Rio shrugged. "I raced after her, but it was too late. I heard the shot. Sound travels a great distance" at night. When I reached her, she was dead and already skinned. He'd taken her pelt and left her like so much garbage on the ground." He closed his eyes but the memory was there. Already the insects and carrion were moving in. He would never forget the sight as long as he lived. "We can't take chances with the bodies. We burn them and scatter the remains over distances. I did what I had to do and all the while I could feel the black rage in me turning ice cold. I knew what I was going to do. I planned it carefully while I took care of her. I couldn't bear to think about what I was doing, the burning of her body, so I planned out each step as I worked."
"Rio, she was your mother, what did you expect to feel?" Rachael asked gently.
"Grief. Not madness. He didn't kill a woman, he killed an animal. It's acceptable in society. It isn't legal, but it's still acceptable. He didn't deliberately kill a human being-and in a sense, he didn't. We're taught that mistakes can occur and we have to be prepared for them. Each time we take our alternate form, we are taking a chance by running free. Poachers often enter our realm, I knew that. I was taught that. So was my mother. She took the chance just as I do nearly every night. It was her decision and her risk. That's what we're taught by the elders, and they're right. We aren't supposed to look upon it as murder. We're taught to view it as an accident."
"I'm not certain that's entirely possible, Rio. Admirable maybe, but not very likely when it comes to one's family."
He touched her mouth. That tempting, beautiful mouth so ready to defend him. There had been no one to defend him all those years ago. He'd been a hothead, rage riding him hard. Defiance his only weapon. "I don't believe in an eye for an eye." He looked down at his hands. "I didn't even back then. I know my killing him didn't accomplish anything. It didn't bring her back. It didn't make me feel better. It certainly changed my life, yet I still can't bring myself to be sorry that he's dead. Do I wish I hadn't done it? Yes. Would I do it again? I don't know. Probably. It was like a sickness inside of me, Rachael, a hole burning in my gut. I tracked him and found his hunting camp. Her pelt was hanging on the wall to dry. There was blood, her blood, on his clothes. I learned how to hate. I swear, I'd never even felt such an emotion before. He was drinking, celebrating. I didn't even give him a chance. I didn't say anything at all to him, I didn't even tell him why." He looked up to meet her eyes, wanting her to know the truth about what he was. What he'd done.
"I think I was afraid to tell him, afraid I'd see remorse or regret. I wanted him dead and I simply ripped out his throat. Her pelt was hanging on the wall behind him."
Bile rose in his throat, just as it had all those years ago. He had been physically ill, over and over, yet he had dragged the pelt from the wall and burned it as he was taught before returning to the elders to tell them what he'd done.
"You condemn yourself for going after the man who killed your mother, yet you make your living pulling people out of dangerous situations, using your skills as a marksman to free them."
"It isn't the same thing as defending my life or the life of someone else, Rachael," he said. "If I'm sent out to bring someone home, back to their family, I believe anyone in the scope of my rifle put themselves there by kidnapping and threatening the life of another. It isn't the same thing at all."
Rachael shifted her weight, bent forward to circle his neck with her arms in an effort to comfort him. Something whizzed past her ear so fast it hummed, thudding into the wall sending splinters in all directions.
Chapter Ten
RIO reacted instantly, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her to the floor, his body covering hers. The movement jarred her leg, sent pain radiating up her thigh and through her stomach so that she wanted to scream. It was only then that she heard the boom of the distant rifle reaching them. At once a series of spits peppered the room, tearing up the wall and showering the room with splinters of wood. Rachael jammed her good hand into her mouth to keep from crying. Her leg burned and throbbed. It felt as if it might have burst open but she couldn't move with Rio's weight on top of her.
"Stay down," he hissed. "I mean it, completely flat on the floor, Rachael. Don't you move, not for any reason." His hands were moving over her, inspecting her for damage. "You aren't hit are you? Tell me." He was shaking with rage. It welled up like a funnel cloud, dark and twisted and ferocious. The bullets hadn't been aimed at him, the marksman had gone after Rachael. There were no lights on in the house and the blanket was over the window, candle was the only light and it had been enough for the marksman to take his shot. It told Rio they were dealing with a professional.
"It's just my leg, Rio." Rachael did her best to be calm. Screaming wasn't going to help the pain and Rio's weight had her flattened like a pancake on the floor. "I can't breathe very well like this."
Fritz had been under the bed. With the bullets whining so close he emerged, snarling and spitting, Rachael risked her skin by catching the cat to prevent it from exposing itself to the gunfire. The cat's head spun around, saberlike teeth rushing toward her. Rio was quicker, pinning the animal and hissing a command. Fritz grew quiet and lay beside Rachael.
"Ungrateful wretch," she said pleasantly. Rio ignored her comment, sliding his hand over the bed until he found the gun. It was automatic to check the load. "The clip is full and one's in the chamber." He thrust the weapon into her hand. "Stay down and behind the bed." He rolled over, found his jeans and dragged them on.
Rio propelled his body forward using his elbows, staying on his belly as he made his way across the room to his guns. Carefully he inched his hand up to drag the cache of weapons to him. Almost immediately bullets spit into the wall above him. He rolled over, strapping a knife to his leg. "I have to go out there, Rachael." His next stop was the sink where the candle was. Any professional would know he would want to douse that small light. He used a water bottle from his pack on the floor, taking aim carefully and spraying the candle until the flame went out leaving behind a small trail of smoke. Another spray of bullets peppered the wall and sink.
"I know. Is there another way put besides the door?" "Yes, I have several. I'll use the one toward the back, farthest from his line of vision. Don't move around. He's probably got night vision glasses and he knows the layout of the house."
"How could he know that?"
Rio didn't know the answer to her question. At the moment it didn't matter. He scooted back to Rachael and laid one of his knives on the floor beside her fingertips. "You're going to have to use that if he gets close to you."
"Do you want me to shoot at him and distract him so you can get out without him seeing you?" Rachael offered.
Her voice trembled and he could hear the note of pain she was trying so hard to hide from him. With his acute sense of smell he picked up the scent of blood. The crash to the floor had caused some damage to her leg and he knew it must hurt. He leaned into her, caught her chin and brought his mouth to hers. He put everything he had into that kiss. His anger and fear, but most of all his passion and hope. He didn't want to admit to love, he barely knew her, but there was tenderness and something that tasted of love. "Don't try to help me, Rachael. This is what I do and I'm better working alone. I want you safe, here on the floor when I get back. If he comes in, use the gun. Keep firing even if he goes down. And if he keeps coming and you run out of ammo, use the knife. Keep it low, in close to your body, and thrust upward to the soft parts of his body when he's close."