CHAPTER TWO

ADAM JERKED UPRIGHT in bed, his hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. Another explosion rocked the room.

Run. Take cover.

Heart battering his ribs like a fighter’s punches, he lurched to his feet, then remembered where he was. Home. Well, not home exactly but close enough for government work. He had just returned to the United States and was staying in his uncle’s house. His life wasn’t in danger. A thunderstorm had blown in-that’s all.

He groped in the darkness for the lamp he remembered seeing on the nightstand. He turned the switch. Nothing. Aw, hell. The power must be out.

Adam stood there, recalling his promise to his uncle. Should Calvin Hunter die, Adam would thoroughly investigate the circumstances, though his uncle had refused to give him any details. Now, just over two months later, Uncle Calvin was dead. The coroner’s report stated a massive coronary was the cause of death.

Someone will try to kill me.

His uncle’s words echoed through his head. Since being notified of his death, Adam had wondered if uncle Calvin had really died of natural causes. Heart problems did run in the family. Adam’s father and grandfather had both died of heart attacks.

A jagged blast of lightning lanced through the bedroom, revealing the small dog cowering under the covers beside him. The rain pelted the windows-fast, loud and explosive-like machine gunfire. A sharp sense of danger racked his body. He sucked in a stabilizing breath and tried to get his bearings.

What was that?

It sounded like breaking glass downstairs. Was his imagination running wild? Since nearly being killed, Adam hadn’t been able to conquer this jumpy feeling. Trauma-mental and physical-did crazy things to your head. He could come undone in a heartbeat, he realized.

Had he gone over some unseen edge?

Adam fumbled in the dark until he found the jeans he’d slung over the foot of the bed and scrambled into them. He strained to catch another sound, but all he heard was the rata-tat of the rain pummeling the roof. Something like a cat’s whisker brushed the back of his neck. He felt the top of his bare spine, but nothing was there.

The house had been broken into once already during his uncle’s funeral. According to the police, all that had been taken had been his uncle’s computer. The theft had fueled Adam’s suspicions. The house was full of valuables. Why had a laptop computer been taken while other things had been left behind? It was possible something had scared off the burglar, and now he had returned.

Adam plunged into the darkness with a bone-chilling dread that must be a form of post traumatic stress. This was nothing. He’d been through worse and had lived to see another day.

Don’t go down there! Are you nuts?

Adam refused to listen to the voice in his head. Some unseen force propelled him forward. He groped his way in the dark, tiptoeing along the corridor and venturing down the sweeping staircase to the first floor. If a burglar had broken in, he intended to surprise him. This time he would be ready. He wouldn’t be trapped again.

Adam halted at the bottom of the stairs and squinted into the darkness. He’d been so jet-lagged when he’d arrived that he’d hardly noticed the layout of the lower floor. He’d headed directly upstairs and settled into one of what appeared to be several guest bedrooms. He seemed to recall a large living room with a dining room opening through an archway off to one side.

Breath suspended in his lungs, he listened to the shadows. He thought he heard something. Or maybe it was nothing. The storm was just unleashing its full fury, making it difficult to tell. He opened his mouth to call “who’s there,” but the words stalled in his throat. The muscles in his neck quivered. What was he thinking? Only an idiot would give away his position.

Although the area was as dark as a dungeon, he detected movement-little more than a darker shape in a pitch-black room. The burglar must have broken one of the small panes on the French doors to get into the house. He thought he saw a shadow shift and heard what might have been a muffled thump.

Adam flattened himself against the wall, anticipating being exposed by another flash of lightning. He watched the intruder, but it was impossible to tell much. Shapes were discernible only by varying degrees of darkness. The short man seemed to be wearing a raincoat and some type of cap.

The intruder had something that glinted in his hand, probably a flashlight. No. The guy would have a flashlight turned on. He must be armed with a gun or a knife. Knowing he himself was unarmed, it took Adam only a split second to decide what to do.

Legs pumping like pistons, he charged across the room and leveled the guy with a flying tackle. Thrown off balance by the powerful thrust of Adam’s body weight, they went down in a bone-crushing jumble of limbs. With a whoosh, the air shot out of the prick’s lungs. Thunk! The weapon hit the tile floor. He scrambled to grab the man’s arms, intending to pull them behind his back and haul him to his feet. The wiry little guy contorted like a pretzel and emitted a pitiful-sounding wail, but Adam kept him pinned down.

Still trying to control the man’s arms and get them behind his back, Adam’s hands encountered something surprisingly soft. His fingers dug in, clutching a soft mound of flesh beneath sheer fabric.

What in hell?

His breath lurched painfully and his heart stutter-stepped. A female. No way! The two years he’d spent without a woman in his life must have backfired on him. He really was losing it.

Adam reached up and yanked a wet knit cap off the intruder’s head. Out spilled a tangle of blond hair, bringing with it a whiff of spring-fresh shampoo. The scent distracted him for a second. The body shifted beneath him, soft-undeniably feminine. Aw, crap.

Couldn’t be.

He double-checked, his fingers finding smooth skin beneath the open front of her raincoat. His thumb accidentally plunged into the hollow between her breasts. Man oh man, was she built. Not centerfold breasts, but tantalizing just the same.

The feminine smell. The soft skin. His brain reminded him that she was a thief, but his body didn’t give a damn. After months upon months of seeing women covered from head to toe or clad in baggy military uniforms, his one-track mind excluded everything except the erotic signals her body was sending.

A flicker of lightning in the distance illuminated the room for a split second. He had the fleeting impression of blazing green eyes. Her mane of wild blond hair tumbling alluringly across the floor. An open raincoat revealed half-exposed bare breasts. Heat spiraled through him, pooling in his groin.

He had to steel himself to keep from running his hands all over her. She twisted beneath him, arching her hips, struggling to free herself. His body tingled from the erotic sensation. In a heartbeat the iron bulge of his sex jutted against her.

“Help! Help!” She ripped out a screech that lashed through him like a razor-sharp blade. Reality returned. This was a thief, not a woman to be seduced. What was he thinking? Women could be every bit as dangerous as men-a lesson he’d learned the hard way. But what were the odds of encountering two deadly women within a few months?

She shrieked again. He jerked his hands off her breasts but kept her pinned to the floor with his body. She might be a woman, wearing a weird outfit, but she’d broken into the house.

“Lemme go!”

She bucked violently and rammed her head into his chest while she unleashed a frenzy of beating fists and kicking legs in a futile attempt to dislodge him. He held fast, trying to decide how to handle this situation. Women usually didn’t break into places on their own. A man must be lurking somewhere nearby. She cut loose with another scream that could have been heard on the far side of hell.