Taming the Moon. Sherrill Quinn
so as to not draw his attention.
My God, but he’s handsome. She swallowed and tried to control the primeval reaction of her body to the superior specimen of male. Over six feet of lean muscle, symmetrical features, and glittering green eyes took her breath away.
She’d never been introduced to him, but she’d observed him while he was staying at that little bed and breakfast on the island of St. Mary’s.
And she’d tasted his blood. His flesh.
So on some level she felt she knew him.
He was more than just his looks. He was a staunch defender of the innocent, and a man who saw things in black and white.
She bit her lip. Wasn’t he going to be surprised at just how gray things in his life had gotten? Looking at the expression on his face, at the dispirited look in his eyes, she thought perhaps not. It seemed as though he may have already had a lesson or two.
She could only hope he hadn’t yet mastered control of the wolf, for it was on his lack of control she had to pin her hopes of destroying him.
Olivia blinked back tears. God in heaven, how had she gotten to a point where she was willing to take someone’s life?
The answer was simple. It was all about Zoe.
Olivia would do anything—anything—to protect her little girl. Even if it meant going against everything she believed in.
But she had to do it smart. That meant not attacking him where he was comfortable, where the advantage was his. That meant getting him off on his own someplace where the chances of being interrupted again were slim.
That meant she had to keep her focus on the task at hand and not on his body. Or his face. Or those big hands that, at the moment, were clenched at his sides.
Big hands that she wouldn’t mind feeling on her skin.
Stop it! She tried to ignore the frisson of arousal that tightened her core, made her clit throb with insistent heat. There was no future for them, of any sort. Because in under six days’ time, one way or another, he’d be dead.
Or she would be. But then what would happen to Zoe?
No, she couldn’t fail. It had to be Sullivan.
So, what was she going to do? Sit in his back yard like a dog, or hop a plane and beat him back to the States?
There was only one thing she could do. Wherever Rory Sullivan went, she would go, too.
She began plotting her next moves. She would do a search on the Internet for Declan O’Connell’s address and get to Arizona before Sully did. Hell, if she couldn’t locate O’Connell, she’d camp out at the airport and wait for Sully to show up. She could follow him and at the first opportunity take him out in the relative isolation of the desert. Whatever it took to make it happen, she would do it.
“Tucson, here I come,” she whispered and quietly made her way around the house to the front. Once she was far enough away that she was sure he wouldn’t hear her, she broke into a run to the closest main street and flagged down a taxi.
The next evening, Sully watched the passing scenery from the backseat of Declan’s Mustang as they made their way from the airport. They’d already been on the road for thirty minutes. “I’d no idea you lived so far from town,” he commented.
“We haven’t technically left the city.” Declan brought the car to a stop at a traffic light. “This is still part of Tucson.”
The mountains to the north were closer, and Sully found himself envying Declan—however briefly—for the chance to live with such raw beauty all around him. The bright blue sky contrasted with the craggy slag heaps, and the desert floor held cacti and other plants flowering in yellows, purples, and oranges.
Still, he’d called London home for over twenty years. This place, while beautiful, was too quiet. Too untamed.
As if to prove his point, a scrawny-looking dog crossed the road to his right.
“Coyote.” Pelicia twisted in the passenger seat. She glanced back at Declan. “Right?” At his nod she looked at Sully. “They’re all over the place out here, Declan says. That and javelina—they’re somewhat like pigs—bobcats…oh, and let’s not forget the rattlesnakes and scorpions,” she added with a sidelong glance at Declan. “Declan showed me my first rattlesnake yesterday while we were out for a walk.”
“What did he do, point to himself in a mirror?” Sully muttered.
“For God’s sake, boyo, let it go.” Declan shot him a dark glance over his shoulder. As he turned forward again the light turned green. He drove through the intersection. “What’s done is done. You need to deal with it. Besides,” he went on in a blithe tone, “no snakes have gotten into the house, and the scorpions are usually dead by the time we find them.” He laughed at Pelicia’s little roll of her eyes and cupped his right hand behind her head, beneath the single plait of blond hair that rested against her back.
Sully saw his fingers stroke behind her ear, and the two shared a look that made envy curl around his gut.
The image of a woman with long, dark hair and a sexy ass flitted into his mind. Along with it came the remembered scent he associated with her—light citrus mixed with warm woman. Damn. He should’ve followed that woman by his terrace house in London, at least gotten her phone number.
So you could…what? Have her over for dinner some night à la Hannibal Lecter?
He scowled and folded his arms over his chest.
Declan met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Anyway, you might find there are some advantages now when it comes to doin’ your job.”
“Advantages on the job, you say?” Sully shifted in his seat and raised his eyebrows. “You mean, like I can run faster?”
“Aye.”
“And see more clearly and at farther distances?” He kept his tone even with an effort.
Declan nodded.
“And that my senses of smell and hearing are better?”
Declan glanced around with a slight frown as if Sully’s too-sedate tone was finally getting through to him. “Aye,” he drawled slowly.
“And try to rip out the throat of my suspect and so perhaps lose said job?” Sully clamped his jaws together against the howl of rage threatening to break free. Regardless that the Chief had sent him on a personal leave rather than an administrative one, the outcome could still be the same.
He could be sacked.
If he couldn’t be a cop…He drew in a breath. Serving at the Yard was all he knew. If he couldn’t be a cop, he didn’t know what else to do. Going home to his family’s estate was out of the question, though he knew his mother would love for him to come home. But living the life of a rich, pampered sot wasn’t for him.
Making a difference in people’s lives by getting bad guys off the street—that was what he was all about.
“That happened because you haven’t yet learned how to control the wolf.” Declan didn’t bother to hide the irritated growl in his deep voice. “If you’d listened to me in the first place—”
“It was because I listened to you in the first place”—Sully leaned forward—“that I’m in this fucking mess.” He slumped in his seat. “Never mind,” he muttered, interrupting Declan’s retort and avoiding Pelicia’s gaze. He didn’t want to make her feel any guiltier over what had happened to him than she already did. “Just”—he met Declan’s gaze in the rearview mirror—“tell me that when I go home in six weeks I won’t be trying to eat my suspects.”
“You won’t be tryin’ to eat your suspects.”
Pelicia twisted again in her seat, her gaze bright with compassion mingled with lingering