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The Man From Falcon Ridge
Rita Herron
Escaping a nightmarish past, Hailey Hitchcock fled to a remote Victorian homestead…and fell into the arms of an avenging stranger.Old ghosts echoed through Tin City's "hatchet house," reviving memories of the bloodbath that had taken place within its dilapidated walls. But was it Hailey's unsettling recollections - or Rex Falcon's formidable presence - that sent chills up her spine? When chaos abounded on the blustery cliffside, the primitive falcon trainer swooped to Hailey's rescue.Yet Rex's dark, piercing eyes and tightly coiled strength posed an even greater danger. As escalating threats aroused their forbidden desires, it became clear the house held all the secret answers. Secrets that someone would kill to keep hidden…



The wind hurled a branch across the window, the scraping sound reminding Hailey that she was alone.
She combed the stairs, but found nothing. No sign of the ghost of the child she’d thought she’d seen. The noise must have been the wind blowing debris on the roof.
Still shaken, she pushed back the heavy drape and stared into the darkness, searching for signs that someone was nearby. A light burned from the big stone house at the top of the hill.
Rex Falcon.
Her body grew hot just thinking about his dark eyes.
He was big. Strong. A towering specimen of a man with a muscular body that emanated strength and power. The kind of man who could protect a woman.
The kind who could hurt her with those big hands.
She didn’t intend to get involved with him. Men were trouble.
Especially one as dangerous looking as Rex Falcon.

The Man From Falcon Ridge
Rita Herron



ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Hailey Hitchcock—A woman running from a past she doesn’t remember into a future just as terrifying as the nightmares that plague her.
Rex Falcon—A man determined to find the real killer behind the Hatchet Murders.
Randolph Falcon—Rex’s father. He’s spent the past twenty years of his life in jail for killing the Lyle family—but is he really guilty?
Deke and Brack Falcon—Rex’s brothers are determined to free their father from prison.
Thad Jordan—A man obsessed with Hailey. Will he kill to keep her his?
Lawrence Lyle—The man and his family were brutally murdered twenty years ago. Did he carry the secrets of his family’s murder to his grave?
Sheriff Andy Cohen—He arrested Rex’s father for murder, but did he have ulterior motives?
Bentley McDaver—The prosecutor put Rex’s father in jail for life. Did he have reason to rush the trial?
Carl Pursley—Rex’s father’s defense attorney. Did he help frame him for the murder?
Lindy Lou Lyle—She died in the Hatchet murders, but now her ghost is haunting Hailey.
Ava Riderton—She was Lyle’s secretary. Does she know more than she’s telling?
To Kim Nadelson:
Thanks for all your enthusiasm and
support with my first gothic!

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen

Prologue
Ten-year-old Rex Falcon stared in horror at the yellow crime-scene tape wrapped around the Lyle house. It was dark now, the night sounds adding to the eeriness. When he’d gotten here, he’d peeked inside the window and seen the gory murders. Then the sheriff and his deputies had pushed him and his brothers and mother into the yard with the other neighbors and refused to let them talk to Rex’s father.
Just because his daddy had found the bodies, they were treating him as if he’d killed the people inside.
His mother hugged the boys close to her. “You boys go on home. You shouldn’t be seeing all this.”
“I’m not going anywhere till they let Daddy go,” Rex said, hands fisted.
“Me neither,” his middle brother Deke said.
His youngest brother Brack jutted up his chin, his eyes wide. “I’m staying, too.”
An image of the dead people flashed into Rex’s head. There was so much blood. It looked like a river on the kitchen floor. The mother lay in it. The boy cuddled beside her. The father, too. It covered his hands and face, and his head….
“Little girl’s dead, too,” a neighbor murmured behind him. “Found her blood near the river.”
“Randolph Falcon.” Sheriff Cohen jerked Rex’s daddy to a standing position and handcuffed him. “You’re under arrest for the murders of the Lyle family.”
“No!” His mother collapsed into a neighbor’s arms, sobbing.
His father’s hawklike eyes pierced Rex as the sheriff yanked him down the steps toward his squad car. “Take care of your mama and brothers for me, son.”
Rex shook his head in denial. His father’s words had sounded so odd, as if he wasn’t coming back. But they couldn’t take his father away and lock him up.
He was innocent.
“Daddy!” His brothers chased after the sheriff, and Rex ran after them.
A bald eagle that had been perched on top of the porch swooped down and soared toward the car, its talons bared. Rex’s father nodded toward the bird. The animal knew what it was like to be caged. He was a bird of prey. He needed freedom.
Just like the Falcon men.
The blue light flicked on, the siren screeched and a cloud of dust rose behind the police car. Rex gathered his brothers and mother and walked them home, but it was dark inside and cold and so quiet the house echoed like a tomb. It was as if his father had just died.
Fear and anger and sadness knotted Rex’s throat. He wanted to do something to get his daddy out of jail. He wanted to make his mother stop crying. And his brothers…they were heartbroken.
But he felt so helpless. He was only ten. A stupid ten-year-old boy. What could he do? He didn’t know anything about lawyers or courts or anything else.
Tears pushed against his eyelids, but he blinked them back. Big boys didn’t cry.
But he had to be alone and think, so he fled into the mountains, silently venting his pain in the midst of the snow-laden pines.

Chapter One
Twenty years later
“You can never escape me, Hailey.”
Hailey Hitchcock inhaled to stifle a cry as Thad Jordan’s hands tightened around her jaw. She desperately wanted to scream, but it was useless. No one would hear.
An icy breeze swirled around her, sending her skirt flapping about her legs. Thad had been so angry with her on the way home from the Christmas dinner party that he’d pulled over on this deserted stretch of highway outside Denver, then half dragged, half carried her down a path in the woods. “It’s freezing out here, Thad, please take me home.”
“You’re bound to me forever,” he murmured.
A shudder rippled through her. His voice was as brittle as the winter wind. Why hadn’t she seen through his charismatic act to the devil that lay beneath? How could she have been such a bad judge of character?
Because he was an attorney. A well-respected, handsome man she’d thought she could trust. And he’d been so charming at first.
Until she’d told him she didn’t want to see him anymore, that she’d quit her job, bought a house and was moving. Then he’d revealed his hidden side.
He lowered his mouth to kiss her, the stench of bourbon on his breath. His other hand slid clumsily to her blouse, and he jerked a button loose.
Cold air assaulted her breasts. Her stomach convulsed.
“Please, Thad, stop. Go home. Sleep it off.”
“No. Nobody humiliates Thad Jordan.” His eyes darkened with an evil flare she’d never seen before. He looked menacing. Brutal. As if he meant to punish.
Then his fingers closed around the ruby necklace he’d given her, the cold stone dangling against her bare skin. “You accepted my gift, now accept that we’re together.”
“You can have the necklace back,” Hailey said, wishing she’d never let him put it on her in the first place. But he had insisted.
His fingers slid to her neck, and she swallowed, her heart racing. What was he going to do? Choke her? “Please, Thad,” Hailey whispered. “Take the necklace, then drive me home.”
His jaw snapped tight, then he backed her up against the tree. “I’ll never let you leave me, Hailey. You’re mine forever.”
Fear spiked her adrenaline, and she swung her knee into his groin. He released her with a bellow. “You’ll pay for that.”
Panic surged through her. She ran, jumping over the rotting tree stumps and bramble. He yelled and ran after her. She clawed her way through the forest, her breathing erratic. Leaves crunched behind her. He was chasing her. Closing the distance.
Briars stabbed her thighs, and she tripped over a tree stump. Her hands hit the dirt, and she struggled to regain her balance. Suddenly he was there. He latched on to her hair and jerked her so hard her neck nearly snapped. Dead brush and pine needles pricked her knees. She swept her hands blindly across the ground for a weapon. Just as he lowered his head, she clutched a branch, then jabbed it upward with all her might. He howled in pain, then fell backward cursing. Blood gushed from his cheek and eye.
Shaking, she jumped up and ran through the forest opening. He screeched her name like a wild animal, once again on her trail. She spotted the car and dashed toward it.
Thank God he’d left the keys inside.
She flung herself into the driver’s side, hit the locks and turned the key. The ignition chugged, then died. He burst through the opening in a thunderous roar, one hand covering his bloody eye, the other fist flailing. “Stop it, Hailey. Come back here!”
She cried out and patted the gas. The car had to start. She couldn’t be trapped here with that monster.
He closed the distance, then banged on the door. “Open the door, Hailey. Dammit, open it!”
His eyes wild with rage, he threw himself on the front window. The car rocked sideways.
His bloody hand streaked the glass as she twisted the key again. She pressed the gas one more time. The car roared to life. Panting, she accelerated, and spun forward. The jolt sent him sailing into the air. She screamed, then steered the opposite way and sped off. She couldn’t look back now. And she couldn’t stop.
If he caught her, he’d kill her…

HIS FATHER WAS NOT A KILLER. He was innocent.
On the long ride home from the Colorado state prison, Rex Falcon’s stomach churned with the certainty that his dad had spent the last twenty years in jail for a crime he hadn’t committed. Shame and sorrow mingled with anger. All his life, Rex had questioned his father’s innocence.
And now with new criminology techniques and the airing of a recent show on The Innocents, more cold cases were being reopened and solved. With his father’s upcoming parole hearing and Rex and his brothers experience in their private investigative business, they’d reviewed the police reports and trial transcripts and found discrepancies that cast doubt on the original case.
The Hatchet Murderer.
The press had given his dad the name because of the vicious slayings of the Lyle family. That was the reason his mother had dragged him and his two brothers to Arizona to live. But now Rex had returned to their childhood home at Falcon Ridge to learn the truth.
Rex shifted his SUV into Park beneath the towering pines next to his family’s stone manor, got out and went to the backyard, to the wildlife sanctuary for the hawks he and his brother rescued and trained for flight. A kestrel sat on its perch, its wings spread in an arc. Although it was dark, and snowflakes drifted down to pelt him in the face, Rex homed in on the animal’s watchful movements. He and his brothers had inherited an affinity for the creatures of the wild from their father. And just as the birds had special sensory skills to stalk and track their prey, so did Rex and Deke and Brack.
At one time, Rex had wondered if his father had given in to that primitive need to prey on the weak and had killed the Lyles. Now he knew differently, and was ashamed he’d ever doubted him.
He’d also wondered if he’d inherited that dangerous, uncontrollable side.
He glanced down the hill at the house where their father had supposedly butchered the family. The Hatchet House had been closed up since the murder. The fading, chipped paint and latticework of the Victorian structure testified to its disrepair. The angles and attic window seemed macabre in the murky light. It was tucked on the side of a cliff, isolated but closer to the main road and town than Falcon Ridge, but the way it jutted out over the mountain made it look as if it might slide into the canyon any second. The location, coupled with its gruesome history and the fact that locals claimed it was haunted had kept buyers away. He’d already conducted a preliminary sweep of the downstairs. Tomorrow he’d search every inch of it and the grounds for evidence the police might have missed in their hasty, slipshod investigation.
And he’d run off anyone who got in his way.

HAILEY HAD BEEN DRIVING for hours, battling the snowstorm. Putting the miles between her and Thad. Between her and her past.
A mountain road twisted to the side, and she veered onto it. Darkness bathed the graveled road, shadows from the trees flickering like fingers reaching for her, crystals of frozen ice pelting her windshield. For a brief second when she’d left Thad, she’d considered going to the police. But he had too many friends in the police department, too many important people to protect him. Just like her fifth foster father had. She’d traveled that rocky road before and managed to survive.
Her foster mother hadn’t been so lucky.
So, she’d left Thad’s car at his house, taken her own and left for good. Just to be on the safe side in case he’d followed, she’d traded her Civic for a VW. She’d also traded her golden hair for a brownish-red and had layered it into a shoulder-length bob.
Thank goodness she’d already bought a place in the mountains, so she wasn’t running without a plan.
The majestic view of aging trees, their boughs heavy with icicles, and wildlife roaming free stirred her awe. She’d always wanted to come to this area, had been saving for the right place for months. Here she’d find a sanctuary from the dark shadows that had dogged her all her life.
Here, she would have a new beginning. A future.
She made another turn, then spotted the house in her headlights. The Victorian mansion sat at the top of a cliff overlooking the densely populated woods beyond. She hit the brakes. The For Sale sign dangled precariously over the edge of the cliff as if it had been there a long time and had barely managed to withstand the last storm.
Her gaze swung to the house. Just like in the pictures the real estate agent had shown her, it was weathered-looking and had fallen into disrepair. Boards on the front porch needed replacing, the shutters were loose and the paint peeling. But the price was right, and fixing it up would be cathartic.
Although it was slightly isolated, it was also near enough the supposedly haunted mining town of Tin City to entice visitors. She envisioned her Internet antiques business being housed on the bottom floor, her private quarters on the top. And if she researched the house’s history, the tale of its ghosts would draw customers to her showroom. She’d always been fascinated with history, especially local legends of small towns. Her fascination with storytelling coupled with her degree in history had been an asset when she’d worked at the auction house.
Thad had thought her interests spooky, even boring. But somehow learning about others’ past seemed to help compensate for the fact that she’d forgotten so much of her own.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she climbed from the car. Wind howled through the snow-tipped treetops, ruffling the bare branches. A whisper of danger coasted on its tail.
She glanced back down the mountain road. Had Thad found her?
No, she was safe.
Her destiny awaited her. Her future. She felt it in her bones.
Renewed determination filling her, she walked up to the front porch, ready to start over. Towering pines cast spiny shadows around the property like bony fingers hovering over the roof. Spiderwebs and dirt clung to the yellowed wood, and the dark window of the attic seemed sinister in the gray light. She could almost see the ghost of a child’s face peering out through the blackness, her cry of loneliness echoing through the eaves. The house had spoken to her.
And she was unable to escape the lure of its call.

SOMEONE WAS AT the Hatchet House.
Rex couldn’t wait until the next day. He barreled down the curvy mountain road, gravel and ice spewing as he slowed to a stop. A VW sat in the clearing, and a woman stood in front of the picture window, staring up at the sagging latticework. She jerked around at the sound of his Jeep, her startled expression reminding him of a baby eagle cornered in the forest by a hunter.
He killed the engine and climbed out, his pulse accelerating. Even though night had fallen and darkness engulfed her features, he could tell she was small with choppy auburn hair that almost looked unnatural. A baggy denim shirt and jeans covered her frame, revealing nothing about the curves he sensed lay beneath. He zeroed in on her eyes, though. He’d never seen any that color. His body reacted involuntarily, heat spread through his limbs and his sex hardened. Stunning was the only word to describe her.
No, add cold and scared to stunning.
“Who are you?” She hunched deeper inside her coat, backing toward the porch awning as if it might offer safety. But the lights were out and shadows closed around her, fresh snow crystals clinging to her hair.
“Rex Falcon. I live on top of the mountain at Falcon Ridge.” He dragged his eyes from hers and skimmed down her face. Primal instincts overtook him. Even in the shadows, the rose-petal color of her lips made his mouth water for a taste.
But the trembling of her lower lip warned him that his gut instinct had been right.
She was running from something.
No other woman in her right mind would have traveled up this mountain alone. Not at night in this storm when the roads became almost impassable. Not to look at the Hatchet House. That is, unless she was some kind of reporter. Or maybe one of those nuts who chased ghosts and tried to prove they were real.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Hailey Hitchcock.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Studying the house.” She squared her shoulders in a show of bravado, but the purple bruise on her chin negated the effect.
Their gazes locked. A tension-filled moment passed between them, fraught with questions and an undeniable awareness of their isolation. His body began to throb, the call of the wild inside him drawing him to her.
But that could only mean trouble. And he would not give in to those instincts.
Maybe he could scare her off. “You must be a tourist, stopping by to gawk at the house because of all the rumors.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “You mean about the ghosts?”
“Yes, and the murders.” His voice rumbled out hard. Cold. “They say the house is haunted.”
She swallowed, the pale skin of her neck glowing in the twilight. “I know, the real estate agent told me about the ghosts when I bought the place.”
His pulse kicked up with surprise. “A family was killed here twenty years ago. They say their spirits are waiting around for revenge. That doesn’t bother you?”
“I’m not afraid of ghosts.”
Just of real men. He saw it in her eyes and the hands-off look she shot him.
“You seem to know a lot about this house,” she said. “Tell me more.”
Her low voice sounded sultry beneath the whistle of the wind. Slightly shaken, he struggled for a reply, not ready to share the truth about his own family’s involvement in the murders. If she stayed, she’d find out soon enough.
But her presence would complicate everything. How could he search the property with her inside?
“What are you planning to do with the house?” he asked, ignoring her comment.
She pulled the coat tighter around her throat, her breath a puff of white in front of her. “Live here. And I’m starting an antiques business.”
He frowned. “Why antiques?”
“I like the stories behind them,” she said. “The antiques once belonged to people, they were important to them at one time.”
Did she belong to anyone? A man maybe? How about a family? It was none of his business, he reminded himself. “This house isn’t in good enough shape to live in, much less house a business.”
“I’m going to renovate it.”
Dammit. She’d tear up the inside, get rid of things, any evidence that might still be around. “If you’re looking for someone to do repairs, my brother and I happen to be in the business.” At least they were now.
Her mouth parted in surprise, but her eyes flashed with wariness. Now he knew why they mesmerized him. They were the deepest reddish-brown he’d ever seen, like the earthy tones of a red-tailed hawk.
Her sweet scent invaded his nostrils, too, stirring urges that warred with his better sense. But old ghosts echoed around the house, reviving memories of the blood bath that had taken place within the rotting walls.
She studied him for another long moment, then nodded. “Thanks, although I’m not sure how much I can pay.”
“No problem.” He shrugged, blinking away fresh snowflakes. “We live simple lives in the mountains, our materialistic needs are few.” But his need for the truth and revenge was strong.
She offered a tentative smile that twisted his gut.
He steeled himself against her beauty. He was interested in this place for one reason and one reason only. For the answers it offered about his father.
And he’d be damned if he’d let Hailey Hitchcock interfere with his plans.

HUNCHING HIS STOOPED shoulders inside his cloak, he watched from the shadows of the forest as the frail-looking woman opened the door and went inside the house. Who was she? And why had she bought a run-down house that was supposedly haunted?
She obviously didn’t know its history.
A chuckle reverberated in his chest as he pictured her finding out.
The house had once been beautiful, painted blue with white shutters, the outside postcard perfect. The ultimate dream for the happy couple who’d moved inside. Laughter and dreams had abounded within the walls, the patter of small feet and children’s voices filling the empty rooms with life and joy.
Then everything had changed.
Dreams had been shattered. Lives had been destroyed. The world had crumbled down just as the house looked as if it might crumble now.
The pain of the woman’s cries still echoed in his head, the sadness in her eyes, the whisper of death as she’d clawed her way toward the boy….
It had been all her fault.
And now this…this other woman had come.
He had to get rid of her.
The Hatchet House held secrets. Secrets that would ruin his life if exposed. Secrets that would stay behind closed doors.
Secrets that he would kill to keep hidden…

Chapter Two
A whisper of unease tickled Hailey’s spine, mingling with the icy cold temperature, as she entered the house. Rex Falcon’s words about the ghosts echoed in her mind.
But ghosts weren’t real. No, danger came from real, live men who wanted to control the women they were involved with. Not ones who were buried and long gone. Besides, the real estate agent assured her the killer was serving a life sentence in prison.
It was time to stop running and build her own life. She’d held her ground with Rex Falcon, refusing to let his gruff, mysterious demeanor intimidate her. His dark, sexy eyes had trapped her, though, and a spark of awareness had passed between them. A sexual spark that she had no intention of exploring.
The low hum of the snowstorm outside echoed through the house, reminding her she was alone. Rex Falcon’s predatory expression flashed back. He hadn’t wanted her here. She’d sensed that was the reason he’d mentioned the ghosts.
But she refused to let anything chase her away.
And she was not here to get entangled with a man.
The wood floor creaked as she closed the front door and fumbled for the light switch. But the power company had yet to turn on the electricity. The realtor claimed the furniture had been left in place. Maybe there were some candles around, also.
The stale smell of a house having been closed up filled the chilly air as she moved into the parlor. Twilight settled over the interior, painting the sheet-draped furniture with gray, but on the mantel she spotted a silver candelabra. She hurried over, blew the top layer of dust away, then found a pack of matches on the hearth of the brick fireplace. The pack was so old it took three times before she finally lit the slender tapered candlesticks, but she was grateful for the soft glow.
Then she studied the room. Heavy velvety drapes covered the windows and hung to the floor, obliterating the outside, and creating an ominous, claustrophobic feeling. Hailey shivered, her uneasiness mounting. But those curtains shielded her from the outside and any strangers who might be roaming in the woods. And they were thick enough to help ward off the cold, as well.
She’d replace the windows with Thermopane ones, trade the drapes for blinds so the natural light could spill in during the daytime, and she could shut them at night.
The walls were dingy and needed paint, too, and dust motes swirled in the halo of candlelight. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling and a spider retreated into a corner to spin its web. Clutching the candelabra in her hand, she decided to check out the rest of the house.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty rooms as she walked through the hallway to the kitchen. The counters and woodwork were faded and chipped, but the old-fashioned oven and stove supposedly still worked. The refrigerator was an ancient model with no ice maker, but was functional, and there was no dishwasher. Dust covered the dingy beige countertops, and she spotted droppings near the bottom of the wood cupboard door that had probably come from mice. A set of old-fashioned café curtains in faded orange hung over the bay window, but she nudged them aside to look out at a majestic view of the Colorado mountains. The valley below would be green in summer, but now brown dotted the trees, along with an increasing layer of snow.
She imagined the white-topped mountain peaks at sunset, and a smile tugged at her lips.
But the wind howled outside, the thin panes of glass crackling with the force. The floor was darker near the mudroom, too. She stepped closer to examine the deep brown of the planks, but a sense of horror immobilized her.
Was the dark area the bloodstain from the family who’d died inside the room twenty years ago?

TWENTY YEARS SINCE anyone had lived in the Hatchet House. And now this woman…
Rex couldn’t shake his anxiety over her appearance. Hailey Hitchcock was beautiful. But she was in trouble. Running from something. Probably scared of her own shadow although she’d tried to appear unfazed by his appearance.
So why had she bought a supposedly haunted old house in the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter?
Because she didn’t want to be found. But wasn’t she afraid to live alone in a house where a brutal crime had occurred? And who was she running from? Her husband? A lover?
Or could she be in trouble with the law?
His father’s haggard face materialized. Years ago, he’d been tall in stature, a mountain of a man with an animalistic nature and skin bronzed from the sun and outdoor work. Now, he was pale and drawn, the lack of ample light and time in his natural environment killing him. Just as it would kill Rex and his brothers to be locked away, deprived of the very essence of their being.
And his mother…she had suffered so much over the years. She’d loved their father unconditionally, had stood beside him at the trial, had endured the tauntings of the neighbors. Even after his father’s conviction, she’d tried to hold her head up in the town, but some people were cruel. So, she’d finally taken her boys to Arizona, far away from the hateful gossip and condemning eyes.
Just returning to Falcon Ridge, Rex felt those damning eyes as if the past twenty years hadn’t passed, as if he was that same child who’d been ostracized as a killer’s child.
Telling himself Hailey Hitchcock was not his concern, that his job here was to find the man who’d framed his father, he strode through the ten-foot-tall stone walls that shaped his homestead on Falcon Ridge. The icy, cavernous rooms echoed with age, like a fortress that had stood the test of time against the bitter Colorado elements.
Although his mother had hated the monastery-like house and stone walls, the fact that they’d been virtually cut off from civilization during the long winter months, the house resurrected happy memories of his childhood. Of running through the mammoth structure, hiding in the labyrinth of rooms in the basement. Hiking with his dad into the woods to watch the birds of prey.
He went to his basement office, the space he had set up for his P.I. business, booted up his computer and pulled up the old case files on his father’s arrest. The Lyles’ son, eight-year-old Steven, had been the apple of his father’s eye. Mrs. Lyle had become a recluse, though, and kept the little girl, who was supposedly autistic, at home. According to the locals, Lyle, an attorney, had been charismatic, covering for his wife with excuses.
Rex’s father had been the caretaker of the grounds. He’d claimed Mrs. Lyle was afraid of her husband, that he was abusing his wife and daughter. But no one else could corroborate his story. And Rex’s father’s long trek alone into the woods that day had robbed him of an alibi.
Rex skimmed further, trying to figure out the motive they’d attached to his father’s alleged crimes. If he’d had an affair with Mrs. Lyle, why murder her and the children? Why not kill the abusive husband?
Frustrated, he rammed a hand through his hair. In fact, they’d never found the hatchet itself or any bloody clothes or fingerprints. Were they somewhere in the house or on the grounds?
He stood and paced, thinking about Hailey Hitchcock in that house alone. She hadn’t brought much with her, just a suitcase or two he’d seen in the back seat and whatever had fit in her trunk. Was she having her other things shipped, or did her lack of belongings suggest she’d left in a hurry?
He pictured those reddish-brown eyes and his body hardened, a surge of lust burning through him.
Was she sleeping in that house tonight? Thinking of the people who’d lived there before her?

SHE WAS LOCKED IN A ROOM.
Alone. Frightened. Only a child.
She curled within the darkness, listening for footsteps, but the house was silent. The air felt heavy around her. Sickening. Stale. Deathly quiet.
Was he coming back for her?
She opened one eye and scanned the interior of her prison, the whisper of a breath cascading through the dust-filled room.
“I’ll be back for you,” he’d said.
She shivered. She wanted out. But she didn’t want him to come. No, not him. He scared her so bad she’d wet her pants once. And that had made him madder.
A sob welled in her throat, and she rubbed her arms, fighting panic. Then footsteps pounded up the steps. The shuffling sounded familiar. It was him.
One. Two. Three. Four. He was getting closer.
A scream locked in her throat. The shadow below the doorway moved, blocking the tiny sliver of light she’d latched on to.
Her safety net. It was gone.
Then the doorknob rattled, and he opened the door. She shrank back against the closet door as he stalked toward her…
Hailey jerked awake, sweat-soaked from her nightmare. Her breathing erratic, she searched the darkness for intruders, trying to orient herself in the predawn light. Where was she?
She had been dreaming, hadn’t she? Or had she been remembering one of her foster homes?
The floor creaked in the old house. Was that a footstep?
She hugged the sheets, listening carefully. Another squeak. It was coming from the attic. Chipmunks or mice maybe?
Struggling for calm, she pulled on a robe, rose and peeked into the hall. Shadows claimed the corners, then something moved at the opposite end. A shadow. Almost ghostlike, it floated into one of the extra bedrooms, the ones where the children had slept.
Her throat muscles worked to swallow. She had to have imagined it.
But another creaking sound broke the quiet. A foot-step maybe. The distinct sensation of air moving around her caused her to pause, the scent of lilacs drifting nearer. She wasn’t alone, the smell, the sound of someone walking—this time it was real.

AS USUAL, REX WOKE with the dawn. He slid on the protective gloves he used to work with the hawks, lifted the cloth from the cage and looked inside. Sutter, he called him, a ferruginous hawk who’d been hit by a pellet gun, stared up at him with caution. After the pellets had been removed the bird needed rest, but soon he’d be able to hunt again. A few quiet moments passed as they assessed one another. Rex felt the connection, the bond of trust forming between himself and the animal.
Sutter’s wings fluttered slightly, revealing his dark brown underbelly, and the whitish comma at the wrist, a good sign. Rex reassured the hawk that he was a friend, then eased open the cage and left him some food. The bird wasn’t ready to come out just yet, maybe the next day.
Finally, he went inside and gathered his work tools. He’d start at the Hatchet House this morning. His suspicions over the young woman who’d bought the place rose again, so he’d run a background check on her. The more information he had, the better equipped he’d be to handle her.
His phone jangled. “Falcon here.”
“Are you settled in?” Brack asked.
“Pretty much. I’ve got the computer system up and running, and installed a fireproof safe for backup files. The security system was a bitch, but it’s in, too.” He paused. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s fine, just worried about you. She’s afraid reopening Dad’s case might be dangerous.”
It probably would be. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Remind her that her boys are grown now.”
“Yeah, like that’ll pacify her.” Brack barked a laugh. “Be careful, Rex.”
Rex sighed. “Listen, there’s a slight complication. This woman named Hailey Hitchcock moved into the Hatchet House.” Rex explained his offer to work for her. “I pulled up some information on her. She was living in Denver, where she worked at an antiques auction house. Apparently there’s a missing person’s report out on her. It was filed by a local attorney.”
He couldn’t stop wondering why exactly the man had been looking for her. Had the two been involved or was their relationship work related?
“You want me to check into it?”
“Yeah, it seems too damn coincidental that she showed up right after I moved back.”
“You think someone might have hired her to come there?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t like her being in that house.”
It was too dangerous for one thing. Not that he cared about the woman…
Brack promised to investigate Hailey, and Rex hung up, his thoughts jumbled. If she was in trouble, he needed to know exactly what kind.

THE WIND HURLED a branch against the window, the scraping sound reminding Hailey that she was alone. But she was in Colorado, inside her new house on top of the mountain. No one could find her here. She was safe. Starting over.
Putting the past behind her.
Thankfully, the sound of footsteps had died. She combed the upstairs, but found nothing. No sign of the ghost of the child she thought she’d seen. The noise must have been the wind blowing debris on the roof.
Still shaken, though, she pushed back the heavy drapes and stared into the darkness, searching for signs that someone had been nearby. A light snow had fallen overnight, with promises of more to come. If she managed any renovations to the house, it needed to be within the next few weeks before winter seized the land and immobilized everything. A light burned from the big stone house at the top of the hill.
Rex Falcon.
Her body grew hot just thinking about his dark eyes.
He was big. Strong. A towering specimen of a male with a muscular body that emanated strength and power. The kind of man who could protect a woman.
The kind who could hurt her with those big hands.
She didn’t intend to get involved with him. Men were trouble. Especially one as dangerous looking as Rex Falcon.
After dressing in jeans, a sweatshirt and jacket, she carried her morning coffee into the woods. Inhaling the crisp cool December air, she savored the solitude. Except for the forest creatures, she was alone. Blissfully, peacefully alone.
A beautiful eagle flew above. She watched it glide across the sky. It was free, content, soaring through the azure sky as if it didn’t have a care in the world.
Maybe she’d find that peace and tranquility, too.
“Miss Hitchcock?”
Hailey startled and jumped backward, then realized the voice belonged to Rex Falcon. She glanced up into his piercing dark eyes and fought a shiver of anxiety. His gaze seemed probing, as if he was trying to see into her soul. Her defenses rose.
He wouldn’t like what he found there, she was sure.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His dark eyebrow slid up a fraction at her tone. “I’m ready to get started.” He stood ramrod straight, his massive shoulders powerful inside his work shirt. Early-morning sunlight glinted off his black hair, a few water droplets clinging to the overly long ends as if he’d just stepped from the shower.
She dragged her gaze downward, grateful to see the toolbox in his hand. He’d said he was a carpenter. He’d come here to work, not socialize. That she could deal with.
“Have you decided where you want to begin?”
Rattled by his gruff voice and the magnitude of his masculinity, she shook her head. “There’s so much to do, I’m not sure where to start.”
“I’d suggest the bathrooms, plumbing probably needs checking.”
She sipped her coffee. “Right. They just restored the power in time for coffee.”
He nodded. “Do you always get out this early?”
She tensed, then realized he was simply making conversation. “I couldn’t resist a morning walk. It’s so beautiful here.”
“Yes, it is.” His gaze roved over her, and she hugged her coffee mug, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his heated gaze evoked.
As if he sensed the heat, and didn’t like it, either, he cut his gaze to the sky where a hawk swooped low. His expression changed, grew more intense, yet more peaceful at the same time.
Hailey swallowed, wondering at his thoughts. Then Rex’s gaze met hers, and another unnerving ripple of desire spread through her. She wanted him to touch her. To hold her. To make her nightmares go away.
Crazy. No man could do that.
Completely baffled by her reaction, she turned abruptly. “All right, start with the plumbing. I’ll tackle cleaning up the rooms. Then we’ll talk about where we go from there.”
He gave her a clipped nod, then followed. Hailey snuggled inside her coat, reminding herself to keep her distance. She had no idea what Rex would want with a woman like her. But they were alone in the woods, and he was stronger than her.
No one knew better than she did what a deadly combination the two could be.

HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN Hailey was dangerous.
Thad Jordan examined the stitches around his eye, frowning at the discolored skin. He was going to have a scar. And all because of that damn woman.
Hailey would pay for what she’d done to him.
“Sir, are you all right?”
His secretary’s voice drifted from the doorway. As usual, she sounded meek and mild, irritating him. The opposite of Hailey. She had looked small and fragile, but he’d sensed an untapped passion below the surface. She’d proven herself to be tough and spunky.
Too spunky for her own good it had turned out.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just bring me my coffee. And make it hot this time.”
She nodded and slithered away to fetch it for him, bringing a grin to his face. At least she rushed to his beck and call when he barked—the way a woman should.
Before he finished with Hailey, she’d learn that lesson, too.
He picked up the phone and dialed the private investigator he kept on retainer.
“Carl Wormer here.”
“Wormer, this is Jordan. I need your help.”
“What is it this time? A case you want me to work on?”
“No.” Thad ran his finger over the emblem on his signet ring. “This one is personal.”
“Personal?”
“Yes. I need you to find Hailey Hitchcock.”
“And then what?”
“Just let me know where she is.” A chuckle built in his throat as he envisioned what he’d do to her. That pretty pale neck, those big brown eyes—he’d see her on her knees begging for her life before it was over.
And then, only then, would he decide her final punishment.

Chapter Three
The next two days as Hailey cleaned the house, she discovered a few nice antiques in the parlor, an iron bed in the master bedroom and a Chippendale sofa in the sitting room. The claw-foot dining-room table also added an ambience to the dreary interior. Painting the rooms would definitely spark new life to the inside.
But painting would keep Rex Falcon around longer, which was both a blessing and a curse. Rex distracted her from the fact that Thad might be looking for her, and kept her from dwelling on the fact that people had died in the house.
But his presence also unnerved her on a sexual level.
Not that he’d made any kind of advance toward her. But occasionally she sensed him watching her from a distance. Studying her as if he possessed a keen sight that could see inside her.
Another reason she’d maintained her distance. Her secrets would stay safely hidden.
Unless Thad decided to look for her.
His parting words echoed in her head, I’ll never let you go, Hailey. You’re mine forever.
Fighting the fear threatening to consume her, she headed up to shower before she drove to town for supplies. Then she’d meet the owners of the bed-and-breakfast and ask them to post an advertisement for her business on their bulletin board.
As soon as she undressed, the cool air inside the house brushed her nerve endings. It was almost as if someone was in the room with her. A ghost maybe?
No, that was ridiculous. Shaking off her foolishness, she climbed into the shower. The warm water soothed her, but when she closed her eyes, fingers of tension coiled inside her. She could almost feel Rex’s heated gaze linger over her naked body. His hands trailing down her damp breasts. His lips pressing along her sensitive skin, loving her.
She jerked her eyes open. She’d never lusted for a man before, especially like this. Not even Thad, who she’d actually considered sleeping with, and he’d appeared to be charming, educated and a professional. So why was she fantasizing about Rex Falcon, a mysterious, dangerous man she’d only met?
The isolation—that was the only explanation.
The floor squeaked above her and she froze. The attic. Were there squirrels or raccoons inside? Or could someone have climbed in there to hide? A homeless person or stranded hiker might want refuge from the elements in the dead of winter. But she hadn’t seen signs of anyone in the house when she’d first arrived.
She slipped on her terry-cloth robe and padded to the door, eased it open and listened. Another squeak. Rex?
No, Rex was working in the first-floor bathroom.
Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed down the hall, then unlocked the door to the staircase. The old-fashioned house had very poor lighting, and darkness shrouded the narrow spiral stairway, the scent of musk and some pungent odor she didn’t recognize stifling. Maybe an animal had gotten inside. A hawk or vulture or even a bat.
Holding her breath, she started up the stairs, but darkness trapped her. She clutched the stair rail, unable to make her feet move. Panic overtook her, and her vision clouded.
She was a little girl. Alone. Scared.
Someone pushed her, shoved her forward. She was terrified, clutching her stomach. A harsh hand gripped hers and dragged her anyway. Her knees hit the steps, and she cried, but he jerked her on, blood trickling down her legs. A sob welled in her throat. Her throat clogged. A screeching sound echoed from above.
He flung her inside the room and shut the door, pitching her into the cavern.

DAMMIT. REX HAD TRIED to search the attic while Hailey showered, but now she was coming upstairs to find him. He fumbled for an excuse as he closed the trunk of memorabilia he’d been scrounging through. So far, he’d found nothing.
Deciding on his story, he headed down the steps.
A pang of concern hit him when he saw Hailey. She was frozen on the staircase, her hand clutching the rail in a white-knuckled grip, her face deathly pale.
His brain ordered him not to get involved, but instincts forced reason aside. “Hailey?” He lowered his voice to the soft, crooning pitch he used with the hawks. “What’s wrong?”
She startled, her eyes drifting back into focus. “Rex?”
He nodded. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”
“I…I don’t know.”
He pried her icy hand from the rail and led her away from the entry. Her frightened eyes trapped him in their clutches. “What’s wrong?”
She tugged at the top of her robe, looking confused. His gaze fell to the opening, tempting him, but purple bruises marred the creamy skin of her neck. Anger bolted through him, along with protective instincts. She reminded him of one of the injured birds that had been battered by the hypocrisies of mankind.
“Did something happen?”
“I…I thought someone was up there.”
“It was me,” he said. “I finished with the bathroom cabinets, and I was going to replace the hardware. I thought the owners might have left some of the original pieces in the attic.”
She nodded, her lower lip trembling. A needy part of him that hadn’t seen daylight in years surged to life.
But he’d never shaken the fear that he had violent tendencies, that he could prey on the weaker like the raptors. Or that he belonged alone, that no woman would understand him, much less overcome the fact that his father was a convicted murderer.
She ran a hand through her hair, drawing him to the damp strands and the way they cupped her delicate face. There were scratches on her palms that he hadn’t noticed earlier. Had she gotten them cleaning, or had they been there before?
“I’d better get dressed,” she said. Suddenly looking panicky, she fled to her bedroom.
His chest squeezed with anger and other emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He couldn’t let his guard down around this woman, worry about her problems or give in to this wild urge to be with her. He had too much work to do on his father’s case.
Still, he wondered who had hurt her.

WHAT HAD HAPPENED back there in the attic stairwell?
Hailey hurriedly dressed, trying to warm herself. Even though the rusty furnace rumbled, she was cold all the way to her bones. Why had she been afraid to climb those stairs?
It wasn’t as if she’d been in that attic before.
She massaged her temple, trying to remember her childhood. When she was five and she’d misbehaved, her foster father had locked her in a closet. Maybe he’d shut her in an attic, too, and she’d forgotten. She had developed an uncanny way of taking herself out of her body when situations had gotten too bad….
Shaking off the disturbing memory, she grabbed her purse. She’d drive to town, forget the past and steer herself back on track.
Rex met her at the bottom of the steps. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m going to town for supplies.”
“Why don’t I drive you?” Rex offered. “I need to pick up some things, too. You can buy paint for the interior walls while we’re there. If we get snowed in, I can work on the inside.”
Hailey frowned, but reminded herself she’d hired him to do a job. She could take care of herself. Besides, if Rex Falcon had intended her harm, he’d had ample opportunity to hurt her. In this remote area, he could have killed her and no one would ever know.
A chill engulfed her at the thought. How long had the Lyles lay dead in the house before their bodies had been discovered? Had Rex lived nearby when the family was slaughtered?

REX SILENTLY CURSED HIMSELF for insisting on driving Hailey. Her trip into town would have been the perfect opportunity for him to search the premises. But she’d looked so vulnerable and alone, his mouth had betrayed his brain.
Besides, he had to face the town sooner or later. Word of his return had most likely already spread. He needed to question the locals, too, especially the sheriff.
Should he tell Hailey who he was before someone else did?
Probably.
But her rose-scented shampoo swirled around him, and the tender skin of her throat made him itch to touch her. Sleet slashed the windshield, the defroster working overtime to clear the fog, adding to the tension as he steered his Jeep down the mountain road. The minute Hailey realized his father was imprisoned for the hatchet murders, she’d look at him differently. As if he was evil. Just like the kids had when he was younger. And just like Sharon, the woman he’d dated in Arizona, had a few years back.
Another reason he avoided relationships.
“Where are you from?” he asked, determined to learn more about her.
She fidgeted, clasping her hands together. “Denver.”
“What brought you to Tin City?”
She burrowed deeper inside her coat. “I wanted a fresh start. I’ve always been drawn to the mountains.”
“You mentioned opening an antiques business? Won’t that be hard in the mountains?”
She shrugged. “Tourists like to browse in small shops. With some advertising, the Internet auction houses and the ghost stories to add to the flavor, I think I can make it work. Besides, I worked at an auction house before.”
She was going to use the tragedy and his family’s pain to promote her business. “How about your family?”
“I don’t have any.” She fidgeted with her hair, as if she wasn’t quite used to the cut, then turned to stare out the window. He wanted to ask more, but again her scent enticed him to forget. Made him ache to reach out and comfort her.
But her body language indicated she wouldn’t welcome his touch. Better he keep his distance. He couldn’t afford to care for her, and he had to remember it.

REX HAD ASKED so many questions. Did he have an ulterior motive? Could he possibly be working for Thad?
The piercing cold seeped through her as she studied him. His jaw was covered with beard stubble, his mouth set in a tight line, his dark eyes focused on the road. And his big hands…they were wrapped around the steering wheel now. But earlier they’d stroked her with a tenderness that had surprised her. Would he understand if she confided her past to him? If she told him about Thad?
No…she couldn’t allow herself to open up to anyone. Much less a dark man like Rex.
The rest of the ride passed in a strained silence, the sleet and wind adding to the tension. Hailey grocery shopped in the small supermarket, stocking up on basics. The paint selection in the hardware store went quickly, although people stared and whispered behind their backs just as they had in the grocery store. Did they think she was crazy for buying a house where a family had been murdered?
Painful childhood memories surfaced. How many times had she attended a new school and been the center of gossip? She’d been the little orphan girl nobody wanted.
Rex frowned as they stepped up to the cash register. Hailey paid the elderly man behind the register in cash.
“You the lady who bought the Hatchet House?”
Hailey shifted on her heels. “Yes.”
The old man cut his gaze toward Rex. “You’re one of the Falcon boys, ain’t you?”
Rex stiffened beside her and offered a curt nod. “Rex.”
“I thought you boys were gone.” He leaned back in his cane-back chair, his eyes bulging. Several customers turned and stared. A white-haired woman in a purple knit pantsuit pressed a hankie to her mouth, and another lady ushered her kids out the door, not even bothering to button their coats before braving the elements.
“No, I’m back at Falcon Ridge.” Rex’s boots clicked on the floor as he strode out the door. Hailey followed, wondering at the hostile atmosphere between the men.
Granted she had her reasons for being wary of Rex, but the townspeople had almost seemed afraid of him….

REX’S RESOLVE to exonerate his father grew stronger as he left the hardware store. This time he wouldn’t let the locals run him and his brothers off. Not until he knew the truth.
He drove back up the mountain road, his body tight with tension, the Jeep occasionally skidding on the icy pavement. Though fog and snow enveloped them in the vehicle together, thankfully, Hailey remained quiet. She seemed lost in her own world, oblivious to his problems.
“Thanks for driving,” Hailey said as they parked in front of her house.
“No problem.” He killed the engine, then jumped out and carried the paint and hardware supplies to the storage room while Hailey unloaded the grocery bags onto the front porch.
Late-afternoon sunlight splintered through the forest, flickering off her reddish-brown hair, reminding him again of a red-tailed hawk. But the owl’s incessant cry for a mate echoed in his mind, and the wind whipped those long strands around her face, tempting him to touch her. They were alone here together. Inside, they could light a fire. It would be cozy.
Jeez, he was only feeling this way because of the town’s reaction. That and the natural attraction of man to woman. Not because Hailey was special or could be anything important in his life.
Rattled, he suddenly felt a desperate need to escape her for a while, and an even more desperate need to focus on his reason for returning to Falcon Ridge.
“I’m going to the house to pick up some tools to repair the kitchen sink,” he said curtly. “And I need to check on this injured hawk I found in the woods. I’ll be back later.”
Her cheeks glowed with the cold as she nodded, her body relaxing slightly as if she was relieved to see him leave.
He jumped in the Jeep and started the engine, then ripped across the icy dirt drive, eager to put Hailey out of his mind.
He’d hike in the woods, clear his head, talk to the only creatures in life who understood him—the birds of prey.
Then he’d drive back to town and question the sheriff to see what he remembered about the murders.

AN ODD ODOR PERMEATED the house. It smelled like gardenias… A pile of dead ones lay on the table.
Hailey’s breath caught.
What in the world? How… Who had put dead flowers on her table?
Was the person still inside?
She paused and listened, her breath wheezing in the tense silence. Nothing. Except another scent—cigarette smoke…and aftershave. Old Spice?
The smell turned her stomach, reminded her of her third foster father.
A creaking sound jerked her head toward the stairs.
Maybe there was a vagrant nearby who wanted her to leave? Or a ghost? Or had Thad found her already?
Perhaps she should call the police, or Rex. But then she’d have to tell them about Thad. For all she knew, he’d spread the word that she’d stabbed him in the eye, and the cops were looking for her. They might even arrest her. With Thad’s connections, she’d end up rotting in a jail cell for assault and battery when she’d only been defending herself.
Grabbing her cell phone from her purse and a kitchen knife for protection, she slowly moved through the parlor. The floor squeaked again as she walked, a sharp wind whistling off the thin windowpanes. Nothing downstairs, so she slowly climbed the staircase. An ominous foreboding tickled her neck as if she wasn’t alone.
Then she spotted the attic door. A note had been stuck on the wooden frame. “Leave the Hatchet House or you’ll end up like the Lyles.”
She swallowed hard, then inched closer to study the photograph taped below the note. In the picture, the family was lying in a river of blood, gashes from the hatchet exposing bare bones, their eyes bulging in horror.
Her stomach convulsed as she staggered down the steps to escape. The sound of footsteps creaked again.
Whoever had put the picture on her wall was still inside and they were right behind her….

Chapter Four
Hailey’s heart pounded as she ran down the stairs. She had to escape. Get help. The gruesome murder scene flashed into her mind again. So much blood. Raw bones exposed. Gaping slashes on the woman’s chest, scratches and stab wounds on her hands. The man was the same, his right hand nearly severed, his bloody injuries beyond ghastly.
And the child…
A sob welled in her throat. The little boy…he had died so young. It wasn’t fair….
Tears filled her eyes, grief for the family welling in her throat. What kind of crazy person could do that to another human?
She swayed, her stomach lurching, and gripped the banister in an effort to hold herself upright. The floor creaked behind her, and she skipped a step, lost her footing and fell. Shrieking, she grappled for control, but her bottom hit the corner of the step with a painful thud. Flailing, she bounced down the last two steps and fell on her hands and knees. She tasted blood and realized she’d bitten her tongue. The furnace rumbled. The floor creaked again.
She shoved herself up, and darted toward the front door. Shadows rose behind her. Her vision blurred. The dim light in the hallway flickered, then went off, cloaking the house in darkness. She screamed and jiggled the door to open it, but the knob wouldn’t turn. He’d locked her inside.
He was going to kill her.
Panicked, she yanked at the knob again, then flung open the door. Cold air nipped at her cheeks as she ran across the porch and down the steps to her car. Her palms stung as she pulled at the door. But the car was locked, and she didn’t have her keys.
No! He was going to get her.
She had to think.
The screen door screeched behind her, flapping in the wind. No. No time to think. Pivoting, she tried to decide where to go. But the screen door hit the casing with a whack, and she took off running again, this time into the bowels of the forest. Maybe she could outrun him. Lose him. Hide behind a rock or in an old mine.
Or maybe she could make it to Rex’s house, and he’d help her.
She shoved through the bramble, forcing herself not to turn around. Every second counted. Steep, jagged red rocks coated in snow and ice rose around her. Massive pines and aspens stood like giant boulders, creating a maze. She turned to the right, sprinting through layers of icy slush and dead leaves, then veered to the left, reminding herself that Rex’s house was on the northern slope only a mile away.
It seemed like hundreds, though, as she forced her rubbery legs forward. A gunshot rang out, and she shrieked, picking up her pace. Was the man firing at her?
A bullet pinged past her head, and she ducked, losing her breath. Yes, he was going to kill her. And if he buried her in the snow, no one would ever know.

THE SOUND OF a gunshot blast from the forest sent a jolt through Rex. A hunter maybe? He parked and rushed to the edge of the woods, searching the depths. He had enough damn problems without some loose cannon of a shot coming this close to his property.
His trip into town with Hailey returned to haunt him. Facing the town who’d labeled his father the Hatchet Murderer had resurrected painful memories. He didn’t want Hailey to think of him as a cold-blooded killer’s son.
Although God knows why he cared. She certainly hadn’t looked at him with interest. Just a wariness that spoke volumes about the past she was running from.
Through the trees, he glanced at the property down the hill, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He could still see the blood-soaked floor, the listless eyes, could smell the foul stench of body odors and death inside that kitchen.
Shadows and ghosts lurched all around him.
Just as he had twenty years ago, he strode deeper into the forest to purge his emotions. He had to free his father, get revenge against the person who’d butchered the Lyles and stolen his father’s life by letting him take the rap.
He couldn’t worry about Hailey and her secrets.
Inhaling the fresh cold air, the tension from his body dissipated slightly as the earthy scents and sounds of the forest engulfed him. Becoming one with the untamed wilderness, with the hawks soaring above, had become his solace. The only place he felt free, at peace.
The endless long nights of hearing his mother cry whispered from the snow-laden bellies of the aspens and fir trees. And then there were his little brothers. Deke had cloaked himself in anger and Brack had withdrawn into a shell made of human mortar that still kept him prisoner, barring anyone from getting too close. And both of them had had trouble with the law.
His father’s parting words, “Take care of your mother and brothers,” echoed in Rex’s mind.
He’d tried. But he’d failed so many times.
A squirrel scampered up a nearby pine, snow swirling from the branches in a white cloud as a gust of wind whistled through the spiny needles. Fresh blood marked the white, and he frowned, squinting at the spatters, trying to decide their origin. Human or animal? Another gunshot shattered the tranquility, bouncing off the rocks. He froze, senses honed to detect its source. He didn’t want to be mistaken for a deer or elk.
Another shot echoed from the hills and he turned, searching the distance. It was coming from the southern slope near the Hatchet House. What if Hailey decided to take a walk? It could be dangerous.
His boots crunched as he hiked toward her place. He’d have to warn her to be careful of hunters and their stray bullets.
There were other dangers for a woman living alone in the wilderness, too. Some of the men who liked to comb the hills were more predatory than the animals they hunted. They would take advantage of a woman in a second.
The scent of death floated toward him, fresh blood marking the icy path. Through the bed of trees, he spotted a buck sprawled near the creek, its tan flanks covered in blood, its once agile body deathly still. The hunter would be back to collect his kill any minute.
Trees rustled up ahead. He called out a warning, but Hailey burst through the brush, her face pale, her eyes wide in terror.
Worse, she was running straight toward the ravine.

SUDDENLY A MAN’S HANDS grabbed Hailey from behind. Panic zinged through her. She screamed and swung her arms back, struggling to free herself, but they fell to the ground in a tangle. Icy snow seeped through her clothes as she bucked upward, trying to throw his weight off of her. But his hands gripped her tightly, pinning her to the spot.
“Hailey, stop it, dammit, it’s me.”
She dug her elbows into his chest, trying to force him to loosen his grip. Instead, his fingers tightened around her wrists, pushing them into her back. The rest of his body was on top of her, his thighs rubbing hers as he lifted his head.
“Hailey, be still,” the voice growled. “It’s Rex. I was just trying to keep you from falling over the cliff.”
Hailey froze, her breath rasping out as the husky voice registered. Was Rex following her? Had he been inside her house?
No…that was impossible. She’d heard him drive away.
Rational thoughts returning, she slowly relaxed, spitting out snow. But his body was still pressed firmly on top of hers. He stiffened, and his hard sex pressed into her hip. Fear crawled up her spine, the need to escape him mounting. “You can let me go now,” she said through clenched teeth.
“All right.” His grip loosened. “But be careful. The cliff drops off to the creek about fifty yards in front of you.”
She nodded. She’d been running so fast she could have sailed over the edge. A shudder gripped her at the thought. Only the possibility of being murdered like the Lyles wasn’t any better.
Uncertain whether she’d imagined Rex’s physical reaction to her, she brushed snow and debris from her jeans, the cold seeping through the wet denim, chilling her inside and out. He helped her stand, then cradled her elbows in his hands as he turned her to face him. His breath whooshed out as he reached up and traced a finger over her lip. Uneasiness spread through her limbs. They were alone in the woods, just like she’d been with Thad. Would this man try to use force on her as her former boyfriend had? Would he turn on her in a second?
Then she realized he was wiping away blood.
His brown eyes searched her face, a frown pulling at his mouth. “What the hell were you running from?”
“S-someone was shooting at me.” She inhaled, shivering again. Beard stubble darkened his tightly held jaw, the wind ruffling the black strands of his hair and sweeping it across his forehead. He looked ominous, like a big black bear ready to tear apart anyone that stood in his way.
Then she remembered the feel of his arousal pressing into her and another feeling splintered through her—a tingle that felt like attraction.
Good heavens, no. Not now. Not to this man. Not when she was trying to put her life together. Trying to escape her past.
Remembering Thad’s control issues, she melted backward, pulling away. “Did you see him?”
“A hunter,” Rex said in a gruff voice. “He probably thought you were a deer or elk running through the forest.”
Another gunshot blasted, and she startled so badly he pulled her into his arms. “Shh, it’s all right now.”
Her breath quivered out. “No…he shot at me, he was trying to kill me.”
His black eyebrows rose, his hand automatically playing along her neck and shoulders, soothing her. “I saw a deer he killed,” Rex said. “I’m sure he mistook you for an animal.”
“But the bullet nearly hit my head, and s-someone was in the house when I went inside,” Hailey said, stiffening. “He…left a note. He threatened me.”
“What?” He pulled her closer against him, but Hailey backed away again, hands fisted, her survival instincts roaring to life.
“When I went inside,” Hailey said, struggling for a steady breath, “someone was upstairs. They left dead gardenias on the table and a picture of the Lyles’ murder…” Her voice broke as images of the carnage flooded her.
Another shot rang out, echoing in the distance. Thankfully it sounded farther away this time. Hailey’s gaze found the cliff. A vulture soared above, swooping downward in a wide arc, its black feathers stark against the aquamarine sky, its talons bared as it zeroed in on its target. Just seeing the bird reminded her all too much that if Rex hadn’t grabbed her, she might have plunged to her death below.

REX STUDIED HAILEY, his mind battling his body’s natural reaction. He’d only meant to keep her from running off the cliff, but the moment he brushed against her, his sexual instincts had stirred to life, strong and more alive than they had been in months. Hell, maybe years.
Physical arousal, he told himself. A basic human reaction, a natural animal one. But this time his senses had become skewed with the need to fold her in his arms and hold her for the night, to protect her and make promises that he couldn’t keep.
But these urges went against the free man he needed to be. Free like the falcons…
Some birds of prey are monogamous, a voice whispered.
But not him. He had no room for a woman in his life. Especially this troubled one.
Had someone really been in her house threatening her? Maybe it had been a prank…
“There was a note, too,” Hailey whispered.
The wind swirled the strands of her reddish-brown hair around her face. Her cheeks were red from exertion and cold, her lips parched from the sun and wind. She looked so damn beautiful another twinge of desire spurted through him.
“And they tacked pictures of the Lyle family’s murder on the wall,” she said, knotting her hands together. “It was awful.”
He nodded. He’d seen the photos, had imprinted them in his brain since he was a kid.
“Come on.” He coaxed her forward, back through the thick pines and aspens, up the rocky hills toward Falcon Ridge. “You’re freezing, we need to get you inside.”
She stiffened. “Where are we going?”
“To my place.” He grabbed her arm again and hauled her close to him, lowering his voice. “If that hunter returns, we don’t want to be here.”
“But…”
“You’re not going back to the Hatchet House alone,” he growled. “I’ll go with you and check it out, but I need my gun.”
“You have a gun?”
He nodded, wondering at the streak of fear that darted into her eyes. “It’s for protection. You should get one, too.”
Her breath glowed white in the air as she nodded and stumbled forward, trying to keep up with him. He slowed his pace to accommodate her, pushing the loose branches and bramble out of the way so they wouldn’t scratch her delicate face as they threaded their way back up the mountain.
He’d never brought a woman to Falcon Ridge before, never shown one his home. He wondered what she’d think of it.
A few minutes later, they stepped onto the portico of the stone structure, and he opened the massive front door and ushered her inside. She was trembling, the temperature outside having dropped ten degrees in the last hour. The frightening ordeal had obviously drained her, because her shoulders were beginning to slump, and her flushed face paled with exhaustion.
“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll fix you something hot to drink.”
She scanned the inside of the foyer, the ten-foot ceilings and dusty old paintings. He tried to see the monastery-type house through her eyes. His mother had hated the desolate location, had claimed the stone walls and dark paneled interior shrouded any light and warmth that might filter through the mass of trees surrounding the five-thousand-foot structure. He opened his mouth to explain that his parents had inherited the place, but he refrained, avoiding the subject of his family.
He reached for her arm to guide her to the kitchen’s woodstove, but she squared her shoulders and resisted.
“I’m not going to attack you,” he said, irritated that she was afraid of him. She’d felt his erection, knew he wanted her.
The realization put him on the defensive. He didn’t like this craving that happened when he was around her. And he especially didn’t like the fact that she didn’t reciprocate the feeling.
Was she afraid of all men or just him?
Had another man taken advantage of her?
He swallowed hard, the mere idea making his blood run hot. But he realized it was true. The bruises on her cheek and neck the first time he’d seen her had come from a man’s hands.
A man she had probably trusted.

HAILEY DIDN’T TRUST THIS MAN, although she had no idea why. He had saved her life. If he’d wanted to kill her or hurt her, he could have done so by now.
But he hadn’t. He’d offered to help her renovate her house. He’d escorted her into town. And now he’d rescued her from an attacker, and saved her from plunging over a cliff.
Who had been in the house? Thad maybe? Or someone who didn’t want her living in the Lyle house?
Rex moved through the doorway, obviously giving her space. Keeping her distance, she followed. The finely woven, handmade dream catchers dangling in the window seemed at odds with the masculine stone structure.
“Coffee, hot chocolate or tea?” he asked once they were in the rustic kitchen. Copper pots hung above a center work island, the stove encased in a brick arch. Natural light bled through a bay window that overlooked the woods and mountains above, looking majestic and giving the room an airier feel than the foyer. A small garden area surrounded a terrace, and beyond it, she noticed several large birdcages. She counted three that were empty. The fourth one was draped in a cloth.
“Hailey?”
She tensed, her mind in a tailspin, distrusting everything. “Whatever you’re making.”
He reached for the coffeepot, filled it with water and added coffee, then pressed the on button. The slow drip splintered the awkward silence.
“You can heat your hands by the woodstove.” He retrieved two thick ceramic mugs from the cabinet, found the sugar and cream set and put it on the scarred plank table.
She moved slowly to the stove, thrusting her hands above the steel frame, relief echoing in her sigh as heat drew the sting from her numb fingers. He filled the mugs, then gestured toward the sugar. She nodded.
He added sugar, then handed her the cup, their fingers brushing. His hot look unnerved her, enticed her to forget the reasons she needed to keep her distance. For once, she ached to bury herself in a man’s arms and let him take care of her.
“I like the dream catchers,” Hailey said. “Did you get them around here?”
“My mother collects them,” Rex said. “She thinks they bring good luck and ward off bad dreams.”
Hailey gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I understand. Bad dreams, sometimes they seem so real.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. Her dreams were her own demons. “What are the cages for?”
He glanced out the window, then turned to her, his expression wary. “I rescue injured birds of prey. My brothers and I train them.”
“You release them back into the wild?”
He nodded. “When we can.”
She relaxed slightly. Any man who rescued injured animals had to be more human than Thad. Then again, she’d been wrong before.
“Maybe I should call the police about the threat?” he suggested.
She immediately stiffened, her fleeting moment of safety shattered. Thad had power, influential friends. “No.”
His black eyebrow shot up. “You don’t want to report an intruder and the threatening note?”
She shook her head. “No, not yet.” She sipped the coffee, grateful he’d made it strong. “What if it was just a prank? Maybe kids…”
Although her gut instincts whispered that the threat had been real.
Someone had snuck into her house while she was gone and planted the picture to frighten her off. Someone who’d chased her into the woods and wanted her out of the Lyle house.
What would he do if she didn’t heed his warning?

Chapter Five
Hailey’s show of courage contrasted sharply with the fear in her big brown eyes. Why didn’t she want him to call the police? Was he right in wondering if she was in trouble with the law?
Or could a police officer have something to do with her fear of men?
God knows, they’d done a number on his father when he’d first been convicted. Going into jail as a child killer had trigged the worst in guards and other prisoners. Of course, some of them just enjoyed wielding their power on the weaker.
And Hailey was much more vulnerable than his dad. She’d obviously encountered violence before and still wore the bruises.
“Thanks for the coffee, Rex.” She placed the empty cup in the sink. “I should go back now. Do you mind driving me?”
He squared his shoulders, his libido stirring again as his gaze zeroed in on the rose-petal sweetness of her parted lips. Struggling for control, he dragged his eyes from her mouth, but they fell to the soft swell of her breasts and a hot streak of desire surged inside him. Worse, her chest rose with uneven breaths, her bravado drumming up admiration. A few minutes earlier she’d fled in terror, yet now she was ready to face whatever had frightened her.
Because she didn’t want to be alone with him?
Was he that damn scary?
“Sure.” He strode to the corner, removed his SIG Sauer from the cabinet and tucked it into his belt. He wanted to check out the items, too, see if they might help him find the real killer. “Let’s go.”
She bit down on her lip, then nodded, hugging her arms around her to ward off the cold as he led her back through the foyer. He stopped at the door, yanked his bomber jacket from the closet and handed it to her. “Put this on. It’ll keep you warm.”
Hailey hesitated, then shrugged into the worn, warm leather. The jacket nearly swallowed her whole, making her appear small and so damn sensual he nearly reached out to tug the coat around her. An image of her alone at the Hatchet House rose to taunt him, his desires mingling with protective instincts again. Another vision coasted on its tail—Hailey in his king-size four-poster bed, his down comforter brushing her nakedness while he trailed kisses along the pale skin of her neck.
“Maybe you should stay here or in town tonight.”
Her eyes flashed with wariness, and he realized his gruff voice had sounded suggestive.
“I saved for a long time to buy a house,” she said, her tone stronger now. “I refuse to let anyone run me off.”
He read fear in her eyes, but determination and strength darkened her irises, too. Damn, he didn’t want to like her. Even more unsettling, he sensed his own loneliness mirrored in her words. She’d run here to find solace and now someone had messed with her security, so she was fighting back.
His mother had let the locals run them off from Falcon Ridge years ago. It had taken growing up for him to have the courage to confront the people who’d shunned his family.
What had shaped Hailey into the strong woman she was now? And who the hell was she running from?

ALTHOUGH REX’S BIG STONE KITCHEN was intimidating and austere, the woodburning stove and smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped her in warmth, tempting Hailey to accept his offer and forget about the dangers haunting her—at least for a night.
But Rex’s dark raking eyes and towering presence posed another danger. One she wasn’t prepared to tangle with now. Maybe never.
An intoxicating aura shimmered off the man in rays that heated her blood and created an illusion of false security. Sexual attraction did not mean caring or safety.
It usually meant trouble.
Hadn’t she learned that from experience? Or was she forever going to be lured into trusting a man just because he hadn’t yet hit her?
This man could turn on her in a second….
“What kind of bird do you have in back now?” she asked, changing the subject as they walked to his Jeep.
“A ferruginous hawk.” His grim expression indicated he hadn’t liked the way he’d found the animal. “It was hit by a pellet gun. The pellet damaged soft tissue in its right wing.”
“So it’ll recover enough to be returned to the wild?”
He nodded. “He’s grown, he should do fine. But sometimes the juveniles get too dependent and have trouble adapting, especially if they’re kept in captivity too long.”
“What sparked your interest in birds?”
He shrugged, his expression guarded as they drove to her house. “There was a local wildlife center nearby when I was growing up. I used to volunteer there.” He gestured out the window, across the rocky terrain, his look pensive. “Just look at the space, the freedom the birds have. They’re lucky.”
He obviously identified with the birds of prey on an instinctual level, maybe even envied their freedom. She wanted to hear more, but they arrived at her house, and Rex parked. Even through the haze of snow flurries clogging her vision she noticed the screen door was still flapping in the wind. Another gust sent debris swirling across the porch. Hailey clutched the door handle, a shiver chasing up her spine.
“Wait here,” Rex said in a low, commanding voice. “I’ll check it out.”
Tempted again to accept his offer, Hailey hesitated. It would be easy to relinquish control to this man. But this house belonged to her, and she’d never asked anyone to fight her battles for her. She couldn’t start now.
“I’m going with you,” she said, surprised at her calmness when an edginess tightened every cell in her body.
“Hailey—”
“Whoever was in there is probably long gone,” she argued.
“All the more reason we should call the police and let them dust for fingerprints.”
“No.” Hailey opened the Jeep door. “Let’s look inside first.”
Dark clouds obliterated the dwindling afternoon sunlight as she followed Rex to the front door. He held his gun in front of him as he slowly stepped inside the entrance. He kept her behind him, his footsteps slow and steady, his eyes scanning the interior with caution. Shadows hovered in every corner, the dim lighting of the house adding to Hailey’s anxiety, each footstep bringing another creak and groan to the old house. They searched the downstairs room by room but found nothing amiss.
Hailey sighed with relief, but a screeching noise above shattered the momentary peace. Rex pressed a finger to his lips to indicate for her to keep quiet, then inched up the steps. Hailey followed, holding her breath until they reached the landing, then her gaze flew to the attic door.
Her pulse pounded. “The note, it’s gone.”
Rex frowned and glanced at the doorway, then back to her.
“The picture, it was there, I swear it.”
He pressed a finger to her lips, then motioned that he’d check out the rooms. Hailey followed, cringing when they entered the children’s empty bedrooms.
Although the paint had faded in the boy’s room, and someone had obviously removed most of the toys, wooden bunk beds still sat in the corner. Simple navy bedspreads, dusty and faded, were draped over the tops. Hailey froze, imagining the young boy at play, a train set winding around the room on the floor.
Grief for the poor child followed, her throat swelling.
The next room was painted pale yellow, the room bare except for a twin Jenny Lind bed and antique dresser. Oddly, there was no comforter or spread on the bed, but she pictured a frilly pink spread on top with lacy pillows scattered at the headboard and rag dolls and stuffed animals overflowing the now bare shelves.
“There’s no one here,” Rex said, jarring her back to reality.
“I told you he probably already left.” Hailey’s shoulders fell in relief. But the thought of the young lives lost so senselessly still troubled her. She had to talk to the locals and learn more about the people who’d lived here. More than ever, she wanted to honor their memory.
Rex studied her as they walked back to the attic door. “You’re sure someone was inside?”
Hailey hesitated. Had there been someone inside or had she imagined it? “Yes. How else would the note and picture get there, and then disappear?” She pointed to the door, the image of the bloody massacre stark in her mind. “The article described the murders, and the picture was so stark. The father was lying on the floor a few feet away from the mother. Mrs. Lyle had her arm curled protectively around her son. And the man had his hand extended, as if he was trying to touch them.”
“I’ve seen the photo.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “But I don’t see any signs of an intruder here. No footprints, nothing.”
“You don’t believe me?” Hailey asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe you heard a noise, the furnace squawking or the boards creaking with the wind and you just—”
“Maybe he was in the attic.”
His eyebrows arched. “All right, I’ll check.” He reached for the door and Hailey froze, her sense of claustrophobia growing.
He yanked it open anyway, and suddenly a flurry of wings wrestled through the air, flapping in their faces. Hailey screamed and ducked. Rex grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor while the bird flew in a circle, then soared down the steps and out the open screen door.
“A brown bat,” Rex said, standing. “That’s odd, bats are nocturnal. You rarely see one this time of day.”
“How did it get in?” Hailey asked, wondering if there were more upstairs.
“Probably a hole in the attic. Bats hibernate in the winter, so he might have been looking for a warm place to nest.”
Hailey wiped at her forehead. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
“I don’t know. Usually they nest in caves or the mines around here and return to the same place each winter. But the bat is probably the noise you heard.”
Hailey licked her dry lips. “Maybe, but that bat didn’t leave the gardenias, and put the note and picture on the door.”
His look turned skeptical. “Hailey, it’s understandable that you heard a noise and got spooked, maybe you—”
“Maybe I imagined the picture of those dead people?” Hailey backed away from him. “What do you think I am, some kind of lunatic that invented this story just to get your attention?”
He hesitated, and her chest squeezed. “Staying in this house would freak out anyone,” he finally said in a gruff voice. “The ghost stories especially.”
“I didn’t invent the note.” Anger replacing her fear, Hailey guided him down the steps. “Thanks for coming, though. I won’t bother you again, Rex.”

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