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to its top speed. He ran until he felt alone and swallowed up by the swirling night.
    Then he braced his feet, tipped his head back and howled his endless rage at the coming storm. Somewhere in the distance, Duke barked. In that moment, Brodie hated the little dog. He hated him for seeing what BJ could not.
    That Brodie Maxwell was a freak. That he was a monster inside and out.
    Brodie dropped to his knees, conceding a begrudging bit of respect for the dog. Duke did everything in his power to protect his mistress. But the fiercest dragon in the world couldn't protect anyone from Brodie. Once the cycle had started, their doom would be inevitable.
    And the cycle had started. Damn it all, he’d kissed her!
    He hurt for her. He went to her and gathered her in his arms when her memories grew too difficult for her to bear. Could there be anything more dangerous than caring for a woman? The injustices of her childhood churned the anger inside him. It was his nature to protect, and she had been so vulnerable.
    Thunder cracked and the moon vanished behind the clouds. He tilted his face to the heavens that had forgotten him and waited for the cold rain to pelt his skin.
    BJ looked at him as if he were a man, not an object. She expected decent, normal behavior from him. She stood up to the monster, yet turned to the man for comfort.
    The rain hit his forehead and ran into the crevices of his cheek. Lightning forked to the ground in the distance. He should seek the heart of the storm and let the next bolt strike him. But that wouldn't help BJ. Nothing could help her now.
    For what seemed a lifetime, he had managed to keep the danger at bay. But somehow, on this day, he had slipped. Irrevocably and unforgivably. He sealed BJ's fate just as surely as the criminal who stole her thoughts and ideas.
    Because Brodie had started to care.
    Thunder echoed in the distance by the time Brodie finished circling the grounds surrounding the house. Wet jeans plastered his legs, and his shirt collar clung like a clammy second skin beneath his water-stained jacket. He had walked the duration of the storm, become one with the elements until he could push everything out of his head except his sense of duty.
    As Brodie neared the house, the mantle of warrior awareness slipped over his shoulders. Forget today, he chided himself. Tomorrow's investigation would be more insightful. Sassy women with tell-all eyes would not affect his ability to ferret out the truth.
    But when Brodie stepped onto the porch, his cool detachment evaporated. Something was wrong. His scalp tingled in anticipation, his radar sensing danger before he saw it. The interior lights were out and the door stood ajar. Could a power failure have tripped the security system? He thought BJ had mentioned a backup generator.
    Slipping into the shadows against the house, Brodie reached behind him and pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt. He rolled the leather handle until it fit snugly in his hand and became a lethal extension of his own body.
    He slid along the siding to the door frame, nudging the door with his boot. In one smooth motion, he swung the door open and dropped to the floor inside. He crouched low behind the furniture, keeping his eyes open for anything, straining his ears to hear some sign of BJ.
    He heard crunching and scratching through the kitchen. The damn guard poodle was eating a midnight snack.
    With an ugly sigh, he rolled to his feet. BJ probably was sound asleep in her room. The open door was probably just a fluke. Still, his instincts had carried him through many battles. He wasn't ready to discount their warning signal just yet.
    His boots squeaked with dampness as he systematically checked the rooms. He found everything dark and silent until he reached the far wing of the house.
    A pulsing light flickered through an open doorway at the end of the hall. He crept closer and looked inside.
    BJ's office.
    The only light in the room came from the computer monitor