"Everyone I ever cared about is dead."

"I've got enough corpses on my conscience to last me…"

Who had he lost? Who had he cared about? Why were their deaths on his conscience?

The only thing she knew for certain was that it wasn't wise of her to want that knowledge. She had all she could handle just getting herself from one day to the next. She didn't need the kind of trouble that was brewing between herself and Savannah. She didn't want to get involved with the Delahoussayes or a murder investigation. She wasn't strong enough to endure a relationship with a man like Jack. He had too many facets, too many secrets, too many shadows in his past, too much darkness in his soul.

And still she felt attraction to him pulling on her like a magnetic force.

"Oh, God," she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against the cool iron bars of the gate. "I never should have come back here."

A scrap of cloud scudded across the sliver of moon. A sultry breeze whispered through the branches of the trees. A chill raced over Laurel 's flesh, and she looked up abruptly, sensing… something. She strained her eyes, staring into the darkness, seeing nothing, but sensing… a presence. The sensation lingered like a dark, intent gaze, and the hair rose on the back of her neck.

"Jack?" she called, a faint quiver of doubt vibrating in her voice.

Silence.

"Jack? Huey?"

Nothing but the heavy feeling of eyes.

Somewhere in the woods beyond L'Amour a screech owl called, its voice like a woman's scream. Laurel swallowed hard as her heart climbed into her throat. Slowly, she backed toward the house, sliding her feet on the uneven brick pathway to keep from tripping. As she scanned the shadows of the courtyard for unfamiliar shapes, she chided herself for spooking so easily, trying not to think about the fact that Annie's body had been discovered not so very far from here.

It seemed to take forever to reach the gallery, but when she did, she felt like a child reaching the safe place in a game of tag. Relief swirled through her in a dizzying wave as she slipped into the house and locked the French doors behind her.

The predator is cloaked in shadows. A creature of the night. A creature of darkness. Watching. Waiting. Contemptuous. Smug.

The adversary has been chosen. Good, golden, champion of justice. But goodness and justice have nothing to do with this game. In this game, only the strong and the clever survive.