d heard.

But only the silence greeted her, and after a couple of minutes, she

settled back down onto the pillow and closed her eyes.

The sound of the waves had almost lulled her back to sleep

when her eyes flew open once again. This time she heard it more

clearly. The distinct sound of something or someone moving on the

patio below.

Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, she reached for her

bag on the night table and withdrew her weapon. She slipped the

safety off as she inched toward the window and peered down.

At first, she could see nothing. Silently steeling herself, she

waited, holding her position against the wall. Her patience was

rewarded when she saw a silhouette move away from the shadow

of the house. An instant later, the dark figure became clearer and

morphed into Hunter. She was in the act of pulling the T-shirt she

wore over her head as she moved. Sara watched as Hunter tossed

it onto one of the deck chairs surrounding the pool, leaving her

wearing a dark-colored thong. And nothing else.

“Oh Jesus,” Sara said, licking suddenly dry lips as her ability

to think flew right out the window. The woman is obviously trying

to kill me.

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Hostage Moon

She blinked and swallowed. Hard. She took a quick breath and

tried to get control of her suddenly racing heart. Staring for what

seemed like hours, she felt like a voyeur, but her eyes refused to

obey her command to look away. Instead, she prayed Hunter would

do her a favor and move back into the shadows.

She groaned softly as Hunter walked to the edge of the bottom-

lit pool, unable to take her eyes away from the long, lithe body and

the firm, muscular derrière. Watching her awakened something deep.

Desire. Hunger. The need to touch her. Taste her. Claim her. She had

never met another woman who possessed so strong an elemental

sexual pull. It was sharp, almost painful, and Sara realized with a

start that no other woman had ever caused her pain.

Oh, Sara, be careful, she told herself. Be very careful.

Finally, she released a small sigh of relief as Hunter dove

cleanly into the water. She disappeared from view as she swam

more than half the length of the pool underwater before surfacing

and slipping into a strong crawl.

For the next several minutes, Sara watched Hunter as she swam

laps. Then, without giving her own motivation too much thought,

she put the gun away, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and

headed down to the patio.

As she stepped outside into the night air, she glanced indecisively

toward the deck chairs before choosing instead to drop down at

the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the warm water. Sitting

quietly, she watched Hunter continue to drive herself, maintaining a

consistent pace as she swam lap after lap. Until finally, she began to

slow down. Until finally, she pulled herself out of the pool and stood

up, swaying slightly as she slicked her hair back from her face.

Sara stood up as well and stared as the water trickled slowly

from Hunter’s hair and ran down the angular planes of her face to her

neck. Unable to look away, entranced, she followed the rivulets as

they ran across Hunter’s chest and down her smoothly muscled body.

She had a truly marvelous body. A swimmer’s or maybe a

runner’s. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was it was long

and lean and athletic with small breasts, narrow hips, and just

enough softness covering her muscles. Gorgeous.

• 213 •

aJ Quinn

As she stepped closer, Sara could feel Hunter’s breath, warm

against the coolness of her skin. And once again, she felt the sharp

tug of desire that seemed to constantly hover just beneath the surface

whenever Hunter was near.

“Having trouble sleeping?” she asked softly.

Hunter regarded her and smiled uncertainly in response.

“Something like that.” She licked her lips and seemed unconcerned

about her state of undress, oblivious to how attractive she was and

totally unaware of the effect she was having on Sara. “Sorry, I didn’t

mean to wake you.”

Sara stepped toward Hunter and wrapped the bath towel around

her shoulders.

“For God’s sake, Hunter, you’re about to fall down,” she said,

feeling the skin beneath her fingers trembling faintly in the cool

night air. “When’s the last time you actually slept through the night?”

Hunter shrugged and smiled tiredly. “I’m not sure. What year

is this?”

“Smart-ass.” Sara bumped her forehead against Hunter’s.

“Come on. You need a hot shower. Then I’m tucking you into bed.”

“That sounds promising.” Hunter purred and quirked a half grin.

“Be good.” Sara reached for Hunter’s hand, precluding any

further discussion, and led her back inside, stopping long enough

for Hunter to reset the alarm before heading up the stairs. Still, she

wondered idly what Hunter would think if she tried to join her in the

shower. The thought caused her to briefly stumble, and she forced

herself to concentrate on maintaining her footing before she did

something stupid.

❖

An hour later, with the lights in the master suite turned down

low, Sara watched Hunter as she slept facedown on the bed beside

her, and listened to her rhythmic breathing. Having totally exhausted

herself, Hunter had not moved since she had dropped onto the bed,

pulling Sara down with her after mumbling something about not

wanting to be alone.

• 214 •

Hostage Moon

Sara indulged herself, transfixed by the relaxed features. Her

eyes took in every contour and angle, every line, as she was drawn

closer to the vortex that was Hunter Roswell. She seemed to have

finally found some peace in a dreamless sleep. Her long dark lashes

fanned her cheeks and a cloud of damp, tousled hair fell around her

face. Gone for the moment were the haunted expressions of hurt and

loss, anger and defiance. Instead, she simply looked young.

And so damn beautiful it made Sara ache.

Aware of the undeniable connection she had felt from the very

beginning, Sara gave free rein to her thoughts, to her imagination.

A smile crossed her face as she wondered what it would be like to

make love with Hunter. To lie in this giant bed under the midnight

canopy of the skylight, skin pressed against skin, limbs tangled,

and unleash all the heat and passion Hunter seemed to keep barely

contained.

The urge to touch increased until it became too strong to

ignore. Surrendering to the pull, Sara reached out and gently laid

her hand on Hunter’s bare back, stroking, feeling the soft smooth

skin covering the lean muscle. She could feel the flex of muscle

beneath her fingers, and her breath caught in her throat. Feeling her

pulse speed up, she caught her lip between her teeth and then sighed

and wondered just what the hell she was doing.

Enough! Get it together, Wilder.

In her sleep, Hunter murmured incoherently. Reaching out

blindly, she grasped Sara’s hand and brushed a light kiss on it

without waking. Sara felt her heart stutter in automatic response,

felt a quickening in the blood, and tried to concentrate on anything

other than their interlaced fingers as they lay against the deep blue

sheets. But her body betrayed her and forced her to admit the truth,

if only to herself.

This attraction to Hunter had moved into previously uncharted

territory. She had been sexually attracted to women on numerous

occasions in the past. Had at times acted on the attraction. But

this was different. This was much more than just a physical pull, a

sexual attraction. In fact, she was certain she had not felt quite like

this before about anyone.

• 215 •

aJ Quinn

But underlying that admission was the reality of their present

situation. That she was here with Hunter at all was only because she

had a job to do, to help her identify her stalker. To protect her. To

keep her alive. Were it not for those circumstances, she doubted she

would have ever gained entrance into Hunter’s world, Hunter’s life.

And the fact that the attraction was quite possibly reciprocated did

not change that reality.

Sara’s eyes flickered across the shadowed planes of Hunter’s

face, and she swallowed as she felt the heavy surge of need and want

and desire course through her. These were dangerous waters, and

she was left feeling vulnerable, wondering what she was supposed

to do now. Because still outstanding was the pressing question of

finding out who wanted to hurt Hunter. Until that riddle was solved,

everything else simply had to wait.

Didn’t it?

With the questions tumbling endlessly in her head, Sara closed

her eyes. And with the sound of Hunter’s soft breathing murmuring

to her, she let sleep claim her.

❖

When Sara opened her eyes, she found herself sprawled on the

huge bed with the morning sun streaming in through the windows

while the skylight overhead revealed a cloudless blue sky. A quick

glance at the clock on the bedside table let her know it was already

after eight. A further glance confirmed what she already suspected.

She was alone in the bed.

The feeling of loss and disappointment was almost palpable.

But inhaling deeply, she found Hunter’s scent, so faint it was barely

detectable, still drifted around her. It was like inhaling midnight.

Cool with a hauntingly dark undercurrent. She closed her eyes,

sighing contentedly.

You’re hopeless.

“If you’re wondering where Hunter is, she and Tessa went for

a run on the beach about half an hour ago.”

• 216 •

Hostage Moon

Sara’s eyes flew open at the sound of the voice. She blinked

at the sight of Kate’s all-too-familiar body leaning against the

doorframe, arms folded across her chest, a faint grin on her face.

Just as quickly, Sara shut her eyes.

This is not happening. Oh God, kill me now.

After waiting what seemed like an appropriate length of time,

she peeked through half-closed eyes, but the image in the doorway

had not changed. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, a hot blush

creeping up her neck and suffusing her face.

“Oh? And what do you suppose it looks like?” Kate asked.

Sara groaned. “I know it looks like Hunter and I slept together…

but this really isn’t…it’s not what you think.”

“So you keep telling me.” Kate’s grin was fast and amused, and

she looked as if she was fighting hard not to laugh. “I think I walked

in here and found you sleeping in Hunter’s bed.” She raised her

brows. “But you tell me it’s not what it looks like, and I’m supposed

to believe you. No problem.”

“Kate—”

Kate’s laughter succeeded in cutting Sara off. “Come on, Sara.

It’s not as if I would think there’s anything wrong with it if you are

sleeping with Hunter.”

Sara winced and Kate regarded her intently.

“On the contrary. I think it makes you a goddess among

mortals, because the Hunter Roswell I’ve known for the past five

years doesn’t spend the entire night with a woman. Any woman.

And she certainly doesn’t bring them home to her own bed.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Kate confirmed. “Yet you have managed to accomplish

both feats in short order. I’m impressed. Hell, I’m jealous. Why

don’t you tell me what’s going on, Sara?”

“It’s complicated.”

“C’mon then, why don’t you make it uncomplicated for me.”

Sara sighed and ran her hands through her sleep-tousled hair.

A moment later, her account of the previous evening came out in a

softly worded tumble. “Hunter and I had dinner here last evening.

We talked, ate takeout, and drank too much wine. When it got late,

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aJ Quinn

it seemed best…we decided it would be best if I spent the night. In

one of the second-floor guest rooms.”

A faint smile edged its way back onto Kate’s lips. “And the

house is so big you got lost on your way to this second-floor guest

room?”

“No, smart-ass.” Sara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge

of her nose. Just thinking about it was enough to make her taste the

hunger, feel the desire.

“Talk to me, Sara. What’s going on?”

There was something quietly tenacious in the way Kate was

looking at her, and Sara immediately understood she wouldn’t have

a moment’s peace until Kate’s curiosity had been satisfied. Bowing

her head to the inevitable, she conceded.

“It’s really quite simple. Hunter got up in the middle of the

night. Nightmares, if I had to guess. I woke up when I heard her go

outside. It looked like she was trying to exhaust herself by swimming

laps, and I followed her out to make sure she was okay. When she

went back to bed, she…she didn’t want to be alone. Having me

beside her seemed to calm her down. And I guess I fell asleep.”

She stopped abruptly, ending the uncharacteristically long

speech.

“That was very sweet of you,” Kate teased. But her eyes gentled

as she moved over to sit next to Sara on the bed. “I’m sure having

you there helped Hunter get some much-needed sleep.”

“It seemed to. I mean I guess it did. Of course, my feelings

weren’t entirely altruistic,” Sara whispered softly after a long

moment had passed. “Because more than anything, I really just

wanted to grab her and make love to her until she forgot all about

her nightmares. Until all she could do was scream out my name.”

Kate’s eyes widened with surprise, her gaze fixed on Sara’s

face. Reaching out across the bed, she took Sara’s hand and

squeezed. “Amen to that, sister,” she sighed reverently. She paused

as she peered more closely at Sara. “Oh my God,” she said. “Does

Hunter know?”

“Know what?”

“Does she know you’re falling for her?”

• 218 •

Hostage Moon

“Am I?” Sara smiled sadly and stared up at the endless expanse

of deep blue visible through the skylight. She’d never been good at

denial. “No,” she said, unable to pretend otherwise. “Hunter has no

idea and it’s just as well. Because nothing can come of it…nothing

will come of it.”

“Bullshit.”

Kate might have argued the point, but Sara stopped her with a

look. “Do I have to point out that I met her through the bureau? And

believe me, the FBI has very clear rules about any involvement with

someone they consider a person of interest.”

“You no longer work for the FBI which means their rules don’t

apply. And she’s Tessa’s closest friend, just as you are mine. You

would have met her eventually in a social context. Try again.”

Sara tried to ignore the swell of emotions. Looking up at Kate,

she attempted a different tack. “Have you ever just looked at her?”

she asked softly. “I mean really looked at her?”

“Looked at Hunter?” Kate sighed. “Of course I have. Let’s not

forget I spent most of the first week after I met her trying to get her

into my bed.”

“Then you understand,” Sara said. “There’s something about

her, but it’s like she’s not even aware of it. I think that’s part of the

attraction. She’s so damned beautiful I find myself just staring at

her. There are times I look at her and I forget to breathe. Damn, I’m

a total mess.”

Kate frowned. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t seem to have a frame of reference for

dealing with what she makes me feel.” Looking down, Sara silently

studied her hands. “We both know she could have anyone.”

“Yeah, she could have anyone. But you also know she’s not

involved with anyone else.”

“I guessed that was the case,” Sara said. “But I also know

between trying to identify whoever is stalking her and dealing with

unresolved issues regarding everything that happened to her ten

years ago, Hunter’s already stretched pretty thin emotionally. This

situation is forcing her to deal with all the ghosts she’s been carrying

for years, and I’m not sure she can handle one more thing right now.”

• 219 •

aJ Quinn

“Even if it’s a good thing?”

“Even then.”

“What are you going to do?”

Sara took a long breath and let it out slowly before she looked

up at Kate and smiled fleetingly. “I’m going to do what I set out to

do in the first place. I’m going to help Hunter get through this and

make sure she comes out whole on the other side. Anything else will

just have to wait.”

She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. Running

her hands through her hair again, she could feel them tremble. She

bit her lip and looked away, suddenly afraid of what her face might

reveal, especially to someone who knew her as well as Kate did.

Perhaps sensing Hunter wasn’t the only one at her emotional

limit, Kate backed off. “I’ve an idea,” she suggested. “Why don’t

you have a shower in that religious experience Hunter calls a

bathroom while I go downstairs and start the coffee?”

Sara gave a quick nod. “I don’t suppose you happened to bring

me a change of clothes?”

“No, but Hunter said you could borrow anything of hers you

wanted to wear. I’ll see what I can find that’ll fit and leave it for you

on the bed. When you’re ready, you can come down and help me

make breakfast before Tessa and Hunter get back. I was thinking

we’d eat out by the pool. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Sara said absently, grateful for the shift in

focus. Throwing the covers back, she forced herself out of bed and

padded toward the bathroom.

It took her three tries before she could figure out how to set the

controls that worked the shower. But in the end, it was more than

worth the extra effort. She slid the door open and eased herself into

the enormous shower stall, sighing as the hot water and steam from

the multiple shower heads enveloped her in a heated embrace.

She lingered in the shower, emerging finally after nearly thirty

minutes, and slipped on the borrowed cargo shorts and navy polo

shirt she found on the bed. After making her way downstairs, she

picked up the plates and cutlery Kate had left on the counter and

took them out to the patio.

• 220 •

Hostage Moon

She had just finished setting the table when she heard Tessa and

Hunter returning from their run. She could hear Hunter laughing,

a sound that immediately sent gentle shivers down her spine. As

Hunter and Tessa came into view, she frowned when she saw Tessa

was limping, but both women were smiling and nothing else seemed

to be amiss.

Hunter caught and held Sara’s attention. She looked gloriously

healthy and radiantly beautiful. Especially now, with her hair damp

and windblown, and her face flushed. Her racer-back tank top clung

to her sweat-dampened skin, which made Sara take a longer second

look and sent her pulse rate soaring.

As her eyes flicked along the length of Hunter’s body, she

became aware of the acute physical reaction she was having. With a

soft groan, she forced herself to look away. Talk about primal urges,

Sara, a little voice in the back of her mind chided. I’m worse than a

teenaged boy. But she couldn’t get rid of the delightful images that

flooded her mind and weakened her knees.

“Hey,” she called out, her voice sounding huskier that usual.

She took a shaky breath and cleared her throat. “How was the run?”

A devilish grin pulled at the corners of Hunter’s mouth. “Great,

but we had to cut it short on account of Tessa’s age and current

physical condition.”

She drew closer until Sara could feel the warmth of her

overheated body. Giving in to an almost desperate need to see her

eyes, Sara impulsively reached out and slid the sunglasses down

Hunter’s nose. Sara could see the questions evident in her eyes but

was relieved the shadows in their depths had lessened considerably.

She also couldn’t miss the unguarded look of arousal.

Sara inhaled sharply and her world tilted on its axis.

“I’m only three years older than you,” Tessa groused. “I’ll have

you know that makes me younger than both Kate and Sara.”

“Really?” Hunter assessed Sara speculatively. “You don’t

look older than Tessa, and she’s about to turn the big three-oh. Is it

possible?”

“More than possible,” Sara responded dryly. “I’m thirty-

three…almost thirty-four.”

• 221 •

aJ Quinn

“Damn, I could be in trouble here,” Hunter said.

“Why?” Sara and Tessa asked simultaneously.

Hunter flashed a grin. “Because I think older women are so sexy.”

Sara couldn’t help but laugh, finding Hunter’s grin infectious.

“That may be, but right now Kate has breakfast just about ready

and,” she paused, “you both need to shower.”

“You’ve got to love that kind of honesty in a woman,” Tessa

joked, sliding her arm around Hunter’s waist. “Let’s go have that

shower. Wanna share?”

Sara watched Hunter drape an arm around Tessa’s shoulder and

laugh softly as they walked toward the house.

❖

As the late afternoon sun waned, the music drifted from the

speakers through the patio. Counting Crows were singing goodnight

to L.A., which told Hunter that Conner had chosen the latest

selection. The level of noise and laughter coming from the barbeque

pit increased in direct proportion to the amount of smoke that was

billowing, thankfully away from the swimming pool.

As they gestured toward the volume of smoke rising into the

clear blue sky, Matt, Kate, and Conner were arguing good naturedly

about grilling techniques. Nearby, Peter was enticing Sara and

Adrienne into trying the latest drink he had mixed at the makeshift

bar. Hunter caught Sara gazing in her direction, a lopsided grin on

her face. Hunter smiled back just as Sara answered her cell phone.

Stretched out by the pool, Hunter looked away and listened

as the sounds of voices, teasing, and laughter blended. It made her

smile. It also enabled her to ignore her quietly churning laptop,

where an endless parade of faces flickered across the screen. Not that

she needed to be watching it closely. She had an audible alarm that

would signal her when one of her search engines located something

she needed to see.

Come on, I know you’re there. I can feel it. Let me see you.

It was ironic, she decided, that although she was doing

everything in her power to speed up the identification process,

• 222 •

Hostage Moon

illogically she found herself dreading the moment they would

finally put a face to the man stalking her. A dread which was making

itself known in the clamminess of her palms and the churning of her

stomach. The touch of someone’s hand on her shoulder interrupted

her thoughts, and she looked up with a start.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Tessa said. “You look beat. Why don’t you

give yourself a break? How about a swim before the steaks are up?”

“Maybe in a minute,” Hunter responded, distracted by the

activity on the other side of the pool. Her gaze lingered on Sara,

who had finished her telephone call and was now wandering slowly

over to the barbeque pit.

Tessa laughed softly. “Or maybe you want to go and check on

how the steaks are coming along before Matt and Kate manage to

burn everything in sight including the salad.”

Before she could respond, the laptop issued a faint sound.

Nothing obvious. Just a small ping, really. A quick glance toward

Tessa confirmed she had not heard it. Not over the music and voices

and laughter. But then Tessa would not have been listening for it.

Nor would she have recognized the importance of that seemingly

insignificant sound.

A single musical note that indicated a high-probability match

had been found.

With as much nonchalance as she could manage, Hunter

reached out and angled the laptop until she could get a clear view of

the screen. She got her first clear look at an ordinary-looking man

with light brown hair, brown eyes, thin lips, and a pale complexion.

A singularly unremarkable looking man who had already killed

five women.

A monster whose name was Dr. Eric Hamilton Collier.

Waves of nausea gripped her as she tried to absorb the details

on the screen. The hospital records indicated ten years earlier, Eric

Collier had been a surgical resident at San Francisco General. He

had subsequently accepted a staff position, where he had remained

until early March, when he had asked for and received an extended

leave of absence.

You are mine.

• 223 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter could feel her body start to tremble, and she broke out

in a cold sweat. Her mind reeled as a montage of images assaulted

her. Images of a quiet bar in Manhattan.

Come on, beautiful. What’s your problem? I just want to buy

you a drink.

A new surge of nausea attacked her as darker, distorted images

surfaced.

Hey babe, I understand you like games. Let’s you and me play

a game.

And then Brenner’s mocking tone joined Collier’s and filled

her head until she couldn’t distinguish one from the other.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

She shuddered violently and covered her face with both hands,

barely holding back the scream that she longed to release.

“Hunter?”

She registered the expression of concern on Tessa’s face and

opened her mouth to respond, but no sound moved past her throat.

She tried taking one calming breath, then another, as she shut the

laptop and pushed it away from her chair. As if the act would keep

Eric Collier locked inside. An instant later, she jumped up and bolted

into the house.

The kitchen was empty and quiet, and she pressed her forehead

against the cool tiled wall. Her legs turned to water, and she slid

down to the floor, her body trembling. She drew her knees up to her

chin, wrapped both arms around her legs, and then pressed her head

to her knees. Closing her eyes, she willed the room to stop spinning.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt

someone rubbing her shoulder and gently stroking her hair, while a

soothing voice said, “It’s all right, Hunter.”

Sara shifted position slightly, moving closer. Pulling Hunter

into her arms, where she could feel her trembling. “I’m here. I’ve

got you. I won’t let go.”

• 224 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-one

The night sky was cloudless, the air cooling slowly after the

heat of the day. In the darkness, Hunter leaned casually

against the Lamborghini and listened to a dog bark in the distance

while she stared at the small house on the quiet, dead-end street.

A sign of the declining neighborhood, many of the single-

family homes sat quiet and forlorn, with For Sale signs posted on

overgrown front yards. And like the other houses on the street, Eric

Collier’s home was in obvious need of repairs and a fresh coat of

paint. In fact, from the outside, there was very little to distinguish

the house from its neighbors, whose tenants had scurried, melting

away into the darkness at the first sign of police presence.

Collier’s house appeared to be empty but for a faint flickering

light visible through the front window. A bare bulb blinking on

and off like a strobe light. It only served to confirm what Hunter’s

instincts had been telling her. That Eric Collier would not be found

within the walls of the small house. At least not tonight.

From her vantage point, she could see what appeared to be

numerous dark shadows, the members of the FBI, SFPD, and SWAT

teams. Indeed, it seemed as if a veritable law enforcement alphabet

soup was getting into position and converging on the house while

she watched.

She knew that both David and Sara would be found somewhere

among those shadows. Just as she knew that neither would be

pleased to discover she was here. But then, neither had given her

much choice.

• 225 •

aJ Quinn

“No way in hell are you going to be there when we take Collier

down. That’s final.”

Had it been David who said that? Or Sara? Hunter was no

longer sure. But then again, did it really matter? David’s comments

had certainly been the harsher of the two, but in the end, both had

been equally adamant. Hunter would not be allowed anywhere near

the address the DMV had on record for Eric Collier. David had

actually taken it one step further, going so far as to threaten to place

her into protective custody unless she agreed to stay away.

Hunter had not agreed. She had simply walked away, because

it was an argument she had no interest in pursuing. Instead she

resorted to a tactic she would normally eschew. She used the

Roswell name—and all of its connections—to open doors. Fifteen

minutes and two telephone calls and she had not necessarily what

she wanted, but certainly what she needed if she hoped to put an end

to the nightmare that was plaguing her. A front-row center seat at a

well-orchestrated raid. But a raid that would yield…what?

She had no expectation that Eric Collier would be found in

the house. But somewhere inside, there was something he wanted

her to see. Or there would be a message of some kind. Of that she

had no doubt. Otherwise Collier wouldn’t have made it that easy

for her to identify him and confirm Lindsay’s suspicions. This was

something he had allowed to happen when he had smiled into the

security camera. Her eyes scanned the ongoing police activity while

her fingers tapped restlessly against her leg.

“They’re in position. We should be in any minute now. Then

we’ll know what we’re dealing with,” the low voice by her ear said

softly.Hunter turned her head slightly to her right and nodded. At

forty-three, Special Agent in Charge Erin McBride was still as

lean and fit as she had been the first time Hunter had met her. She

had been part of the inner sanctum, working closely with Michael

Roswell in those early days in her career. Over time, Hunter knew

she had parlayed that connection and her experience dealing with

domestic terrorism into overseeing operations in the San Francisco

field office.

• 226 •

Hostage Moon

But she had never forgotten the career boost her former mentor

had made possible. So when his daughter called looking for a

favor, Erin had been more than happy to oblige—something Hunter

understood and had counted on.

“I guess I can wait a little longer,” Hunter stated quietly. “It’s

just that patience has never been my strong suit.” She gave Erin a

wry smile. “Of course, I don’t know why I’m being this impatient

since I really don’t expect him to be there.”

“You think this is some kind of setup, don’t you?”

“I do, but not in the traditional sense. And before you ask, I

really have no idea what Collier has planned. It’s just that he’s come

too far to have it all end like this.”

“What do you mean?”

Hunter shrugged. “He believes he’s the superior intelligence

here.”Erin leaned back, crossed her arms across her chest, and studied

Hunter as a sardonic smile touched her lips. “Matched up against a

woman with an IQ of what…over one eighty?” She shook her head

in apparent disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

Her comment elicited Hunter’s first genuine laugh of the night.

“It’s a scary proposition, isn’t it?” Hunter watched Erin shudder

slightly at the thought. “But Collier’s medical school records put his

intelligence somewhere in the top five percent relative to the general

population, and while it may not match mine, his confidence isn’t

entirely without substance.”

When there was no response, Hunter glanced at Erin and

realized she was staring at Hunter’s profile reflected in the

Lamborghini’s window. Lifting her chin, she frowned at the pale

image of her own face in the glass and saw the ghost of her father

looking back. When their eyes met in the glass, she saw Erin’s brow

lift in acknowledgment.

“You look so much like Michael,” Erin mused out loud, her

expression serious as she continued to study Hunter. “Same eyes.

Same mouth. It feels almost a little eerie standing here with you. It

also makes me wonder how deep the similarity runs.”

• 227 •

aJ Quinn

“Working so closely with him, you would have known aspects

of my father I never knew, so I can’t really answer that.”

“True, but I’d be willing to wager that you’ve much more in

common than just a beautiful face.” Erin’s gaze briefly changed. “I

still miss him, you know.”

Hunter sighed softly before she replied. “So do I.”

Lost in thought, she leaned back against the car and let the

silence of the empty street wash over her until she heard Erin clear

her throat.

“You accessed Collier’s medical school records?” Erin asked,

an edge creeping into her voice. “Please tell me the FBI won’t find

your fingerprints inside a classified system. That’s a federal rap.”

Hunter rolled her eyes, letting Erin know exactly what she

thought of that possibility. “I don’t leave tracks in computers.” Her

tone was dry but held a slight note of teasing.

“I hope to God you’re right,” Erin said fervently. “I know

that, by reputation, you’re considered the top in your field and your

technical skills are supposed to be second to none, but still—”

“My technical skills are second to none.”

Erin grinned. “That may be, but still, I would hate to have

Michael Roswell’s only child and, God help me, Patrick Roswell’s

only grandchild arrested. Please. Not on my watch.”

“You’re worrying needlessly,” Hunter said reassuringly. “But

I do believe that’s become a large part of Collier’s motivation. The

challenge to prove he’s superior. Invincible. Smarter than the police,

the FBI. Smarter than me. And so far, there’s been nothing to suggest

otherwise.”

“Because he’s managed to commit five murders and, at least

this far, has gotten away with it?”

“There’s that.” Hunter turned slightly so she could keep an eye

on the house. “More so because he’s still calling all the shots. We’re

all here because it’s what he wants.”

“So why would he help you confirm his identity? Doesn’t

it significantly increase our chances of finding and stopping him

before he completes his agenda?”

• 228 •

Hostage Moon

“I’m not the expert on serial killers and their motivation. That’s

for the profilers and psychiatrists. But obviously it was important

enough for him to take a calculated risk.” Silence fell as she paused,

tilting her head to look at Erin once again. “My guess is there’s

something in the house he wants me to see. Something that furthers

his agenda.”

Erin didn’t respond immediately, her expression telling Hunter

she was listening to a play-by-play. After a minute, she nodded and

said, “The house is clear. You were right. No one was home.”

❖

Hunter was already moving before Erin had the words out, her

long strides eating up the distance to the small house. Just as quickly,

two of the shadows materialized and were now flanking her.

Peter McNeil and Conner Reese immediately moved in

lockstep with her. Both were sporting take-no-prisoners expressions

on their faces. Both made it unambiguously clear that they were

taking no chances where Hunter’s safety was concerned, in spite of

the overwhelming police presence.

The two agents at the door immediately moved to stop Hunter

as she approached the house. A challenging eyebrow rose in response

as they impeded her forward progress. But before the situation could

escalate, Erin waved the agents aside as she walked past Hunter

into the house. Both agents’ eyes briefly registered their surprise at

seeing SAC McBride walking up the front steps. But their surprise

was immediately masked, and it was obvious neither was inclined to

face her rather formidable wrath with what could only be a career-

limiting move.

Hunter moved past the agents and stood in a small foyer. She

could hear the sound of footsteps on the porch and knew that Peter

and Conner were right behind her. Still, for a moment she hesitated

and consciously slipped on the cool Roswell façade that she knew

would make her appear composed even if she was anything but.

Once she was ready, she moved beyond the foyer and stepped into

the living room.

• 229 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter had no expectation of what she might find in Collier’s

house. Which was just as well, because the scene that confronted

her left her dazed.

Her image covered every inch of available wall space.

There were photographs of all sizes along with pictures cut out

of magazine and newspaper articles chronicling every stage of her

life, both personal and professional, over the past ten years. A ski trip

to Colorado. Dancing in the streets of New Orleans during Mardi

Gras. Leaving a client meeting in Washington, another in Seattle.

Even a private moment placing a flower on her father’s grave had

been captured.

Eric Collier had spent an inordinate amount of time dwelling in

the shadows and the fringes of her life. Even as she struggled with

that thought, another hit Hunter even harder. All of this without my

noticing. Without anyone on my team noticing. How the hell did that

happen?

Hands buried in her pockets, she turned in a small circle, her

mind absorbing and cataloging the endless array of photographs.

Nearby, several agents stopped what they were doing and watched

her as she processed the scene. She was acutely aware of their

scrutiny. But it had been a part of her life for as long as she could

remember, and she had learned how to block it out. A well-learned

lesson that served her a heartbeat later.

“What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to replicate

what happened with Brenner?”

Looking up, Hunter saw David approaching, with Sara

following three steps behind, hurrying to catch up. David’s face was

a study in fury, and Hunter instinctively took a step back, wanting to

avoid an open and very public confrontation that would hurt him—

at least professionally—much more than it could ever hurt her.

But neither was she prepared to be run off the scene before she

could have it begin to make sense. “You don’t want to be busting my

balls over this,” she warned softly in a deathly quiet voice.

Before David could respond, however, another voice joined the

fray.

• 230 •

Hostage Moon

“Is there a problem, Special Agent Granger?” The voice was

low and menacing.

Sara watched David freeze, his anger temporarily forgotten as

his boss made an unexpected appearance behind Hunter. She heard

him swear under his breath as he glanced from Erin McBride back to

Hunter and realized he’d been outmaneuvered. But when he opened

his mouth to respond, she moved closer, stopping him with a soft

touch on his shoulder.

She could feel the tension and the dark embarrassment vibrating

from him as he tried to shrug her hand off impatiently. When she

resisted, he turned abruptly toward her and caught her quick head

shake. For the longest time, he appeared torn by indecision. But

when Sara shook her head again, he gritted his teeth and bit back

the words.

“There’s no problem,” he said and walked away.

“Smart move,” Erin said, her eyes following David out of the

room. When he was no longer visible, she looked at Sara, her eyes

speculative. “He’s a good agent. I’m told he was an even better

agent with you as his partner. I don’t suppose—”

Sara quickly shook her head. “Sorry, not interested,” she

replied, her attention singularly focused, her eyes following Hunter

who was examining the photographs on the wall.

Erin nodded her head once and gave Sara an appreciative smile.

“I guess I’m not surprised,” she said and moved toward Hunter. She

stopped an instant later when the small room began to fill with music.

It came at them from every possible direction—the floor, the

walls, the ceiling. And with each second that passed, it increased in

volume and intensity until the floorboards vibrated and the windows

rattled. It continued to build until the electronic beat permeated every

inch of the room and the hypnotic sound made it impossible to think.

“What the fuck?” an agent said.

“Somebody shut that damn music off,” Erin ordered, shouting

to be heard over the increasing level of sound.

“I can’t figure out where the hell it’s coming from,” one of the

agents yelled back, then looked around in sheepish confusion as the

volume decreased on its own.

• 231 •

aJ Quinn

It took a second or two before Sara realized where she had

heard this Enigma album recently. At Hunter’s house. It had been

playing in the background while they had dinner by the pool. She

spun and moved toward Hunter, looking at her with increasing

concern. “You were playing this the other night.”

Erin approached them, her eyes moving quickly from Sara

to Hunter. “Is there any particular significance to the song he’s

selected?”

Hunter released a humorless laugh. “I guess that depends on

your point of view. The title is ‘I love you…I’ll kill you.’” She

shrugged her shoulders. “What do you think?”

The three women stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of

the room without saying a word, staring at photographs covering ten

years of history while the haunting music continued to repeat its dire

refrain. Could Collier’s message really be that simple? Pondering

the possibilities, Sara watched Hunter unclip her phone from her

belt and stare at it as it vibrated in her hand.

Hunter didn’t recognize the number displayed by the caller ID,

but she had no doubt who would be on the other end. No doubt at

all. Moving past the FBI agents and SFPD investigators combing

through the contents of the house, she stepped outside into the

relative quiet of the front porch and brought the phone to her ear.

“Roswell.”

“Hello, Hunter. I thought it was time we spoke. Did you like

my surprise?” The voice was male, soft, and slightly breathless.

He’s excited.

Hunter signaled to Peter and mouthed that she needed to have

the call traced. She watched Peter reach for his own phone as she

focused on keeping her voice steady. “What surprise would that be,

Dr. Collier? Or may I call you Eric?”

While she waited for a response, she turned and saw Sara freeze

near the front door in response to the name she had just uttered. Their

eyes met and Hunter gave a brief nod before turning her attention

back to the phone call.

A soft laugh reached her over the line. “There’s never been a

need for formality between us, Hunter. Please. You must call me Eric.”

• 232 •

Hostage Moon

“Okay, Eric it is.” Hunter closed her eyes, blocking out the

activity around her while concentrating on what Collier was saying.

She wanted to draw him out and fervently hoped any subtle nuance,

any impressions she picked up would help uncover his whereabouts

before another woman paid for his obsession. “You asked what I

thought of your surprise. Are you talking about the photographs? Or

your choice of music?”

Collier’s voice sounded hollow as it echoed on the line. “Both,

of course. I thought the photographs were a good representation of

the many memories we’ve shared over the years. As for the music,

we were listening to it the other night, and I happen to know it’s a

personal favorite of yours. Does it please you?”

He’s totally delusional. Hunter bit back her instinctive reaction

and forced herself to give what she hoped was an appropriate

response. “Yes, you know it does.”

“I’m glad.” He paused. “But the best is yet to come. I have an

even bigger surprise planned.”

“Oh?” Hunter stiffened while fighting to keep her voice calm.

“Are you talking about your plans for October and the feast of

Hunter’s Moon?”

“You really are a clever girl.” Collier laughed once again but

when he spoke, his tone was edged with arrogance. “But I’m talking

about something much sooner than that. More immediate, I daresay.

Tell me, Hunter. Do you like fireworks?”

Fireworks? “I suppose. I’ve never really thought about it.

Why?”

“Because that’s the surprise.” A giggle this time, tinged with

madness. “In about five minutes, I’ve got a special fireworks display

planned for you. But you might want to move away from where

you’re standing. I wouldn’t want you to get burned again like you

did in the parking lot when your car went up in flames.”

Jesus. He was going to blow up the house. Hunter caught

Conner’s attention and pointed to a notebook currently in the hands

of a nearby agent. Without a word Conner reached out and snatched

the notebook. Passing it quickly to Hunter over the agent’s protest,

she watched her scribble across the page.

• 233 •

aJ Quinn

Bomb in house. Get everyone out.

Conner didn’t blink or question the message. She responded

immediately, grabbing the notebook and thrusting it into Sara’s

hands. She then ran back into the house to find Erin. At the same

time, Sara read the note. Sparing just enough time to glance toward

Hunter, she quickly followed Conner into the house to help warn the

others and get them to safety.

Over the phone, Hunter could hear Collier laughing. “Tell the

doctor she doesn’t need to rush. We wouldn’t want her to get hurt,

and believe me, there’s more than enough time to get everyone out.”

He’s close by, she realized . He’s watching. Numbed by the

realization, she felt Peter grab her arm and allowed him to propel her

away from the house. She arched both brows in unspoken question.

Have you been able to trace the call? Peter shook his head.

When they stopped a safe distance away, she closed her eyes,

anxiously waiting for Sara and the others to exit the house. Collier,

in the meantime, continued to laugh.

Hunter tilted her head down and her hair formed a protective

curtain around her face. “Why?”

Collier’s laughter ended abruptly. “‘Yet each man kills the

thing he loves,’” he quoted dreamily.

“Oscar Wilde,” Hunter said, “‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol.’”

“Ah, Hunter, you continue to please me beyond my wildest

expectations,” Collier responded. “And just like the song says,

Hunter, I’ll love you forever. It won’t be long, now, I promise.”

The click of the call being terminated coincided with the blast

as the house exploded and the flames lit up the night sky.

❖

Sara’s last glimpse of Hunter had been sometime during the

chaotic moments following the explosion that leveled Eric Collier’s

house. Hunter had been standing by her car blanketed by four

members of her OPS team as she spoke with Erin McBride. Sara

found out later she had been verifying that everyone got out safely

before the bomb went off.

• 234 •

Hostage Moon

A moment later, she’d seen Hunter slip into the Lamborghini

and quickly disappear into the night. Two black SUVs followed

closely behind.

Sara realized now that she’d made a mistake. At the time, she’d

thought it best to wait until morning before connecting with Hunter.

But that, as it turned out, was not the best decision she might have

made.In the morning, there was no answer to the call she placed to

Hunter’s home. Instead she was forced to listen to the telephone ring

until the automated voice mail message kicked in announcing no

one was available to take her call. Just in case you haven’t already

figured it out.

She ended up leaving an awkward message before moving on

to the next contact number Hunter had given her. All the results

were the same. No answer.

Finally, after several additional abortive attempts to make

contact, she turned in frustration to the immediate job at hand. Aware

that David and the task force were working on tracking Collier

through a labyrinth of electronic records, she focused her attention

on learning more about him and building a deeper psychological

profile.

Over the course of several days following the explosion, she

developed a clearer understanding of Collier as interviews with

former teachers, classmates, and colleagues provided much-needed

insights. They all painted a picture of a brilliant but often moody

loner who had been searching for someone he could consider his

intellectual equal. His soul mate. And he believed he had found his

match in a seventeen-year-old patient named Hunter Roswell.

It quickly became apparent that Collier had been unable to keep

his obsession hidden from the people around him. Or perhaps it was

his arrogance that left him unconcerned about what other people

thought. According to one former classmate—a fellow surgical

resident by the name of Cassandra Doyle—ten years earlier, Collier

had been captivated by the young celebrity patient from the moment

he first heard about her. The stories circulating throughout the

hospital about what had happened to her fascinated him. But as his

• 235 •

aJ Quinn

obsession grew, he also became the target of some rather cruel and

unsympathetic comments, particularly from the other residents.

“He was always a little creepy, but he got totally hung up on the

Roswell girl,” Cassandra said. “Constantly checking on her status,

reading everything the newspapers had to say about her. Always

hanging around just trying to catch a glimpse of her. It was sad,

really.”

Most other colleagues were far less kind.

“It was pathetic the way he lusted after that girl,” one of the

nurses exclaimed. “Like she didn’t already have enough to deal

with, and let’s face it, she was so out of his league. And her family

was never going to let someone like him get anywhere near her

anyway. But he didn’t seem to get that.”

A medical supervisor put it succinctly.

“He was a bright and competent doctor. But he was also

arrogant, condescending, and totally self-absorbed, which didn’t

exactly endear him to other staff.”

Therein lay the challenge. The more details that came to light

about Collier, the more it became apparent that he had no friends,

which left no one who might be helping him hide. But it also left no

one who could help identify where he might have gone to ground.

There was no family. An only child, nothing was known

about his father, while his mother, a successful cardiologist in Los

Angeles, had died only weeks before his first encounter with Hunter.

His mother’s sudden death raised suspicions and David checked it

out thoroughly. But all reports confirmed that Collier had been quite

close to his mother and had been devastated when she died in a

traffic accident.

Far more likely, Sara thought, was that the death of his

mother was pivotal to Collier’s subsequent obsession with Hunter

as he sought to fill the void in his life. It was also consistent with

psychological studies which indicated that a large proportion of

stalkers had experienced significant life-events preceding the onset

of their stalking behaviors.

As his obsession grew and Hunter became his sole focus, it

would not have taken a lot of effort on Collier’s part to access her

• 236 •

Hostage Moon

medical files. The knowledge he obtained—his confirmation of her

intelligence, in particular—would have fueled his belief that he had

found his one true love. What did become clear was that over time

Collier embellished stories about his relationship with her to such

an extent that several hospital staff actually believed that Collier’s

significant other was a rich and beautiful young woman named

Hunter and had even seen photographs.

Collier’s work computer also proved to be a treasure trove,

filled as it was with articles from numerous sources chronicling

the life and times of Hunter Roswell. Those files were the

turning point, signaling the true beginning of Collier’s obsessive

behavior. Although his erotomania began with love and hope, it

had disintegrated into resentment and anger with each story that

surfaced alluding to Hunter’s various relationships, as reality failed

to match his dreams. As resentment built, the knowledge Collier

had obtained began to feed his darker fantasies. Intimate knowledge

that came from the audiotapes of Hunter’s sessions with Lindsay

Carson, found in his locker.

Listening to the audio tapes proved a much greater challenge

than Sara had anticipated. Knowing Hunter—caring deeply about

Hunter—had eroded a great deal of her objectivity, and Sara found

it hard to listen to her give a monotone rendition of events.

But it had to be done. She needed to listen to the tapes and

understand, as much as possible, what had happened to Hunter ten

years earlier. Because it was while listening to those recordings that

Collier’s obsession with Hunter had evolved and he had begun to

formulate his plan of action.

Of course, the recordings were also Sara’s area of expertise:

studying the victim, developing an understanding of how the lives

of a victim and an unknown subject had intersected, then using that

knowledge to anticipate what the UNSUB was likely to do next.

In this case, Hunter’s encounter with Brenner had set her on the

path that converged with Collier’s. And her story—or some aspect

of telling her story—had triggered his obsession with re-enacting

what he had heard.

• 237 •

aJ Quinn

One particularly difficult moment for Sara came when Hunter’s

voice broke while relating an especially brutal experience. Lindsay

had responded by telling her it was okay to cry. But after a brief

silence, Hunter told the doctor not to get her hopes up, and she then

continued to give up the details of what had happened to her at the

hands of Kyle Brenner and his boys.

But as hard as listening to the tapes proved to be, there had

also been one unanticipated benefit. After listening to the tapes, Sara

found herself in a better position to understand the nightmares that

continued to haunt Hunter. Nightmares born in the dark imaginings

of a survivalist named Kyle Brenner that were now feeding the

fertile mind of Eric Collier.

• 238 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-two

Nearly a week after the demolition of Collier’s house, Sara

walked into the Roswell building. She was uncertain what

kind of reception she would receive, but she was determined to find

some answers.

Collier was still nowhere to be found. It was as if he had

simply vanished. The bank accounts and credit cards identified by

the task force as his remained untouched while stakeouts at several

properties they had located, listed under his mother’s name, had

yielded no results. It was as if he had simply ceased to exist.

More disturbing to Sara on a personal level, there had been no

word from Hunter. The lack of contact or even information regarding

her whereabouts had left Sara feeling stymied and discouraged. Erin

McBride had also proven singularly unhelpful.

“Hunter Roswell is just fine where she is. What the task force

needs to do is focus on looking for and finding Eric Collier before

the next full moon. Any assistance you can provide in that regard

will undoubtedly prove invaluable.”

Sara had tried to do just that, but after five days she gave up

all pretense of being able to concentrate. Instead, she found herself

standing outside Tessa’s office. She blew out a frustrated breath,

then mustered her courage and pushed the door open.

“Where is she?”

Tessa looked up from the stack of documents she was

methodically working her way through to see Sara standing in her

doorway. “Do I assume we’re talking about Hunter?”

• 239 •

aJ Quinn

“Of course we’re talking about Hunter,” Sara replied, her

voice flat. “It’s been almost a week since I last saw her. Collier, in

the meantime, has disappeared into thin air. No one knows where

the hell he is. All I know for sure is he’s still out there somewhere

making plans to kill Hunter, and somehow I’m supposed to help

protect her. But I can’t do that if I don’t even know where she is.”

“She’s in New York.”

Sara groaned. “What’s she doing in New York? Jesus, Tessa,

that’s where she was when Collier grabbed her the first time. What

the hell was she thinking?”

“She was no happier about it than you are, believe me. But it

couldn’t be helped. She had a series of meetings that she couldn’t

get out of, and if there’s one thing Hunter understands, it’s that

stockholders and boards of directors wait for no one. Especially

when it involves the Roswell and de León family businesses,” Tessa

explained calmly. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s got her

entire team with her, and they’re all on high alert. Plus her mother

and Nigel are there with their security people, and let’s not forget

her grandfather Patrick and all of his security people. All things

considered, she’s in good hands.”

Pushing her chair back, Tessa swiveled her long legs away

from the desk and stood up. Stretching her lean body gracefully,

she walked over to the coffee service that sat on a nearby credenza.

“You look like you could use a cup of coffee. How do you take it?”

she asked as she filled two cups.

The change of subject surprised Sara, and she blinked in

confusion.

A faint smile slashed across Tessa’s face. “It’s not that difficult

a question, Sara. How do you like your coffee? Black? Cream and

sugar?”

Sara blinked again. “Just cream, thanks.”

Tessa added some cream to one coffee before passing Sara the

cup. “Anyway, not to worry. She’ll be back in the fold tonight.”

“Hunter will be back tonight?” Sara was having difficulty

keeping up. “How do you know?”

• 240 •

Hostage Moon

“Well, perhaps because I spoke with her just over an hour ago.

She said they were just arriving at La Guardia, and she was hopeful

they would eventually be cleared for takeoff,” Tessa said and

laughed. “The other reason I know she’ll be back tonight is because

she knows I’ll kill her if she’s not here for my thirtieth birthday. I

understand you’ll be accompanying Kate to the club tonight.”

“The party at Vertigo?” Sara said and took a grateful sip of

coffee. “I’d forgotten all about that. I’m sorry. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” Tessa paused but made no move to follow Sara as

she walked to the window and stood staring out at the bay. “I’m not

sure if you’re aware I’ve known Hunter forever. Been mad about her

for just as long.”

The stiffening of her shoulders was the only sign Sara gave she

was listening. She continued to look out the window and wondered

where the conversation was leading.

“I’m not certain exactly what’s going on between you and

Hunter, but you need to know I only want the very best for her. Be

warned if you hurt her in any way, I’ll find a way to make you pay.”

Every emotion Sara had been feeling was displaced by an

instant surge of anger, and she turned abruptly to face Tessa. “Are

you asking me my intentions, Tessa, or warning me off?”

“It looks like I’ve pissed you off. That’s good. Makes me

think there’s more to this for you than merely solving a high-profile

case and getting back into the FBI’s good graces.” Tessa grinned

wickedly then continued speaking softly. “I just want to make

sure you understand it’s not just Peter and the wolves with guns

protecting Hunter.”

“I understand that,” Sara said. “And you need to know hurting

Hunter is the last thing I would ever want to do.”

Releasing a soft sigh, Tessa leaned back and rested her hip

against the desk. “It’s funny, don’t you think, that most people look

at Hunter and see a woman who seems to have it all,” she said.

“But what they don’t see is underneath the brilliant and beautiful

exterior is a seventeen-year-old kid who is still trying to deal with

what happened to her ten years ago.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

• 241 •

aJ Quinn

“Maybe you do at that. You seem to know her very well for

having known her just a short time.” Tessa paused and gave Sara a

gentle smile. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been after Hunter

to get on with her life. To leave the past in the past. At first she

claimed she needed to focus on finishing her education, as if another

degree would make any difference. Then it was building the business

that prevented her from having a relationship with someone that

lasted more than one night.”

Sara opened her mouth, but closed it again when she could find

no words. Then she closed her eyes as well as she waited for Tessa

to finish. She tried to maintain a calm expression on her face, even

though she felt anything but steady. Still, she was totally unprepared

for Tessa’s next statement.

“I assume David Granger gave you a file on Hunter.” Sara gave

her a slight nod of assent. “Good. I’m going to strongly suggest you

read it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s so very easy to fall in love with Hunter.” Tessa’s

voice was soft and reflective. “I mean why not? She’s rich, she’s

gorgeous, she’s caring and smart as hell, and when she isn’t being

stalked by a serial killer, she has a wicked sense of humor and is

actually a lot of fun. But you need to know—you need to understand—

what you’re getting into before you let things go any further.”

“It doesn’t matter what’s in that file,” Sara said bluntly. “It

won’t change what I think or how I feel.”

Tessa’s pause lasted several heartbeats, and when their eyes

met, all Sara could see was compassion. “It’s not you I’m worried

about.”

“Then what is it?”

“You need to anticipate how Hunter is likely to react. Don’t

give her a chance to get scared and push you away. Don’t let her get

away with any excuses.”

Sara silently regarded Tessa. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, we were lovers, but that was a long time ago. You’ve

nothing to worry about where Hunter and I are concerned. Neither

does Kate.”

• 242 •

Hostage Moon

Sweet Jesus. “I already figured that part out,” Sara stated

unequivocally. “What I can’t understand is why you’re not still with

her. How could you give her up?”

“Ah.” Tessa looked momentarily uncertain, and then she

smiled. “The truth is we were just kids. Christ, I was nineteen and

Hunter was sixteen. We both knew what we had wasn’t destined to

become some kind of long-term commitment. And then what we

thought became irrelevant when her father pulled her back stateside

and Brenner happened.”

Sara winced, then took a deep breath. “What about afterward?”

Tessa sighed, as if briefly caught in the haunting echoes

of the past. “Hunter didn’t immediately come back to England

when she first got out of the hospital,” she said wryly. “She took

off, wandering through Europe and Asia, and partied with actors,

musicians, models, athletes, you name it. I’ve no idea when she ate

or slept. Mostly, I think she just lost herself in a haze of sex, drugs,

and alcohol.”

“Did you ever think to go after her? Even just as a friend?”

“Of course I thought of it, but truthfully, she would never stay

long enough in any one place. By the time I would find out where

she was, she had already moved on. I also couldn’t hope to match

her resources. So I stayed in England, figuring she would turn up

eventually. And when she finally did, she was involved with someone.”

“Dominique Kozlov.”

“Mm-hmm,” Tessa nodded. “Maybe you know more than

I thought. Once she was back, Hunter focused on completing

her doctorate, and we resumed our friendship as if nothing had

happened. It stayed that way until just before I was due to leave

England. Hunter knew I was planning to attend Stanford, and at one

time, we had talked about getting a house together. But I thought she

had forgotten those plans. Color me surprised when she told me she

was coming with me.”

“And you never considered—”

“We actually talked about it. But in some ways, we’re too much

alike, and we concluded while we would never last as lovers, we’re

unbeatable as friends.”

• 243 •

aJ Quinn

Tessa reached for Sara’s hand and gave her a lopsided grin.

“And as her friend, if I can make one last suggestion—wear

something sexy tonight. It’ll drive Hunter crazy. And after five days

of being smothered by security, getting lectures from her mother,

and dodging her grandfather Patrick, she’ll be more than ready for

some kind of distraction. Plus you just never know where that might

lead.”

❖

The lower level of Vertigo was standing room only as many of

the city’s young, wealthy, and influential rubbed shoulders. At nine

p.m., the opening band primed everyone, pounding out a lively beat.

And then, for the next two hours, Darcy Cole took over the stage

and turned up the heat. She drew the crowd to her and held them in

the palm of her hand as she rocked the house.

Comfortably seated at Tessa’s table, Sara reached for her drink

and enjoyed the show. The crowd ebbed and flowed on the dance

floor, undulating to the primal rhythm. She could feel her own innate

response to the lure of the music—her body unconsciously swaying

and her fingers tapping counterpoint to the hard-driving beat. There

was only one thing missing from what would otherwise be a perfect

night out.

Hunter.

The evening had begun with Tessa sending a limousine to pick

up Kate and Sara and deliver them to the club in style. It was only

when they arrived that Tessa let them know the Roswell jet would

be landing in San Francisco later than originally scheduled.

There had been the anticipated, interminable delays at La

Guardia. But as Tessa explained, “The delays kept them on the

ground longer than expected, and shortly after takeoff, they ran into

a major storm front.”

Although Tessa shrugged the matter off, Sara knew how much

she had counted on sharing this particular night with Hunter. She

could see the disappointment reflected in Tessa’s eyes, and on some

level, Sara knew just how she felt.

• 244 •

Hostage Moon

With a mental shrug, Sara pushed her disappointment aside.

She made a conscious decision to enjoy the evening and ensure the

guest of honor had a good time rather than focusing on things that

were entirely beyond her control. When Tessa crooked her finger

and indicated the dance floor where Kate had already joined her,

Sara followed willingly into the throng until just before midnight

when her heart stopped beating. Or at least it felt that way.

The party was in full swing. Darcy Cole was entertaining the

crowd, telling amusing anecdotes about the birthday girl to segue

from song to song. And then suddenly Hunter was there on the stage

beside her, looking like every fantasy Sara ever had.

She was stunning in black and white, a combination of leather

and silk with black boots that added at least three inches to her

already formidable height. With her dark hair loose and casually

tousled, she looked long, lean, and wildly attractive as she stepped

up to the front of the stage. Clutched in her left hand was a bottle of

Krug’s Clos du Mesnil 1995, while a long strap shimmered in the

lights as it dangled from her wrist.

After receiving a long, lingering kiss from the singer, Hunter

waited for the din to settle before unleashing a megawatt smile.

“Made it just in the nick of time,” she said, to the raucous approval

of the crowd.

She then looked directly at Tessa. “Many years ago, Tessa

gave me an incredible gift on one of her birthdays,” she said. The

deep, rich timbre of her voice was hypnotically seductive while her

hands worked at uncorking the bottle of champagne. “At the time,

I thought it was a little crazy that the birthday girl was doing the

giving, but who was I to turn down such an amazing gift? In return,

Tessa asked that, if it was at all possible, I should return the gift in

some manner on her thirtieth birthday.”

Hunter paused as she jumped down from the stage with fluid

grace and walked toward Tessa. As she got closer, Sara realized that

what was dangling from her wrist was a leash. Hunter handed Tessa

the leash when she drew near. “Tessa, my love. I adore you. Happy

thirtieth birthday,” she said.

Her timing was perfect.

• 245 •

aJ Quinn

Just as she finished speaking, the cork popped. While she

poured the champagne into the four waiting flutes on the table,

members of the staff quickly circulated throughout the room with

trays filled to overflowing with champagne for everyone. A minute

later, Hunter picked up a flute and raised it. “Thank you all for being

here to share this evening. Won’t you please join me in wishing an

amazing woman, an incredible lawyer, and the best friend I’ll ever

have a very happy birthday.”

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Tessa picked up a glass and

raised it toward Hunter before bringing it to her own lips. When

she was done, she pulled on the leash. The action immediately drew

Hunter’s head closer to Tessa’s until their lips met.

“You know I’ll always love you,” Tessa said softly, then took

the leash and placed it firmly in Sara’s hand.

Sara stared at the leash and tried to comprehend what had just

happened. Instinctively, she knew the birthday girl had just given

her a gift. An instant later, she felt Tessa squeeze her hand and heard

her murmur, “Remember what I told you—and in the future, when

you speak of me, speak well.”

Sara looked up into Hunter’s intense blue eyes. A leash?

Perhaps she didn’t want to know. Instead, she held out her hand.

Hunter took it without hesitation as she slipped into the seat beside

her. “Hi.” Hunter smiled.

They could have been completely alone as the crowd receded

and everything faded into insignificance, except for the blue of

Hunter’s eyes and the warmth of her hand.

“Hi,” Sara replied softly.

❖

The sky had begun to lighten by the time they left the club and

got into the waiting limousine. Succumbing to exhaustion, Hunter

sank into the seat. Stretching out long legs, she leaned her head back

and closed her eyes. An instant later, she released a heartfelt sigh as

the air conditioning began to cool her overheated body.

• 246 •

Hostage Moon

Sara slid in beside her and for the longest time quietly watched

the shifting patterns created by the intermittent lights of passing

cars and glowing signs as they illuminated the planes of Hunter’s

face. The signs of fatigue were more evident than usual. Had she

managed to get any sleep in New York? Somehow, Sara doubted it.

But that had not stopped her from fully participating in Tessa’s

birthday celebration, including a memorable moment when Hunter

and Tessa had joined Darcy on stage and the trio performed a raucous

and bluesy rendition of Melissa Etheridge’s “Yes I Am,” much to the

delight of the crowd. By then, Sara had discovered that Tessa and

Hunter had met Darcy while the singer had been working the club

circuit, and the three women had been friends ever since.

As she continued to study the woman stretched out beside her,

Sara paused and lingered over Hunter’s slightly parted lips and

idly wondered what she was thinking to have brought out that lazy,

sensuous smile. Momentarily lost in thought, Sara blinked, looked

at Hunter once again, and then froze as her gaze was captured by

Hunter’s own.

“Sorry, you were quiet for so long I thought you had fallen

asleep,” she observed. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Is that all you can spare?” Hunter responded teasingly, silk

whispering as she shifted. “In this economy, I would have thought—”

Rolling her eyes, Sara laughed good-naturedly and nudged her

with an elbow. “Bite me, Roswell.”

Hunter bared her teeth and decided she liked the way Sara

laughed. Even in the dim half-light, she could still see the sparkle

in Sara’s eyes, but they seemed to hold something serious in their

depths. Something that drew her, tempted her, and as Hunter felt her

heart begin to race, she found herself aching to touch Sara.

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Hunter reached out and

rested her fingertips on the back of Sara’s neck. She instantly felt the

quiver of reaction that rippled across Sara’s skin. Unable to resist,

she drew her closer, inhaled the enticing scent of her perfume, felt

the softness and heat of her skin. Bending down slowly, she brushed

her lips on Sara’s neck. Just a taste. Deluding herself into believing

that would be enough.

• 247 •

aJ Quinn

“Hunter…” Sara shivered, took a deep breath, and let it out

slowly. She drew the moment out as she leaned forward and brought

her lips close to Hunter’s ear. “I want you. Come with me to Kate’s…

be with me tonight,” she whispered, her breath warm on Hunter’s

skin before she rested her forehead against Hunter’s.

Hunter hesitated. She let out a shaky breath, and then shook her

head and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Something in her tone caught Sara’s attention and she sat up

straight. She frowned but kept her voice deliberately light. “I believe

that’s twice now you’ve turned me down. A girl might start getting

a complex if you’re not careful.”

Hunter pulled her closer, pressing her lips in a fleeting kiss

against Sara’s temple. Lifting her hand, she palmed Sara’s cheek,

then tilted her head just enough for their eyes to meet.

“If I haven’t made myself clear, then let me quickly correct

that oversight. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, Sara Wilder.”

She leaned forward and kissed her. A long, slow, sensuous kiss that

whispered promises and left Sara breathless. “Believe me when I

tell you there is nothing, and I mean nothing, I would rather do right

now than take you home and make love with you.”

Breathing had never seemed as difficult. “I hear a ‘but’ in

there,” Sara said as she reached for Hunter’s hand.

“You’re right,” Hunter said, glancing at their intertwined

fingers. “Sara, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on between us. But

I do know everything else in my life right now is—”

“Crazy?”

Hunter’s smile reappeared, and this time it seemed genuine, as

was the laugh that accompanied it. “Crazy, yes, and unfortunately,

more than a little dangerous. And if I let myself follow through with

this—with what I really want to do—I will be pulling you deeper

into the abyss that is the current state of my life.”

Sara tilted her head. “And that would somehow be bad for

you?”“No. It would be very good for me.” Hunter’s kiss this time

was scorching. Hard and demanding, it left Sara groaning and dazed

• 248 •

Hostage Moon

and with no doubt about how good it could be. “But I don’t think

it’s fair to you.”

“I see.” Why does that sound like a kiss-off? Sara began to

disengage and pull away. It wouldn’t take a genius to see she was

hurt.“Sara—”

Sara stopped her. “No, damn it, just answer me this first,” she

said. “Are you always so goddamned noble?”

Hunter was rapidly reaching the point of no return. The taste of

Sara’s mouth still lingered on her lips, and she wondered if she was

being a complete fool. “No. Usually when I see something I want,

I just take it.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Sara protested hoarsely. “Why

are you afraid, Hunter?”

Afraid? Oh, yeah.

“Because you matter.” Hunter reached over and tipped Sara’s

chin up to face her. “In spite of my reputation, I’m really not very

good at this, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sara’s hands moved up to Hunter’s shoulders. “You’d hurt me

more by not giving whatever this is a chance to see where it goes,”

she said softly.

“Maybe,” Hunter conceded.

“What do you suggest we do now?”

Hunter’s eyes closed and she leaned into Sara’s touch. “I

think because of everything else that’s going on, whatever happens

between us, we need to take it slowly.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes.” She had never been less sure of anything in her life.

“I can do slow.” Sara paused. “It’s only fair to warn you I don’t

have a lot of patience. But for you, I’m willing to try. Which means

for now, we’ll take it slow and see where it goes.”

“Fair enough.”

• 249 •

• 250 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-tHRee

When Hunter stepped inside the small club and did a quick

scan, the dull, aching pain brewing behind her eyes served

as a reminder that she should not be anywhere without her wolves

tonight. Although she was alone, this time she hadn’t disabled the

GPS units on her car, cell phone, and security pin, knowing Conner

could track her electronically and relay her whereabouts as needed.

Still, the smart thing would be to simply go home and get some

sleep. Preferably the deep and dreamless variety, the pragmatist in

her head added wryly.

But she knew there was no point in going home, because sleep

would not be forthcoming. Not tonight.

Instead, much as she had always done, she attempted to find

something that would help her forget the chaos around her, at least

temporarily. Tonight, that meant a spontaneous change of plans and

venue, and a small, noisy club where the lights were low, the music

was loud, and the dance floor was crowded.

The drink the bartender set down in front of her burned her

throat. She winced at the taste and shuddered as she put the glass

down. Leaning back and propping her elbows on the bar, she

surveyed the crowd, her eyes flicking over the scene in front of her

without really seeing it. She could feel the blaring music pumping

through her veins as she watched the sea of people on the dance

floor. Could feel the heat of their bodies against her skin.

• 251 •

aJ Quinn

Several times, she was approached by strangers who pressed

close against her in the crowded space and asked her to dance. But

she smiled and shrugged them off. She hadn’t come looking for

company. She just didn’t want to be alone.

But what does it mean? the pragmatist asked.

That she didn’t want to be alone was, in itself, a revelation.

Especially considering she had seldom been alone during the two

weeks since her return from New York.

She let her mind slowly drift, hazy thoughts that began and

ended with Sara. During the past two weeks, Sara had become

integral to her life in ways she could never have anticipated. And

much to Hunter’s surprise, she found herself enjoying it.

In the mornings, they fell into an easy pattern of Sara joining

her for a run on the beach with Conner and Adrienne. Afterward,

they would gather for breakfast, which Sara insisted she eat. Sara

teased her incessantly about her newfound appetite. I told you

there was more to a nutritious breakfast than coffee, Sara said one

morning, as a mountain of fresh fruit and French toast disappeared.

I guess having me around is not so bad after all.

Once breakfast was over and the kitchen tidied, Sara would

accompany her to the office. There, between the meetings, the design

work, and the endless negotiations, she would find Sara working

tirelessly with both the task force and Hunter’s OPS team. They

had turned a conference room into a war room as they tried to piece

together the puzzle that was Eric Collier. They were determined to

find where he was hiding. Determined to anticipate when and how

he would make his next move.

Sometime during those two weeks, Sara had even managed

to convince Hunter of the benefits of using the limousine to travel

to and from work. The time was primarily spent reviewing any

progress the task force was making toward finding Collier. But it

was also during those moments, alone in the back of the limousine,

that they enjoyed some of their best personal conversations.

Sara shared stories of growing up the middle child of three,

with an older sister who was a school teacher like their mother and

a younger brother who had followed their father into medicine. In

• 252 •

Hostage Moon

return, Hunter offered up tidbits on what it was like to be Patrick

Roswell’s only grandchild and the sole heir to both the Roswell and

de León family dynasties.

Hunter felt the minute shifts in her life. And as her friendship

with Sara grew, at times she found herself struggling to rein in the

growing feelings that had her, on more than one occasion, contending

with the desire to drive over to Kate’s in the middle of the night and

crawl into bed beside Sara. For two weeks, she had wanted nothing

more than to bury her face in Sara’s hair and breathe in her essence.

For two weeks, she had simply wanted Sara.

The thought shook her to her core.

When a petite blonde cruised her, Sara’s face came sharply into

focus in Hunter’s mind. The image lasted only a second or two,

but it distracted her long enough for the woman to feel encouraged

and draw nearer. Closing her eyes for just a moment longer, Hunter

forgot where she was and concentrated on the image her mind had

conjured. Until she felt lips whispering a suggestion close to her ear.

The image shattered like shards of glass.

Leaning her head back slightly, she considered surrendering to

the casual seduction. It had been too long, and maybe, if only for a

little while, she could banish thoughts of Sara from her mind until

she could see things more clearly. Torn by her own indecision, she

opened her eyes again and caught a glimpse of someone standing

just a few feet away. Very obviously watching.

Her heart jolted. The mood was broken. And then a ghost of a

smile touched her face as the shadow morphed into a familiar face.

Tessa studied Hunter and sighed. “What the hell are you doing,

Hunter?”

Hunter’s smile faded. She sat up straighter and gently pushed

the blonde away. “Sorry, baby,” she said. “Perhaps another time.”

The woman looked like she wanted to argue the point. But

one glance in Tessa’s direction quickly convinced her it wasn’t an

argument she wanted to engage in. As she disappeared onto the

crowded dance floor, Tessa leaned against the bar and picked up

Hunter’s discarded drink.

• 253 •

aJ Quinn

Taking a dubious sniff, she touched the glass to her lips, tasted

the contents, and grimaced. “Shit, what’s in this?”

“Scotch.”

“Who made it, Exxon?” Tessa shook her head in disbelief then

looked at Hunter.

Hunter took the glass out of Tessa’s hand and drained it before

sliding it back toward the bartender and asking for a couple of

Coronas. When the bottles arrived, she nudged one toward Tessa.

Tipping her bottle back, she let the chilled beer run down her throat

before asking, “You want to tell me what you’re doing here?”

“I would think it’s rather obvious I’ve been looking for you,”

Tessa said. “In fact, I’ve been looking for you for the last two hours.

There’s a full moon tonight, in case it escaped your notice.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Hunter studied Tessa as

frustration seeped into her voice. “Don’t you think I’m fully aware

that somewhere out there, a woman is going about her business,

doing whatever it is she normally does on a night like this, because

she has no idea her life is about to end?”

“Hunter, you’re not—”

“Not what? Are you going to tell me I’m not responsible?”

Hunter retorted angrily. So much for control. “How can I be anything

but responsible? Damn it, Tessa, some woman is going to die tonight

for two simple reasons. Because she happens to look like me, and

because I failed to find Eric Collier.”

“Do I need to remind you the FBI and the SFPD have also been

unable to find Collier?” Tessa spoke in a calm, moderate voice.

“That just spreads the blame. It doesn’t alter the fact that he’s

still out there, free to kill someone.”

“Is that why you’re sitting here alone in this place? Want to tell

me what’s going on?”

“Nothing…not really…I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“You always have things on your mind, but you don’t usually

end up drinking in a bar by yourself,” Tessa said softly. She waited

for Hunter to respond, but when she failed to say anything else, she

asked, “Where’s Matt? Or Peter and your security team?”

• 254 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter chose to remain silent in spite of the angry heat she

could feel emanating from Tessa. She knew Tessa had always been

protective of her. Just as she understood Tessa wouldn’t let matters

rest until she had whatever answers she was looking for. But she

was too tired to have this conversation. Too much had happened.

Too many defenses had begun to shift and crumble.

“Actually, you don’t need to answer,” Tessa finally snapped.

“I’m quite aware you slipped away from your security team. What

the hell were you thinking? Jesus, Hunter. Like Brenner didn’t do

enough damage to you, so you thought you’d give Collier a shot?”

“I’m not a seventeen-year-old kid this time.”

“So what, Hunter? Do you think your black belts are going to

defend you when you’ve got a gun pressed against your head?”

The question reverberated as a kaleidoscope of ghostly images

flashed in her head. “Why are you doing this, Tessa?”

“Because you’re my friend and I’m concerned about you. You

should know that about me by now.” Tessa’s voice became soft and

cajoling as she continued to watch Hunter. “So…do you mind if I

sit?”“Sit if you want, but I’d rather be left alone if it’s all the same.”

Her hands were icy cold and trembling slightly. Swearing just under

her breath, she clenched her hands tightly and battled control back

into place.

“Thanks, I think I’ll sit for a while,” Tessa said as she eased

onto the barstool beside Hunter. “Tell me, how long have we been

friends?”

Hunter arched an eyebrow in question. “Is this where I get the

lecture on everything I’m doing wrong with my life?”

Tessa grinned. “No, this is where you get to sit back and tell me

what’s troubling you.”

“Are you my shrink now as well as my lawyer?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Tessa laid her hand on Hunter’s arm,

only to have it shrugged off. “Damn it, Hunter, you really need to go

home. When was the last time you slept? Or ate? You look like hell.

What’s going on with you?”

• 255 •

aJ Quinn

Biting the corner of her lip, Hunter just shook her head. “There’s

nothing going on.”

“Then tell me why you didn’t show tonight at Antoine’s to

have dinner with Kate and Sara and me like you were supposed

to. Why did I have to get Conner to use the GPS on your security

pin to—” Tessa cut herself off. “And don’t even think about giving

Conner a hard time for tracking you down for me. She knew we

were worried.”

Hunter remained silent, but Tessa showed a willingness to wait

her out, and after a prolonged silence, she sighed. “I’ve no intention

of giving Conner a hard time. And my reasons for not showing up

for dinner are not all that complicated,” she said softly. “I don’t

think you have a full appreciation of the logistical nightmare it

would create at Antoine’s to have a diner show up with an entourage

that includes eight armed bodyguards.”

Tessa tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably. “When

did your wolf pack increase in size to eight?”

“This morning.” Hunter gave a mirthless chuckle. “I guess I

wasn’t supposed to notice. But obviously Matt and Peter haven’t

fully bought in to my theory that Collier will wait until the full moon

in October before coming after me.”

“Then they should have talked to me. Or better yet, Sara, since

she’s the behavioral expert, and she happens to agree with your

assessment,” Tessa replied. She moved closer, resting a comforting

hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Sara doesn’t believe Collier can change

his agenda any more that he can stop himself from breathing. She

thinks he’s driven by his obsession, and the timing is part of the

symbolism he needs for his fantasy.”

Hunter nodded her head slightly. “I know. We’ve talked about

it.” “Of course, it doesn’t matter what Sara or you or I believe.

What’s important here is what Collier believes,” Tessa continued.

“And after tonight, none of it is going to matter because you will be

his entire focus, which means he’ll be close by.”

“Yes, but at least that should make things a little easier.”

“What makes you say that?”

• 256 •

Hostage Moon

“Up until now, Collier has selected his victims at random. It’s

made it impossible to stop him because no one has had any idea who

was going to be targeted. Just that they were going to look a lot like

me.”“Kind of like me?” Tessa rolled her eyes and sighed when

Hunter nodded. “Is that why I’ve had a couple of your wolves

following me around all day?”

Hunter’s lips twitched. “Unlike all the other victims, you don’t

have blue eyes. But I ran the probabilities and talked to Sara.” Sara

had concurred that the odds of Collier going after Tessa weren’t

high. But Hunter was still concerned. “You weren’t supposed to

notice them.”

“After being around you all these years, how can you say that?”

“And I should have told you what I was doing.” Hunter’s grin

widened briefly. “I’m sorry. But after tonight, there won’t be any

question who Collier will be targeting next, and that will make it

easier. I mean, it’s better to know the target than to guess. Measures

can be put in place.”

“Yes, you’d think so, wouldn’t you,” Tessa said calmly, her

eyes thoughtful. “But it’s still going to be difficult to defend against

Collier because you’re not going to know how he’s going to come at

you. The lone gunman. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“That’s part of it.”

“Hunter.” Tessa reached for her hand again and clasped it

tightly. “If having a serial killer stalking you isn’t the problem, then

what the hell is it? Damn it, talk to me.”

In an already fragile state of mind, the simple gesture—the

touch of Tessa’s hand—proved to be Hunter’s undoing.

“It’s—” She stopped and made a frustrated sound in the back

of her throat.

“Complicated, I know. But I’m not going anywhere, love. I’m

right here, and you need to talk to someone, so you might as well

talk to me.”

There was no point in arguing or resisting the support Tessa

was offering. “Fair enough.” But what Hunter left unsaid was by

now there would be at least a dozen security personnel keeping

• 257 •

aJ Quinn

watch outside. Which meant, at least for tonight, Collier wasn’t

getting anywhere near either of them . Hunter reached for her beer

and swallowed another mouthful, buying time while she sorted her

thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Brenner.”

Tessa waited, clearly uncertain where the conversation was

going. Hunter could see it in her eyes. With amazing clarity, Hunter

suddenly remembered the dark and rainy afternoon when she had

finally told her about Brenner. Tessa had been horrified, and that was

only knowing as much as Hunter had been able to tell her.

“Brenner may have started out seeking revenge against my

father for the death of his son,” she began softly, “but he didn’t just

want to kill him. It was really all about control. He wanted to be able

to control my father. Hurt him—deeply. So he went looking for his

Achilles’ heel…and found me.”

“You were just a kid—”

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” Hunter snapped. “I was

seventeen. Old enough that I should have known better. Certainly

smart enough. I should have trusted my father enough to know there

had to be a damned good reason for what he was doing.”

She stopped for just a second. “All that damned intelligence.

You’d think I would have used it to figure things out. But no, I had

to have a fit of teenage rebellion, and instead, I used my brain to

slip the security detail. Just to prove I could. And gave Brenner the

tool he could use against my father. And if that wasn’t enough—if I

hadn’t already fucked things up enough—I gave Brenner the ability

to control me, to force me to play his game.”

“Hunter”—Tessa hesitated—“you were trying to survive.”

“I know that. Believe me, I’ve thought about it often enough.

I know that initially I was driven by the basic need to survive.

Maslow’s hierarchy. Basic things like getting something to eat,

something to drink, stopping the pain.” Hunter paused and steadied

her breathing the best she could. “But that stopped working when I

realized he had no intention of letting me go. I truly believed he was

going to kill me. So why let him win, you know?”

“But you continued to play Brenner’s game,” Tessa prompted.

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Hostage Moon

The gentle tone had Hunter nodding. “That’s the point. I had

to, don’t you see? Because I handed Brenner something much more

powerful than my own survival. Something he was able to use to

bend me to his will. It was a brilliant move on his part. My mistake.

I didn’t give him enough credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I let him see how much my father meant to me. In turn, he

was able to use my love for my father to control me, to force me to

override my own survival instincts. To continue to play his damned

game.”

Hunter’s eyes fixed on Tessa. She watched Tessa work through

what she had just told her and knew the moment the pieces suddenly

fit together.

When Tessa spoke, the words emerged slowly, deliberately.

“You’re afraid of what will happen if Collier tries to do the same,

aren’t you? You’re afraid he’ll try to manipulate you by somehow

using how you feel about the people who are important in your life.

How you feel about your mother, or me—or Sara . ”

Hunter remained quiet, absorbing the words. Leaning back

against the bar, she let her head fall back and sighed. Then she

straightened, squared her shoulders, and nodded. “I really care

about her,” she said softly.

Tessa remained still for a moment. “Let me make sure I

understand what you’re telling me,” she said. “Are we talking about

Sara? Did I just hear you say you care about her?”

Hunter nodded mutely.

Tessa tried to stop her smile with little success. “Well, that’s

good…no, that’s excellent. You must know you’ve had me worried

for some time. I thought you were going to shut yourself off from

humanity for the rest of your life.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean, Hunter Roswell,” Tessa

retorted. “For nearly ten years, other than Dominique, can you

honestly tell me you’ve had a single relationship? Jesus, can you

even tell me who you’ve slept with more than once?”

• 259 •

aJ Quinn

Frowning, Hunter held her ground. “I don’t have a problem

admitting I’ve had my fair share of lovers. And I’m well aware I

don’t do relationships worth a damn.”

“Of course not. Shit, you can barely count your encounters as

one-night stands, because you would’ve had to spend the night with

someone to be able to do that.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Tessa sighed and shook her head. “Hunter, the truth

is you can barely count Dominique.”

That stopped her. “Why not?” she asked mildly.

Tessa’s expression softened. “Because, my beautiful friend,

while I don’t deny you might have been crazy about each other,

neither of you had any expectation of forever. Never mind that both

of you knew she’d never leave—oh God, what the hell was her

husband’s name?”

“Dimitri.”

“Right. You both knew she’d never leave Dimitri.” Tessa

paused and met Hunter’s eyes. “But it’s different with Sara.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen

you look at a woman the way you look at Sara. And if she didn’t

mean something to you—if you weren’t experiencing real feelings

for her—you would have already slept with her and moved on.”

Hunter concentrated on finishing her beer. “You might be

right,” she said a minute later. “I mean, it certainly looks that way.

But I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Good. Don’t think about it. You think about things too much.”

The words were softly spoken. “Don’t let your fear stop you from

loving, Hunter. Because it’s love—or the possibility of it—that’s

going to get you through the next few weeks.”

Hunter remained silent, thinking about what Tessa had said.

But before she could respond, her phone began to vibrate. And while

she didn’t recognize the number on the call display, she anticipated

she was about to hear choice words from one of the other women

who had been expecting her at Antoine’s.

• 260 •

Hostage Moon

As she brought the phone to her ear, she noticed Tessa smirking

at her. “Roswell.”

“Hello Hunter. I have another surprise for you.”

Hunter’s smiled vanished and her grip on the phone tightened.

She listened without speaking and suddenly felt very cold. It was as

if all the heat had been drained from the room, from her body.

When the call ended, she sat for endless seconds, still holding

the phone against her ear as she tried to force her heart rate to slow

down. At last, she put the phone down and looked at Tessa. “That

was Collier,” she said, her voice strained. “He wanted to let me

know where he left the body of his latest victim.”

❖

The scene was chillingly familiar as Sara and David pulled

up to the curb. There were several black-and-whites and unmarked

police vehicles parked haphazardly in front of a three-story walk-

up, and yellow crime-scene tape was strung across the lawn.

It was a neighborhood that boasted spectacular views of the

bridges and islands in the bay and attracted young professionals.

A neighborhood that was unused to the kind of violence that had

visited it earlier that evening.

David exited the car first. Sara watched him approach two

uniformed police officers. As they engaged in conversation, she

took a minute to gather herself.

The disappointment she’d felt earlier in the evening when

Hunter failed to show for dinner had given way to concern as the

evening slowly progressed. Hunter had left a brief voice mail,

apologizing and assuring Sara she was fine. But Hunter should have

been with them. Safe. Instead she’d been alone somewhere, leaving

herself an unprotected target in the event they had misread Eric

Collier’s intentions.

When Tessa located Hunter through Conner Reese, Sara had

immediately wanted to go to her, but Tessa had convinced her to

wait with Kate, that she was the better choice to chase Hunter down.

But in spite of a wonderful meal and Kate’s attempts to cheer her,

• 261 •

aJ Quinn

Sara’s unease had gnawed at her, and when her cell phone began

to vibrate, she grabbed it, hoping the caller was Hunter. But those

hopes were dashed when David’s number flashed on the call display.

In that instant, her emotions had swung like a pendulum. She’d

known she was about to hear that Collier had struck again. But for a

brief, all-too-terrifying moment, she feared the worst had happened.

That they had been wrong and Hunter had been the target after all.

Knowing that wasn’t the case had done nothing to ease her

discomfort. For in spite of their best efforts, another young woman

had been killed. And the clock was now ticking down with Hunter

squarely in the killer’s sights.

The passenger door suddenly opened and, startled, Sara looked

up at David’s quizzical expression. “Everything okay? You coming?”

Sara shuddered slightly and quickly exited the vehicle. She

followed David across the walkway and up to the second-floor

apartment. And although there was no longer any need to hurry, they

both took the stairs two steps at a time.

A young officer was stationed in front of the door and stepped

aside to allow them entrance.

“Were you the first on the scene?” Sara asked.

“No ma’am. He’s inside.”

The first thing Sara noticed as she stepped into the apartment

was the metallic smell of blood. It hung thick and heavy in the small

room. Rick Wilson, the lead SFPD investigator, was just inside,

talking to the medical examiner. To their right, a crime scene tech

was photographing the latest message.

Hunter, you are mine.

Just beyond them lay the victim, the pool of blood around her

head still wet and glistening under the glare of the overhead lights.

As she looked, Sara realized just how fresh the crime scene actually

was. And as the scene played out in her head, it became too easy for

her to picture it. Hunter’s body lying on the floor. Hunter’s lifeblood

spreading out around her head. Hunter’s eyes staring sightlessly.

“Sara?” David’s voice sounded distant, and as she turned

toward him, he shot her a quick look of concern. “C’mon, Sara. You

need to breathe.”

• 262 •

Hostage Moon

Sara could feel David’s arm around her waist, providing support

as she drew in several long breaths through her mouth. And though

she didn’t get sick, she knew the members of the task force working

the scene were watching her, obviously surprised someone with her

background and experience would react as she just had.

Like a rookie, she thought with disgust.

But she knew her reaction had nothing to do with the body

or the blood that covered the murder scene. What shook her more

than anything was how easy it would have been for that body to be

Hunter’s.

“Hey,” Wilson said as he approached. He looked curiously

at Sara but refrained from making any comment. “We’ve got a

Caucasian female, five foot nine, approximately one hundred and

thirty-five pounds. Victim’s name is Kristin Colby, twenty-nine

years of age. The ME puts the estimated time of death at less than

two hours ago.”

“Christ, she hasn’t been dead that long,” David said. “How the

hell did you guys get here so quickly?”

Wilson shrugged and indicated they should follow him. They

stepped out of the apartment and followed him down the stairs. “We

got a call telling us we would find victim number six here.”

“What the fuck?” David’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling us

that son of a bitch Collier called you?”

“Not directly.” Wilson shook his head and pointed to the street

where his partner was talking to someone. “It’s more like the call

came from his intended next victim.”

Sara let out a hiss of shock as she recognized the two tall

figures speaking intently with Inspector Sanchez. “What’s Hunter

doing here?”

Wilson shrugged tiredly. “According to Ms. Roswell, Collier

contacted her earlier this evening. Among other things, he told her

where we could find his latest victim. She immediately called it in,

and as luck would have it, Sanchez caught the call. As soon as he

realized who was on the line, he asked Roswell to meet us here.”

“You’re not bringing her in to make a statement?” David asked.

• 263 •

aJ Quinn

“Not a chance, buddy.” Wilson rubbed his chin. “In case your

keen powers of observation missed it, that’s Roswell’s lawyer

standing beside her. Of course, we also didn’t count on her showing

up with a cadre of bodyguards in tow, but considering what’s

upstairs, I can’t say as I blame her.”

“Among what other things?” Sara asked suddenly. When

Wilson appeared confused, she tried again. “You said that among

other things Collier told her where you could find his latest victim .

What else did he say to her?”

Wilson hesitated, and Sara’s anxiety level ratcheted up another

notch. Wilson finally spoke. “I don’t have all the details. Sanchez

was getting them. But my understanding is Collier told her he

was looking forward to getting together with her real soon. That

when the time came, she would come to him, and he wouldn’t let

anything stand in her way. Not the FBI. Not her personal security

team. Nothing.”

“Damn it.” Sara tried to make eye contact with Hunter. But it

was too late. Hunter had already turned and was walking away with

Tessa, flanked on all sides by the wall of security Matt had put in

place earlier in the day. Just in case.

Moments later, the headlights on the Lamborghini and four

black SUVs lit up the darkness before the vehicles pulled away from

the crime scene.

• 264 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-FouR

The fog had rolled in and hung heavy and low as Sara exited

the cab in front of the wrought-iron gates. David had

offered to drive her, but Sara had refused, wanting—no, needing—

some time alone. It hadn’t occurred to her until now, as she watched

the cab pull away, that Hunter might not be alone. Tessa could still

be with her. Or any number of bodyguards.

But by then it was too late.

Turning her collar up against the cool dampness in the air,

she waited for Rachel and Scott to let her in. Scott made a point

of deliberately looking at his watch just before he opened the gate,

his eyes questioning what she was doing there in the middle of the

night.Two other men she didn’t recognize stood in the shadows and

checked her out thoroughly but said nothing, even as the sensors

picked up the weapon she was carrying. Sara shrugged and moved

past them without a word, then made her way up the cobblestone

drive under watchful eyes.

As she walked by the Lamborghini, she continued to feel the

faint whisper of doubt tickling the back of her mind. It bothered her

that Hunter had left the crime scene without exchanging a word with

her. It bothered her more that Hunter had chosen to face this night

alone. She hesitated briefly before knocking on the door. It was now

nearly one in the morning, and more than anything, she felt uneasy

about Hunter’s possible frame of mind.

• 265 •

aJ Quinn

When the door opened, she got her answer as she noted the

glass of mahogany-colored liquid in Hunter’s hand.

Hunter stood stiffly in the doorway without saying a word,

blocking the way inside. It was obvious she hadn’t been prepared

to find Sara standing there, and for an instant, surprise touched her

features. Watching her, Sara feared Hunter would simply close the

door again, refusing to let her in. But after an interminable pause,

she moved aside wordlessly and Sara stepped around her.

Once inside, Sara took the time to study Hunter’s appearance

critically. Fresh from a shower, she looked tense and pale, standing

barefoot in worn, fitted blue jeans with shredded knees and a ribbed

white tank top. Shadowed blue eyes met her stare.

Sara took the drink from Hunter’s hand and brought it to her

own lips, grimacing at the taste. “Scotch? Jesus, Hunter, wouldn’t it

be quicker if I just got a baseball bat and hit you over the head with

it?” “What the hell is everyone’s concern with what I’m drinking

tonight?” Hunter said darkly. Her face was devoid of expression,

and there was a weariness in her voice Sara didn’t like.

Taking the glass back, Hunter emptied it in one long swallow.

She sighed softly and walked back to the counter for the bottle. “I’m

sorry. It’s one o’clock in the morning and I’m running on empty.

Something’s got to give.”

Sara silently agreed as she removed both the bottle and glass

from Hunter’s hands and placed them on the table. “Maybe, but you

don’t need that.”

Hunter looked at her, her gaze focused and intense. “And what

would you propose I need instead?”

Sara responded instinctively and without thought. She leaned

in and brushed her lips over Hunter’s.

Hunter remained perfectly still. “What are you doing, Sara?”

she asked, a mix of uncertainty and hunger flickering across her

face. I have no idea, Sara answered silently. I have absolutely no

idea. She placed her hands against Hunter’s shoulders, and then let

• 266 •

Hostage Moon

them slide down her arms, reveling in the feel of the soft, warm skin

and the solid muscle that lay just beneath.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Hunter’s eyes

darken and glide hungrily over her face. Her vision narrowed until

it encompassed nothing more than Hunter’s mouth. She ran her

fingers through Hunter’s damp hair as she had wanted to do for far

too long, and in a move she had rehearsed in her mind a thousand

times before, she pulled Hunter’s head down and kissed her again.

Long and slow and deep.

“Sara.” Hunter murmured her name, mouth against mouth, her

voice rough and filled with need. “What are you doing, Sara?”

Hunter wasn’t sure if Sara answered her. The only thing she

was aware of in the seconds that followed was the way her lips

suddenly brushed against Sara’s—or was it Sara’s against hers?

She didn’t know which and didn’t really care, because it no longer

seemed to matter.

Even so, she tried one last time to rein things in. She leaned her

forehead against Sara’s, closing her eyes. “I thought we agreed to

take things slow.”

“Actually, you wanted to take it slow…which we did…until

now.” Sara brushed her lips against the hollow of Hunter’s throat. “I

believe I also warned you I didn’t have a lot of patience. Now we’re

changing the pace. I’m changing the pace.”

“We can’t,” Hunter said, tasting regret. “Sara, I still don’t

know what’s happening with my life. Another woman died tonight.

Everything is spinning out of control, and I don’t want you to

become collateral damage.” Her breath hitched. “And getting close

to me right now is a surefire way for you to get hurt.”

“Then you should have thought of that earlier,” Sara whispered,

closing the fractional distance between them to lightly brush

Hunter’s lips with her own. “Before you made me want you. And I

do…want you.”

Hunter swallowed. “It’s dangerous—”

“You think too much,” Sara interrupted. “Don’t think so much.

For once, just feel. Just let me…” She brushed her lips against

Hunter’s yet again.

• 267 •

aJ Quinn

Let me touch you. Let me love you. Let me hold you while you

sleep, even if it’s only for one night. She used her hands to caress and

soothe while her mouth continued to slowly seduce. But oh God,

please don’t let it be only for one night.

In the back of her mind—just a fleeting thought—she allowed

herself to wonder exactly how bad it might be if she only got this

one opportunity to be with Hunter. And then Sara decided if she

was going to go over the line, if she was only going to have this

one chance, then she wanted to remember everything about this

moment. She was going to memorize Hunter’s scent, the feel of her

skin, the taste of her lips, the heat of her mouth.

Lowering her hands from Hunter’s back to her narrow hips, she

pulled her against her body and kissed her again. This time, though,

her lips lingered, and this time, she was certain she felt Hunter begin

to respond.

“I love the taste of you.” She looked up again into Hunter’s

eyes. They were dark and wild with need and desire, and Sara felt a

quickening in her blood.

It was then she realized she had been wrong.

Totally wrong.

The heat in Hunter wasn’t going to be cooled with soft strokes

and gentle touches. Acting instinctively, she thrust her hands in

Hunter’s hair. “Touch me,” she demanded and crushed her mouth

against Hunter’s.

In that instant, she felt Hunter’s tightly held control snap.

Sara found herself spun around and pushed backward until

she was pinned against the wall, her hands digging for any kind

of handhold as her knees grew weak. She felt long fingers wrap

themselves around the back of her head as hungry lips covered her

mouth and Hunter fed upon her.

Sara’s breath quickly grew ragged, and she uttered a soft moan

as she gave herself up to the onslaught. She felt Hunter’s hands on

her, impatiently pulling her shirt open, her lips following the trail of

increasingly exposed flesh. She felt Hunter slip her hands under her

open shirt. Touching her. Tasting her. Devouring her.

• 268 •

Hostage Moon

And she responded with abandon. Losing herself in a haze of

soft lips, warm hands, and a hot, ravenous mouth. She cried out as

her body began to writhe under Hunter’s intoxicating assault.

Hunter’s mouth, hot and hungry, closed over her breast, teeth

grazing hypersensitive skin. Sara inhaled sharply and arched her

back under the searching hands and seeking mouth, urging Hunter

on. Her blood boiled as her zipper was tugged down and her pants

were pushed to the floor. Long fingers stroked up the inside of her

thigh, nails making muscles twitch, leaving contrails of fire across

her skin.

“Hunter—”

Hunter was lost, her senses on overload. Her whole world had

condensed to a single point of focus—Sara. The texture and taste

of Sara’s mouth, Sara’s skin. How Sara fit against her. Denial had

never been her forte, and she had denied herself for far too long.

She groaned, dizzy with the feel and scent of Sara’s arousal

and the need to touch her. Taste her. Absorb her. Sara was so hot.

Hot and wet and smooth and tight, hips pumping as Hunter’s fingers

slid into her. She could feel the exquisite silky softness against her

fingers as she drove her toward that first peak. She wanted to…

needed to feel her come.

“Let go—”

“For you—”

She could feel Sara start to shatter, but instead of letting her

crest and begin to slide gently back down, she drove her ruthlessly

back up again and kept her there. Pushed her to her limits. Even as

Sara shuddered, Hunter drove deeper inside of her, pushing them

both to the brink of madness. And finally, with her mouth possessing

and consuming Sara, she sent her crashing over the top in a shudder

of sensation so powerful Sara’s breath tore out in a wrenching sob.

Whatever Sara might have imagined making love with Hunter

would be like, it was nothing resembling this. She had never expected

anything to feel like this. Hunter was a combination of passionate

and tender and seemed to give her entire focus to pleasuring her

partner. Nothing else intruded, nothing else mattered. The result

infused Sara with a deep and wild hunger that robbed her of breath

• 269 •

aJ Quinn

and left her aching. She was shaking, unprepared for the rush of

emotions that came with each touch, and her hands clutched feebly

at Hunter as she poured—heart, body, and soul—into Hunter’s hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hunter breathed into her ear.

Her low, sultry voice was almost enough to send Sara over the

edge again. Reaching for Hunter, all Sara could think of was more.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You—in every conceivable way.”

❖

Hunter awoke before first light, surprised to discover she had

slept for two solid hours. She had only a vague recollection of

having dropped into oblivion like a stone, and it took almost a full

minute before her mind was clear enough for her to remember how

she and Sara had stumbled up to her bed, leaving a trail of clothes

in their wake.

She had a much clearer recollection of feeling emotionally and

physically spent and wrapping herself around Sara. The thought

brought a wry smile to her face as she noted the tangle of their arms

and legs.

She had to admit it was unusual for her to awaken with someone

beside her, and she was faintly surprised to discover that it didn’t

bother her. She would have expected it to feel awkward, perhaps

uncomfortable. But instead, it simply felt right.

She could also still detect the lingering scent of their

lovemaking. It surrounded her, filled her, and as she inhaled deeply,

she grew aroused again. Shifting slightly, she let her mind drift

while she began to softly stroke the expanse of smooth, pale skin

visible above the twisted sheets.

Aware that reality was lurking just around the corner, she

closed her mind to the impending daylight and concentrated on

Sara, sleeping quietly beside her. She listened to the sound of her

slow and even breathing. Felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

And felt her own blood stir, desire blossoming as a burning, aching

need deep within her.

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She savored the need and slowly pressed her lips against the

delicate skin on Sara’s shoulder, bestowing a light kiss. A second

kiss soon followed, and then a third. Hunter risked a tentative taste

of salt-laced skin with her tongue, before moving up to trail more

kisses along Sara’s collarbone. Every touch, every taste just made

her want more.

When Sara stirred, Hunter paused, watching her float between

the realms of sleep and sensual haze. After a moment, she resumed

slowly making her way up Sara’s neck. Teasing an earlobe with the

tip of her tongue, nipping a pulse point with her teeth. Easing Sara

onto her side, she settled her thigh between Sara’s. Hard muscle

against soft, wet heat. Threading her fingers through Sara’s hair,

she captured Sara’s bottom lip between her teeth, tracing it with her

tongue before sucking gently.

Sara’s lips parted for her, slow and easy and arousing, and the

kiss deepened. Their tongues danced as hunger met need. But even

as her body ached and her heart began to pound, Hunter kept the

rhythm loose.

They continued to kiss, exploring each other’s mouths while

Hunter caressed Sara with a touch as light as a feather. Sara whimpered

as fingertips lovingly traced the swell of her breast, and she brought

her leg up, hooking it on Hunter’s hip and rocking insistently.

Smiling, Hunter reached down and slid her hand between them.

She found Sara hot and wet and ready, and entered her with ease. She

kept her movements slow and languid until there was nothing but a

flood of sensation and the sound of her name carried on a whispered

breath. She felt Sara press into her, clenching around her fingers

as she began to peak. She felt her soar, tremble, breathe her name

again, as her body shuddered convulsively. Almost simultaneously,

her own breath caught, and her body hummed with arousal as Sara’s

moan mixed with hers.

Bringing her mouth to Sara’s once again, her body went taut

with pleasure, and she finally let herself go. And when the pounding

in her ears lessened, and her heart rate and breathing returned to

normal, Hunter framed Sara’s face with both hands, palms lightly

cupping her jaw, before whispering, “Good morning.”

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“Mmm,” Sara murmured, stretching like a cat. “I could become

addicted to how you say good morning.” She reached up and brushed

Hunter’s hair out of her eyes, tucking long wayward locks behind one

ear. She let out a breath, drew another in as she stared at her in wonder.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing up this early?”

Hunter smiled and moved her hand in a tantalizing caress along

Sara’s side until she stroked the curve of her breast and teased a taut

nipple. “I’ve got a video conference call scheduled with New York

in about an hour.”

Sara captured the wandering hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

“Then I guess I should let you go.” She inched closer, inhaled

the lingering undertones of her haunting scent, and nuzzled the

vulnerable curve of her throat. “But then again—”

Sliding sensuously against her body, she felt the slight tremor

beneath Hunter’s skin, and as she gazed at her, all she could see was

how beautiful Hunter was. All she could think was she looked wild

and utterly perfect.

Using her teeth, she nipped at Hunter’s full bottom lip and found

she wanted her again with an intensity she’d never felt before—one

that almost frightened her. She blinked and tried to make sense of

it all. But as Hunter brought her hand up to brush the hair from her

face, Sara realized the why no longer mattered.

“God, you have the most amazing effect on me,” she said. “I’m

afraid I’ve become insatiable.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Mm-hmm. Do you have the faintest idea how much I want

you? Enough that it’s starting to hurt.”

Hunter’s smile deepened. “That can’t be good.”

“I guess that depends. If I do even half of the very interesting

things I’d like to do with you, we won’t be getting out of this bed

anytime soon. Certainly not in time for you to have your conference

call. But I can guarantee one thing—it will be very good.”

As Hunter laughed, Sara took the ends of Hunter’s hair,

wrapped a length of it around her hand, and pulled. And as she drew

Hunter toward her, she said, “Give me your mouth, Roswell. I don’t

believe I got nearly enough of it before.”

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Hostage Moon

She brushed Hunter’s mouth once, twice, and then claimed her,

devouring her until she felt Hunter yield, and a deep shuddering sigh

shook her body. Her response ignited a hunger Sara had not known

she possessed. Hot and greedy. And as the taste and scent of Hunter

exploded inside her, she knew she had to have more.

She couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her throat, her breasts.

With a twist, she rolled them both over until she was on top. “Don’t

move,” she whispered, scraping her teeth across Hunter’s chest

before capturing a pebbled nipple. She felt Hunter arch beneath her

in response, and as she pressed her abdomen against her, she felt the

slick, welcoming heat.

“Sara—” Hunter took a shuddering breath and leaned into her,

aching for contact. The touch of Sara’s mouth left her trembling

and filled her with a dark, edgy need. Try as she might, she couldn’t

remember the last time she had relinquished control to another

woman. She’d always held a part of herself back. But it suddenly

didn’t seem to matter, and she realized the more she opened herself

up to Sara, the more she wanted to.

She moaned deep in her throat as Sara began a slow, torturous

exploration and made her way down her body, tormenting her with

lips and tongue and teeth. Creating a trail of fire that burned across

her skin. Licking and biting with just enough pressure to drive her

mindless. Responding to an increase in pressure, Hunter parted her

legs farther, leaving herself open and vulnerable. And then she felt

Sara claim her with her mouth.

Hunter was stunned by the wildly primitive urges in her blood.

She anchored her hands in Sara’s hair, threw her head back, and

cried out. And then she splintered. There weren’t words. Her body

pulsed and contracted, and she lost all sense of time and place. All

she could feel was Sara holding her while she came apart. All that

mattered was the moment. The rest would take care of itself.

❖

As Hunter’s breathing steadied and the pounding in her chest

took on a more recognizable rhythm, she realized she was sprawled

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across Sara’s chest, her arm and leg locked possessively over her.

Glancing at the clock, she saw that she needed to get up, although

she had no desire to move.

“Are you okay?” Sara said against her hair

Oh yeah, she was more than okay. Raising her head, she saw

Sara staring back at her with uneasy eyes. “I’m good,” she said.

Heat bloomed in her face and a grin twitched at the corners of her

mouth. “You gave me exactly what I needed.”

Almost immediately, she felt Sara’s body relax and saw her

close her eyes with a sleepy, contented sigh. “That’s good.”

“Mm-hmm. Why don’t you get a bit more sleep,” Hunter

whispered. She gently smoothed Sara’s hair, tucking the short,

curling strands behind her ears. Lulling her with her touch, her

presence. “I’ll wake you when I’m done, and you can decide what

you’d like to do today. I’ll be happy to provide some suggestions if

you can’t think of anything.”

She heard Sara moan softly and resumed her gentle stroking

until Sara’s breathing deepened and sleep claimed her once again.

Hunter watched her sleep a minute longer, placed a featherlight kiss

on her forehead, and then eased her way out of bed.

Video conference call? Right. She paused, ran a hand through

her hair, and grabbed a T-shirt from the dresser.

❖

Sara awoke gradually. The first thing she became aware of was

the warmth of the sun now streaming though the skylight. Stirring,

she stretched an arm lazily toward the vacant side of the bed before

remembering that Hunter was no longer there. Conference call?

Yeah, that was it. Rolling onto her back, she inhaled deeply and

smiled contentedly. The breeze through the open windows carried

the fresh scent of salt, cypress…and coffee.

Turning her head, she grinned with anticipation as she saw the

large mug on the bedside table. She sat up, pushed her bangs out of

her eyes, and reached for the mug. Yes. Freshly brewed coffee with

a dash of cream, just the way she liked it.

• 274 •

Hostage Moon

Thank you, Hunter.

As she sipped the steaming beverage, she heard the distinctive

sound of running water coming from the shower. She also picked up

the spicy scent of the soap Hunter favored, and her smile widened.

Still holding the coffee, she slid out of bed and silently made her

way to the adjoining bath.

The soft, gentle flickering of the candles in the room reflected

a golden glow on the naked woman leaning against the wall, arms

crossed. As she watched Sara approach, her eyes darkened with

seductive intent.

Sara’s mouth went dry, and she felt an instant surge of heat.

Unable to look away, her gaze roamed hungrily over Hunter’s body.

“So,” she asked as she put her coffee down, “do you mind sharing

a shower?”

Hunter smiled and held out a hand without saying a word. She

drew Sara into the warm mist and let the pulsing water spill over

both of them. Pulling her closer, she traced the edge of Sara’s jaw

with her tongue before bringing her mouth down on the soft lips

beneath hers.

A groan escaped her as she felt Sara begin to respond, and

she smiled to herself when she heard Sara’s breath catch and then

become labored. She briefly deepened the kiss before dropping

slowly to her knees, her lips gently tracing a deliberate pattern down

Sara’s body as she descended.

Sara opened her eyes halfway and mumbled something

unintelligible.

“I can’t seem to get enough of you,” Hunter said and touched

her mouth to Sara again, letting the intimate kiss deepen slowly.

Silkily. “Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind,” Sara answered breathlessly. “Sweet Jesus,

Hunter. Do you have any idea how you affect me…Oh…my…

God…”

The rest of her words were lost to the steam and the sound of

the running water as Hunter continued her languorous explorations.

Sara drifted in a place of pure heat and sensation, and she lost herself

in Hunter’s mouth. She wanted to prolong the moment, hold out as

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aJ Quinn

long as possible, but knew almost immediately that wasn’t going

to happen. She moaned as she got closer, started to shudder as her

orgasm tore through her. Waves of pleasure strangled in her throat.

A sob exploded from her lips, and she arched her back, calling out

Hunter’s name as her limbs gave out.

She would have collapsed but for the strong arms holding

her up. Hunter stayed where she was, on her knees, Sara’s hands

entangled in her hair. As her breathing returned to normal, Sara

looked down at the beautiful face pressed against her abdomen.

Hunter seemed lost in thought, her expression distant.

“Are you okay?”

Hunter nodded and pressed her lips against Sara’s skin. When

she looked up, her eyes met Sara’s with an intense gaze. “My life…

it’s still crazy.”

As if hearing what Hunter left unspoken, Sara framed Hunter’s

face in her hands. “What are you afraid will happen?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter replied. “The only thing I know for sure

is I don’t want to regret this. Not with you.”

“I don’t want that either.” Still holding Hunter’s face, Sara bent

down and kissed her forehead. “We’ll just have to make damned

sure neither of us has any cause for regret.”

Hunter grinned wryly as she got to her feet. “And how do you

propose we do that?”

Sara smiled. “I don’t know,” she said, as she put her hands

around Hunter’s neck and brought her mouth closer. “But this is a

good place to start. The rest we’ll figure out together with time.”

• 276 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-Five

The late afternoon sun felt wonderful on her face, and with

the temperature in the midseventies, Hunter knew her

decision to go for a run was the right thing to do. After working

through most of the night on a new simulation program, she had been

left inexplicably restless and edgy all day. She should have gone

home to bed, she thought ruefully, as she rubbed her burning eyes.

But part of her felt the need to somehow touch her old self

and the life she might have had if—what? If Brenner hadn’t gone

looking for revenge? If she hadn’t been brought back from England?

If she hadn’t slipped the security detail? If her father hadn’t died?

She knew the skein of events and circumstances that shaped

her past was tangled and there were no simple answers. That was

why she chose the Presidio for her run, undoubtedly the most scenic

former army post in the country. Now part of the national park

system, she had picked it in part because it boasted the Golden Gate

Bridge as a backdrop. But mostly because the air was thick and

redolent with the past.

She felt a hint of guilt at having turned down a number of offers

for company. She knew the OPS team was trying hard to give her

breathing room. Once October’s full moon drew nearer, she knew

they would leave her with no choice but to accept their constant

presence in every aspect of her life. But until that time, they would

concede there were times when her need to be alone outweighed all

other considerations.

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aJ Quinn

As she locked her car, she made a mental note to make it up to

them.After a few minutes spent stretching, she started off at an easy

pace to give her muscles a chance to warm up before she pushed

them. She pounded steadily along, letting the rhythm soothe her

jangled nerves and tired mind. And thought of the green eyes and

beautiful smile of the woman who lately had occupied nearly all of

her waking thoughts.

One recent telephone conversation came to mind.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to determine the best way to break into the Palace

Casino’s vault.”

There was a moment of silence. “And you would be saying

that while an as-yet-undetermined number of FBI agents and SFPD

officers are just down the hall from you…why? Do I need to ask

Tessa to start arranging bail?”

Hunter laughed. “The chief of security operations at the Palace

heard we redid the systems at the Royal Palm and asked us to test

their security. He seems to think it can’t be breached. Fancies himself

a security expert. Told me he designed it himself.”

“And?”

Hunter stared once again at the schematics on her computer

screen. “And having checked it out, I could crack it in my sleep,”

she responded dryly. “Which is why I thought I might do something

a little more creative.”

Sara’s amusement came through over the phone line. “He

annoyed you.”

“You’re dangerous,” Hunter said. “Or I’m starting to become

predictable. Should I be worried?”

“Never.”

“Right. So what are you up to?”

“Well,” Sara said, “I was just sitting here thinking how much

I’d like to walk down the hall to your office and have my way with

you on your desk.”

• 278 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter was speechless. For just an instant, she looked around

at her desk, cluttered with stacks of blueprints and program code.

“Give me thirty minutes,” she said and then paused. “No, wait.

What the hell am I thinking?”

“Hunter…Jesus, I—I can’t believe I actually said that. Do you

suppose you could pretend I didn’t?”

“Uh-uh,” she replied. “After all, this is my company.”

“I know. I’m—”

“That means I can delegate some of this stuff that needs to be

cleared off my desk so I can turn my attention to…other pursuits.

Give me fifteen minutes instead.” A deliberate pause. “And Sara?”

“Um, yes?”

“Don’t be late,” Hunter said in a low drawl. “If you’re not here

in fifteen minutes, I’m starting without you.”

She could hear Sara struggle to breathe as she hung up the

phone.

The memory made Hunter’s heart skip a beat, and she felt an

intense rush of adrenaline that had nothing to do with running. It

also brought a smile to her face as she maintained her pace for

twenty minutes, and then kicked it up a gear for the next twenty.

Salt-laced air filled her lungs as her breathing increased to match

her exertion.

For the final twenty minutes, she picked up the pace again,

enjoying the endorphin high a hard run always gave her. Finally,

concentrating on her breathing, she slowed down to a jog, letting

the sea breeze blow her damp hair back off her forehead. She turned

away from the water and onto the inland path that led back toward

her car.

As the path bent to the right, Hunter caught a glimpse of

movement—a group of runners coming in her direction. There was

nothing remarkable or unusual about them, but Hunter felt a twinge

of unease as they drew near. She slowed her pace, an uncertain smile

playing on her lips, her senses on alert.

As the lead runner passed her, she thought she caught a glimpse

of something dark in his hand. A gun. There was no time to react. In

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aJ Quinn

the next instant, she felt a searing flash of pain as she was lifted off

her feet. Her body stiffened and she lost all motor control.

No, not a gun. A Taser, she realized. Not that it mattered. Her

body relaxed and folded as soon as her attacker stopped the stun.

Completely cognizant of what was happening, but helpless

to do anything about it, Hunter felt a hard kick as it caught her in

the ribs, sending her into a short rolling slide. A follow-up blow to

the solar plexus knocked the wind out of her and left her gasping.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard a laugh as she fought to

regain her breath. But she could do nothing to stop yet another blow

as it caught her high on the right shoulder, and her arm went numb.

Time slowed. She felt hands grabbing her arms, pulling her

helplessly to her feet and holding her upright. As muscle control

slowly returned, she began to struggle and lashed out with the only

weapon left to her—her legs—connecting violently with one of her

assailants, eliciting a grunt of pain as she grappled for some kind of

advantage. But there were too many of them and it was much too

late. She was unable to break free, and an arm came around her neck

in a chokehold while a series of blows battered her ribs.

For a long time, the world stilled. And then when she was no

longer held, Hunter felt her knees start to buckle. She looked up at

blurred, unfamiliar faces and tried to focus. But something exploded

against the side of her head just before she hit the ground. Her last

clear memory was the scent of the past and the sound of the waves

lapping gently against the shoreline, and then her world went black.

❖

Just before six o’clock, Sara poked her head into Hunter’s

office and was surprised to find it empty. She checked her watch and

confirmed the time, then decided that Quito would probably be the

best one to tell her where Hunter could be found. Turning, she ran

directly into Matt’s broad chest.

“Hey,” he smiled. “I was just coming to see if the resident

genius wanted to grab some dinner. I’m glad you’re here. Maybe

you can help me convince her coffee isn’t the only food group.”

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Hostage Moon

Sara laughed. “Actually, Hunter and I had agreed to meet up

for dinner around this time, but she’s not in her office. I was just

going to check with Quito to see if he knows where she is.”

“She went for a run,” Quito said when they found him.

“What time was that?” Matt asked.

“Maybe two o’clock,” Quito replied. “Sorry, Matt. She dropped

some papers on my desk as she was heading out and asked me to

run some revised numbers for her on the new hotel contract. Then

she told me not to work too late and she’d see me tomorrow—like

maybe she wasn’t planning on coming back to the office. I guess I

hoped she was going to go home and get some sleep after her run.

Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Matt reassured him.

“I’ll just ask Peter to locate her.”

“She went to the Presidio for a run,” Peter responded promptly

when asked a few minutes later. “Conner and I both offered to go

with her, but she begged off and it was obvious she needed some

alone time to clear her head. Especially after working on that SIM

program all night—bloody piece of genius that it is. Have you seen

it?” “Is she still there? At the Presidio?” Sara asked.

“No.” Peter glanced at Matt and Sara quizzically. “I kept an eye

on her car, and it started moving about half an hour ago. Actually, if

you head down to the parking lot, you’ll find she’s pulling up to the

front of the building as we speak. Is there a problem?”

“No problem,” Matt said. “Just as I suspected. Nothing to worry

about. Let’s go catch Hunter before she comes back in and take her

out to dinner. How do you feel about Japanese? Do you like sushi?”

❖

Awash in a world of pain, Hunter maneuvered the Lamborghini

carefully through the security gate, intent only on reaching the

building. So damn close, she thought, as she breathed through her

mouth and fought past the pain that punctured her senses. Just a

little bit farther.

• 281 •

aJ Quinn

As she neared the overhang at the front entrance, the pain

inside her head intensified, and unable to concentrate any longer,

she allowed the car to coast to a stop. Once it was no longer moving,

she reached for the ignition, turning the key as she slumped forward

against the steering wheel.

It was the pain that brought her around. Radiating in waves.

Her ribs burned, her shoulder throbbed, and oh God, everything

hurt. She could taste the blood, feel the warmth and wetness of it as

it trickled into one eye and down her face. She tried to focus, but she

suddenly couldn’t concentrate on anything other than breathing and

on not making a sound. On not screaming.

Another long moment passed, and Hunter forced herself to

pay attention, knowing that losing consciousness again was not an

option. She knew she had to hold it together but wasn’t sure anymore

how…or why. With her remaining strength rapidly depleting, time

became slow and hazy.

“Hunter?”

Matt’s voice. Security must have called him—probably after

the Lamborghini bumped against the building and she didn’t get out

of the car. The fact that she could reason reassured her somewhat.

But then Hunter felt another jolt of raw pain, and she stopped trying

to think.

She opened the car door, pushed her legs out, and managed to

climb out of the vehicle. She stood off balance as her vision swam

and her legs began to buckle beneath her. Nausea swept through her,

and she reached out, grabbing the car door and trying desperately

not to fall.

Sara started moving toward Hunter, whispering, “Jesus, Hunter,”

half prayer, half expletive. It didn’t take a medical degree to know

that Hunter was hurt. The only question was how badly. There was

a gash over one eye which was bleeding freely. Blood was smeared

across her cheek, joining the dark purple bruising that covered her

jaw and throat. Another bruise was forming under her other eye, and

she stood unsteadily, swaying, eyes blinking and unfocused.

Sara took another step closer and could hear Hunter’s

breathing—shallow, harsh, labored. She noted the blood that stained

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Hunter’s hands, the scraped knuckles, the bruises on her arms.

Whatever had happened, she had not gone down quickly or easily.

Hunter blinked again, shivered, and tried to remember

where she was and why she was there. She had been trying to get

somewhere, but she was so tired and her body felt so heavy.

“Hunter?” Sara said softly.

“Hey, Sara.” Hunter’s normally smoky voice sounded hoarse

and confused. “When did you get here?”

Hunter swayed and dropped to her knees. Sara moved quickly to

her side and wrapped both arms firmly around Hunter and eased her to

the ground. Sara’s stomach clenched, and she swallowed convulsively

as she rested the palm of her hand against Hunter’s face. She could see

that her features were taut with pain, and her breathing was uneven

and erratic, but Sara could tell she was trying to push past it.

Pulling herself together, Sara began to whisper reassurances.

“Easy. I’ve got you, Hunter. You’re going to be okay.”

Hunter’s only response was a low groan that bubbled up from

deep inside as she gritted her teeth.

Unable to keep her hands still and needing the contact, Sara

reached down and brushed Hunter’s hair out of her face, examining

the cut and the bruises more closely. Hunter responded with a faint

smile and reached for her hand, linking their fingers together. Behind

her, Sara could hear Matt barking instructions on his cell phone, and

she became conscious of others arriving to help.

“Hunter, I need you to concentrate for just a minute,” she said,

watching as Hunter’s eyes drifted shut. “Come on, love, stay with

me. Can you do that for me?”

Hunter opened her eyes again, but she seemed to struggle to

focus, and her movements were growing increasingly slow. Sara

could see the signs. Whatever adrenaline had gotten Hunter this far

had dissipated, and she was going into shock.

“She needs a hospital,” she said to Matt as he crouched down

beside her. “At a bare minimum, she’s going to need a CT scan, and

I’m not sure, but this cut over her eye might need stitches.”

Matt nodded. “That’s what I figured. Conner’s on her way with

one of the SUVs and she’s a trained EMT. You stay with her,” he

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added, “because Hunter’s going to be pissed when she finds herself

in a hospital.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Did you hear that, Hunter?”

Sara asked. “Just hang in there, love. We’ll get you fixed in no time

at all.”

Hunter could hear Sara’s voice, found her touch comforting.

She felt herself drifting. The world was spinning, fading. But it was

okay because Sara was there, and Sara would look after her.

“Ah, shit,” she managed, before the world receded.

❖

She’ll be all right.

It all blurred, as the words kept repeating in her head, a silent

mantra. Sara felt close to panic as images of Hunter, bloodied and

beaten, continuously invaded her mind.

She’ll be all right.

Seated in the waiting room, she clenched her hands as they

began to shake. Her relief upon seeing Kate on duty when they

had brought Hunter into the emergency department had long since

vanished. Now she was desperately waiting for word—any word—

on Hunter’s condition.

She closed her eyes, fighting against the tightness in her chest,

the fear in her heart, and realized with startling clarity the depth of

the feelings she had for Hunter.

Hunter completed her. She was the missing piece of the puzzle,

and for the first time in her life, Sara knew she had fallen in love.

She’s got to be all right.

“Sara?” The voice was pure Texas and could only be Conner’s.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’d be a lot better if they’d let me back there where I can see

her,” she replied, turning back from staring distractedly out the

window. “Is that coffee I smell?”

There was an awkward silence, and she felt Conner’s eyes

quickly assess her. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, Conner

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released a grin and winked. “Not just coffee. I managed to score

Starbucks instead of the usual hospital brew.”

“You’re a goddess,” Sara grinned back weakly. She accepted

the tall white coffee cup with the familiar green logo, took a sip,

and sighed. And then she leaned back and closed her eyes while she

continued to wait.

Almost two hours passed before Kate walked back through the

swinging doors and into the waiting room. By then, it seemed as if

everyone in the room was there hoping for some word about Hunter.

Tessa had arrived just behind Matt and Peter and had dropped into a

chair beside Sara without saying a word. In the interim, David and a

number of task force members had also arrived.

As Kate approached, Sara stood up quickly. The sudden

movement, coupled with the emotional overload and the lack of food,

made her sway slightly on her feet. Conner and Tessa immediately

jumped up beside her, each grabbing an arm to hold her steady.

“Easy,” Tessa said. “One of you in the hospital is more than

enough to handle right now.”

Sara nodded. She was actually surprised her legs were able to

hold her upright. But she was prepared to crawl, if necessary, to

reach Kate. She focused on her face, searching her eyes anxiously.

“How is she?”

The reassuring response came quickly. “She’s going to be fine.”

Sara’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Are you sure? Can you tell

me more without a subpoena?”

“She gave me permission to share details with you and her

security team. Her vitals are strong. That’s not to say she won’t be

hurting when she wakes up. She was pretty disoriented and we had

to sedate her. She had a partial dislocation of her right shoulder,

which we were able to reduce.”

“Were there any other injuries we should be aware of?”

Kate gave a slight nod. “She’s got badly bruised ribs, but

luckily, there were no fractures. She’s also got a nasty bump on

her head, a sprained wrist, and an assortment of contusions and

lacerations, mostly to her face and torso. Given her medical history,

• 285 •

aJ Quinn

we had some concerns about the bruising on her right cheekbone,

but thankfully, there was no fracture this time.”

“Why does that sound—” Sara froze.

“It sounds a lot like Hunter’s original injuries from ten years

ago,” Matt interjected.

“That’s probably because there’s a close match,” Lindsay

offered as she walked into the waiting room and confirmed the

thoughts running through Sara’s head. “In fact, I’d say deliberately

so. I’ve been reviewing Hunter’s file since I was told she had been

brought in, and I believe this was an attempt to replicate her original

injuries.”

“If we’re looking at the full moon as Collier’s target date, then

the timing would be right,” Sara added. “Brenner held Hunter for

three weeks, and she got most of her original injuries shortly after

she was kidnapped.”

“I don’t get it.” Matt spat out furiously. “She’s got two damned

black belts. Christ, she can take Peter down, and that’s no easy feat,

so tell me how the hell Collier did this to her. Was she drugged like

in New York?”

Kate shook her head. “She got taken down with a Taser. There

are twin burn marks high on her chest.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“It also didn’t help that she was badly outnumbered,” Kate

added softly. “From what Hunter was able to tell me before we

sedated her, there were five of them. She indicated they were all

white males in their mid- to late-twenties, for all the good that will

do you in trying to identify them.”

“Five of them,” Matt snapped as he turned to look from David

to Sara. “He’s replicating everything. When Brenner and his boys

originally did their number on Hunter, there were five of them. How

did we not see this coming? Someone tell me, how the hell did we

miss this?”

Sara ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. “I

don’t know,” she said bleakly. “I think in part because until now,

everything indicated Collier was only practicing his end game.

Brenner’s game. It just never occurred to me—”

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“It didn’t occur to any of us, including Hunter.” Tessa wrapped

a supportive arm firmly around Sara. “And Hunter’s the last person

who will be looking to assign blame.”

Lindsay nodded. “Tessa’s right. What’s important here is that,

at least physically, Hunter’s going to be okay,” she said. “But we’ll

need to keep an eye on how this affects her psychologically, which is

probably the reason he did this. He likely wants to cause dissention

on the team. At the same time, he wants Hunter rattled and off her

game. Vulnerable. He’s smart enough to realize it’s the only chance

he’s got to beat her.”

“It also means we can’t afford to make a mistake like

underestimating Collier again,” Matt added. “Hunter may be smarter

than him, but this little bastard has managed to stay at least two steps

ahead of us.”

And that was the crux of the matter, Sara thought. Collier was

smart. He not only continued to elude capture, he was now trying

to goad Hunter into reacting emotionally. He would have listened

to the tapes of Lindsay’s sessions with Hunter countless times and

would use his intimate knowledge of her past to try to manipulate

her. He obviously wanted Hunter alone and at odds with her team.

He wanted her to provide him with the same kind of opportunity she

had given Brenner ten years earlier—a chance for him to grab her.

Then he wanted her to play Brenner’s game with him.

And if they weren’t careful, he just might succeed.

David scratched the stubble on his chin. “Doc, I know you said

she got Tasered, but is there any chance she did some damage to

whoever did this to her? Enough that they might be in need of some

kind of emergency medical attention themselves?”

“It’s possible,” Kate said. “But from the bruises on Hunter’s

arms and neck, I’d say two or three of them had a pretty good hold

on her.”

“Maybe,” Matt said. “But her knuckles were bruised, and

maybe she got a couple of shots in before they grabbed her. She had

a lot of blood on her when we brought her in, including some on her

hands and on her running shoes. Maybe it wasn’t all hers. Maybe we

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aJ Quinn

should start checking out the local emergency departments, starting

with this one.”

David nodded. “I’ll call it in.”

“The question now is did anything else happen during the three

weeks immediately before Michael Roswell was killed that we

should know?” Sara asked as she turned back to Lindsay. “Because

that’s what Collier is using to create his plans, and we can’t afford

any more miscues.”

“I’ll go over the tapes again, but I don’t believe there’s anything

else in them that will prove helpful.” Lindsay paused thoughtfully.

“But you need to consider the natural reaction to what just happened

will be to place Hunter in the equivalent of protective custody,

which is, of course, what her father unsuccessfully tried to do when

Brenner started making threats.”

Matt stiffened visibly. “What are you trying to say?”

“She’s saying our natural instinct to smother Hunter in a

protective blanket is more likely to drive her crazy and make her

bolt, which will give Collier the access he’ll need to get to her,”

Sara said. “It’s how Brenner was able to grab her, and Collier knows

that.”Matt scowled. “Then what the hell are we supposed to do?” he

asked, and whether or not it was a rhetorical question, it seemed no

one had an immediate answer.

“I want to see her,” Sara said softly, looking at Kate.

• 288 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-six

Pain washed over her in waves, pulling her from a comfortable

oblivion. That’s good, Hunter thought groggily. If you can

feel pain, it means you’re still alive.

Breathing, she quickly discovered, was painful, but not

unbearably so. Testing her hypothesis, she took a deeper breath.

Okay, that hurts. She bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning, but

apart from a strangled little sound at the back of her throat, she was

able to hold herself rigid and fight the pain as she tried to remember

what had happened. But everything remained unclear, and before

she could determine where she was or why, the drugs in her system

took her back under.

The next time she opened her eyes, there was a woman she

didn’t recognize standing next to her. She blinked several times and

concentrated on bringing her surroundings into sharper focus. She

finally realized the woman was wearing medical scrubs and was

checking the IV in her arm, adjusting the flow. She lay perfectly

still and listened to the steady, low beep of the heart monitor. She

smelled the distinct scent of antiseptics.

This is not good.

She licked dry, swollen lips and tried to speak. She worked

her mouth open, but despite her best effort, no sound came out. The

movement, however, seemed to catch the nurse’s attention.

“Ah, you’re awake. That’s good. How are you feeling, honey?

Do you know where you are?”

• 289 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter blinked. The world appeared to be moving in slow

motion as she considered the question. She closed her eyes for a

few seconds—or maybe it was longer—as she tried to formulate

an answer. When she opened them again, the room was dark and

she was alone. But there was no doubt in her mind this time. She

knew exactly where she was. She was in a hospital. She could feel

the panic start to rise and tried to concentrate on what she knew she

had to do.

I’ve got to get out of here.

Her first attempt to sit up was definitely not a success. She tried

to push herself up and didn’t even make it to a sitting position. The

room swam, her head whirled, and she was hit by an almost instant

wave of nausea. It didn’t help that her movements were restricted

by the shoulder immobilizer she was wearing. Separated shoulder,

the pragmatist said. Felled by dizziness, she was forced to lay her

head back down .

Okay, you can do this.

She focused on keeping her breathing even and on controlling

the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. After a few minutes, she

tried again, and this time her effort met with substantially more

success as she managed to get her body upright. Gritting her teeth

and working through the pain, she swung her legs over the side of

the bed. In the process, she dislodged the lead for the heart monitor

and set off the alarm.

“Ms. Roswell?” A nurse came through the door, hurried over to

the bed, and silenced the alarm. “What do you think you’re doing?

Ms. Roswell, you need to get back in that bed. The doctor said…I

wouldn’t recommend—”

“I need to get out of here.” Hunter barely managed to get the

words out. Her throat was raw and dry and the words did not come

easily. Ignoring the nurse, she slid out of the bed slowly and felt

the vertigo hit hard and fast as her feet touched the cold floor. She

managed to grab onto the nurse to stop herself from falling.

“Ms. Roswell—”

Hunter tried again. “You don’t understand,” she said hoarsely.

“I really need to get out of here. I cannot spend the night in this

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Hostage Moon

hospital. Please believe me. I’m not trying to give you a hard

time.” She drew in a deep breath and grimaced. “Look, just give

me whatever papers I need to sign so I can leave AMA. But I need

them now.”

“I can’t do that, Ms. Roswell. Now, whether you leave against

medical advice or not, I really need you to get back into bed while I

go and find Dr. Montgomery.”

Hunter sighed. Her head was pounding and the pain in her side

was becoming more intense. “Fine, you do what you have to do. But

tell Kate not to bother coming to see me unless she’s bringing the

papers I need to sign so I can get out of here.”

“Ms. Roswell—”

From the doorway, Sara cleared her throat. “Nurse,” she

glanced at her name tag, “um, Lorraine, why don’t you give me a

few minutes to speak with Hunter? In the meantime, maybe you can

find Dr. Montgomery.”

The nurse nodded and quickly left the room without a backward

glance. Sara turned her attention back to Hunter, who looked as if

a slight breeze would topple her and had yet to acknowledge her

presence in the room other than with a quick initial glance.

“Hi,” Sara said softly, smiling at Hunter. “How are you doing?”

“Still breathing, sort of,” Hunter said, turning to face Sara and

grimacing. “But I’d be doing a lot better if I could just get out of

here. You think you can help?”

Sara tilted her head to one side and studied Hunter. Her right

arm was held firmly in place by a shoulder immobilizer while her

left was tenuously tethered to an IV. Her eyes were glassy and dazed,

her face ashen, the only hint of color the angry purple bruises that

covered most of the right side of her face. The bruising then spread

downward across her neck before disappearing under the faded blue

hospital gown she wore.

“Actually, you look like you’re about to fall flat on your face.

How about I help you back into that bed for a minute while we talk

about it?” Sara suggested gently.

Hunter stared at Sara as she allowed herself to be maneuvered

back into bed.

• 291 •

aJ Quinn

“Would you like some water?” Sara held a glass of water with a

bendable straw up to Hunter’s lips and waited until she had managed

a few sips.

“Thanks,” Hunter said, mumbling something as her eyes

closed.

Sara set the glass on the side table. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Hunter tried again. “When did you get here?”

“I’ve been here since we brought you in, about eight hours ago.

Matt, Tessa, most of your OPS team, and, I swear, over half the task

force are just down the hall.”

Hunter frowned. “Eight hours?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve been in and out of your room since they

moved you up here, but you’ve been pretty much out of it, so I’m

not surprised you didn’t notice. How bad is the pain?”

Hunter stared up into Sara’s eyes. “My head hurts,” she said

darkly. “And it hurts just to breathe. I think I banged up my ribs.”

Sara couldn’t help herself and chuckled. “Yes, you certainly

did. You also dislocated your shoulder,” she added helpfully.

“That would explain the damned immobilizer.” Hunter raised

an eyebrow. “I think they’ve given me so much medication I can

barely think straight.”

“The bump on the head probably isn’t helping you there.” Sara

grinned. “That’s the main reason they want to keep you here for

observation. It’s just to be on the safe side. I’ll even stay with you,

if it makes you feel any better.” She grabbed Hunter’s good hand in

hers and squeezed it gently, conscious of the scraped knuckles and

the intravenous tube.

Hunter shook her head and her eyebrows furrowed as the

movement intensified the throbbing in her head. “I—it’s not that I

don’t appreciate the offer, because I do. I really do. But it won’t help.

I just can’t stay here.” She swallowed hard, her breathing becoming

more shallow and rapid.

I can’t breathe oh God please help me there’s not enough air…

“Hey, what is it? Hunter?” Sara asked, her voice tinged with

alarm.

• 292 •

Hostage Moon

“Sara,” Hunter whispered with her last ounce of strength.

“Please…I—I can’t…breathe…in here.”

Sara gazed at Hunter as understanding dawned. The monitors

registered no physical reason for the shortness of breath. Panic

attack. Ah hell. We’ve brought her back to a place that is tied to so

many of her nightmares.

“Okay, Hunter,” Sara said reassuringly, keeping her voice

soothing. She leaned over and brushed Hunter’s disheveled hair

back, then kissed her forehead. “It’s going to be okay. As soon as

Kate shows up, I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. I’ll have

you home in no time.”

❖

The trip home from the hospital in the early morning took

them through the nearly deserted streets without incident. Sara

concentrated on driving but was constantly aware of the black

SUVs that had her flanked on all sides. Protecting Hunter, who was

stretched out in the passenger seat, dozing quietly from the effects

of whatever medication Kate had administered.

Sara wasn’t sure what it was Kate had given her, but it had

worked with amazing speed, and for that she was grateful. It had

been difficult watching Hunter swaying unsteadily, each movement

obviously sending waves of pain radiating through her body while

they’d waited for the orderly to bring a wheelchair. And before they

left the hospital, Kate placed a small bottle of pills in Sara’s hand,

along with instructions to give Hunter two as soon as they got her

home and into bed.

Hunter awoke as they pulled into the driveway, groggy and

disoriented, then leaned on Sara as she guided her slowly up the stairs.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been forced to

stay in the hospital.” With her words slurring from the medications

coursing through her system, Hunter wrapped her arm around

Sara’s shoulders, gave her a lopsided grin, and kissed her. “Thank

you for understanding and being there for me,” she whispered

against Sara’s lips.

• 293 •

aJ Quinn

Sara felt herself fall that last little bit, realizing she was truly,

madly, and absolutely in love. “Any time, Hunter.”

Sara swallowed hard as her heart raced in her chest. She could

feel her emotions starting to spill over, and she needed to keep them

in check. Now, more than ever, Hunter would need her to be calm

and rational.

“How about a bath before I tuck you into bed? It’ll make you

feel better and probably help you relax enough so you can sleep.”

It will also remove any trace of the attack that might be lingering.

“You just want me naked.” Hunter’s tone was surprisingly

light, almost playful.

“Anytime I can.” Cautiously maneuvering Hunter and leaving

her leaning against the wall, Sara began to prepare the bath. “How’s

the pain?”

“I’m not really feeling anything.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re so wasted,” she said with a smile,

filling the huge tub. Once it was ready, she helped Hunter remove

the immobilizer and her clothes before easing her into the warm

water.“Oh God.” The words slipped unintentionally from Sara’s lips

as she got her first look at the lurid bruises that covered most of

Hunter’s torso. Was it only hours since she had touched every inch

of that skin with her lips? She felt a flash of fury when she saw

bruises that looked like finger marks on her upper arms and the

twin puncture marks where the Taser had hit her before bringing

her down.

“It must look really bad if you’re praying,” Hunter said and

then gave Sara a hopeful look. “Are you getting in here with me?”

“Not this time, love.”

“No fun…” Hunter tried to pout, ignoring the protest from

her split lip for an instant, before she gave up and closed her eyes.

She sank slowly beneath the water, allowing her mind to float in a

drug-induced haze that had no discernible pattern. When at last she

brought her head back up above the water, she released a deep sigh

bordering on a moan as her battered body absorbed the heat. Within

minutes, the tension around her mouth and eyes began to ease.

• 294 •

Hostage Moon

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Sara carefully washed and rinsed

Hunter’s hair. She then began using a sponge to gently remove any

lingering traces of sand and blood from her bruised and battered

body. And when the water began to cool, she helped Hunter out of

the tub and dried her with a thick white bath towel before helping

her get into bed.

Her final act was to bring Hunter a glass of water and two

pills. Hunter raised a questioning eyebrow, and Sara shrugged in

response. “I’ve no idea what they are, honey, but Kate said to give

you two and put you to bed. Please don’t fight me on this. Kate’s

going to drop by later today to check on you. In the meantime, you

need to try to get some rest.”

Sara watched Hunter swallow the pills without further protest

and waited until her eyelids grew heavy and closed. “I’ll be right

here when you wake up,” she promised softly.

Hunter seemed to fight her sluggish mind in an attempt to

respond before surrendering, as her fingers intertwined with Sara’s

grew lax. Sara remained perched on the edge of the king-sized bed

for a few minutes longer, simply watching her, needing to reassure

herself that Hunter was indeed all right before she went downstairs.

When she heard her breathing deepen and knew for certain Hunter

was asleep, she quietly left the room.

She found Matt, Peter, Conner, and Adrienne sitting at the

kitchen table reviewing plans to upgrade Hunter’s security, while

Tessa tried to get the espresso machine to work.

“How is she?”

“She took a couple of the pills Kate sent home with her, and

now she’s sleeping.”

“She took the pills willingly?”

Disregarding the shocked comments, Sara listened in but didn’t

participate as the ongoing discussion resumed. Instead, she helped

Tessa finish making coffee, then kept herself busy for the next hour,

making breakfast for everyone and tidying the kitchen. When she

was done, she prepared a small tray with some toast and fruit juice

in case Hunter was hungry when she awoke, then added a glass

filled with ice chips as an afterthought.

• 295 •

aJ Quinn

“You should get some sleep,” Tessa said. “That’s what I’m

planning to do, in case anyone’s looking for me.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sara responded tiredly. She and Tessa

parted company on the second-floor landing. As she continued to

the third level, she could feel Tessa’s eyes following her.

She found Hunter much as she had left her. She lay sprawled

on her back, and Sara could see the pain that marked her face even

in sleep. Setting the tray on the bedside table, she showered quickly

and changed into a clean T-shirt. She then sat on the edge of the bed,

content to watch Hunter sleep.

A few minutes later, a small moan escaped Hunter’s lips,

and she stirred restlessly in her sleep. Sara stroked the soft dark

hair, trailing an index finger across the badly bruised cheek before

bending and brushing her lips briefly on her forehead. She could feel

the heat radiating from the bruises on Hunter’s body and slipped her

hand under the sheet, tenderly caressing the smooth skin until she

could feel Hunter’s breathing begin to relax.

“Sara?” Hunter said. Her eyes were glazed, her voice thick

with pain and exhaustion.

“I’m right here,” Sara replied. “How are you feeling? Are you

hungry?”

“Not really, no. My stomach’s not feeling particularly friendly.

Maybe some water?”

“Well, open up,” Sara instructed, feeding Hunter some of the

ice chips when she obediently complied.

Hunter sighed as the ice eased her throat. “Thanks. What are

you doing still awake?”

“Watching you,” Sara admitted. “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Hunter’s breath caught and her lips parted slightly in a

hazy smile. “Why haven’t you come to bed? Is something wrong?”

“I—” Sara stopped, uncertain how to explain the insecurities

that were suddenly plaguing her. Especially in light of all the people

in the house. This was definitely not the time for a discussion about

exactly what was going on between them. They had to have that

conversation, and Sara hoped it would happen soon. But not today.

“Sara?”

• 296 •

Hostage Moon

Sara looked down and sighed. “You’ve a house full of people. I

guess I didn’t want to assume anything, so I thought maybe I should

go down to one of the guestrooms.”

Hunter wondered whether she’d heard the fleeting note of

insecurity in Sara’s voice or not. She groaned faintly and struggled

to focus. “We probably need to talk—” She tried to move and sucked

in a sharp breath, hissing at the stinging pain the motion caused.

“Damn.”

“Hunter, don’t move,” Sara said quickly. “For God’s sake,

you’ll only end up hurting yourself more.”

“Now you tell me.” Hunter dropped her head back onto the

pillow and closed her eyes. “Sara, in the last ten years, I haven’t—

I’ve only ever been with one person for any length of time. So

I’m really not very good at this. If it bothers you having anyone

downstairs know we’re involved, that’s one thing. But if I’m the one

causing whatever discomfort you’re feeling…if I’ve not been clear,

or you’re finding it difficult to read me, then for now, can you accept

that I need and want you close to me and just come to bed?”

Sara brought her fingers to Hunter’s lips, stopping any further

discussion. “Yes, I can do that.” She slipped under the silky sheets

and lay on her side. “Is this better?”

“It helps,” Hunter said.

“Go back to sleep, Hunter. I’ll be right here when you wake

up.” Sara gently stroked Hunter until her own exhaustion took over

and her eyes closed.

• 297 •

• 298 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-seven

Sara leaned her elbows on the table, her frown deepening as

she watched Hunter.

Since the assault at the Presidio several days earlier, Hunter

had become increasingly frustrated with her physical limitations.

She continued to fight blinding headaches, and her slowly healing

body left her incapable of working out or going for an early morning

run. Unable to relax, her moods had deteriorated and she had grown

progressively more withdrawn.

Today had been the worst.

All day long, Sara had felt the heat of Hunter’s frustration

radiating like waves. Her expression was dark and stormy, and it

was only a matter of time before something triggered her simmering

temper. That something, it seemed, turned out to be Matt, when he

walked in with Peter and said, “We need to talk.”

Hunter leaned against the counter and sighed. “Why is it

nothing good ever follows that sentence?”

“I’m sorry, but this can’t be helped,” Matt replied. “Peter and

I have been talking, and we think until this thing with Collier gets

resolved, you need to postpone or cancel any trips or meetings

you’ve got planned. If there’s anything that can’t be rescheduled or

canceled, just let me know, and I’ll go with the team in your place.

But until this mess is over, you need to consider yourself grounded.”

Hunter’s smile faded and she stared at Matt without making a

sound. When she finally spoke, her response was succinct. “That’s

not going to happen.”

• 299 •

aJ Quinn

Matt turned to Sara, plainly seeking her input and support, but

she silently shook her head. This was not her battle, and although

she understood Matt and Peter’s motivation, she didn’t agree with

their approach. Their intervention was the very thing Lindsay had

warned against. In their own way, they were replicating what Michael

Roswell had done ten years earlier when he brought Hunter home

without explanation—they were taking matters into their own hands

and not giving her any say. And they were risking Hunter reacting

in exactly the same manner. Slipping away from the protection her

wolves provided and giving Collier an opportunity to get to her.

Still, Matt would not be swayed. “Look, Hunter, be reasonable.

The smartest thing you can do right now is stay here—out of sight.”

“We can put extra security in place and add a couple of

sharpshooters on the roof until it’s all over,” Peter added. “I know

some guys who are available, and I promise, you won’t even know

they’re there.”

Hunter spun around to face Peter, redirecting the heat of her

anger toward him. “Don’t even think of it.”

Sara frowned and thought Matt should have recognized the

combative tone in her voice. But perhaps his frustration with the

lack of progress in finding Collier had him craving a fight as much

as Hunter was.

“Don’t think of it?” Matt repeated. “Christ, Hunter, does Collier

really have to kill you? Is that what you want? Answer me, damn

it. Is this how you finally rectify Brenner’s mistake when he let you

survive instead of your father?”

A stunned, drawn-out silence hung in the room between them.

Hunter stood white-faced and furious.

“Fuck me,” Peter muttered.

“Damn, Hunter. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Matt

said. “I know that’s not what you want, but can’t you see that it’s

you Collier wants? That all the others have just been practice? Why

are you giving him a chance to get to you?”

But Hunter was clearly not ready to forget his remark about

Brenner and would have no part of his apology. “Back off, Matt,”

she warned softly.

• 300 •

Hostage Moon

“No, damn it—I have every right, as your friend and business

partner—”

“Do you think that grants you the right to dictate how I live

my life? You’ve got to be kidding. Do you really want to test how

quickly I can have Tessa dissolve our partnership?”

“You can’t—”

“Do you have any idea how much I detest those particular

words?” Hunter’s voice, low and winter cold, seemed to echo in the

room. “Of course I can. Watch me.”

“Damn it, Hunter.”

The next few moments were like watching a train wreck. As if

in slow motion, Sara watched Matt grasp Hunter’s arm as she turned

away from him. It was obvious that, in the heat of the moment, he

forgot just how bruised she was. Matt froze as he watched Hunter’s

face turn ashen. But in spite of the pain he had to have caused her,

she didn’t utter a sound.

Instead, she met his eyes. “Remove your hand,” she said

quietly. “Now, or I’ll remove it for you.”

He complied immediately. “Ah hell, Hunter, I’m sorry. I didn’t

mean to do that. You’ve got to believe me.”

The pain was still starkly evident in her eyes as she turned away

from him, pausing for only an instant. “Do us both a favor, Matt. Be

gone by the time I get back,” she said and walked out the door.

They all waited for her to slam it shut. Somehow it seemed

worse when the door closed quietly, as Hunter demonstrated she

was still in control.

Peter remained frozen, staring at the closed door while Matt

made a move to follow her. Sara quickly intervened.

“Don’t, Matt. Give her some space right now,” she suggested

gently. “She didn’t mean what she said. You’ll see once she’s had a

chance to calm down.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t she get it? Doesn’t she realize

how much danger she’s in?”

“Of course she knows. You just pushed her at the worst

possible time,” Sara said. “We all need to remember that she’s got

a lot to deal with right now. It’s not just having Eric Collier lurking

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aJ Quinn

in the shadows waiting for the next full moon. She’s still in a lot

of physical pain, and the anniversary of her father’s death is fast

approaching. Think how that must be affecting her emotionally.”

“I know she’s got a lot going on. But damn it, Sara, I just want

to make sure she’s safe, and she’s not making it easy,” Matt said.

“Collier has managed to kill six women. Six. And no one—not the

FBI or the SFPD—has been able to stop him.”

“Now it’s Hunter he’s got targeted,” Peter added quietly. “And

for all our collective know-how, the only thing we can come up with

to protect her is to go into lockdown mode and wait him out.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Sara replied. “But you need to

try to look at it from Hunter’s perspective. That means if there’s a

decision affecting her that needs to be made, you need to involve

her in making it.”

“It’s not going to be easy.” Matt looked at Sara. “Because in

the meantime, she’s going to be Hunter Roswell—hurting like crazy

and not letting anybody in.”

Matt might have been wrong in his approach, Sara decided,

but he was right in his assessment. She glanced at her watch and

decided enough time had passed. It was time for Hunter to let her

in—whether she wanted to or not.

❖

Hunter spent the better part of an hour walking on the beach.

The October winds were chilly, but she found comfort in the solitude,

and as always, the rhythm of the waves soothed her overloaded

nerves. She was grateful Matt hadn’t followed her out of the house,

but thought perhaps the wisdom of that decision had come at Sara’s

urging. Only Sara could have watched what happened with Matt and

immediately understood any further conversation would have had

disastrous consequences on a relationship that was too important to

both of them. The reprieve she’d been granted enabled her to calm

down and regain some perspective.

Aware that her wolves were flanking her, she walked close to

the water’s edge until the pain in her head became too intense and

• 302 •

Hostage Moon

her knees threatened to buckle. Dropping onto the cool sand, she

rested her arms on raised knees and watched a trio of pelicans circle

and dive into the surf to feed.

The birds, in combination with a throbbing ache in her temple,

kept her distracted until Sara was almost at her side. Sensing her

approach at the last instant, Hunter’s head came up and she looked

around. Their eyes met with an almost tangible intensity, then Hunter’s

shoulders slumped and she sighed. “Sorry I’m being such a bitch.”

“Were you?” Sara asked blithely. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Hunter lowered her sunglasses and regarded Sara. “Liar.”

A rueful smile made a brief appearance before it faltered and

disappeared as she looked away.

At that moment, Sara wanted nothing so badly as to reach

across the distance Hunter had created between them. But she

wasn’t certain how or where to begin. Torn by indecision, she

simply dropped onto the sand beside her, their thighs touching. She

was pleased that at least Hunter didn’t pull away. But for the first

time, the silence between them was decidedly uncomfortable.

Waiting what she hoped was an appropriate length of time, Sara

made the first attempt to break the silence. And though the question

had to be asked, she hoped she wasn’t risking another flash of anger.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No.” Hunter retreated into a deafening silence. She continued

staring at the waves before finally tilting her head toward Sara. “Can

I ask you a personal question?”

Sara sat up straight. Why does she feel like she needs to ask

permission? What could she possibly want to know? “Of course,”

she answered evenly. “You should know by now you can ask me

anything.”

“Why is that, do you suppose?” Hunter asked. “But more to

the point, why hasn’t some woman come along and claimed you?”

It was the last question Sara expected, and she gave a small

laugh. “I’m not sure…what I mean is, I’m…” She glanced at Hunter

who was regarding her with gentle amusement. “I guess I’m not

really sure how to answer that.”

“Try.”

• 303 •

aJ Quinn

“Okay.” She stretched the word out, then looked out at the

water and sighed. “When I was younger…I guess I never really

thought about committed relationships. I was totally focused on

achieving certain goals…to the exclusion of everything else. And

while I knew where my interests lay, women were just—”

“Distractions? For fun? Stress relief?”

“You’re making it sound worse than it was.” Sara felt a heated

blush. “After I got recruited by the FBI, I became totally caught up

in the work I was doing. I also didn’t think any woman would put up

with the hours and the uncertainty, so relationships took a backseat

and I just focused on being the very best. At least, that’s the way I

felt until the Pelham case.”

She stopped and shrugged. “In hindsight, I think I never met

anyone who captured my attention. I never met anyone who made

me want to stay and try to build some kind of future.”

“Not even Kate?”

“Good God, no,” Sara laughed. “Even if she wasn’t more

consumed by her career than I was, Kate and I have always been

amazing friends. Neither of us has ever wanted to risk that.”

“And now?”

Sara looked at Hunter. “Since I quit the bureau, I’ve had a lot

of time to think about what I really want in my life. And while I

haven’t figured out where I’m going professionally, I admit that I

now find the idea of having someone in my life appealing.”

She watched Hunter nod to herself and stretch her legs out on

the sand, content to sit in silence and watch the ocean. When she

remained silent for more than a few minutes, Sara leaned into her.

“Your turn,” she said.

“My turn?” Hunter echoed with a whisper of uncertainty. “I

don’t know. I’ve never—I think I come with too much baggage.

Who the hell wants that?”

Sara shook her head. “Uh-uh, Roswell. I’m not buying that.

You’re gorgeous and sexy as hell. Try again.”

“You think I’m sexy?” The words were teasing.

“You’re damned right I do,” Sara said as her ears grew hot.

“Now, no more evasions. Try answering the question.”

• 304 •

Hostage Moon

Hunter’s smile faded and a frown appeared before she turned

away to look at the swirling water and stared into the past. “I think

it’s part of Kyle Brenner’s legacy.”

Her voice was calm and even, but Sara caught the uncertainty

more clearly this time. “What do you mean?”

“He taught me to fear.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re afraid of anything.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hunter said. “You scare the hell out

of me, you know that, don’t you?”

The comment surprised Sara, but the vulnerability clearly

evident in Hunter’s face stopped her from pursuing clarification.

“What did Brenner make you afraid of?”

“I think he made me afraid of needing anyone too much, of caring

too much, in case they get taken away from me,” Hunter admitted

after a moment, her voice growing soft and distant. “I think that’s why

I’ve never let anyone get close. Why I’ve never stayed long enough

with anyone to find out if there might be anything else there.”

“Because of what happened with your father.”

“Mm-hmm.” Hunter regarded Sara intently. “Pretty fucked up,

wouldn’t you say?”

“Not so much, no. Understandable.” It certainly explained the

many walls Hunter had built to isolate herself. The irony, Sara knew,

was Hunter didn’t see how many cracks already existed in those

walls. Didn’t see how many people she had already let get close and

were now an integral part of her life. People like Tessa and Matt.

Quito and his family. Lindsay Carson. Even her wolves.

Sara got up onto her knees and framed Hunter’s face with her

hands, using her thumbs to stroke soothingly. Leaning closer, she

kissed her. “I want you to listen to me. And I mean really listen. It

happened, Hunter. You can’t change that fact, no matter how much

you may want to. Nor can you go back and change the outcome.”

She placed another kiss near Hunter’s temple and felt her

tremble, then wince. Holding Hunter closer to her, she said, “You’re

chilled and it’s obvious you’re in pain. Let’s get you back to the

house where you can get warm. I’ll make you some hot cocoa, and

you can take something to ease that headache.”

• 305 •

aJ Quinn

Hunter nodded, willingly following Sara’s lead back to the

house and settling on the couch. Sara even managed to tuck a blanket

around her and start a fire before making her way to the kitchen.

By the time Sara returned, the fire was crackling and snapping

in the hearth, its light bathing the room in swirling shadows, and the

air was filled with the rich scent of wood smoke and chocolate. She

handed Hunter a steaming mug. “There’s more on the stove if you

want some,” she said. “Just let me know.”

Hunter looked up. “Thanks. Aren’t you going to sit?”

“Sure…lift,” she said, watching as Hunter obediently lifted her

legs. Sara slid under them and took a seat next to her. “Here, before

I forget,” she added and gave her two tablets.

“Thanks.” Hunter dutifully swallowed the pills.

Watching the fire, Sara’s eyes strayed to a framed image on the

mantle—a photograph of a much younger Hunter with her parents. It

was a candid shot taken at a happier time, all three faces windburned

and grinning as they sat in the stern of a sailboat. Sara could see the

strong resemblance between Hunter and her beautiful mother in the

slashing cheekbones, but the vibrant blue eyes and sensual mouth

were unquestionably a mirror of her father’s.

“It was taken on St. Barts the summer I was fifteen,” Hunter

said. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot.”

“Not surprising, given the date and what’s happening in your

life.” Sara captured Hunter’s hand and felt her fingers curl around

her own. “I’m here for you to talk to, whenever you want.”

Hunter nodded. “I know.” Her voice grew soft, her eyes

unfocused. “He was the first person who looked at me and really

saw me. Not just the prodigy, the whiz kid, but the person inside.

The person I thought only I could see.”

“That’s the person I see,” Sara said quietly.

• 306 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-eigHt

The blazing fire had been reduced to smoldering embers,

and the warmth in the room had long since dissipated. Still,

Sara didn’t want to move, content to watch Hunter as she lay dozing,

her head now nestled in the sanctuary provided by Sara’s lap.

So beautiful, she thought, dizzy from the scent of her, mixed

with the faintest touch of wood smoke from the dying fire. She

could still see the bruises in the faint light. And I’m crazy about

her. Hunter’s hair felt like silk running through her fingers. Her

fingertips moved to Hunter’s cheek, stroking gently. An instant later,

she inhaled sharply as Hunter captured her fingers and kissed them.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.” Hunter smiled as she reached up and gently drew Sara

closer until their lips met, brushing the sweetest of kisses on her

mouth. “But then I woke up with this insatiable need to kiss you.”

Sara grinned. “I noticed.” She bent her head and kissed Hunter

once again, tasting her lips and teasing gently with her tongue,

watching her eyes instantly grow dark with arousal. She was so

damned responsive. Sometimes, all it took was a look. A touch. And

each touch became so much more than a physical act. “Any other

needs I should know about?”

Although it was said with a trace of teasing, Hunter’s smile

faded and was replaced with a faint frown. Sara saw the change in

her expression but couldn’t interpret it. “Hey, what’s going on?”

• 307 •

aJ Quinn

“Actually”—Hunter met Sara’s appraising look and struggled

to sit up—“I just remembered there was something I needed to ask

you. I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Then ask me.”

“Right,” Hunter said. “It’s just my mother and Grandfather

Patrick have arranged a memorial service, the day after tomorrow,

to commemorate the tenth anniversary of my father’s death.”

“I know.”

It had been all over the news for the past several days. One

network had put together a film retrospective of Michael Roswell’s

life and career which included stark photographs from the fateful

day. Sara had difficulty erasing one particular frame from her

mind—a shot of Michael Roswell as he lay dying in his daughter’s

arms. Hunter’s face was shadowed by a curtain of dark hair, but

there was no mistaking who it was.

Foolishly, Sara wondered if Hunter had seen it. Of course

she has, she decided. It would explain her increasingly haunted

expression. “I would imagine you’ll want to attend.”

“I was unable to attend my father’s funeral,” Hunter said. “I

will not miss his memorial service.”

As Sara absorbed the words, all she could think was how much

pain she could hear in Hunter’s statement . Taking Hunter’s hands,

she stroked them gently with her thumbs, wishing she could find

a way to exorcise the past and help her truly embrace the present.

“What can I do to help you?”

“I was hoping you would come with me.”

Sara frowned. “Of course I’ll be there. You don’t even need to

ask.” In her mind, she quickly flashed back to an earlier conversation

with Peter and Conner as they reviewed plans to increase security

at the cemetery. In addition, the task force would have a discreet

presence, and Patrick Roswell would also have security. Would that

be enough? Surely Collier wouldn’t try anything under the glare of

the media spotlight? “I know Collier is still a threat, but I don’t

think—”

Hunter sighed. “Sara, I’m not asking you to be there to protect

me. I don’t mean for you to sit in the shadows with the task force or

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my wolves.” She hesitated. “I mean I’d like you to come with me.

Be with me.”

“Well, of course, if that’s what you really want.” Sara tilted

her head and thought about what that meant for just an instant.

Comprehension dawned. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Hunter grinned weakly. “We’re just talking a short

graveside service. Private. That means my mother, Nigel, and my

grandfather Patrick will be in attendance. Of course, that means the

addition of politicians, reporters, and media types. The service will

be followed by a family dinner, but I can guarantee that will be a

strictly private affair. Just family. Will any of it present a problem

for you?”

Sara shook her head, uncertain what to say as endless

possibilities danced in her head. “Are you sure—”

“I’m sure.” Hunter’s grin widened. “I promise it won’t be as

bad as anything you are probably imagining.”

Her mother, Nigel, and Patrick Roswell. Oh God. Sara cast a

sideways glance and swallowed, almost unable to speak. “Should I

be afraid?”

A dark eyebrow arched. “I guess that depends on how easily

you scare.”

❖

The day dawned cool and gray. But even the comfort of Sara’s

presence hadn’t stopped the nightmares. Tired and light-headed,

with shadows beneath her eyes underscoring her lack of sleep,

Hunter remained quiet and introspective—almost withdrawn—all

morning. Now, as they waited for the limousine, she could feel Sara

watching her, could sense her concern.

“Are you okay?” Sara asked.

Hunter rested her forehead against the window. “Just a

headache.”

“Can I get you something for it?”

Hunter turned and stared at her for several seconds and then

reached out and wrapped her fingers around Sara’s wrist, pulling

• 309 •

aJ Quinn

her closer. The faintest of smiles ghosted over her face. “I’ve

got something for it right here,” she murmured and forgot about

everything except the gently smiling woman in her arms.

All too soon, she heard the sound of someone clearing their

throat. Turning her head slightly, she saw Conner standing by the door.

“Sorry to disturb you, but the limo’s here.”

Nodding, Hunter looked at Sara and gave her a wry grin. “I

guess it’s showtime.”

Less than an hour later, they stood at the graveside, Hunter

between her mother and Sara, a single long-stemmed white rose in one

hand. She could feel the gentle breeze blowing across the quiet hillside

as it whispered through the trees, stirring memories and ghosts.

Crossing her arms in front of her and bowing her head, she

stared silently at the large gray stone. The name Roswell stood out

in deeply engraved letters across the center, and she found herself

repeatedly tracing her father’s name with her eyes. Michael Hunter

Roswell. Beloved husband and father.

Somewhere to her right, Patrick Roswell was speaking. Quiet,

heartfelt words, eloquently used to describe a man who loved his

family. His wife. His child.

She closed her eyes as wisps of memories came back to her.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter…

The incessant voice in her head caused her to stiffen, continuing

until she was certain it would drive her to the brink of madness.

Just as the October sun broke through the low gray clouds, Hunter

reached out blindly and grasped Sara’s hand, drawing her near,

unconsciously rubbing a thumb over her hand as she tried to stay

connected. She continued to stare at the cold gray stone without

seeing it, as the past reached out and consumed her.

Hold your fire…Hold your fire…We’re losing him…

Lost in the past, she watched her grandfather Patrick’s mouth

move but couldn’t hear his words. In her mind, all she could see was

a montage of violent images. All she could hear was Kyle Brenner

whispering in her ear.

Don’t you want to know why, Hunter? Don’t you want to know

why I never killed you? Why I killed your father instead?

• 310 •

Hostage Moon

“Hunter?” Sara’s voice was a low murmur. “Are you all right?”

The concern in the quiet voice broke through, and Hunter

started abruptly. She recognized she was being given the time to get

her bearings, to gather her thoughts, and she was grateful for that.

She felt dizzy and swallowed hard.

Releasing Sara’s hand, she took a deep breath and straightened

her shoulders. Rolling the rose between her fingers, she hoped her

mother couldn’t see how badly her hands were shaking. She stepped

forward and placed the rose on the grave with infinite tenderness.

Her eyes closed and she drew in another deep breath.

“I still miss you, Dad,” she whispered softly. I’m so sorry—it

should have been me.

❖

The family dinner that followed the memorial service was held

in the penthouse suite of the Citadel—the newest addition to the

de León family chain of hotels. As they entered, Sara deliberately

lagged behind and found herself standing with Nigel. She wanted to

give Hunter time to speak with her mother, an opportunity that had

not been available prior to the service. Nigel seemed to be affording

Marlena a similar opportunity.

Both women bore evidence of their shared grief. Not on

open display, but it was visible nonetheless. And while Sara could

not claim to know Hunter’s mother—after all, they had yet to be

introduced—the resemblance between mother and daughter was

striking and enabled Sara to see things more clearly.

Michael Roswell must have been an incredible man, to have

two such amazing women all but brought to their knees by their

grief, even after all these years.

“Michael was a force to be reckoned with in everything he did

or touched.” Nigel regarded her calmly when Sara turned toward

him. “From the day he met her until the day he died, he was totally

and passionately in love with Marlena. And he was convinced the

sun rose and set in his little girl, and then she hung the moon.”

• 311 •

aJ Quinn

Sara watched Hunter turn and smile at something her mother was

saying. The smile made Sara catch her breath. It was the kind of smile

that spoke of unconditional love and made everything worthwhile.

“Is Hunter very much like him?”

“Amazingly so.” Nigel’s own smile widened, and the affection

in his voice was unmistakable. “Don’t misunderstand me. There’s

a lot of Marlena in Hunter as well, especially when it comes to

business. But the daredevil risk taker is all Michael. And he seemed

to know it from the moment that child was born. Had the girl flying

planes before she was ten, and the two of them loved nothing better

than to go hang gliding and skydiving. And if they weren’t up in the

clouds, then they were on the water, or under it.”

“How did Marlena handle that?”

“With amazing grace,” Nigel responded wryly. “More times

than not, Michael and Hunter’s choices terrified her, but to her

credit, she never held them back.”

“Not that I could have stopped them, even if I had wanted to.”

The deep, husky voice behind her was enough like Hunter’s to

startle Sara, except Marlena’s voice still retained some traces of her

Spanish heritage in the soft accent. Sara turned and came face-to-

face with the dark-eyed, strikingly beautiful woman who happened

to be her lover’s mother. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she began and held out her

hand. “We’ve not yet been introduced. I’m—”

“Sara Wilder. Yes, I know.” Marlena smiled graciously as she

accepted the outstretched hand. “Michael loved all things physical.

He used physical activity as a way to relieve stress.”

“Hunter’s much the same,” Sara said, aware that in spite of a

welcoming smile, Marlena was openly assessing her.

But then what had she expected?

Being here with Hunter was a coming out of sorts, a kind of

public acknowledgment of their evolving relationship. You’re here

as her daughter’s lover, she thought wryly. But while Marlena de

León Roswell had a reputation for being a formidable woman, Sara

had told Hunter she could handle this, and she wasn’t about to let

her down now. Feeling both anticipation and dread, she expelled a

breath and met Marlena’s gaze head-on.

• 312 •

Hostage Moon

“It’s good to know some things don’t change.” Marlena’s

expression was tempered with humor. “As a child, Hunter seemed

to have no fear—of anything. And she and Michael loved to

conspire. Michael’s role was to choose their activity, while Hunter

was expected to provide me with detailed explanations of thermal

updrafts and drag coefficients. I believe those explanations were

meant to somehow reassure me.”

Sara laughed. “And did they reassure you?”

“Well, it’s hard to argue with the laws of physics, especially

when they’re being explained to you by a ten-year-old genius,”

Marlena responded dryly. She took a sip of her wine while she

continued to regard Sara. “Will you tell me something, Dr. Wilder?”

The quiet question rattled her. To calm her nerves, Sara tried to

focus on Hunter who was standing across the room from her against

the far wall. But that didn’t help. At that moment, Hunter appeared

unhappy and seemed intent on finishing the drink in her hand as she

stood listening to something her grandfather was saying.

She turned back to face Marlena and smiled. “Please, it’s Sara.

What would you like to know, Mrs. Roswell?”

“You must call me Marlena. And I need to know how Hunter is

really doing. I would also like a solid reason why I shouldn’t take my

daughter to my family home in Spain where she can be kept safe. At

least until the next full moon is a memory and the authorities have

captured this madman who seems intent on harming her.”

As Sara contemplated her answer, she wondered who was

keeping Hunter’s mother informed. “Your first question is easier

to answer. Hunter is healing physically from what happened at

the Presidio. She is also finally trying to come to terms with what

happened to her ten years ago. Unfortunately, that means facing a lot

of things she had previously managed to suppress, and as you can

tell, she’s not eating or sleeping much. But on the positive side, she

is starting to talk more openly, and that can only help her. As for your

second question, I’m afraid you won’t like my answer very much.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“If you force Hunter into hiding, Collier will most likely

continue his killing spree. The deaths of more women will destroy

Hunter as surely as anything Collier can do to her.”

• 313 •

aJ Quinn

Marlena’s expression revealed a momentary trace of surprise.

“You seem to understand my daughter quite well,” she said softly.

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“I’m a psychologist, so you might say understanding Hunter is

my job.” Sara paused. “And your daughter means a great deal to me.

But then, you already know that.”

“You’re right.” This time, there was no change in the calm

expression on Marlena’s face. “Please understand that unlike

Patrick, I try not to interfere in the choices my daughter makes. I

simply want Hunter to be happy. But I make it a point to know

what is happening in her life, and I make no apologies for utilizing

whatever resources may be available to me. I am also most certainly

going to take notice when a former FBI agent is all but living with

Hunter.”

Sara sent her a cool stare. “Did Special Agent in Charge

McBride have a particular problem with that?”

“Touché,” Marlena admitted with a sharp laugh. “And no,

actually, Erin was both reassuring and quite complimentary, and

I felt infinitely better knowing Hunter’s safety was in the capable

hands of someone who cares about her.”

“You can count on that.”

“That’s all I ask.” Marlena nodded approvingly. “Now that we

have put our cards on the table, so to speak, perhaps you can tell

me what I’m supposed to do to help keep her safe. I lost Michael

to one madman. I doubt I would survive if I were to lose Hunter to

another.”

“Then I’d say you have nothing to fear, Mother, because you’re

not going to lose me,” Hunter said softly as she approached.

Sara watched Hunter stop behind her mother and slip an

arm around her, holding her tight. Marlena seemed to revel in the

embrace before turning and resting her fingers on the faint bruise

still evident on her daughter’s cheek.

“What about you, querida? Are you afraid?” she asked.

Hunter didn’t answer right away, obviously giving the question

serious consideration. “I don’t think so,” she said in due course. “At

least, not about Collier.”

• 314 •

Hostage Moon

Marlena looked from Hunter’s face to Sara’s and then back

again before she slipped her arm around Hunter’s waist, drawing her

closer. “You look tired and you’ve lost more weight since I saw you

in New York. Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

Watching Hunter hesitate and seeing the exhaustion clearly

etched on her face, Sara wanted to answer for her. She wanted to say

Yes, damn it, she’s having trouble sleeping and it’s getting worse.

Most nights she wakes up screaming and then can’t seem to get back

to sleep. All I can do is hold her and try to reassure her that it’s only

a dream. Instead she remained silent as Hunter met her mother’s

gaze and gave her a rueful grin.

“I’m fine,” she protested wearily. “Don’t fuss.”

“It’s a mother’s prerogative to fuss, hija,” Marlena replied with

a faint smile. “And I know you too well. Just promise me you won’t

take any unnecessary chances, Hunter. I love you and I need you to

promise me you’ll try to stay safe.”

It was quickly obvious to Sara that Marlena didn’t expect a

reply, as she reacted with unguarded surprise when Hunter said, “I

promise.”

Sara was equally surprised when Hunter reached for her and

threaded an arm around her waist. “Thank you for being here with

me,” she said quietly, her voice low and subdued.

Feeling the faint tremors running through Hunter’s body, Sara

grasped her arm, as much to offer comfort as for the physical support

she could provide. “There’s nowhere else I would want to be.”

Hunter gave her a lopsided grin, and her hand tightened

reflexively around Sara’s waist. Tilting her head, she looked at her

mother, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I was also thinking it

might be nice to open the beach house for Thanksgiving this year.

What do you think?”

Marlena regarded her daughter and graced her with a radiant

smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, my love,” she responded.

“Something we can all look forward to. Isn’t that right, Sara?”

• 315 •

• 316 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR twenty-nine

The nearly full moon hung low over the Golden Gate Bridge,

caressing the mist-covered city with the tenderness of a

lover. The night air held the faintest hint of a chill, and standing

beneath a canopy of distant stars, Hunter shivered as she inhaled the

sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine and tried to sort her jumbled

and confused thoughts.

All day long, voices had drifted out of the past and twined

themselves around her psyche. But here, in the solitude of her home,

the breeze was blowing gently and the sound of the waves lulled her

as she gazed into the endless darkness. Here she could pretend she

didn’t remember, if only for a little while.

Somewhere in that darkness, she knew that at least eight of her

wolves had been strategically positioned around her neighborhood.

Just as she knew that somewhere inside, Sara was on the phone with

David, reviewing whatever plans the task force had put in place to

cover the next twenty-four hours.

Just thinking of Sara seemed to be enough to still the restlessness

inside her. Even as she braced herself to face Eric Collier. The

thought both pleased and terrified her. But there would be time

enough to understand what it all meant after Collier had been dealt

with—at least she hoped so.

That, in itself, was something of a revelation. For the first time

in years, she was looking forward to the future.

Notwithstanding the guilt she had carried for having been the

one to make it out alive ten years earlier—survivor’s guilt, Lindsay

• 317 •

aJ Quinn

had called it—she wanted to live beyond the next twenty-four

hours. Then she wanted to take her time and explore the endless

possibilities that Sara represented in her life. But first, she had to get

through the next twenty-four hours and come out the other side with

mind, body, and soul intact.

She had no doubt that the day would bring a face-to-face

confrontation with Eric Collier. Until now, he had planned all his

moves too carefully to leave this final act to chance. There was

no way Collier would allow her wolves, the FBI, and the SFPD to

distract him from his goal. For whatever reason, he was determined

to play out Brenner’s game, and she had no doubt they would be

playing before tonight’s full moon set.

She scowled into the distance. All she needed to do was find a

way to live through the experience a second time.

Don’t you want to know why, Hunter? Why I never killed you?

No. I never wanted to know for sure.

“Are you all right?”

She hadn’t heard Sara approach. It wasn’t until she heard the

softly spoken question and felt herself being turned around that she

realized she was no longer alone on the terrace. Hunter blinked and

brought Sara’s face into focus. “Mm-hmm, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You were talking to yourself when I came out here.” Sara

watched Hunter’s eyebrows furrow, saw the confusion in her eyes.

“You said you never wanted to know. What don’t you want to know?”

“Oh, sorry. Bad habit,” Hunter said. “I was thinking about

Brenner. Remembering something he said to me when I went to see

him in prison. He wanted to know…he asked me if I knew why he

didn’t kill me when he had the chance.”

Sara opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Hunter’s voice was a near whisper. “He said—” She stopped,

and a heartbeat later shrugged her shoulders before continuing. “It

really doesn’t matter what he said. I don’t know why I keep thinking

about it. How crazy is that?”

Not so crazy. Sara caught the slight waver in Hunter’s voice,

the hint of bewilderment and pain tearing at her. “Is there anything I

can do? Do you want to talk about it?” Without waiting for a reply,

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she pulled Hunter into her arms, simply intending to hold her. But

feeling Hunter’s body pressed against hers seemed to routinely

short-circuit something in her brain, driving every other rational

thought from her mind, and as always, it awakened the hunger that

lurked inside.

She opened her eyes and found herself less than an inch away

from Hunter’s mouth. She ran a finger over her full lower lip, staring

at it intently. And then Hunter leaned in and that hot, sweet mouth

was kissing her with a fierceness and possessiveness that surprised

them both.

When the kiss ended, they stared at each other. Always intense,

there was something in Hunter’s gaze that was different this time,

but Sara couldn’t read it. “Hunter? What is it?”

Hunter’s hands moved in a tantalizing caress. “I want you.”

Her breathing grew ragged as she reached for Sara’s hand and led

her inside.

Sara watched her as she lit candles in every corner of the

bedroom while, in the background, a saxophone played, low and

sexy. With her body illuminated by the glow of the dancing flames

and flickering shadows, Hunter moved toward her, approaching with

feline grace. She didn’t stop when she reached Sara. Instead, she

backed Sara up against the bed, pushing her onto her back before

stretching out on top of her.

Hunter hovered over Sara, eyes dark, taking in every inch of

her. It was almost as if she was trying to memorize the moment.

Almost as if she was afraid it might never come again.

Then slowly, she extended a trembling hand to trace the line

of Sara’s jaw with a gentleness that bordered on reverence. Just as

slowly, tenderly, she began to kiss, taste, and touch her, and Sara

was lost in the heat of Hunter’s hands, the softness of her skin, the

warmth of her mouth.

“Look at me, love. Open your eyes and look at me. I need

to know you’re here with me,” Hunter said as she slowed her

movements.

“Always.” Sara’s breathing hitched, almost stopped, and all

thought vanished.

• 319 •

aJ Quinn

❖

Sara awoke from a deep sleep, feeling vaguely disoriented by

the total darkness that surrounded her. It took a minute before she

realized that the candles had long since burned out, their ethereal

scent wafting only in memory. She wasn’t sure what time it was. All

she knew for certain was it was closer to sunrise than when she had

tumbled into bed with Hunter.

She reached out for her now, imagined she could still feel the

heat radiating from Hunter’s body, still feel the beat of her heart. But

instead, she found the bed empty, the sheets cool to the touch.

She sat up slowly, listening to the relative silence of the house.

There was only the ever-present sound of the surf, a distant whisper

as the waves broke and washed up against the shore.

For a few minutes longer, she sat without moving. Listening.

Wishing somehow for this day to be over. Wishing she could simply

concentrate on Hunter and how she felt about her and what it all

meant instead of being afraid. Afraid that Collier would find a way

to get past all the security measures that had been put into place.

Afraid that he would get to Hunter. Terrified that he would kill her.

Pushing the dark thoughts aside, she swung her legs to the floor

and got out of bed, raking her hair with her fingers. She grabbed a

cotton shirt that was hanging on a doorknob and threw it on. The shirt

held faint traces of Hunter’s perfume, and Sara felt comforted by the

familiar scent as she made her way out to the terrace, instinctively

knowing that was where she would find Hunter.

She was leaning against the railing, dressed in baggy black

cotton pants and a matching haphazardly buttoned shirt. The air was

rain scented, and the soft breeze played with her hair as she stared

into the darkness and listened to the waves. Sara approached and

wrapped her arms around Hunter’s waist from behind, trailing light

kisses across her shoulders and back.

“I had hoped you’d sleep longer. Did you manage to get any

sleep at all?”

“Some…enough.” Unable to stop the faint trembling in her

hands, Hunter ran shaky fingers through her hair, pushing it back

• 320 •

Hostage Moon

from her face as she turned toward Sara. “How come you’re up?

Did I wake you?”

“No,” Sara responded with a small smile. “I got lonely.”

Hunter smiled back. “It was difficult to leave you alone in

that bed.” She chose her next words carefully. “But I don’t want to

spend any part of the next twenty-four hours sleeping…” Her voice

faded, and she left the thought unsaid. Just in case I don’t survive my

encounter with Collier.

“Hunter—”

“Sara,” Hunter interrupted her. “Would you do me a favor?”

“You know I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Let’s not talk about Collier. Let’s not talk about him at all.”

“Hunter—”

“Please,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.

I do know I don’t want to waste time talking about or thinking about

Eric Collier. I won’t give him that much power.”

Sara rubbed Hunter’s back soothingly while fighting to

suppress the emotions that surged through her. She needed to focus

on why she was here. To help Hunter, to protect her. And to stop Eric

Collier. That was all that counted now. Sentimentality had no place

in the equation.

But it was no longer that simple.

Sara sighed softly as she cupped Hunter’s face in her hands.

She kissed her brow, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. She kissed

her mouth, a slow, gentle kiss that held all the emotions she was

feeling. It was the kiss of a woman in love.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” she whispered.

“You know that, don’t you? I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Then I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?” Hunter

turned, lifting her hands to gently hold Sara as she looked into her

eyes. “Let’s not forget I promised to take you to Paris when this

is over, and I always keep my promises.” She smiled slightly and

lowered her head to press soft kisses along Sara’s collarbone.

“Mmm.” Sara shivered and let her head fall against Hunter’s

shoulder. “If you actually take me to Paris, people are going to think

I’m just with you for your money.”

• 321 •

aJ Quinn

“You mean you’re not?”

“No, I’m actually with you for the mind-blowing sex.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Sara involuntarily stiffened and silently cursed herself when

Hunter drew back and looked at her more closely. “Hey, I was just

kidding. What’s going on?”

Sara gave a shaky laugh. “It’s nothing.” But she couldn’t help

feeling a twinge of unreasonable and unfounded jealousy. It also

didn’t help that she suddenly felt as if Hunter could see right through

her and knew everything she was thinking.

She tried to smile back, but under the intensity of Hunter’s

gaze, her smile faltered. Can Hunter see what I’m feeling? How

would she react if she knew the depths of my feelings? She pulled

away and stared at the floor. This was neither the time nor the place

to have this conversation.

Hunter frowned. “Sara, talk to me. What is it? Please, tell me

what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t give me that. Please, just tell me.”

Sara blew out a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. It’s

nothing bad. At least I don’t think so. I just believe…I think maybe

you should know I’m crazy in love with you.”

The words came out in a rush. Once they were said, she found

her breathing steadied and the tightness in her chest eased. She

hadn’t realized how much she wanted to say those particular words

until that very moment.

She forced her eyes back to Hunter’s face and saw only a

stunned expression. Oh shit. Too much. Too soon. The warmth in

Hunter’s eyes had vanished, replaced by an unfathomable stare.

“What did you say?”

She could pretend she hadn’t said anything. The odds were

better than even that Hunter would let her off the hook. But that

really wasn’t what she wanted. Sara sighed, knowing there was no

going back.

“I said I’m completely, utterly, totally, and helplessly in love

with you.” She met Hunter’s gaze directly. “I’ve wanted you from

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the first time I saw you in London. I didn’t plan it. In fact, I never

expected to feel like that. But there you were. You were magnificent,

you know. Arrogant one instant, vulnerable the next. Since that time,

I haven’t been able to think of anything except you.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Some kind of

response. Anything from unbridled joy to anger. But instead, Hunter

said nothing.

“Sara”—Hunter drew in a sharp breath and stared at Sara for

what seemed like forever. Finally, she shrugged helplessly—“I don’t

know what I’m supposed to say. How I’m supposed to respond. I’m

sorry. I—I don’t think I can say anything right now. Please. Don’t

ask me to say anything right now.”

Sara felt as if she was in emotional free fall, her head spinning

and her throat constricting as she swallowed an overwhelming sense

of heartbreaking disappointment. She knew for certain she didn’t

regret telling Hunter how she felt. She was equally certain she didn’t

want Hunter to feel pressured into responding. But as she watched

the struggle evident on Hunter’s face, she realized she especially

didn’t want to hear that Hunter didn’t feel the same way. Because

if Hunter walked away from her, Sara knew she’d survive, but she

knew she wouldn’t want to.

Jesus, she’s beautiful. Why does she have to be so goddamned

beautiful?

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to respond.” Sara turned

away for just a moment, not wanting to see the sadness and remorse

on Hunter’s face. But it didn’t help. The image was burned into

memory.

“Sara, please.” Hunter rested her hands loosely on Sara’s waist

and drew her closer. “How about I make another promise? How

about I promise we’ll finish this conversation after the full moon has

set? Can we please do that?”

In the silence that followed, Sara heard the almost-seductive

whisper of the wind coming in off the water, imploring her to do as

Hunter asked. Doing what she asked, giving her more time—just

twenty-four more hours, really—had to be less painful than forcing

the issue when Hunter wasn’t ready.

• 323 •

aJ Quinn

For several seconds, Sara tried to think of something clever to

say. But in the end, she kept it simple. She took a deep breath and

nodded her head. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Thank you.” Hunter smiled. It was a nice smile, even though

it failed to reach her eyes and was all too brief.

And she was still more beautiful than any other woman Sara

had ever known.

Brushing her lips lightly against Hunter’s, Sara maneuvered

her onto the nearest chaise lounge and then settled herself in the

space between Hunter’s parted legs before reaching for Hunter’s

arms and threading them around her waist. “When was the last time

you stayed up to watch the sunrise?”

“Should I remind you we’re on the wrong coast for a sunrise

over the ocean? Never mind that it’s going to rain.” Hunter’s low,

sexy voice tickled Sara’s ear.

Sara growled playfully. “Then we’ll watch daybreak instead.”

Hunter’s long arms tightened around her waist. Leaning

forward, she rested her chin on Sara’s shoulder. “Sounds like a

wonderful plan,” she said, and together they watched as the darkness

gave way to the pale light of the new day.

❖

Hunter walked into the bedroom wet from the shower she’d

just taken, a towel casually wrapped around her hips, another

draped around her neck. Sara was speaking on her cell phone, and

although Hunter could hear her talking, only part of the conversation

registered.

“I can be ready in five minutes…”

Hunter raised an eyebrow in question and searched Sara’s eyes

as she waited for the call to end.

“The task force got an unexpected hit,” Sara explained a couple

of minutes later. She reached for a pair of jeans and pulled them

on. “Collier used a credit card to check into a small motel near

Monterey. David’s offered me the chance to be there when they take

him down. I agreed to meet him.”

• 324 •

Hostage Moon

“I heard,” Hunter said. “You can borrow an SUV from one of

my wolves, if you’d like.”

Sara took a step closer to Hunter. “I didn’t plan on leaving your

side today. But if there’s a chance we can bring this to a close…”

She moved her fingers briefly to Hunter’s face and stroked her cheek

before dropping her hands awkwardly and jamming them into the

pockets of her jeans.

Hunter moved away, suddenly needing to put more space

between them. “I understand.” And she did. She didn’t have to like

it, but she understood.

“While I’m gone,” Sara’s voice softened, “you should try to get

some rest. It’s going to be a very long night.”

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

Hunter made an effort to silence the voice in her head, then

reached over and brushed her knuckles against Sara’s cheek. “You

just focus on keeping your head down and staying out of the line of

friendly fire. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Hunter deliberately kept her face expressionless. But even

though she attempted to keep her tone casual, there was something in

her voice that stopped Sara. “I promise this won’t turn out anything

like what happened to your father,” Sara whispered. “But then, you

really don’t believe we’ll find Collier, do you?”

“No.” Hunter shook her head. “This isn’t how today is going

to play out. Collier’s planned everything for too long to make a

mistake of this magnitude and blow it now. Not when he’s this close

to getting what he wants.”

“You mean finding a way to get to you and forcing you to play

Brenner’s game with him, don’t you?”

They stared at each other silently. “Yes.”

Sara squeezed Hunter’s hand gently as she studied her. Part of

her wanted to call David back and tell him she couldn’t leave Hunter.

Not now. Not like this. But she was torn by conflicting obligations.

Conflicting needs. “Promise me you won’t take any chances while

I’m gone. Promise me you won’t leave the house until I get back.”

Hunter shrugged and gave a rueful smile.

❖

• 325 •

aJ Quinn

It was only later that Sara remembered Hunter had not given

her any kind of answer. By then she knew Hunter had been right.

Eric Collier was not at the roadside motel. If indeed Collier had ever

been there, he had gone to ground long before the noise from the

flashbangs finished echoing in the small room.

What she didn’t understand was why Collier had sent them

on this particular wild goose chase. What purpose could it possibly

serve? It had not reduced in any way the security surrounding

Hunter, nor had it brought him any closer to her, and at this stage,

that should be his only motivation.

Then why did he do it?

Feeling a sense of unease she couldn’t shake, she took the stairs

to the parking lot two at a time. She wanted nothing more than to get

back to Hunter and see this day out. Nothing else mattered.

As she rounded the landing, she heard someone call out to her.

But as she turned, a blast of pain shot through her body and knocked

her off her feet. She stumbled helplessly down the last few steps,

striking her head as she fell and landing in a crumpled heap at the

bottom of the stairs. Dazed and unable to speak or move, she felt

hands turn her over onto her back and looked up in horror at what

was now a familiar face.

Still holding the Taser in his hand, Eric Collier smiled. “I can’t

believe it was this easy, my dear.”

Oh God, Hunter. I’m so sorry.

She tried to scream but it was too late, as darkness overcame

her.

❖

The darkening sky and gathering storm clouds did nothing to

alleviate the ever-increasing anxiety Hunter had been feeling all

day as she alternated between pacing restlessly and staring out the

window. The tightness in her chest did not change. Neither did the

sense of foreboding that had plagued her since Sara left—one she

instinctively knew would remain with her until Sara returned.

Hunter shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as

she looked toward the ocean. Her head was hurting again and

• 326 •

Hostage Moon

she absently rubbed it. On some level, she was aware of what

was going on around her—Tessa was rummaging in the kitchen

cupboards, looking for anything that resembled food, while Conner

and Adrienne killed time playing cards at the table. All perfectly

ordinary.

“I gave up trying to find anything and ordered pizza and salad,”

Tessa said a while later. “Can I ask how often you shop for food?”

“Whenever I have no other choice. Why?”

“Consider yourself there.”

Hunter stared at Tessa for an instant and then started to laugh.

Why bother keeping food on hand when she would have to deal with

it? The telephone rang, interrupting her musing. Hunter reached for

it as she watched Tessa flirt with the teenaged pizza-delivery boy,

making him stutter and blush.

You are so bad, Hunter mouthed.

A minute later, the tantalizing aroma of spicy pizza filled the

air while Erin McBride confirmed what Hunter already knew. Eric

Collier had not been in the motel room and was still at large, free to

continue whatever plans he had made for tonight’s full moon.

“We’re going to find him,” Erin assured her, but Hunter was not

really listening. Her mind had already moved on to other matters.

The good news was it meant Sara should be on her way back.

Three pairs of eyes were watching her intently as she hung up

the phone. “Erin wanted to let me know there was no one in the

motel room. If he was ever there, Collier was gone by the time the

FBI got there.” She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly as mentally

weary as she was physically tired. She opened her eyes again when

she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Tessa was standing very close, her expression one of concern.

“It’s going to be a long night. You need to eat something.”

To please Tessa, Hunter walked over to the table, picked up

a slice of pizza and nibbled on it, but couldn’t have said what was

on it. Turning, she watched Tessa pour two cups of coffee before

passing one to her.

Putting the barely touched pizza down, she found herself once

again in front of the window. She stood there for several minutes,

• 327 •

aJ Quinn

silently drinking her coffee. The rain had started to fall, streaking

across the windows and obscuring her view. She thought of Sara,

wished she would hurry back. I’m crazy in love with you.

Yeah, they needed to talk .

“Hunter? Are you all right?” Tessa asked.

“No.” Hunter shook her head. “No, I’m not.” She took a deep

breath and turned to face Tessa. “But if I somehow manage to

survive the day, I think I will be.”

❖

The stack of poker chips in front of Hunter had grown steadily

for the past hour. This in spite of the total lack of attention she was

giving the card game, much to the dismay of the others.

“All these years and I still can’t figure out how you do it,”

Tessa said as she threw her cards on the table. “Are you dealing

from the bottom? Is that it?”

Her rant was short-lived, stopped by Hunter’s phone as it

suddenly began to vibrate and dance on the table.

Hunter reached for the phone, checked the display, and smiled.

“Hey, where are you? The pizza’s almost all gone.”

“Dr. Wilder will be sorry to hear that,” a soft male voice

responded. “But I’m afraid I must extend her regrets. She’s not

going to be able to join you.”

The world around Hunter ceased to move, all the colors were

leeched, and the people in the room with her faded, then disappeared.

Hunter swallowed her anger and fear and forced her voice to remain

calm as she switched the phone to speaker. “If you’ve hurt her—”

“I believe I have something of value to you,” Collier said, “so I

don’t think you’re in any position to make threats.”

“What do you want?”

Collier’s sharp laugh was clearly audible. “You know what I

want. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Just you and me. Face-to-face.”

“Tell me where and when.” Her mouth went dry and she was

barely able to speak. She forced herself to breathe slowly and tried

again. “But I want to speak with Sara first.”

• 328 •

Hostage Moon

“Your parents’ beach house.” He paused. “In two hours.”

Hunter’s despair gave way to fury, and her voice shook with

barely controlled rage. “I want to speak with Sara.”

There was a longer pause followed by the sound of muted

conversation, and then Hunter’s world tilted momentarily on its

axis. “Hunter?” In spite of the strain evident in Sara’s voice, nothing

had ever sounded as sweet.

“Are you all right? Has he hurt you?”

“I’m okay. Please don’t—” There was a muffled sound and

then Collier’s voice came back on the phone.

“As you can see, she’s safe for the moment,” he said. “But I can

guarantee if you’re not here within the next two hours, Dr. Wilder’s

situation will take an unfortunate turn for the worse. Maybe she

can take a turn playing the game with me. In fact, that might prove

entertaining. What do you think?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Hunter said tersely. “I’ll be there.”

“Dr. Wilder’s counting on it.” Collier laughed. “You’ve got two

hours, Hunter, and I expect you to come alone. I don’t need to tell

you if I see any of your security people or the FBI, you won’t like

the results.”

The instant he terminated the phone call, Hunter felt as if her

fragile link with Sara had been severed, and she fought to keep

her knees from buckling. She took several deep breaths in rapid

succession, and then slowly turned around.

“I’m going to ask that we not waste what little time we’ve got

arguing,” she said to the three women watching her intently.

“You’re going to meet him,” Conner stated.

“He has Sara.” The thought made Hunter’s blood run cold.

“Six women have already died instead of me. Sara wouldn’t be in

jeopardy now except for me, and I will do everything in my power

to ensure that she does not become Collier’s seventh victim. I don’t

care what it takes.”

“Hunter?” Tessa said softly. “Surely there’s something else—”

“We’re out of options. Given the weather conditions, it’s going

to take every minute of the time he’s given me to get to the beach

house. My only hope is I can get him to let Sara go once he’s got

• 329 •

aJ Quinn

what he wants, which would be me.” She felt Tessa tighten her grip

on her arm. “But whether or not I’m successful, I’m counting on the

three of you to work with Matt and Peter and get both Sara and me

out of there alive.”

“That’s your plan?”

“My only plan is to distract Collier long enough to try to get

Sara safely away from him. Beyond that,” Hunter arched an eyebrow

and shrugged, “is why I’ve got a whole team of security experts and

lawyers.”

Tessa groaned.

“You can count on us,” Conner replied.

“What about Matt and Peter?” Tessa asked. “Do you want to

talk to them first or do you want me to do it?”

“You call off the wolves at the front gate and stall the FBI long

enough to give me a head start. I’ll call Matt once I’m on the road.”

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she was out of time.

“I’d best be on my way.”

She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. She made

it half way across the room before Tessa grabbed her and pulled

her into a furious embrace, burying her face in Hunter’s hair and

holding on.

“Damn you, Roswell. I almost lost you once. I love you, and I

don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you for real this time.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“You’ve got that right.” Tessa’s voice tightened a little.

“So you’re not going to take any unnecessary chances with that

psychopath. You’re going to stall for time, keep your head down,

and let your wolves do their thing. Don’t do anything crazy. Do you

hear me?”

Hunter gave her a faint smile, brushed a kiss against Tessa’s

cheek, and then pulled away and turned toward the door.

• 330 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR tHiRty

Hunter had no clear awareness of driving to her parents’

beach house, just an innate and all-consuming need to

reach her destination. As she drove along the Pacific Coast Highway,

the urban sprawl of the Bay Area gradually gave way to the open

road. She downshifted and pressed harder on the accelerator, the car

dancing skittishly as it followed the ribbon of wet asphalt.

The rain clouds hovered low over the coastline like a soft gray

shroud and made visibility a challenge. In the rearview mirror, the

faint lights of the city lit the gloom like fireflies in late summer,

while up ahead in the darkness and shadows, the highway wound

its way along the coast as it paralleled steep ocean cliffs and curved

past beaches and inland mountains.

The wipers kept up a steady, monotonous rhythm and the

heater pumped out blasts of hot air, reminding her that she wasn’t

dressed for this weather. Her leather jacket was adequate, at best,

for the coolness of the fogbound coast and would offer only limited

protection against the rain that had been steadily falling over the

past few hours.

But then she had not been thinking when she had left the house.

She had simply been reacting to the fear she felt deep inside. Fear

caused by the knowledge that Collier had Sara.

One more task, she thought. Gritting her teeth, she reached

for her phone and turned it on. Within seconds, it started vibrating,

indicating an endless barrage of recent messages. Grimacing, she

ignored the voice mail and speed-dialed Matt’s number.

• 331 •

aJ Quinn

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked immediately, concern

and frustration warring in his voice. “The teams assigned to the

outside perimeter of your house reported you left in your car but

said they had been ordered to stand down. Conner would only say I

needed to speak to you, and I’ve been trying to reach you, but your

damned phone was turned off.”

She remained silent a moment, then spoke quietly. “I’m sorry.

Do you remember my parents’ beach house?” She paused as she

battled to get the next words out. “Collier’s there and he’s got Sara.

He’s given me two hours to get there or he’ll kill her.”

“Ah Christ.”

She heard muffled sounds as Matt spoke to someone. In the

background, she could hear Peter respond. A moment later, Matt

came back on the line.

“Hunter, listen to me. Once you get to the beach house, I need

you to wait by the gate. Don’t do anything until the team gets

there.”

“I can’t do that.” She glanced at her watch and swore. “Matt, I

couldn’t stop what happened ten years ago. By taking off, I put my

father’s life in jeopardy, and then, no matter what I did, I couldn’t

save him. I’ve had to live with that every day since.”

“Damn it, Hunter. You didn’t put your father in jeopardy. The

truth is it was his job—his connection to Brenner—that put you in

jeopardy. As for saving him, of course you couldn’t save him. Jesus,

you were just a kid.”

“Everyone keeps reminding me of that like it makes a

difference. Well, I’m not a kid this time. And it’s because of me that

Collier has Sara.”

“Wait for me,” he pleaded. “That’s all I’m asking. Just give me

time to put a team in place.”

It was a full minute before she found her voice. “Go ahead and

get the team in place, but whatever you do, stay out of sight until

you have a clear shot. I’m not willing to do anything that’s going to

put Sara in more danger than she already is. Collier wants to meet

with me alone, and that’s just what I’m going to give him.”

• 332 •

Hostage Moon

There was a prolonged silence on the line, and when Matt

spoke again, his voice was softer. “What do you think you’re going

to do on your own? Have you thought this through?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Hunter’s breathing hitched. “Don’t you

see? I’m the one he wants. All of this—six women killed, Sara in

danger—it’s all been because that twisted psychopath wanted to

play mind games with me.” She took another ragged breath and

fought for control. “I may not have started this, but I’m going to

finish it. I’m going to give him what he wants, only hopefully, it’ll

be on my terms.”

“All I’m asking is that you wait for me.”

She heard Matt’s breathing change, along with the cadence

of his voice, and knew he was running. She could visualize him,

running down the stairs as he headed for the parking lot.

“I’ve run out of time. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry,” she said, eyes

straight ahead on the road. She heard Matt’s final words echoing as

she turned the phone off and tossed it on the console. He’ll kill you

if he gets the chance. That was certainly a possibility, she conceded,

but not one she was prepared to give a lot of thought.

She pressed ahead, accelerating along the winding road. She

knew she was driving much too fast for the current road conditions—

the fog, the rain, and the slick pavement—but she was counting on

her reflexes and the responsiveness of her car to keep her out of

trouble. Warning signs flashed past, and there was the once-familiar

bridge spanning a deep, somber gorge. The road surface was

opalescent from the standing water, and she was forced to ease off

the accelerator, battle for control. Then she was through.

As she drew near, she was assailed by echoes from the past.

The road forks. Follow the right fork until you can’t go any farther.

She kept right, following the coastline. The turn for the long drive

approached rapidly on her right. She spotted the gates to the house

through the trees as the pines gave way to a clearing, and she brought

the car to a sliding stop.

The house was not visible from her vantage point, but Hunter

could picture it clearly in her mind. Like the nearby town, it had

always reminded her of a movie set and looked so perfect that, at

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times, she expected to walk through the front door and find only

empty space. A façade constructed of make-believe. But the house

was real, nestled amid the trees, and offered stunning views of the

valley and the endless expanse of turbulent ocean.

She got out of the car and slipped quietly into the waiting night.

Shivering, she raised her collar against the dampness and cold,

but the rain still managed to seep down inside her jacket, chilling her.

As she approached the gate, she was surprised to find the security

system activated. Still, it took only a few seconds for her to disable

it. She swung the gate open and steered her car through, leaving it

nestled under the pines just inside the gate. Then she jammed her

hands into her pockets and turned toward the house.

On either side of the long, winding drive, the trees loomed like

ghostly sentinels in the swirling mist. Hunter knew the trees and rain

would mask the sounds of her arrival, just as the rhythmic pounding of

the surf muted the sound of her footsteps. Not that it mattered. Collier

would have known she had arrived from the moment she deactivated

the alarm. Even so, she approached the dark house cautiously. Fog

snaked around her feet, broke apart at her long strides.

Collier chose the stage for his final act well.

It was a community of large homes, with tennis courts,

swimming pools, and small private beaches. She knew the closest

neighbor was a mile up the beach. The next neighbor another mile

farther still. The landscape was rugged with redwood and pine

groves, low cliffs, jagged rocks. It offered privacy and solitude.

She stopped as she reached the front door, assailed by questions

and doubts. She knew Eric Collier was waiting just beyond the door.

Waiting to destroy her in the childhood home that previously held

nothing but the ghosts of happier times. She shook her head to dispel

all thought and focused on the task at hand. She attempted the door

handle, heard it click, granting her entrance.

Welcome home.

As she stepped into the house, Hunter could hear the beams

creaking overhead, blending with the pounding of the surf. Closing

the front door, she took a deep breath and moved around the central

staircase, instinctively going to a doorway on her right—the library.

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Hostage Moon

She struggled with the elusive wisps of memory as past and present

continued to converge and collide.

The eyes of the child she once was saw the room as enormous.

Bookcases filled with endless wonder towering over her head. There

were three large windows covering most of the west wall, and the

glow from the fire in the hearth was reflected on the mist-coated

glass. She could hear the hiss and crackle of the flames, feel their

warmth on her face. She could smell the smoke as it gently rose

above the dancing flames, then dissipated.

Pressing her nose against the cold glass of the window, she saw

the trees looming just beyond the house, their branches bare. The

trees gave way to a ribbon of sea grass and jagged rocks, and finally

to a stretch of sand pounded smooth by the relentless waves.

It was here in this house that she had felt happiest as a child,

and the library had been her favorite room. Her safe place, secure

in her father’s lap while they read. It seemed ironic that her life had

come full circle. That circumstance had brought her back to face her

demons here in this house. In this room.

She opened the door to the library and stepped inside.

The light in the room came predominantly from the fire burning

in the hearth, but was aided by the Tiffany lamp sitting on a side

table. Hunter could see Sara. She was seated in a large wood-and-

leather high-backed chair, her hands and legs restrained by wide

leather straps. As she drew nearer, she could see that Sara’s jaw

was bruised and her eyes appeared glassy. But Hunter couldn’t tell

whether that was due to the reflection of the flames or if Collier had

drugged her.

You’re a dead man, Collier, she thought. If for no other reason

than the bruises he had put on Sara’s face.

Sara turned her head as she stepped into the light, her eyes

filled with shock and dismay upon seeing Hunter standing there.

“Oh God, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come.”

Her words were slurred, confirming that Collier had drugged

her. Hunter shrugged apologetically. “How could I not come?”

Turning her gaze slightly, for the first time she could just make

out Eric Collier standing in the shadows to Sara’s left. She had

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difficulty discerning his features in the near darkness. But there was

no mistaking the glint of the gun in his hand.

“Thank you for joining us,” he said.

“It’s not as if you left me any choice.” The words snapped out,

the anger just behind them as Hunter kept her eyes on the gun. “I

did as you asked. Now it’s your turn, Eric. Let Sara go. She doesn’t

matter to you. It’s me you want and I’m here. Let Sara go, and you

and I can talk about this.”

Collier responded by stepping forward into the light. Hunter

saw the gun pointed toward her.

“Do it,” Hunter challenged softly. “Go ahead. End it now.”

A flicker of doubt flashed across Collier’s face as he realized

she was serious.

“Hunter, please.” Sara’s voice was strained.

Collier laughed. “I’m afraid Dr. Wilder’s right. After all this

time, I can’t have you end things just yet. Not like this.”

Hunter fought to control the chaotic state of her emotions.

“What is it you want?” she asked tiredly. “You have to know it’s

just a matter of time before we’re surrounded by Roswell security

and law enforcement agents. This is not going to work out the way

you planned, so why don’t we just end this now while we still

can.”“But you’ve no idea what I have planned.” He cocked his head

as he approached and assessed her. “I’m afraid I have to check you

for weapons.”

Hunter removed her leather jacket. Holding it up in one

hand, she raised her arms and turned in a circle, allowing Collier

to see she was unarmed. As she turned back around to face him,

Collier took a step forward and ran his free hand down her sides

and back, confirming for himself that she had not concealed a

weapon beneath the loose cotton shirt. His smile as he stepped

back seemed pleased.

Hunter started to speak when the backhand caught her. The

powerful strike rocked her head back and dropped her to one knee.

She clenched her jaw and tried to breathe slowly through the pain

but refused to cry out, intent on robbing Collier of the satisfaction.

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Hostage Moon

Collier grunted but did not move, as if mesmerized for an

instant by the blood Hunter could feel trickling from her mouth.

He wants you unsettled—uncertain. Lindsay had helped her

understand that during the three weeks Brenner had held her, he

had wanted her psychologically off balance. Keeping her that way

had been an essential element to breaking down her resistance, and

Collier had obviously learned that key lesson while listening to

Lindsay’s tapes. The problem was Collier didn’t have the luxury of

time Brenner had enjoyed.

Collier walked back and sat at the table beside Sara. He then

indicated the seat across from him. “Please come and join us, Hunter.

I need you to sit down and place your hands flat on the table.”

Sara watched Hunter’s indecision and silently willed her to do

what Collier asked, if only to buy some time. She breathed a sigh of

relief when Hunter got back to her feet, approached the table, and

did as he asked.

“Good. Now we can begin.” Aiming the gun he held in his right

hand at Sara, with his left hand Collier removed a second revolver

that had been tucked in his waistband. “Tell me, Hunter. How well

do you remember your time with Kyle Brenner?”

“It’s not something I’m likely to forget.” There was a slight

tremor in her voice. “What in particular interests you?”

“Games. I’m particularly interested in the games.” He flipped

the swing-out chamber open and closed with a flick of the wrist. It

was a move done for show, but he had made his point, demonstrating

the revolver held only one round before spinning the cylinder and

placing the gun on the table. “And this is one of my favorite toys. It’s

a Smith & Wesson Model 60, which I’m told is one of the preferred

concealed-carry weapons for law enforcement officers. It has a five-

round cylinder in which I’ve chambered a single thirty-eight special

round.”

Although she had expected it, Sara inhaled sharply. She was

very familiar with the weapon, having carried one as a back-up at

one time in her career. Even as she pulled against the straps that

bound her to the chair, she knew it would prove to be the gun used

to kill six women. But as she stared at it, she remembered listening

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to Lindsay’s earliest sessions with Hunter, could still hear Hunter

describing her ordeal at the hands of her captors, and knew the cost

of her own rescue was already too high.

“Hunter?” The blood trailing from Hunter’s bruised mouth had

reached the open collar of her white shirt, but she seemed oblivious

to it.Hunter didn’t respond, but for just an instant, Sara saw her mask

drop. Saw both grief and rage burning in her remarkable face. But

just as quickly, Hunter’s expression became dark and frighteningly

vacant.

Sara turned to Collier with the faint hope of distracting him.

Buying time for Hunter’s wolves and the task force who surely had

to be nearby. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Sara, please,” Hunter cautioned wearily. “Stay out of this.”

“I would listen to her if I were you, because you’re wrong.

I’ve dreamed about doing this, and as far as I’m concerned, you’ve

already served your purpose. I believe the term is Judas goat, is it

not?”Sara shook her head slowly, trying to clear away the dizziness.

Denying his words even as she understood them and knew them to

be true.

Collier leaned back and laughed. “Of course, at this point, it

would be far simpler if I just killed you.”

“No.” Hunter started to rise from the table but stopped cold as

Collier turned and touched his gun to Sara’s temple. Sara flinched

and froze, unable to do anything other than wait for the scene to be

played out.

“Sit down. Hands flat on the table.”

Hunter stared at Collier. She would have given anything at that

moment for a chance to go one-on-one with him. Anything except

Sara’s life. But realistically, she knew she could never make it across

the table before he pulled the trigger. Breathing hard, she reined in

her rage and focused on shutting it down. Taking a deep breath, she

sat. Collier resumed speaking as if there had been no interruption.

“As I was saying, it would be simpler if I killed her now. However,

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it is apparent you have feelings for her, so it serves my purpose to

keep her alive. I seem to recall you telling Lindsay Carson about the

deals you made with Kyle Brenner.” He indicated the revolver on

the table. “With that in mind, I’m prepared to offer you a deal. Just

to get us started.”

Hunter stiffened, but her face remained impassive. “I’m

listening.”

“I want one pull of the trigger and in return, I let Sara live.”

He slid the revolver handle-first across the table toward Hunter. He

placed the gun between her hands, but kept his own hand over it.

“One pull of the trigger. A one-in-five chance. Is she worth the risk

to you, Hunter? I seem to recall you thought your father was worth

the gamble. Of course, daddy’s girl wasn’t able to save her father,

was she? Do you suppose she can save her girlfriend?”

One pull of the trigger. The words echoed and rattled in

Hunter’s mind as the voice morphed from Collier’s to Brenner’s

and then back again.

“What happens if I’m unlucky on the first try?” she asked, her

voice tired and empty.

“I would be…disappointed,” Collier replied. “But you have my

word. I’ll let Sara live.”

Sara felt her heart thunder as she watched Hunter’s hand move

in what seemed like slow motion toward the revolver. “Hunter,

please stop. You don’t have to do this. There’s got to be another

way. Please.”

Hunter heard Sara only as a broken sound coming from a great

distance. Her eyes remained fastened on Collier as she reached for

the gun. She felt as if she slipped through time, lost between past

and present, until she could no longer distinguish between the two.

She only knew that neither offered a safe place.

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

“I think you’ve overlooked something, Eric.” She breathed

deeply, once and then again. “I have nothing to lose. Because we

both know I was dead the moment I walked in here.”

What’s it worth to you, Hunter?

She glanced at Sara.

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Everything.

Lifting the gun almost nonchalantly, in one motion she placed

it against her temple and pulled the trigger.

The hollow click of the empty chamber echoed in the stillness

of the room. Collier exhaled loudly and indicated with the gun in

his hand, watching as Hunter placed the revolver back on the table.

Sara gasped and struggled against the straps that held her bound

to the chair, only to stop at the ragged sound of Hunter’s voice.

“You got what you wanted, Eric. Now let Sara go.”

Collier shook his head with obvious delight. “That wasn’t the

deal. No. Our deal was that I would not kill her.” He stopped and

seemed to savor the moment. “However, if you are prepared to raise

the stakes, you know what it will take. One pull of the trigger. You

give me another pull of the trigger without spinning the cylinder,

and I will let her go.”

“Is that what it will take?”

Collier nodded. “Of course, the odds have changed. One-in-

four. Is she still worth the risk? What’s she worth to you, Hunter? I

mean, isn’t that the question? What are you prepared to sacrifice? Is

she worth your life?”

Hunter struggled to steady herself as her eyes met Sara’s. Yes.

“Oh God, Hunter. No, don’t,” Sara shouted as soon as she

realized Hunter’s intent, but her words had no effect. Instead, she

watched with horror as Hunter picked up the revolver, placed the

barrel against her temple, and pulled the trigger in one quick, fluid

motion.

The sound of the hammer striking the firing pin devastated

Sara. She wanted to scream, but more than anything, she wanted to

take Hunter away from Collier and all of his madness. She didn’t

believe things could get any worse until she looked across the table

and saw Hunter was still holding the gun against her temple in a

visibly trembling hand.

“Hunter?”

It was as if she hadn’t uttered a sound. Hunter remained frozen,

the gun resting against her temple. Her face was pale and drawn,

and she was staring blankly, no longer aware of her surroundings.

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Hostage Moon

As Sara looked into Hunter’s eyes, it was as if she could glimpse the

shattered pieces of her soul.

“Hunter? Please look at me.”

The seconds dragged out interminably, but still Hunter didn’t

respond. The only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire

and the distant breaking of the waves.

Hunter’s silence unnerved Sara. Just when she thought she

couldn’t take much more, Hunter shuddered. Slowly, she lowered

the revolver and blinked several times, looking around with only

stunned confusion in her eyes.

“Damn you.” Sara’s wrists burned as she continued to strain

against the straps. Still groggy from the drugs in her system, she

glared at Collier and her frustration mounted. “Can’t you see what

you’re doing to her? Why don’t you stop this?”

For the first time since he had taken Sara down in the parking

garage, Collier seemed uncertain. She could see it in the sudden

hesitation of his movements and the tentative set of his mouth. As

though he had spent years dreaming of this moment and Hunter’s

response had somehow surprised him. Left him confused about

what to do next.

“I didn’t want it to come to this. The first time I saw her, she

was so bright. So beautiful. I knew I had to have her, and for so long,

things were really good between us.”

Sara stared at him as he came and stood over her. There was

something almost reasonable in his voice, and she realized he

believed what he was saying. He had slipped totally into his delusion.

“But then it somehow fell apart. I followed her and tried to

make things right, but instead, she ignored me. Wouldn’t even have

a drink with me. All I wanted her to do was talk to me.”

“You mean in New York?”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but she made me

so angry when she wouldn’t stay with me. She had to be punished

although it hurt me to do so.” He stopped and looked at Sara as if

seeing her for the first time. “Then she took off to England, and

when she finally came home, you got in the way. And really, do you

think you’re what she needs? Well, you’re not. She is mine.”

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“Fine.” Hunter’s hollow voice surprised Sara and shifted

Collier’s focus.

Collier stared at Hunter. “What did you say?”

Hunter stared back at him for a few seconds. “I said fine—you

win.” Her voice was soft and low. “We both know what you want.

Just you and me. But only if you let Sara go first.”

“You’re saying you’ll come back to me?”

“Only if you let Sara go.”

“You are mine.” He whispered it almost as if to himself as he

approached Sara and began to undo the straps that held her.

“Sara,” Hunter said, never taking her eyes off Collier. “You’ll

find my car by the gate. The keys are in it. Take it and get as far away

from here as possible.”

Sara shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving without you. Don’t

ask that of me.”

“Commendable loyalty, Hunter,” Collier observed. “But I don’t

think she understands.”

“No?” There was a faint edge of rancor in Sara’s voice. “Then

help me understand.”

Collier looked briefly at Hunter. “Hunter and I have been

destined to come together like this since the first time we crossed

paths that night in the emergency department,” Collier said, undoing

the last of the straps. “This is her destiny and mine. I need you to

leave.”

As Collier stepped back, Sara rubbed her wrists where drops

of blood seeped from the abrasions. She tried to stand, but the room

spun and she dropped back onto the chair. She silently cursed.

“Move,” he said with growing impatience. He waved his gun

in her face. “This is your only chance to leave. She doesn’t want me

to hurt you, but I will if I have to, so walk away while you still can.”

“Go to hell,” Sara said quietly. “You’re crazy if you actually

think I’m leaving Hunter with you.”

“Damn you. Don’t you understand?” Collier grabbed Sara,

pulling her roughly to her feet, and then pushing her toward the

door. “She’s mine. This is her destiny and mine.”

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Hostage Moon

Hunter had been watching through half-closed eyes. When

Collier turned his back to her, she pushed through the detritus of

the past that had immobilized her and got to her feet. He must have

heard her, heard the sound that reverberated in her throat when he

laid rough hands on Sara. Just as he turned back to face her, she

launched herself at him.

❖

Sara knew the three weeks of inactivity since the Presidio

attack had left Hunter ill-prepared to take Collier on. Her timing

was off. He deflected her initial attack far too easily, and her follow-

through was weak and ineffectual.

Collier countered, fighting back like the madman he was

with strength, cunning, and timing, as he lashed out twice before

ramming a knee into Hunter’s abdomen, dropping her to the floor.

Bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, he watched as she pushed

herself upright, limping and off balance.

“You didn’t count on this, did you?” He gave a soft laugh. “I’ve

spent years training, Hunter. Just for this moment. I wanted us to be

equals.”

He quickly lunged with a series of punches that Hunter barely

managed to block. An instant later, he broke through her defenses

with a blow that connected and sent her stumbling awkwardly,

gritting her teeth against the pain.

She tried to shake off the rust, fought with everything she had. But

before she could regain her balance, Collier landed another combination

of rapid-fire punches and capped his assault with a powerful shot to her

jaw. The impact sent her spinning into the table, and pain exploded in

her head. Her vision blurred as she crashed to the floor.

“You shouldn’t have left me.” Sweat trickled down his face.

Dazed, Hunter managed to roll over onto her hands and knees,

but Collier followed with a driving kick, lifting her from the floor

with the force. He laughed and talked to himself as Hunter tried to

catch her breath, and then kicked her again. She doubled over in

agony, coughing and unable to draw a full breath. Barely able to see,

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she managed to roll away from him, bracing herself with her hands

as he lunged at her.

With Collier’s attention focused entirely on Hunter, Sara

dropped to the floor, scrambling but unable to locate either of the

weapons that had fallen. She teetered, desperate to help Hunter

somehow. But she was debilitated as much by the drug-induced

dizziness as by the fear that she would prove to be a distraction to

Hunter rather than assistance. She couldn’t take the chance.

Shuddering with pain, Hunter struggled to get to her feet. She

was out of time and she knew it. She hoped she had something left

in reserve to stop Collier, but as she wiped the blood out of her eyes

with one hand, she had no confidence in the outcome.

As if he could sense victory, Collier waved for her to come

closer. Hunter swayed and tried to respond. She absorbed another

blow, her right arm hanging limply at her side. She was defenseless.

She staggered and realized she had nothing left. She could not see

Sara and hoped she had found her way to Matt and Peter. Resigned,

she waited for Collier to finish her.

As he moved toward her, Hunter pushed herself and sent one

final kick with what strength she had left. She felt her foot connect

with his head just before she collapsed. Through blurred vision,

she saw Collier stumble backward as he fell, his head striking the

floor with an audible crack. She waited for him to get back up, then

pushed slowly to her knees. When he failed to move, she reached

cautiously with her left hand and picked up the revolver that lay

discarded on the floor. Standing unsteadily, she tilted her head to one

side and stared at him.

Collier remained where he had fallen, his eyes closed. Hunter

licked her lips. Her heart pounded fiercely as she tightened her grip

and leveled the gun. She fought to bring Collier into focus.

Sara reached out, touched Hunter’s shoulder. “Hunter, listen to

me. You don’t want to do this. This isn’t who you are. Please. Give

me the gun.”

Hunter turned vacant eyes toward Sara. For one terrifying

moment, Sara watched as Hunter turned back toward Collier and

steadied her aim.

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Hostage Moon

One bullet. A one-in-three chance, Sara thought. It was almost

as if she could hear the thoughts in Hunter’s mind and realized she

was turning Collier’s game—Brenner’s game—against him. Sara

vaguely wondered if Collier was feeling particularly lucky. “Hunter,

don’t. Please.”

Hunter took a shallow breath, her knuckles white as she strained

to hold the gun steady. A moment later she slowly eased her finger

from the trigger and lowered the revolver. Turning her head, she

stared tiredly as a familiar face came into focus. “Sara?”

“I’m right here.” Sara could feel tears welling in her eyes as

she took the gun from Hunter’s hand. “It’s over, love. I’ve got you.”

Sara reached for her, wrapped her arms around Hunter and held

her. Hunter swayed and leaned more heavily into Sara. She started

to respond just as a sound drew her attention. Collier had staggered

to his feet. His expression was wild, and she found herself staring

down the barrel of the gun in his hand.

“Hunter!”—he screamed as he pulled the trigger—“I’ll love

you forever.”

Sara fired simultaneously.

Hunter never heard the volley of weapon fire. She had started

to turn, but got no further as the bullet slammed into her. She stared

at Sara without comprehension. A look of total surprise registered

on her face as the punch of the bullet’s impact stole her breath away.

She stumbled, her legs buckling beneath her, and then all strength

left her and she collapsed. She struggled to breathe, dimly aware of

Sara calling her name.

Sara rushed first to Collier, kicking his gun away and ensuring

he was truly down. Sara then looked at Hunter in disbelief. “Hunter!

No…no…no…”

Time slowed.

Even as Sara’s mind denied what she had just witnessed, her

body moved into action, her hands desperately trying to stanch the

hot blood that flowed freely from Hunter’s chest. Familiar faces

appeared and converged around her—members of the FBI, SFPD,

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Matt, Hunter’s wolves—as a scream gathered strength somewhere

deep inside her, only to be choked back.

As she tried to hold on, Hunter watched Sara’s frantic attempts

to stem the tide of blood with something almost bordering on

amusement. “It’s not going to stop,” she whispered, sounding

surprised. There was no fear. Only a vague sense of regret.

Sara cradled Hunter’s face with gentle hands red with blood.

“Hunter, it’s going to be okay. You’ve got to stay with me, sweetheart.

Stay with me. We’re going to get you out of here, do you hear me?

Look at me, Hunter. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

It will not end like this. Please. It cannot end like this. “I need some

help here,” she yelled.

“Sara—” Hunter coughed, her breathing weaker, shallow. The

only thing that was clear was Sara. Sara touching her. She turned

her head and looked up into Sara’s worried face. She absorbed the

comfort of Sara’s touch, finding strength in it.

Sara looked into Hunter’s eyes, saw the glimmer of light slowly

fading as her eyes closed. “No, stay with me,” she said, watching as

her eyes fluttered open again. “That’s it. Stay awake. Stay with me.

You’re going to be just fine. Now stay with me.”

“Sara, you need…to know…” The pain was white hot and

unrelenting. It hurt so bad she could hardly breathe.

“Know what, baby?”

“Only—” Blood sprayed from Hunter’s lips as she coughed

weakly.

“Only what?” Sara repeated in confusion.

“Only ever fell in love…only once…you’re the first…”

“Oh God.” Sara felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Damn you, Hunter, don’t you dare say something like that to me

and then leave me. You will not die, do you hear me?” She tightened

her grip, feeling the hot blood soaking her as she grabbed Hunter’s

hand, squeezing it as tight as she could. “You will not leave me. I

won’t let you.”

Hunter was cold, shivering with shock. It was getting harder to

breathe. Every breath hurt. She closed her eyes as her body sank into

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the cocooned comfort and security of Sara’s arms. Her mind drifted,

floating on a cloud, and she slipped into the welcoming darkness.

“Please…oh God…stay with me…hold on to me.” Sara begged.

Heedless of the blood, she wrapped her arms around Hunter and

pulled her closer, rocking her gently. She looked around frantically.

“Where the hell are the EMTs?”

Time resumed.

Suddenly Tessa was there, kneeling beside Sara as paramedics

converged on the two women. There was anguish on her face and

in her voice. “Sara, let her go. Come on sweetie, let the paramedics

do their job.”

But Sara continued to cradle Hunter in her arms, even as Tessa

tried to get her to relinquish her hold. Finally, Tessa and Matt urged

her away, giving the paramedics room to work.

“Sara.” Tessa held a struggling Sara close. “You’re covered in

blood. Is any of it yours? Are you hurt?”

Sara shook her head numbly, her eyes never leaving Hunter. A

silent mantra— she’ll be all right she’ll be all right—echoed in her

head.

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CHaPteR tHiRty-one

What does it all mean?

It had only been a couple of hours, but already Sara

could barely remember making the trip from the beach house to the

hospital. All she could think of was her last clear image of Hunter—

her face pale and lifeless while the EMTs worked furiously to

keep her alive. All she could focus on was finding her way back to

Hunter’s side and never leaving it again.

The swift efforts of the response team gave Sara hope. And

despite the rain and fog, the FBI was on hand with critical-care

transport to the trauma center in San Francisco.

Once the gurney carrying Hunter had been wheeled away and

loaded onto the medevac chopper, Sara numbly allowed Tessa to take

control. The rain had stopped, but the night air was cool and damp,

and as she began to shiver, Tessa settled a jacket over her blood-

soaked clothes. Almost immediately, a familiar scent penetrated her

senses, and for an instant she became convinced that Hunter was

standing behind her, wrapping her arms around her.

But just as quickly, she realized the scent was coming from the

soft leather jacket—Hunter’s jacket. She clutched it to her chest,

drawing in her scent and finding some desperately needed comfort.

She tried to say something, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate, and

she felt her world fall out from under her.

“How are you holding up?” Tessa asked while looking her over.

“I’m okay,” Sara said as Tessa took her by the hand, pulling her

past FBI agents and police officers and Hunter’s wolves, giving her

• 349 •

aJ Quinn

no choice but to follow. Sara stumbled along behind her until they

reached the Lamborghini. She looked at Tessa as fear and anger and

confusion swirled in her head.

Jesus, she’d killed a man. She’d spent years in the FBI without

ever having discharged her weapon other than in training drills, and

tonight she’d taken someone’s life. But what choice had there been?

There was nothing she could have done differently. “I can’t leave…

I—I shot Collier. I’ll have to give a statement—”

“Not right now. I spoke to David, and he’ll catch up with you

at the hospital.”

There was clearly no point in staying or arguing. Or resisting

Tessa’s support as she tucked Sara into the passenger seat and

buckled her in. She stared blankly for a moment and then watched

as Tessa brought the powerful engine to life and headed out onto the

highway toward San Francisco.

The trip was a blur of speed and passing headlights and

fathomless darkness. By the time they raced into the hospital, all

Sara wanted was to have one question answered. “Is she alive?” No

one responded fast enough. “Is she alive?”

Silence descended until someone—one of the trauma unit

nurses—told her Hunter had been rushed directly into surgery.

Waiting was the worst part. Sara had never been good at waiting.

She leaned against the wall in a room filled with people and waited.

She was so lost in herself she didn’t sense Tessa approach until a

paper cup filled with muddy-looking coffee was thrust in her hand.

“Sit,” Tessa ordered kindly.

Sara realized her legs were shaking and sank to the floor.

Tessa sat down beside her, her arms crossed and her head

bowed. The dark curtain of hair shielded her from curious eyes.

But Sara could still see the pain etched in her pale face, and she

wondered how many childhood prayers they were remembering

between the two of them.

At least another hour passed before the hushed conversations

in the room suddenly ceased. Sara felt the tension increase, and her

mind screamed that it was much too soon to hear anything from the

OR, while beside her Tessa murmured, “Oh shit.”

• 350 •

Hostage Moon

Filled with a sense of foreboding, Sara looked up. But instead

of Kate’s familiar face, she recognized Hunter’s grandfather. He

stood framed in the open doorway, a tall, handsome man with a

craggy face and a full head of silver hair, wearing a dark suit and

cashmere overcoat. His movements were restrained and controlled

as he surveyed the room. As soon as his eyes lit upon Sara, he made

his way to her, people automatically moving out of his way like the

parting of the Red Sea.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded of Tessa,

his voice a low, deep rumble. Without waiting for a response, he

turned his attention and fury in Sara’s direction. “And you—what

the hell happened? I thought you were supposed to protect my

granddaughter from that madman. Why is she in surgery fighting

for her life?”

Sara slowly stood up, straightening her shoulders as she looked

squarely at Patrick Roswell. This was a man with a history of conducting

emotional hit-and-runs on Hunter. But he was Hunter’s grandfather

nonetheless. “I’m sorry, Senator. We did everything possible—”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t good enough, was it? And as far as I’m

concerned, you have no business being here. This room is intended

for family, and that’s my flesh and blood in the operating room.”

Sara clenched her jaw and struggled to remember that the

senator was overwrought. But he was talking about Hunter, who was

strong and beautiful and fearless. Her Hunter. “The woman in the

OR also happens to be the woman I love, Senator,” she replied softly,

trying not to give in to the anger rising inside of her. “And I have

every intention of being here for her as long as she wants me to be.”

The senator’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I won’t have

it—”Before he could continue, a soft voice interrupted. “Stop it,

Patrick, and leave the girl alone, or I’ll ask security to have you

removed from the premises.”

Marlena Roswell stepped closer, pressing between Sara and the

senator, forcing him to step back. Sara saw Marlena’s jaw tighten as

her eyes fixed on the dark stains covering the front of Sara’s shirt.

“Are you injured, Sara? Have you been checked out?”

• 351 •

aJ Quinn

“It’s not necessary,” Sara responded quietly. “It’s not my

blood, it’s—” Oh God, it’s Hunter’s blood and this is her mother

I’m talking to.

She might as well have spoken the words out loud. Sara

watched Marlena flinch and saw a flash of pain cross her face.

“That’s my daughter’s blood,” Marlena said, more to herself

than to Sara. “You were holding Hunter?”

Sara nodded.

Marlena stared at her chest a moment longer and then appeared

to regroup. She nodded her head faintly and maintained her

composure. “All right, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said as she

wrapped her arm around the senator’s waist. “Come along, Patrick.

I’m sure we can find a more comfortable place for you to wait for

some news.”

Sara watched Marlena draw Patrick Roswell away, then

shuddered involuntarily as the fight-or-flight surge of adrenaline

dissipated. She remained silent for a moment longer, before finally

turning toward Tessa. “You want to tell me what’s up between you

and the senator?”

Tessa shrugged and then flashed a weak grin. “He blames me

for Hunter’s sexual orientation. Seems to think I perverted her with

my wicked ways while we were roommates at Oxford.”

“You’re kidding.”

“What can I say? I mean, I might have been Hunter’s first, but

there was never any doubt which team she played for.”

Sara felt an inexplicable urge to laugh as she sat back down.

❖

Almost fifteen minutes passed before Marlena returned to the

small waiting room. “I’m sorry about Patrick’s behavior,” she said.

“He’s always been controlling where Hunter’s concerned, and since

Michael died, she’s the only one who’s ever been able to stop him.”

She held out a pale blue scrub shirt. “I got this for you from one

of the nurses. It occurred to me if Hunter sees you in your present

condition, she’s likely to get upset.”

• 352 •

Hostage Moon

Sara swallowed, acknowledging the dried blood on her shirt,

and accepted the clean top. “Thanks.” Actually, if Hunter sees me

like this, she’s more likely to kick my ass.

The thought made the turbulent and tangled emotions she was

feeling bubble close to the surface, and in her mind, Sara screamed

out her heartache and rage. She needed Hunter in her life. The thought

of not having her terrified her, and she vowed that when Hunter came

through this, she’d make her understand what they could have together.

The pressure in her chest increased, and as she closed her hand

around the soft cotton top, she felt Marlena briefly grasp her fingers,

holding them tightly. Sara looked up into her beautiful face and saw

the tears swim in her eyes, only to be hastily blinked away.

Rising quickly to her feet, Sara held herself together long enough

to step out of the waiting room and into the nearest washroom. The

enormity of the day’s events came crashing down upon her. Her body

shook, and she covered her face with her hands, overwhelmed by all

the emotion she had kept under tight control since Hunter’s shooting.

Several minutes passed before she realized she was no longer

alone. She felt the presence of another person standing close,

stroking her back, and through the haze of grief and embarrassment,

she saw Marlena.

“I’m so sorry,” Sara whispered and bit down hard on her lip to

keep her voice from breaking. “It was my fault. I should have been

paying better attention.”

“Sara—”

“No, it’s true. If I had been paying attention, Collier would

never have gotten near Hunter. I promised to protect her, and instead,

she nearly died in my arms. Because of me, she’s in the OR right

now, fighting for her life.” Another tear spilled over and she wiped

it away impatiently with the back of her hand. “I don’t even know

what I’m crying for. Or who.”

Marlena didn’t say anything. Instead, she put her arms around

Sara, gathering her into a tender embrace. Sara stiffened, but after

the initial shock, her defenses broke down and she felt herself drawn

in. As she wept, she felt Marlena weep with her, and they forged a

bond through their tears and their mutual love for Hunter.

• 353 •

aJ Quinn

“You’ve been holding that back for a while,” Marlena said

when Sara’s tears were finally spent. “Let it all go, Sara. None of

that matters anymore. What’s important is Hunter is strong. She’s a

fighter, and you must have faith she will survive this.”

“I know.” Sara nodded weakly. “Thank you.”

Wiping her own tears from her face, Marlena gave Sara a faintly

amused smile. “There’s no need to thank me, querida. Just listen to

me. Wash your face and change your shirt, then come back to the

room where Tessa is waiting. She shouldn’t be alone.” There was a

slight tremor in her voice as she paused. “I had someone check with

the operating room. They said it will be some time yet before we’ll

know anything, and I think it’s important that we all wait together.

At least we know she’s still fighting.”

Doing as she had been told, Sara washed her face and changed

shirts. In the mirror, she watched Marlena will her own tears away.

And knew it cost her. The knowledge nearly brought Sara to her

knees and she couldn’t do much more than follow Marlena back into

the waiting room. Once there, she leaned tiredly against the wall,

gripped Tessa’s hand with her left and Marlena’s with her right, as

they waited together.

Finally, Kate stepped into the waiting room. Sara felt herself

grow weak at the expression on Kate’s face. She licked her lips and

tried to move, tried to meet her partway. But instead, she remained

frozen. Fearing the worst. Expecting the worst.

“How is she?” As Marlena voiced the question, everyone

stopped talking, stopped moving, and stood waiting to hear the

response.

“Still breathing.” Kate tiredly pushed a sweat-soaked surgical

cap from her head. “She’s a fighter.”

“How badly—”

“We managed to stop the bleeding and repair all the damage,

but the blood loss was extensive and it was close. Very close.”

She stopped and a smile surfaced past the exhaustion and strain

visible on her face.

Sara closed her eyes and heard Tessa ask, “Is she going to make

it?”

• 354 •

Hostage Moon

“She has a fighting chance, that’s the best news I can give you

right now,” Kate replied evenly. “But she’s still not out of the woods.

The next forty-eight hours will be critical.”

“But she’s a fighter and she’s going to pull through,” Marlena

responded reassuringly, giving Sara strength. “Now let’s go see her.

She needs to know we’re here for her.”

❖

Four days later, Sara was convinced the wait was too long.

Much too long. And Hunter looked so fragile. Her skin was

pale beyond belief, almost translucent, and her eyes were deeply

shadowed. There was an IV hooked up to her right hand, and there

were lights flickering across the various machines that monitored

her vital signs.

But the good news was that they had moved Hunter into a

private room, and she was breathing on her own. That had to be

considered progress.

Sara closed her eyes and briefly prayed to every deity she could

think of. Bargaining, pleading, begging. She no longer cared what

it took or what she had to offer. She just wanted Hunter back. Soon,

damn it.

Kate had tried to explain. Sara knew the medical people had

been monitoring Hunter for internal bleeding while allowing the

damage to her lung to heal. But Sara hadn’t been paying that much

attention. All she knew was the chest tube was now gone and the

doctors had finally withdrawn the sedation. They said Hunter would

awaken when her body was ready for her to wake up, and all anyone

could do was wait.

But this was taking far too long.

Of course, Sara wasn’t going anywhere until Hunter was

back—healthy and whole. She needed to see her open those amazing

blue eyes. Needed to hear her laugh. Needed to feel her strong arms

wrapped around her. She hadn’t had nearly enough time with her,

and there were still a million things they needed to explore.

Things like Paris…and things like being the first…and only.

• 355 •

aJ Quinn

Marlena and Nigel had been there earlier, and both of them

were quite optimistic by the time they left. Sara also knew there

was no one else scheduled to visit tonight. She wasn’t sure how, but

Marlena had somehow arranged for her to have this uninterrupted

time with Hunter, and she would be forever grateful. Now Hunter

just needed to cooperate and wake up.

She approached the bed, leaned down, and kissed her lightly

on the lips, then glanced at the monitors over the bed. According to

one nurse, her vital signs were good and getting better. She listened

to Hunter’s heartbeat, rhythmic and strong, and felt reassured.

Pulling a chair closer to the bed, she reached for her hand and held

it. “Hunter, I want you to squeeze my hand.”

She watched the pale, beautiful face, looking for a sign. Marlena

had mentioned that Hunter had drifted close to being conscious several

times earlier in the day, but Sara desperately needed to see it for herself.

She needed to know Hunter was going to pull through. “Come on,

love, give me something,” she said dispiritedly. “I’ll take anything.”

She kept talking, whispering words of love, rubbing the back of

Hunter’s hand. She leaned close to her ear. “It’s all over, you know.

There’s no reason for you to stay away. Collier’s gone. He can never

hurt you again, but you have to fight.” Still nothing.

“Come on, Roswell. Everyone says it’s not in you to give up, so

you need to wake up. We need to start a life together and I—” Her

voice broke. “Damn it, I need you.”

She felt the movement then. A quick brush of Hunter’s thumb

as it moved across the back of her hand. Her gaze snapped up to

Hunter’s face.

It was several minutes longer—although it felt like an eternity—

before Hunter’s eyelids fluttered open and she groaned softly. “Sara?”

Sara whispered her thanks to whatever deity had heard her and

impatiently brushed the dampness from her cheeks. She caressed

Hunter’s face, pushed her hair back from her forehead, and leaned

closer to the bed. “Hey you. I’m right here. How’re you doing?”

Hunter tried to speak, but the words didn’t seem to come easily.

“I—” She started to cough and grimaced, the pain clearly showing

on her face.

• 356 •

Hostage Moon

“Easy, love. Take your time. Don’t rush it.”

Hunter paused to take another few breaths before trying to

speak once again. “Sorry…how long…?”

Sara lowered the side rail so she could move closer to Hunter.

“How long have you been here? Almost four days.”

Hunter remained silent for a minute or so, as she tried to

process what Sara had said. “It’s a blur…I can’t seem to remember

anything…after I got hit,” she said hoarsely. “You okay?

“Absolutely.”

“How bad…?”

“The bullet fractured your left shoulder blade and you have a

few broken ribs.”

“A few?”

Sara grinned. “Okay, five. And a punctured lung, and you lost

quite a bit of blood—which gave Kate a few tense moments in the

OR. The good news is they gave you a few pints of fresh blood,

patched you up, and you’re expected to make a complete recovery.”

Hunter stirred slightly and winced. “No wonder everything

hurts.”

“I know, love,” Sara said soothingly. “But the doctors say

you’ll be up in no time.”

“That’s good.”

A few minutes passed in silence as Hunter fought to stay awake,

absorbing the wonder of being alive, while Sara sat on the edge of

the bed beside her. She started when Hunter reached for her hand.

Sara leaned closer. “What is it, love? Do you want some water?”

Too tired to speak, Hunter shook her head.

“Do you need anything? Should I get the nurse?”

“No…I’m good…just wanted to hold your hand.”

Sara hadn’t thought she could love Hunter more than she

already did. She’d been wrong. She had so many things she wanted

to tell her, there were so many things they needed to talk about. But

first things first.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly.

Hunter sighed, her breath soft against Sara’s face. “Nothing to

be sorry for.”

• 357 •

aJ Quinn

“How can you say that? I nearly got you killed.” Sara touched

a fading bruise on Hunter’s cheek. “Can you forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive.”

“Hunter? I—” Sara’s voice trembled and broke on the word as

she stared at Hunter. Releasing a small choked sound, she leaned

into Hunter, burying her face in the curve of her neck, and no more

words were needed.

Wrapping her arms around her, heedless of the IV and the

monitor leads, Hunter gathered Sara closer. The movement made

pain rip through her chest, and her vision wavered. Swallowing an

involuntary moan, she held her breath for a moment and steadied

herself.

“Don’t cry,” Hunter whispered. “Please.”

“It’s just…I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been right here—at least I think so.”

Sara laughed and pressed a kiss against her neck before she

eased back slightly, studying Hunter’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I can’t seem to stay awake.”

“It’s all right, love,” she said. “Don’t fight it. Go back to sleep.”

“I know we need to talk.” Hunter wanted to say more but found

it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open.

“We can talk when you wake up again. What’s important right

now is that you rest and get better. Everything else can wait. Okay?”

“Okay.” Hunter swallowed as another wave of weariness broke

over her. “Will you still be here…when I wake up?”

“I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. Now try to get some rest.”

Hunter closed her eyes. Sara’s body felt warm and strong

against hers, and she could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo.

She bit her lip as the words threatened to spill over. And then she

whispered, “I love you.”

For an instant, there was no reaction. But then she felt

Sara’s heart racing as she pressed against her chest, and heard the

unmistakable sound of joy in her voice as she replied. “Oh God,

Hunter. I love you, too.”

• 358 •

Hostage Moon

CHaPteR tHiRty-two

Three weeks after she was released from the hospital, Hunter

stood by the window in her parents’ beach house, listening

to the sound of the ocean as the waves crashed to the shore. The

shutters were open, allowing the breeze to circulate through her old

bedroom under the eaves, filling the room with the sound and scent

of the ocean. It felt wonderful.

Sara had been concerned that it was too soon for her to

comfortably make the two-hour drive to the beach house. But it was

Thanksgiving, and she had promised her mother both she and Sara

would be there. So they had compromised, and Hunter arranged to

use the company helicopter for the trip to Monterey.

“But you’ll have a nap once we get there,” Sara had said as she

brought their bags out to the helicopter pad.

She was really very good at giving orders, Hunter thought with

a grin, but she indulged her. In part because she still tired much too

quickly. But mostly because it made Sara smile.

And she had to concede, she awoke from a two-hour nap

feeling much more refreshed. After a quick shower, she pulled on

fresh jeans and a black turtleneck, then headed downstairs to look

for Sara. Near the bottom of the stairs, she could hear voices coming

from the library. Nigel was relating a story and eliciting laughter.

She paused on the verge of joining, choosing instead to stand in the

doorway. Smiling as the story reached its inevitable and familiar

conclusion.

• 359 •

aJ Quinn

Voices carried and faded. Delicious scents and muted laughter

emanated from the kitchen, where she knew her mother was dealing

with last-minute preparations for the Thanksgiving feast. But Hunter

was conscious only of Sara, who came and stood at her side. Sara

draped an arm around her waist in comforting solidarity, then slowly

eased her into the room. In no time, she found herself seated on one

of the large sofas between Sara and Tessa, and she was drawn into

the lively conversation.

From time to time, Sara would look at her quizzically, but

didn’t press. We need to talk. Isn’t that ironic? the pragmatist said,

just as Sara wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders and pulled

her closer.

Several hours later, her ribs aching from the near-constant

teasing and laughter, Hunter took Sara by the hand, and they bid

everybody goodnight. Once their bedroom door was closed, she

held herself very still as Sara reached up, slid her arms around her

neck, and kissed her.

“Your mother and Tessa want to help me shop for furniture for

your house.”

Hunter considered the ramifications of responding incorrectly

to that statement. “Is that what you want to do?”

Sara leaned back and gave her a long, hard look, but stayed

within the circle of her arms. “You may have more of your

grandfather Patrick in you than I thought. Are you considering a

future in politics?”

Hunter laughed softly. “How would you like me to answer

that?”Sara nibbled on her neck. “Just tell me the truth.”

“That was the truth. Sara, I love you. So much it hurts. So much

that, no matter what, I know I’ll love you for the rest of my life. And

I want you in my life. I don’t care where or how we live—my place,

a new place—all I care is that I have you with me.”

“You have me…and I love your house…it just needs—”

“Furniture? Yeah, I know. And for the record, it’s our house.”

Sara grinned. “Yeah? Okay. Then maybe we can both go

shopping with Marlena and Tessa.”

• 360 •

Hostage Moon

“If that’s what you want, we can do that. Or I can give them

my credit cards and send them shopping, while you and I stay home

and make love.”

“I like how you think, Roswell.” The next moment, all

conversation ceased as Sara leaned in and kissed her.

Hunter loved the way Sara kissed her. Bold and sensual, she

used her lips, her tongue, and her teeth to draw her in and ensnare

her, robbing her of the ability to think and breathe. She groaned deep

in her throat as pleasure washed over her, and she told herself she

couldn’t possibly come from just a kiss. Then she pulled Sara tighter

against her and sighed contentedly. Sara felt so right in her arms, her

body pressed against hers.

“I think it’s my turn,” Sara said.

“You’re insatiable,” Hunter laughed as Sara pulled the

turtleneck over Hunter’s head and tossed it to the floor behind her.

“I’m in love.” Sara kneeled, licking a line down to the snap of

Hunter’s jeans. She unfastened the jeans and pushed them down,

then took her with her mouth. Hunter whimpered, making a sound

that was a cross between a moan and a purr, and threaded her fingers

through Sara’s hair. She needed something to hold on to as she felt

her bones melt. When she could stand no longer, Hunter collapsed

on the bed, pulling Sara on top of her. Wrapped in each other’s arms,

she surrendered completely to Sara.

“You’re mine,” Sara whispered against her skin.

Hunter smiled. I certainly am.

She was hers alone.

• 361 •

About the Author

Transplanted from Cuba to Canada as a child, AJ lived in numerous

places before finally settling by the lake in Toronto. When not

working as a consultant, she can be found indulging her passions for

writing, reading, and photography. Willing to travel at a moment’s

notice, AJ loves exploring new places with her Nikon.

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Table of Contents

PRologue

CHaPteR one

CHaPteR two

CHaPteR tHRee

CHaPteR FouR

CHaPteR Five

CHaPteR six

CHaPteR seven

CHaPteR eigHt

CHaPteR nine

CHaPteR ten

CHaPteR eleven

CHaPteR twelve

CHaPteR tHiRteen

CHaPteR FouRteen

CHaPteR FiFteen

CHaPteR sixteen

CHaPteR seventeen

CHaPteR eigHteen

CHaPteR nineteen

CHaPteR twenty

CHaPteR twenty-one

CHaPteR twenty-two

CHaPteR twenty-tHRee

CHaPteR twenty-FouR

CHaPteR twenty-Five

CHaPteR twenty-six

CHaPteR twenty-seven

CHaPteR twenty-eigHt

CHaPteR twenty-nine

CHaPteR tHiRty

CHaPteR tHiRty-one

CHaPteR tHiRty-two