Read Online The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense by Dorothy McFalls - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dorothy McFalls
Tags: romantic suspense
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she could do was to bury herself against his warmth.
Whether she liked it or not, he had her at his mercy. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what he’d planned all along.
Chapter Six
Dark silhouetted loblolly and long-leaf pines lined the curvy road down on which Grayson steered his rusty red Chevy truck. The pine’s straight trunks reached up to pierce the black night while dawn smoldered low on the horizon.
Vega hadn’t spoken a word since he’d pulled her from the muck in the swamp. In the truck’s dim interior lights, he noticed almost right away the spots of blood staining his shirt and hands from carrying her. She needed to get back to the hospital—should have never left it so soon in the first place.
He flicked a glance toward the passenger side to check on her. She sat on the rotting plastic bench still as a statue, her gaze trained on the road.
“You okay?” he asked. She’d make what he needed to do much easier if she would just pass out.
She didn’t answer, didn’t hardly change her slow, even breathing. She just stared.
Gathering her strength, damn it.
If things scared him, this bounty hunter would rank high on a list of things to fear. He didn’t want to kill her.
The truck jolted over a deep rut. She didn’t flinch. Her focus was impressive—and dangerous.
After years of working from behind a desk, Grayson’s reflexes were not what they used to be. He’d let himself get soft, sloppy. At thirty-five, he’d been featured in Forbes magazine as one of the youngest executives. Out here, against a bounty hunter with a warrior’s training, he felt like an old man.
“You’re what? Twenty-four, twenty-five?”
She didn’t answer.
He wracked his memory as the truck bounced down a gravel path. He’d taken a hard look at her Detroit driver’s license. How old was she?
“The ripe old age of twenty-six, if I remember correctly. Soon to be twenty-seven.”
She gave no indication he was wrong.
One-sided conversations were too much work, so he clammed up and focused on the road.
At the first sign of man-made light, he made a hard right onto a paved road. The truck glided over the smooth asphalt surface, a welcomed relief from the tooth-jarring ride they were leaving behind. The pungent smell of salt rose in the cool, morning air. A few palmetto trees cropped up into the landscape now and then. They were very near the ocean.
He flicked another glance toward Vega. She hadn’t moved.
Getting rid of her wouldn’t be easy, but that was exactly what he needed to do. A stiff pain had buried itself deep into his bruised muscles thanks to her skillful attack. Yep, he had to get rid of her.
The bright lights of Bull’s Bay Tackle and Gas came into view just up the road. The store, one of the many twenty-four hour places dotting the rural south that catered to hunters and local fishermen as well as carrying an odd mix of convenience items, was exactly what he’d been looking for. He could pick up a few supplies, bullets for Vega’s Glock, and rid himself of that thorn in his side.
He smiled, as he pulled up beside the store’s full-glass front doors not worried about security cameras. He should be long gone from the area by the time the police realized what he’d done.
* * * *
As soon as the truck pulled to a stop, Vega pushed its heavy door open. A sharp bolt shot through her shoulder and threatened to steal her consciousness. Gripping the door, she pushed the pain away. There was no time for any of that. Despite his help in the swamp, she knew better than to trust Grayson. Killers were strange creatures with unfathomable codes of behavior. He probably saved her life just to take it later, on his own time-schedule. She hadn’t forgotten about the other people he’d killed. Mirna Catanzaro, a woman he supposedly loved, stood out like a flashing neon warning sign.
“Don’t you go running off, hollering for help.” He jumped down from the truck and rounded the truck to the
Whether she liked it or not, he had her at his mercy. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what he’d planned all along.
Chapter Six
Dark silhouetted loblolly and long-leaf pines lined the curvy road down on which Grayson steered his rusty red Chevy truck. The pine’s straight trunks reached up to pierce the black night while dawn smoldered low on the horizon.
Vega hadn’t spoken a word since he’d pulled her from the muck in the swamp. In the truck’s dim interior lights, he noticed almost right away the spots of blood staining his shirt and hands from carrying her. She needed to get back to the hospital—should have never left it so soon in the first place.
He flicked a glance toward the passenger side to check on her. She sat on the rotting plastic bench still as a statue, her gaze trained on the road.
“You okay?” he asked. She’d make what he needed to do much easier if she would just pass out.
She didn’t answer, didn’t hardly change her slow, even breathing. She just stared.
Gathering her strength, damn it.
If things scared him, this bounty hunter would rank high on a list of things to fear. He didn’t want to kill her.
The truck jolted over a deep rut. She didn’t flinch. Her focus was impressive—and dangerous.
After years of working from behind a desk, Grayson’s reflexes were not what they used to be. He’d let himself get soft, sloppy. At thirty-five, he’d been featured in Forbes magazine as one of the youngest executives. Out here, against a bounty hunter with a warrior’s training, he felt like an old man.
“You’re what? Twenty-four, twenty-five?”
She didn’t answer.
He wracked his memory as the truck bounced down a gravel path. He’d taken a hard look at her Detroit driver’s license. How old was she?
“The ripe old age of twenty-six, if I remember correctly. Soon to be twenty-seven.”
She gave no indication he was wrong.
One-sided conversations were too much work, so he clammed up and focused on the road.
At the first sign of man-made light, he made a hard right onto a paved road. The truck glided over the smooth asphalt surface, a welcomed relief from the tooth-jarring ride they were leaving behind. The pungent smell of salt rose in the cool, morning air. A few palmetto trees cropped up into the landscape now and then. They were very near the ocean.
He flicked another glance toward Vega. She hadn’t moved.
Getting rid of her wouldn’t be easy, but that was exactly what he needed to do. A stiff pain had buried itself deep into his bruised muscles thanks to her skillful attack. Yep, he had to get rid of her.
The bright lights of Bull’s Bay Tackle and Gas came into view just up the road. The store, one of the many twenty-four hour places dotting the rural south that catered to hunters and local fishermen as well as carrying an odd mix of convenience items, was exactly what he’d been looking for. He could pick up a few supplies, bullets for Vega’s Glock, and rid himself of that thorn in his side.
He smiled, as he pulled up beside the store’s full-glass front doors not worried about security cameras. He should be long gone from the area by the time the police realized what he’d done.
* * * *
As soon as the truck pulled to a stop, Vega pushed its heavy door open. A sharp bolt shot through her shoulder and threatened to steal her consciousness. Gripping the door, she pushed the pain away. There was no time for any of that. Despite his help in the swamp, she knew better than to trust Grayson. Killers were strange creatures with unfathomable codes of behavior. He probably saved her life just to take it later, on his own time-schedule. She hadn’t forgotten about the other people he’d killed. Mirna Catanzaro, a woman he supposedly loved, stood out like a flashing neon warning sign.
“Don’t you go running off, hollering for help.” He jumped down from the truck and rounded the truck to the
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