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For dear friends who understood that some things take a while to figure out, get used to, and find your place within. Thank you for understanding, for giving me that chance to figure it out, get used to, and settle in. I couldn’t have survived without you.
CHAPTER 1
Loudoun, Tennessee
Damn, he could feel her watching him.
It wasn’t the itch a man got when he was being hunted; he knew that feeling well. This was different. It was an awareness he’d only felt once in his life, with one other person. And if her ghost were going to haunt him, it would have started long before now.
No, the ghost of that young woman wasn’t tracking every move he made. A ghost hadn’t been tracking him for the past three months, either.
As he moved through the crowded clearing next to the lake where the summer weekend gatherings were held, he scanned the tree line covertly, searching for a certain shadow or movement that would identify her hiding place.
What the hell was she up to?
He’d given her plenty of time to come to him and let him know what was going on. More than enough time to stop with the games and mysterious familiarity he glimpsed in her eyes sometimes.
He was better at this game. Most of his life had been spent playing it in the mountains surrounding his home, and often winning had simply meant living another day. And he was still there to prove he knew what he was doing.
The hunter always knew when he was being hunted, though.
Jazz Lancing knew that feeling well. The question was, what exactly did the pretty little thing stalking him want?
The thought sent a chill racing through him, tearing aside any amusement. There was always the chance that some part of his or his adopted brothers’ pasts could be returning to haunt them. But that particular option just didn’t feel right. No, she was just a woman, one with an agenda, one playing a very dangerous game.
“Hey, Jazz, what’s up?” The question had his head turning, his gaze slicing to the other man where he stood against the side of his pickup.
Caine Manning had only been in Loudoun about a year and a half now. He’d bought an old farm outside of town and spent most of his time trying to pull it into shape. The rest of the time he was part of the Maddox family security force known as Kin. But hell, just about every able-bodied, well-trained male in the area with the right mind-set was part of that force.
“Nothin’ much, Caine. You?”
Reaching into the back of the truck and pulling a chilled glass bottle from the tub of ice sitting against the cab, he tossed it Jazz’s way.
Catching it, Jazz glanced at the beer then back to Caine.
“Stay a minute and have a drink.” The other man’s lips quirked with a hard edge as his gaze scanned the crowd. “We’re friends, right?”
Hell, he didn’t need this.
“Yeah, we’re friends.” Twisting the top of the bottle off, he tossed the cap into the back of the truck before leaning against the side. “What does that asshole want now?”
The asshole in question, Cord Maddox, had been noticeably absent when Jazz had needed him the year before. These days Jazz wasn’t in the mood for any favors the other man might need.
“Just a meet,” Caine murmured. “Said to expect him in a few hours. He has a few things he has to take care of first.”
Jazz grunted at the information and took a drink of the beer, his gaze once again scanning the area.
“We’ll see,” he finally answered, catching the surprise that flickered in Caine’s gray eyes. “Tell him I’d like to know where he was when Slade was in New York and we needed his help. He was nowhere to be found.”
Slade was one of Jazz’s brothers, the eldest, the one who had nearly lost his life and the life of his young son while working in DC. Jazz hadn’t appreciated the lack of help when he’d called for it, and he’d sworn then that should Cord need him, then it would just suck for the other man.
Caine nodded slowly. “He said you’d be pissed over that. Said to tell you he was chasing a ghost, and he owes you. The meet isn’t for him, it’s to repay that debt.”
Chasing a ghost.
Jazz froze for a heartbeat of time, some warning sensation rushing through his senses. There was only one ghost he and Cord Maddox could have had in common, and chasing after her was impossible. Unless Cord had figured out how to visit the dead.
The information that this meeting was repayment for being unavailable when he’d been needed was interesting, though. What could the other man have that Jazz would consider valuable enough to cancel that debt?
“I’ll be around,” Jazz told the other man shortly. “Tell him to find me. That’s not an agreement, just a willingness to listen, you hear?”
“I hear ya.” Caine nodded.
Finishing the beer, Jazz tossed the bottle in the trash can tucked into the corner of the pickup’s bed. “If he’s playing games, though, he’ll regret it.”
“I’ll pass the message along,” Caine assured him. “Take it easy, Jazz.”
“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” Turning, Jazz made his way back into the crowd.
Jazz wasn’t in the mood for more games. He’d already forgone his normal weekend attire of cutoff jeans and bare feet for boots, denim, a dark T-shirt, and a knife tucked in his boot. There was a warning brewing in his senses, one he’d become acquainted with years ago and never ignored.
He was ready if trouble came, but trouble hadn’t entered the scene yet, just the awareness of it, the certainty that it was headed his way, in the form of the slight shadow he barely glimpsed that followed him from the side of the hill rising above the clearing.
Using the trees for cover, shielding herself in darkness, she was making her way to him.
And he was waiting for her.
The little schoolteacher was no slouch, either. She’d had practice and she’d obviously had a good teacher at one time. There were several occasions over the past weeks that she’d reminded him of—
The past.
She reminded him of the past and that was something he didn’t want to delve into at the moment. So much so that he had half a mind to ditch Cord’s meeting and just go the hell home.
Right after he confronted his little schoolteacher.
* * *
He couldn’t just stay in one place and let all those simpering, flirting women come to him, could he? Oh hell no, Romeo Lancing had to be in the middle of the crowd where those simpering little twits had an excuse to rub all over him.
She’d heard the rumors that he was a hound dog when she returned to Loudoun, but believing it was something else. You would think watching those women rub over him like cats in heat would be enough proof. The fact that her best friend, Jessie Colter, had told her more than once about Jazz’s inability to form a lasting relationship with a woman was just further proof.