he’s eager to get back to his new life in Texas.
But when he crosses paths with Annie White,
a haunted beauty with skeletons in her closet,
he can’t just walk away—not when she’s
clearly in danger . . .
There’s a mysterious serial killer on the loose
with a link to Annie’s dark past.
And the closer he gets, the deeper Rafe’s instinct
to protect kicks in. But even with his
considerable skill, Annie’s courage,
and his ARES buddies behind him,
the slaying won’t stop.
Now it’s only a matter of time before Annie’s next—
unless they can unravel a history
of deadly lies that won’t be buried.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Alexandra Ivy’s
KILL WITHOUT MERCY,
the first book in her new Ares Security
romantic-suspense series,
coming in January 2016!
Prologue
Few people truly understood the meaning of “hell on earth.”
The five soldiers who had been held in the Taliban prison in southern Afghanistan, however, possessed an agonizingly intimate knowledge of the phrase.
There was nothing like five weeks of brutal torture to teach a man that there are worse things than death.
It should have broken them. Even the most hardened soldiers could shatter beneath the acute psychological and physical punishment. Instead the torment only honed their ruthless determination to escape their captors.
In the dark nights they pooled their individual resources. Rafe Vargas, a covert ops specialist. Max Grayson, trained in forensics. Hauk Laurensen, a sniper who was an expert with weapons. Teagan Moore, a computer wizard. And Lucas St. Clair, the smooth-talking hostage negotiator.
Together they forged a bond that went beyond friendship. They were a family bound by the grim determination to survive.
Chapter One
Friday nights in Houston meant crowded bars, loud music, and ice-cold beer. It was a tradition that Rafe and his friends had quickly adapted to suit their own tastes when they moved to Texas five months ago.
After all, none of them were into the dance scene. They were too old for half-naked coeds and casual hookups. And none of them wanted to have to scream over pounding music to have a decent conversation.
Instead, they’d found The Saloon, a small, cozy bar with lots of polished wood, a jazz band that played softly in the background, and a handful of locals who knew better than to bother the other customers. Oh, and the finest tequila in the city.
They even had their own table that was reserved for them every Friday night.
Tucked in a back corner, it was shrouded in shadows and well away from the long bar that ran the length of one wall. A perfect spot to observe without being observed.
And best of all, situated so no one could sneak up from behind.
It might have been almost two years since they’d returned from the war, but none of them had forgotten. Lowering your guard, even for a second, could mean death.
Lesson. Fucking. Learned.
Tonight, however, it was only Rafe and Hauk at the table, both of them sipping tequila and eating peanuts from a small bucket.
Lucas was still in Washington D.C., working his contacts to help drum up business for their new security operation, ARES. Max had remained at their new offices, putting the final touches on his precious forensics lab, and Teagan was on his way to the bar after installing a computer system that would give Homeland Security a hemorrhage if they knew what he was doing.
Leaning back in his chair, Rafe intended to spend the night relaxing after a long week of hassling with the red tape and bullshit regulations that went into opening a new business, when he made the mistake of checking his messages.
“Shit.”
He tossed his cellphone on the polished surface of the wooden table, a tangled ball of emotions lodged in the pit of his stomach.
Across the table Hauk sipped his tequila and studied Rafe with a lift of his brows.
At a glance, the two men couldn’t be more different.
Rafe had dark hair that had grown long enough to touch the collar of his white button-down shirt along with dark eyes that were lushly framed by long, black lashes. His skin remained tanned dark bronze despite the fact it was late September, and his body was honed with muscles that came from working on the small ranch he’d just purchased, not the gym.
Hauk, on the other hand, had inherited his Scandinavian father’s pale blond hair that he kept cut short, and brilliant blue eyes that held a cunning intelligence. He had a narrow face with sculpted features that were usually set in a stern expression.
And it wasn’t just their outward appearance that made them so different.
Rafe was hot tempered, passionate, and willing to trust his gut instincts.
Hauk was aloof, calculating, and mind-numbingly anal. Not that Hauk would admit he was OCD. He preferred to call himself detail-oriented.
Which was exactly why he was a successful sniper. Rafe, on the other hand, had been trained in combat rescue. He was capable of making quick decisions, and ready to change strategies on the fly.
“Trouble?” Hauk demanded.
Rafe grimaced. “The real estate agent left a message saying she has a buyer for my grandfather’s house.”
Hauk looked predictably confused. Rafe had been bitching about the need to get rid of his grandfather’s house since the old man’s death a year ago.
“Shouldn’t that be good news?”
“It would be if I didn’t have to travel to Newton to clean it out,” Rafe said.
“Aren’t there people you can hire to pack up the shit and send it to you?”
“Not in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
Hauk’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I’ve been in the middle of fucking nowhere, amigo, and it ain’t Kansas,” he said, the shadows from the past darkening his eyes.
“Newton’s in Iowa, but I get your point,” Rafe conceded. He did his best to keep the memories in the past where they belonged. Most of the time he was successful. Other times the demons refused to be leashed. “Okay, it’s not the hell hole we crawled out of, but the town might as well be living in another century. I’ll have to go deal with my grandfather’s belongings myself.”
Hauk reached to pour himself another shot of tequila from the bottle that had been waiting for them in the center of the table.
Like Rafe, he was dressed in an Oxford shirt, although his was blue instead of white, and he was wearing black dress pants instead of jeans.
“I know you think it’s a pain, but it’s probably for the best.”
Rafe glared at his friend. The last thing he wanted was to drive a thousand miles to pack up the belongings of a cantankerous old man who’d never forgiven Rafe’s father for walking away from Iowa. “Already trying to get rid of me?”
“Hell no. Of the five of us, you’re the . . .”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Rafe muttered as Hauk hesitated.
“The glue,” he at last said.
Rafe gave a bark of laughter. He’d been called a lot of things over the years. Most of them unrepeatable. But glue was a new one. “What the hell does that mean?”
Hauk settled back in his seat. “Lucas is the smooth-talker, Max is the heart, Teagan is the brains, and I’m the organizer.” The older man shrugged. “You’re the one who holds us all together. ARES would never have happened without you.”
Rafe couldn’t argue. After returning to the States, the five of them had been transferred to separate hospitals to treat their numerous injuries. It would have been easy to drift apart. The natural instinct was to avoid anything that could remind them of the horror they’d endured.
But Rafe had quickly discovered that returning to civilian life wasn’t a simple matter of buying a home
and getting a 9-to-5 job.
He couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in a small cubicle eight hours a day, or returning to an empty condo that would never be a home.
It felt way too much like the prison he’d barely escaped.
Besides, he found himself actually missing the bastards.
Who else could understand his frustrations? His inability to relate to the tedious, everyday problems of civilians? His lingering nightmares?
So giving into his impulse, he’d phoned Lucas, knowing he’d need the man’s deep pockets to finance his crazy scheme. Astonishingly, Lucas hadn’t even hesitated before saying “yes.” It’d been the same for Hauk and Max and Teagan.
All of them had been searching for something that would not only use their considerable skills, but would make them feel as if they hadn’t been put out to pasture like bulls that were past their prime.
And that was how ARES had been born.
Now he frowned at the mere idea of abandoning his friends when they were on the cusp of realizing their dream.
“Then why are you encouraging me to leave town when we’re just getting ready to open for business?”
“Because he was your family.”
“Bull. Shit.” Rafe growled. “The jackass turned his back on my father when he joined the army. He never did a damned thing for us.”
“And that’s why you need to go,” Hauk insisted. “You need—”
“You say the word closure and I’ll put my fist down your throat,” Rafe interrupted, grabbing his glass and tossing back the shot of tequila.
Hauk ignored the threat with his usual arrogance. “Call it what you want, but until you forgive the old man for hurting your father it’s going to stay a burr in your ass.”
Rafe shrugged. “It matches my other burrs.”
Without warning, Hauk leaned forward, his expression somber. “Rafe, it’s going to take a couple of weeks before we’re up and running. Finish your business and come back when you’re ready.”
Rafe narrowed his gaze. It was no surprise that Hauk was pressing him to deal with his past. Deep in his heart, Rafe knew his friend was right.
But he could hear the edge in Hauk’s voice that made him suspect this was more than just a desire to see Rafe dealing with his resentment toward his grandfather. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Hell, I have a thousand things I don’t tell you,” Hauk mocked, lifting his glass with a mocking smile. “I am a vast, boundless reservoir of knowledge.”
A classic deflection. Rafe laid his palms on the table, leaning forward. “You’re also full of shit.” His voice was hard with warning. “Now spill.”
“Pushy bastard.” Hauk’s smile disappeared. “Fine. There was another note left on my desk.”
Rafe hissed in frustration.
The first note had appeared just days after they’d first arrived in Houston.
It’d been left in Hauk’s car with a vague warning that he was being watched.
They’d dismissed it as a prank. Then a month later a second note had been taped to the front door of the office building they’d just rented.
This one had said the clock was ticking.
Once again Hauk had tried to pretend it was nothing, but Teagan had instantly installed a state of the art alarm system, while Lucas had used his charm to make personal friends among the local authorities and encouraged them to keep a close eye on the building.
“What the fuck?” Rafe clenched his teeth as a chill inched down his spine. He had a really, really bad feeling about the notes. “Did you check the security footage?”
“Well gosh, darn,” Hauk drawled. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“No need to be a smartass.”
Hauk drained his glass of tequila. “But I’m so good at it.”
“No shit.”
Hauk pushed aside his empty glass and met Rafe’s worried gaze.
“Look, everything that can be done is being done. Teagan has tapped into the traffic cameras. Unless our visitor is a ghost he’ll eventually be spotted arriving or leaving. Max is working his forensic magic on the note, and Lucas has asked the local cops to contact the neighboring businesses to see if they’ve noticed anything unusual.”
“I don’t like this, Hauk.”
“It’s probably some whackadoodle I’ve pissed off,” the older man assured him. “Not everyone finds me as charming as you do.”
Rafe gave a short, humorless laugh. Hauk was intelligent, fiercely loyal, and a natural leader. He could also be cold, arrogant, and inclined to assume he was always right. “Hard to believe.”
“I know, right?” Hauk batted his lashes. “I’m a doll.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, but no one gets to threaten you but me,” Rafe said. “These notes feel . . . off.”
Hauk reached to pour himself another shot, his features hardening into an expression that warned he was done with the discussion.
“We’ve got it covered, Rafe. Go to Kansas.”
“Iowa.”
“Wherever.” Hauk grabbed the cellphone on the table and pressed it into Rafe’s hand. “Take care of the house.”
Rafe reluctantly rose to his feet. He could argue until he was blue in the face, but Hauk would deal with the threat in his own way.
“Call if you need me.”
“Yes, Mother.”
With a roll of his eyes, Rafe made his way through the crowd that filled the bar, ignoring the inviting glances from the women who deliberately stepped into his path.
He was man enough to fully appreciate what was on offer. But since his return Stateside he’d discovered the promise of a fleeting hookup left him cold.
He didn’t know what he wanted, but he hadn’t found it yet.
He’d just reached the door when he met Teagan entering the bar.
The large, heavily muscled man with dark caramel skin, golden eyes, and his hair shaved close to his skull didn’t look like a computer wizard. Hell, he looked like he should be riding with the local motorcycle gang. And it wasn’t just that his arms were covered with tattoos or that he was wearing fatigues and leather shit-kickers.
It was in the air of violence that surrounded him and his don’t-screw-with-me expression.
Of course, he’d been thrown in jail at the age of thirteen for hacking into a bank to make his mother’s car loan disappear. So he’d never been the traditional nerd.
“I’m headed out.”
“So early?” Teagan glanced toward the crowd that was growing progressively louder. “The party’s just getting started.”
“I’ll take a rain check,” Rafe said. “I’m leaving town for a few days.”
“Business?”
“Family.”
“Fuck,” Teagan muttered.
The man rarely discussed his past, but he’d never made a secret of the fact he deeply resented the father who’d beaten his mother nearly to death before abandoning both of them.
“Exactly,” Rafe agreed before leaning forward to keep anyone from overhearing his words. “Keep an eye on Hauk. I don’t think he’s taking the threats seriously enough.”
“Got a hunch?” Teagan demanded.
Rafe nodded, as always surprised at how easily his friends accepted his gut instincts. “If someone wanted to hurt him, they wouldn’t send a warning,” he pointed out. “Especially not when he’s surrounded by friends who are experts in tracking down and destroying enemies.”
Teagan nodded. “True.”
“So either the bastard has a death-wish. Or he’s playing a game of cat and mouse.”
“What would be the point?”
Rafe didn’t have a clue. But people didn’t taunt a man as dangerous as Hauk unless they were prepared for the inevitable conclusion.
One of them would die.
Rafe gave a sharp shake of his head. “Let’s hope we have a culprit in custody when we find out. Otherwise . . .”
“Nothing’s going to happen to him,
my man.” Teagan grabbed Rafe’s shoulder. “Not on my watch.”
The small but stylish condo on the edge of Denver offered a quiet neighborhood, a fantastic view of the mountains, and a parking garage that was worth its weight in gold during the long, snow-filled winters.
With a muted blue and silver décor, the condo was precisely the sort of place expected of an upwardly mobile young professional.
Not that Annie White was upwardly mobile.
Not after walking away from her position at Anderson’s Accounting just six months after being hired.
At the moment, however, she didn’t really give a crap about her future in the business world. Instead she was trying to concentrate on her packing. A task that would have been easier if her foster mother hadn’t been following behind her, wringing her hands and predicting inevitable doom.
“I wish you hadn’t traveled all this way, Katherine,” Annie said to her foster mother, moving from the bedroom to the living room to place a stack of clean underwear in her open suitcase.
The older woman was hot on her heels. Still attractive at the age of fifty-five, Katherine Roberts had faded red hair that was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, and clear green eyes that could hold kindness or make a child cringe with guilt.
Dressed in a jade sweater and dress slacks, her narrow face was currently tight with concern. “What did you expect me to do when you called to say you were traveling back to that horrible place?” Katherine demanded.
Annie swallowed a sigh. Unlike her foster mother, her honey brown hair tumbled untidily around her shoulders, the golden highlights shimmering in the September sunlight that streamed through the skylight. Her pale features were scrubbed clean instead of discreetly coated with makeup. And her slender body was casually covered by a pair of faded jeans and a gray sweatshirt.
With her wide hazel eyes she barely looked old enough to be out of high school, let alone a trained CPA.
“I shouldn’t have called,” she muttered.
She loved her foster parents. She truly did. There weren’t many people who would take in the ten-year-old daughter of a serial killer. Especially after she’d spent several months in a mental institution.
When Darkness Ends Page 33