She's on a psychopath's radar, and only one man can help—a homicide cop with an agenda of his own.
Two of her friends are dead and Breanna McGill can't believe their deaths were accidents. When homicide cop Sullivan Sauvage corners her, asking questions she can't answer, Breanna realizes she's in danger too. Sauvage tells her she must do exactly what he says if she wants to stay alive. Breanna resents his orders, but she can't ignore the attraction snapping between them.
Sullivan knows there's a serial killer in Mallard Bay, and he believes Breanna is the killer's next target. But protecting her won't be easy. Breanna rattles and distracts him in ways he can't afford. He needs his edge to keep her alive.
But as the killer closes in, anticipating every move he makes to keep Breanna safe, Sullivan wonders—who is the hunter and who is the prey?
She rounded the corner and smacked into twohundred-plus pounds of raw power. He was a tall man—maybe six three or four—wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped, easy on the eyes and impossible to ignore. His frame lean and hard, he wore thighgloving
jeans and a T-shirt tattooed across a rocksolid chest.
A black bandanna wrapped around an arm. Fashion statement or injury? Before she had time to decide, he snaked a hand out to restrain her.
“Stand still,” he said, when she struggled in his grasp. Voice deep, the rich baritone rumbled through the room with quiet authority. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
His grip eased a fraction. She drew in a breath as the heat of his strong fingers loosened around her bicep. Then she shifted back a few paces to look him in the eye. He was a man used to being obeyed. Squaring her shoulders and gritting her teeth, she flipped him a get real glower. She also ordered her legs to stop shaking.
“I’m Dr. Breeana McGill, the veterinarian. I was called here for a police emergency, to treat an injured dog.”
His gaze missed nothing as it raked her over, apparently trying to decide if she was legit. She knew how she must look in her frou-frou gym gear, wanted to sink through the floor, and disappear from view.
If it wasn’t for Bruiser and the gnawing, sick feeling about Rainey in the pit of her stomach, she would slap the smirk off his face right now.
“You’re the vet? Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, pressing his lips together as if stifling a laugh.