Dark Nights Dangerous Men

by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan

  “The bastard took her over the side with him!” someone yelled.

  “Who was it?” said another. “What Faction?”

  “I think he’s Nurturer.”

  Julia blinked several times, trying like hell to get her bearings. What the hell was happening? Her vision cleared just as Raphael roared from somewhere in the water, “He’s swimming toward the other bank! We’re close to the border! Go! Fuck! Go after him. I have Ashe.”

  Fully alert now, her heart slamming against her ribs, Julia scooted over to the edge of the boat. The water and the bank were complete chaos. Pantera were everywhere. She scanned the water for Raphael and Ashe. When she spotted them, her heart stopped. Raphael was swimming madly toward shore, Ashe tucked against him on her back. Julia could see the woman’s face clearly in the burgeoning light of day. She looked cold and pale and quiet.

  Without thinking, Julia dove into the water and swam hell-bent for shore. Once there, she scrambled to her feet and ran, neither noticing her aching lungs or how dripping wet and cold she was. She needed to get to Ashe, to her patient.

  Pantera crowded around Raphael and his mate, but Julia pushed her way through. She slid to her knees beside Ashe, put her face near the woman’s mouth and assessed her breathing.

  “She’s bleeding.”

  Julia glanced up.

  It was Raphael. He stared at Julia, horror-struck, terrified beyond measure. “The baby.”

  Chapter Nine

  PARISH had lost the piece of shit right as he’d crossed the border of the Wildlands.

  Poof. Gone.

  The instant his traitorous feet had touched down on human soil.

  Parish had no idea how such a thing could be possible, or how a traitor had lived among them without detection. Because that was exactly what the bastard was. Ashe was Raphael’s mate, which made her and her child Pantera. And when you attack within your clan you’re a goddamn, good-for-nothing-but-gator-bait traitor.

  But Parish and his Hunters were going to find him. In fact, every Hunter he had was patrolling the border at this very moment. Except Bayon. The male was tight with Raphael, and had insisted on staying by his side at Medical. If anyone could keep Raphael from knocking down the door to Ashe’s room, it was Bayon. Julia had made both Bayon and Parish promise to keep Raphael out until she knew what was going on. But it was becoming a nearly impossible task. Understandably, the Suit was losing it. He looked feral, terrified as shit, pacing and cursing and swearing that once he knew Ashe was all right he was going to find and disembowel the one who’d dared to hurt his woman and child.

  It had been one hour since they’d arrived, since Julia and several other Pantera doctors had whisked Ashe away. Parish was so proud of his female. He’d never seen hands that worked so quickly, eyes that saw everything, a mind so clear and strong.

  “Julia will have news soon,” he told Raphael, who looked as though he wasn’t even aware of Parish’s presence.

  “She’s a good doctor,” Bayon added, his gaze on Raphael even though he was speaking to Parish. “We’re lucky in that, as are you, Parish. She’s going to make you a fine mate.”

  It was news to Raphael, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He was pacing, hissing, cursing at nothing but his thoughts.

  “You must go to the Elders,” Bayon continued. “I’d like to see their face when they hear another Pantera has taken a human as his mate.” His eyes once again cut to Raphael. He was trying to pull the male back into reality. “Where will you live?”

  Parish eyed the other Hunter, nodded. “Not in my cave. Can’t have a female and child there.”

  “Child?” Raphael stopped in his tracks. “She’s not pregnant?”

  Bayon released a breath, cursed.

  “Not yet,” Parish told him. “But if you can make cubs with your human, so can I. For now, we’ll take a house close to town, and to Medical.”

  The door behind Parish opened then, and Julia, along with three Pantera doctors, emerged. Her thoughtful blue eyes flickered momentarily to Parish, then quickly focused on Raphael.

  “First, let me say, the baby’s perfect. All vital signs are normal; heartbeat, fluid within the—”

  “Ashe?” Raphael demanded, his expression terrified as he rushed toward her. “Is she all right? Tell me!”

  “Easy,” Parish said, holding the male’s shoulder.

  “She’s okay,” Julia said quickly. “Stable, and her vital signs are good.”

  Raphael seemed dumbstruck, his breathing shallow. Parish had never seen a male react this way, and yet he knew that if it were Julia inside that room, he’d be acting the same way. Maybe worse.

  “Do you know what happened?” Bayon asked her.

  “As far as I can tell, she was injected with something.”

  Raphael growled, his canines dropping. Parish and Bayon drew nearer to him as calm, cool Dr. Julia Cabot explained, “I believe whoever did this was aiming for her uterus—”

  “The child?” Parish uttered, slightly stunned. The attack was not on Ashe. It was on the baby.

  Raphael hissed. “I will bleed that bastard out so slowly and painfully he will beg me for death.”

  Julia swallowed, her face tight. “Ashe must’ve deflected somehow, and under the water. She’s already an amazing mother. The needle didn’t puncture anything vital.”

  “I need to see her,” Raphael said, advancing on her. “I need to see my Ashe.”

  Julia blocked the door, her eyes down.

  “What is your woman doing, Parish?” Raphael said with a terrifying growl.

  One Parish matched with his own. “Stop and listen, Raphael.”

  “I know this is hard,” Julia said, taking a deep breath, then letting it out. “As I said, she’s physically well, healing properly, and all her vitals are stabilized.” She glanced at the Pantera doctor to her right.

  The male Nurturer stepped forward. “I have only seen this once in our lifetime, brother. But whatever your woman was injected with…well, it has made her…” He paused.

  “What!” Raphael roared.

  “Unstable,” the male finished. “Dark magic now runs through Ashe’s bloodstream.” He locked eyes with Raphael. “Something is trying to possess her.”

  The End

  Book List

  Mark of the Vampire Series

  Eternal Demon

  Coming: 5/2013

  Eternal Beauty

  (A Penguin Special)

  Coming: 4/2013

  Eternal Beast

  8/2012

  Eternal Captive

  2/2012

  Eternal Blood

  (A Penguin Special)

  1/2012

  Eternal Kiss

  4/2011

  Eternal Hunger

  10/2010

  About The Author

  Author of the Bestselling Mark of the Vampire series, Laura Wright spent the early years of her life immersed in the worlds of singing, acting and competitive ballroom dancing. But when she started writing, she knew she’d found her true calling. Laura lives in Los Angeles, California with her husband, two children, three dogs, two frogs and two fish. She’s been thrice nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award, and loves hearing from her readers.

  Connect with Laura

  Like her on Facebook

  Follow her on Twitter

  Check out her Website

  INTIMATE ENEMIES

  JOAN SWAN

  Copyright 2012 by Joan Swan

  Cover art and design by http://www.joanswan.com/

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without pe
rmission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  PRAISE FOR INTIMATE ENEMIES

  Book 1 Covert Affairs Series

  “Joan Swan combines pulse-pounding tension, sharp witted dialogue and wicked hot attraction in this can’t miss romantic suspense.”

  —Elisabeth Naughton, Double RITA® Nominee

  If you like your characters angsty, sexy, and with a sense of duty and honor then you have to add Intimate Enemies to your "Must Have" list.

  —Adria, Breath of Life Reviews

  “…non-stop action, intrigue and heat.”

  —Kimberly, Book Obsessed Chicks

  FEVER

  Book 1 Phoenix Rising Series

  "Swan's gutsy, jaw-dropping style will have readers talking!"

  —New York Times bestselling author Larissa Ione

  "Gripping, gritty, no holds barred romantic suspense…"

  —New York Times bestseller Stephanie Tyler

  "Fever is brilliant."

  —USA Today Book Reviews

  For Elisabeth,

  for walking me through all the steps to get here…

  without killing me along the way.

  Chapter One

  Cassie Christo navigated the desolate stretch of northern Baja highway, surrounded by the darkest night she could ever remember.

  She should have waited until morning to make this drive, but God, that parole hearing at Ironwood State Prison… Cassie rocked her shoulders and shifted in her seat, but the pressure in her jaw, her neck, and her shoulders remained. So did the sight of Blake Sharpe in that Popsicle-orange jumpsuit.

  She’d needed to get away from that place. As far as possible. As fast as possible.

  Cassie had crossed the US border into Tijuana before dusk. She had passed through the highway running between the Sierra de Juarez Mountains and the Pacific Ocean by twilight. But she still hadn’t made it to her destination by dark.

  Now, the sea spread like spilled ink into the distance. The coal-black mountains loomed against a plum sky. Behind, nothing but darkness reflected in her rearview mirror. Ahead, nothing but asphalt shone within her headlights. And with each mile, the deepening isolation crept over her, making her skin feel tight and uncomfortable.

  Her fingers flexed and released around the steering wheel. Her gaze darted toward the dark roadside. Her knee bounced. Mexico’s rising violent crime took center stage in her thoughts. All those malicious, unnecessary, brutal murders over territory. Over the need to control. It was all so senseless. So terrifying.

  She lowered the window and inhaled the cool crisp sea breeze. The salty tang lay heavy on the back of her tongue. She tried to relax. It had already been one piss-perfect shitty day, and it was only half over. The worst was still to come.

  Cassie turned her thoughts in the same direction she always did when fear or stress overwhelmed her—to the stranger she’d been thinking about since she’d last been home; the man who had stayed beside her during the funerals. She didn’t know his name. Didn’t even remember what he looked like. But she’d never forget how kind he’d been.

  She didn’t experience true kindness often. As an emergency physician, Cassie received more curses than compliments. And since her attempted rape by Blake Sharpe years before, relationships had been difficult. When her mother and stepbrother died, the last real portal to her heart had closed.

  Locating the man who’d supported her, extending a proper thank-you, would be, she hoped, one of the highlights of this trip. She held on to that now, just as she’d held on to what he’d given her in the cemetery—compassion, hope…something. Something she couldn’t name but that had kept her functioning in her darkest moments over the last several months. And it gave her something to look forward to now, because confronting her stepfather would be…testing. Trying. More taxing than even the most brutal month in the emergency room.

  The bastard expected Cassie to ignore his use of estate funds to buy prostitutes? And bring them into her mother’s home? Cassie’s childhood home? Seriously?

  She laughed out loud, the sound pleasantly wicked to her ears. She hoped the whores had been worth it, because that would be his last power play. His days of residence at the estate, where she’d been raised by her mother alone in blessed splendor, were numbered. In single digits.

  The road swayed toward the ocean’s edge. Northbound lanes headed straight for her until the last minute, when the highway veered east with only a narrow strip of dirt separating the lanes.

  In the distance, lights teased her eyes into that restricted center space. She looked away, then back, and refocused. The lights hadn’t moved. Her chest tightened. Another quarter mile closer and she saw a small moving van overturned on the divider strip.

  Her tension morphed to resignation. “Shit.”

  She eased off the gas, but suspicion had her studying the situation hard. Anywhere in the US, she wouldn’t hesitate to stop. Here in Baja, there was no telling who was involved in the accident. Or if it even was a true accident at all.

  She assessed the scene as she passed. The wheels on the truck still spun; dust still whirled. Several people, looked like mostly women, wandered the site like haphazard zombies, but a few also lay on the ground.

  Damn. It was real. And she was almost home. Another two miles and she’d be passing through Terra Del Mar’s security gates, just outside Ensenada. Damn, damn, damn.

  Had they all been walking wounded, she could have coaxed her conscience into letting her pass with a quick call to emergency. Now, she had to stop. There was no other option. She clicked on the flashers. Her piss-perfect day had just turned piss-poor.

  She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and braked hard, angling the BMW sport coupe onto the median south of the overturned van. Another dust cloud kicked up. Gravel pinged and scraped along the wheel wells.

  She came to a complete stop and turned in her seat to survey the scene, murmuring, “What have we got?”

  The truck lay on its side and at an angle to the freeway, its cargo door partially open. A light shone from within, but Cassie didn’t have a clear view inside. Three victims lay on the ground—one unmoving by the truck’s rear wheel, two more, writhing, ten feet from the first.

  With the vehicles’ headlights shining in opposite directions, the scene hung in heavy shadow cast by weak moonlight and filtered side beams. Some of the victims huddled in groups of two or three; some sat on the ground beside the injured.

  She reluctantly downshifted into doctor-mode.

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  After popping the trunk, Cassie grabbed her cell and dialed emergency. She called in the accident, slipped her phone into one pocket of her shorts, and the pepper spray from her glove box into the other. She left her keys in the ignition…just in case she needed a quick exit.

  She grabbed her medical bag and a Maglite from the trunk and started toward the victims. Even from twenty feet away, the heavy-duty flashlight’s beam illuminated the scene as if Cassie were standing over the injured. By the time she reached the group, she’d identified three head wounds and several likely broken bones.

  “Hola.” She spoke to the group using her emergency room greeting, voice friendly but businesslike. The switch to Spanish was natural. These were her people. “Soy una doctora Americana. Estoy aquí para ayudarles.”

  “What the fuck you doing?”

  The bark of heavily accented English came from Cassie’s right. She stopped short, flash fire in her chest. She swiveled, the crunch of gravel beneath her heels loud, and hit the man with the Maglite’s beam. He had a big chest. And big arms hanging wide at his sides. And a big gun stuffed in the front of his jeans. Clean jeans. He definitely wasn’t one of the victims.

  She fell back a step. Then another. Her heart thumped at her breastbone, an urgent warning, as if she didn’t already know she was screwed. So screwed.

  Her brain l
it up like a circuit board, synapses exploding like firecrackers.

  Her gaze darted toward her car. Too far. It was too far.

  She took in the scene again: one truck, a dozen women, headed toward the US border.

  This wasn’t any ordinary accident. She’d walked in on a human-smuggling deal. In the middle of the night. In the middle of nowhere. Alone.

  Shit.

  Cassie judged the distance to her car again. Still too damn far.

  “I ask you what the fuck you doing.” His hard, sharp words stabbed at her like arrows. Cassie’s muscles contracted with each hit. The man stepped forward and leaned in, crowding her.

  She looked at the man’s face for the first time. Middle-aged and rough. Acne-scarred skin, dark eyes, dark hair. Nondescript. Just plain old freaking scary.

  “I’m a doctor.” That had sounded confident enough. She licked her lips. Took in air. “I called for help. An ambulance and the police. They’re coming.” She gestured to the group. “Is this everyone? Are there any more victims?”

  Behind him, a wail escalated to a high-pitched keening. The man swung around, a rigid arm outstretched, and pointed at a girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. “Cállate perra o te voy a matar.”

  Another woman gathered the distraught girl into her arms, muffling her cries.

  Cassie knew she had to show strength and guts. Any hint of weakness and she’d find herself in a stateside brothel by morning. But she also had to hold her temper. If she crossed the line, he could kill them all.