She killed him.

“Brodie?”

He checked his weapon. If he had her close, then he could be sure Jennifer was safe at every moment. “Stay behind me the whole time, understand?”

She nodded.

“Then let’s go get him.”

* * *

AS THEY NEARED the northwest side of his property, Brodie slowed his horse. He wanted to go in softly as he approached his prey. Lifting his right hand, he signaled to Jennifer that they needed to be careful.

If Brodie were going to hide out and watch the ranch, if he were looking for a perfect vantage point that would provide him protection from prying eyes, he would pick the spot about twenty feet to the right. It was the spot that a trained hunter would choose, a man used to stalking prey.

That’s why I’m out here. I think that SOB is too much like me.

Not just your average perp, but a man who knew far too much about hunting human prey...and killing.

Brodie tied his horse to a tree and watched Jennifer do the same. As they crept toward the fence, he pulled out his phone. He knew this particular area always had good cell reception—and he’d been counting on that for his plan. There had been a reason why he left Davis behind—and that reason wasn’t just because his brother hated riding horses. “Cut the security system,” he told Davis when his brother answered. “Give me ten seconds.” Because he had to get past the fence and he didn’t want any alarms announcing his intentions.

“Start counting,” Brodie told him.

Ten, nine...

Brodie grabbed Jennifer’s hand, and they cleared the area. Then Brodie kept them in the trees as much as he could as they advanced. One step, two and—

He saw the edge of a long black car. The Mustang that had tried to run them over the night before.

Got you. A cold smile curled Brodie’s lips as he advanced. The stalker had cut across the property located immediately next to the ranch. His car was there, half-concealed in the shadow of the trees. Brodie approached the car cautiously. He searched the scene, but he didn’t see any sign of the person who’d made the call to him.

Jennifer’s steps were silent behind him.

He peered through the car’s window and saw a phone on the seat. A phone and a manila envelope. Brodie’s name was scrawled on that envelope.

You knew I’d come looking for you.

And what? The guy thought he’d just jerk open that door and retrieve the envelope? Brodie was no fool. That car could be wired. As soon as the door opened—boom.

“Where is he?” Jennifer’s body pressed to Brodie’s. Her whisper in his ear was a bare breath of sound. “I don’t like this.”

Neither did he. The guy had wanted them to come out there and find him. Hell, no wonder tracking the phone had been so easy.

“What’s in the car?” Jennifer asked, voice low. She tried to peer inside.

His gaze was on the trees to the right. Brodie thought he’d just glimpsed a light from those trees, as if metal had glinted when the sunlight hit it.

“Back away,” Brodie said softly to Jennifer.

“What?”

His instincts were screaming at him. He grabbed her and yanked her to the other side of the car just as gunshots rang out. The bullets missed them as they ran, but the shots peppered into the side of the Mustang.

Then he heard the roar of an engine. Brodie looked up just as a motorcycle burst through the trees. Lifting his own weapon, Brodie aimed for that vehicle. He fired off a shot, and he knew he’d found his target when he heard a hard grunt.

But the driver didn’t fall off his bike. He revved the engine and raced away even as he kept firing back at Brodie.

Dirt swirled in the motorcycle’s wake. Brodie ran after the bike, but he wasn’t about to catch up to the guy driving. “Damn it!”

“Brodie?” Jennifer’s voice was hesitant behind him.

He grabbed for his phone to call his brother. “Davis, the guy is heading north. He’s on a motorcycle, and he’s armed.”

“On my way,” Davis told him instantly. Brodie knew that Davis would try to intersect the guy, provided the man stayed on the road. Since he had a motorcycle at his disposal, there was no guarantee the stalker would stick to any of the main roads in the area. The slippery SOB might escape from them again.

He whirled around, looking for Jennifer, and he saw her reaching for the Mustang’s door. “Jennifer, don’t!”

But she already had the door open. She grabbed inside for the envelope, and he grabbed her. Brodie jerked her back, holding her tightly against him. “What are you doing? That thing could be wired to blow!” It still could blow. He hauled her with him, running back toward the trees and—

The Mustang exploded.

* * *

HE BRAKED THE motorcycle when he heard the explosion. Just had to go for the file, didn’t you?

His hand rose and pressed to his left shoulder. McGuire had hit him, and the bullet had driven right through his flesh. But he was used to the pain. After what Jennifer had done to him, a bullet wound was nothing.

He’d stitch that wound up himself once he was clear. Another scar to join the others that marked his body. Another wound that she would pay for.

His bloody fingers curved around the handlebars. A glance over his shoulder showed him the billowing black smoke that was rising into the air.

I need to make sure she’s gone.

He wasn’t about to leave Jennifer’s death to chance. He drove the motorcycle back toward that smoke. He saw the wreckage. The flames.

But no blood. No bodies. No sign of Jennifer or her hero at all.

Chapter Four

“You could have been killed!”

Brodie had finally stopped their mad, frantic race away from the flames. They were back near the horses, and the animals neighed when they saw Brodie.

He grabbed her arm, his grip tight and his face angry. She tensed. “The car was wired to explode,” Brodie snapped. “If you had lingered inside for just a few seconds more—”

“I’d be dead,” Jennifer finished as her breath heaved out. “Right, I get it.” He didn’t need to scare her with what-if scenarios, since she was already pretty terrified as it was.

His gaze fell to her hand and the manila envelope that she clutched. “You really think whatever is in there—you think it was worth dying for?” Before she could answer, he shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d get to you in time.”

“Brodie—”

“I was afraid.” His words were whispered now, but his eyes were still bright with fury. “In my mind, I saw you dying right in front of me.”

Then he kissed her. It wasn’t a soft, light kiss. It was a kiss of desperation. Passionate. Wild with need.

She leaned toward him and kissed him back just as fervently. She’d been afraid—for him—when those bullets started flying.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Brodie whispered against her lips as his head rose a bit. “Don’t.”

Jennifer couldn’t give him a promise that she might not be able to keep.

He drew a ragged breath. His mouth came toward hers again. She rose up, leaned into him—

And he yanked the envelope right from her hand.

No! “Brodie—”

He ripped open the envelope. A black-and-white photograph spilled out. As soon as she saw the image, Jennifer knew her carefully constructed world was about to fall apart.

Because it was an image of her, an image that had been taken years ago. She was standing beside Brodie’s mother, standing right outside the McGuire ranch house.

She knew exactly when that image must have been snapped. Because despite what Brodie believed, she had visited the McGuire ranch in the past.

She’d been there...days before both of Brodie’s parents had been killed.

His fingers whitened around the picture. “It’s a fake.” His voice was a hoarse rasp, one that she barely recognized.