The Braddock Boys: Brent. Kimberly Raye

      3

      SHE WAS FOLLOWING HIM.

      He knew it even before he saw the blaze of headlights in his rearview mirror. He felt her. He’d felt her the first moment she’d spotted him.

      Her piqued interest. Her pulse-pounding lust. Her surprise. She’d never reacted so fast, so fierce to any member of the opposite sex and it had freaked her out.

      He knew the feeling.

      It didn’t matter that he’d sucked down enough blood to last him several days. His gaze had met hers and bam, the hunger had sliced through him, cutting him to the quick and scattering his common sense. In an instant, he’d wanted to forget everything—particularly the all-important fact that his youngest brother Cody was waiting for him, along with the computer genius that was going to help him track down his sister-in-law. That’s why he was still stuck in this hole-in-the-wall. He needed a lead on Rose and her whereabouts. Once he had enough information, he would hit the road and find her. After he watched his youngest brother tie the knot next week, that is.

      Then he would uncover the truth behind the tragedy that destroyed his family and his home one hundred and fifty years ago.

      He could still see the flames on that fateful night. Smell the sharp scent of smoke and decay and death.

      The Braddock Boys had ridden into the chaos together. Brothers who’d vowed to watch out for each other. A pact they’d made as kids when their father had abandoned them to ride off after some saloon whore. Lyle Braddock had died in a bar fight not long after, and not one of his boys had mourned him. They’d been too busy taking care of each other to worry over the no-good sonofabitch and the fact that he’d never been much of a father figure.

      When Cody had up and left to join the Confederate cause, Brent and his brothers had ridden along to keep an eye on him. They’d seized supplies and helped Confederate troops and made a name for themselves as the most notorious raiding group the Union army had ever seen. They’d sure-as-shootin’ been a major pain-in-the-ass to Quantrill and his boys.

      But then the war had ended, the South had lost, and the Braddocks had headed home.

      They’d arrived to find the entire ranch—the main house, the barn, the outbuildings—consumed by flames. The herd had been scattered. And what was left of his family? Gone.

      Dead.

      A nightmare. That’s what Brent had thought as he’d leapt off his horse and tried to save what he could, who he could. The whole scene had seemed so surreal. The dead bodies, most burned beyond recognition, stretched out here and there——his mother, the half dozen hired hands, the ranch foreman, Colton’s wife Rose, their six year-old son. But then reality had hit along with a very real crack to the back of his skull. He and his brothers had been attacked from behind, each picked off one-by-one, and left to die.

      They would have been six feet under for sure if not for Garret Sawyer. Garret was the creative genius behind Skull Creek Choppers, the fastest growing custom motorcycle manufacturer in the South. He was also the two hundred year old vampire who’d turned the Braddock Brothers that night and given them a second chance at life.

      At vengeance.

      Up until two weeks ago, Brent and the rest of the Braddocks had blamed Garret for the massacre. They’d been hellbent on finding him and doling out justice. Cody had been the lucky one who’d tracked him to Skull Creek first. Only, it had turned out that Garret had been innocent. He’d arrived after the attack and done all he could to save the brothers who’d been just this side of death. Garret had given them his blood and brought them over in the nick of time, but he’d been too late to save anyone else. Or so they’d thought. But Garret had revealed that he’d also turned a wounded couple he’d found several miles away. The vampire had assumed they were victims of an Indian attack and so he’d done what he could to help—he’d given them his blood the moment they’d taken their last breaths.

      A man and a woman.

       Rose.

      After all this time, she was still alive. Still out there somewhere. A vampire.

      While Brent had no idea what had happened that night—if she’d been an innocent victim or a cold, calculated murderess who’d orchestrated the massacre and sacrificed her own son—or who the man was that had been with her, he knew that she knew.

      She held all the answers and he wouldn’t stop until he’d found her.

      All the more reason to forget the damned ache in his gut, hit the gas and lose the woman trailing him.

      Cody was waiting.

      Even more, Dillon Cash was waiting. Dillon was the one doing the research on Rose, compiling information and trying to come up with a lead. He needed to get his ass in gear and head over to Dillon’s.

      At the same time, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that churned inside him. Particularly since he had no clue who the woman was or what she wanted from him.

      Nothing. Nada. Zip.

      Which didn’t make a damned bit of sense because he was a friggin’ vampire. When it came to the opposite sex, he read every thought, anticipated every move. There were no surprises.

      Until now.

      Until her.

      Sure, he’d connected with her initially like he did with all humans. He’d seen her initial reaction—the surprise, the lust, the longing. But then her expression had closed like a window slamming shut and he hadn’t been able to pick up anything else.

      No name.

      No background.

      No intentions.

      One hundred and fifty years and he’d always been able to read a woman’s thoughts. But damned if this one hadn’t shut him out. A fact that made him almost as hard as the lusty beast that lived and breathed inside of him.

      He was intrigued. Aroused. Hungry.

      And while the last thing Brent needed to do was waste his time with confrontations, suddenly it was the only thing he wanted to do.

      He eased off the gas, pulled onto the side of the road and