“Fuck.”
It wasn’t bad enough that he’d been covertly watching an old friend’s woman without her knowledge. He’d been secretly lusting after her too.
That was a sin he’d have to deal with in his own time.
Sooner than later, he’d have to contact Theo Collier and tell him the awful news. Whatever danger Theo felt Laurel was in—danger dire enough that he’d called Razor and practically begged him to get to her as soon as possible—the worst had occurred.
Now, Razor wanted answers.
Once he knew who had killed Laurel Townsend—and why—he was going to find the bastards and make them pay for what they’d done.
He ground his teeth and fangs together as he stared at the charred remains. Her skull bore a large, jagged hole from a bullet that had been fired into her head at close range. Someone had wanted to make sure she was dead. The fire would have killed her surely enough, but the mortal head wound had made certain of it.
“Son of a bitch,” Razor hissed quietly. The woman wasn’t his to mourn, but a cold grief carved deep into his chest to imagine the terror she must have suffered. She didn’t deserve to die like this.
He couldn’t save her now, but he damned well intended to avenge her.
Not only for his friend, but because his own blood demanded it.
As for the body, he refused to leave it for the elements or the forest scavengers.
It was too much to hope that he could find something to dig with in the rubble. Then again, he was uniquely suited to handle the situation without. Every Breed vampire was born with his own individual ability that set him apart from others, and Razor’s had helped give him his name.
On a mental command, sharp black talons erupted from the tips of his fingers.
He walked a few yards from the smoldering ruins to find a suitable place to bury the woman. A shaded area of grass near a small patch of wildflowers was the best he could do. Razor began digging. His Breed strength and speed made short work of the task. The shallow grave dug, he walked back over and carefully extricated Laurel Townsend’s remains from the ashes.
As he placed her in the grave, he noticed the delicate gold necklace she was wearing. Its chain and small pendant were blackened with soot and warped from the heat of the blaze. One of the links broke loose in his fingers as he touched it for a closer look.
Using his thumb, he rubbed the soot from the misshapen little half-heart pendant.
It would make a grim remembrance for his friend, but Razor would let Theo decide on that. Either way, Laurel didn’t need it anymore.
Razor slipped the necklace into his pocket as he knelt beside the open grave. He didn’t have any pretty words to speak for her. All he had was a festering sense of anger and regret . . . and bloody minded determination to deliver a cold payback to whoever was responsible for this heinous attack.
He took one last look at what remained of the vibrant beauty who’d lived in his head for the past few months like some untouchable dream.
“I’m sorry,” he ground out through his teeth and fangs. “I’m sorry I got here too late.”
He would carry that guilt the rest of his life. Just like he’d spend the rest of his days haunted by the memory of a fresh-faced, lovely ghost he had no right to crave the way he had, and no right to mourn now.
On a hard curse, he began covering her up with the dirt he’d dug, raking the cool soil back into the grave. When it was done, he retracted his talons and stood to dust himself off.
The sun was beginning to set. He preferred to ride at night, but any thought of heading directly back to the Darkhaven in Florida had gone up in smoke right along with Laurel’s cabin. Instead, he’d use the advantage of nightfall to prowl the small town at the base of the mountain and hunt for information.
Someone down there had to know something. Not only had the fire been deliberately set, but it had also been expertly extinguished before it could spread to the surrounding mountainside.
But who would have done something like this? And why?
It wasn’t only the locals in town who had some explaining to do. Theo Collier was keeping something from Razor too. He hadn’t pressed him when they last spoke, but he damn well intended to now.
He wasn’t going anywhere until he had answers to all the questions churning in his mind.
He headed back down the mountain, retrieving his bike and riding it to the bottom of the serpentine pass that let out at the edge of town.
Twilight cloaked the main street, which was lined with a handful of shops and cafes. Razor waited at the stop sign for the mountain pass, watching the pickup trucks and smattering of cars making their way in and out of the small downtown area.
He was just about to turn onto the main drag when a black Jeep approached the entrance to the pass.
