Without Mercy (Mercy 1)

He’d made that mistake and couldn’t risk another, not with Shaylee Stillman or Julia Farentino or any other temptress who might cross his path. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the bitter winter night, and forced the heat in his blood to cool.

Pull yourself together.

You have work to do.

A sudden peace moved over him, and all the doubts were chased away as if they never existed.

Trent stood under the heavy spray of a shower so hot it damn near burned his skin. But the needles of hot water felt good, the steam in the room clearing his head after a sleepless night spent spinning scenarios for what might have happened in the stables. Trying to think like the killer. Trying to focus on what happened to Drew and Nona without picturing Jules walking alone across this dangerous campus.

Damned woman.

Seeing her again was a jolt back to another lifetime when he was still riding bulls, still thinking he could grab the world by the tail, still naive enough to believe in love.

“Get real,” he told himself now, blinking the water from his eyes, feeling lather slide down his body. They’d had a shot; it hadn’t worked out. End of story.

Except she’s back and looking better than ever.

Her hair was shorter now, but still a deep, rich brown that waved as it brushed her shoulders. But it was her eyes that got to him. Surrounded by thick lashes, guarded by arched eyebrows, her eyes were between a steely gray and silver, depending on the light.

Did she look like her sister? Oh, yeah. But more refined, her lips a little fuller, her eyebrows more arched, her cheekbones bolder than her younger sister’s. Half sister, he reminded himself.

But Jules … He lifted his face to the spray, trying to wash her from his mind.

Why now? Why did she have to appear now, when all hell was breaking loose? The last thing he needed was to worry about her or her damned sister!

As he reached for the faucet to turn off the water, he heard his cell phone ringing over the creak of old pipes.

Who would be calling him at six in the morning?

No one bearing good news, that much was certain.

He stripped a towel from the bar, then marched barefoot and dripping into the bedroom. “Trent,” he said on the fourth ring, holding the cell between his ear and shoulder as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Sheriff O’Donnell. Hope I didn’t wake you.” O’Donnell’s voice was rough from cigarettes or not enough sleep or, Trent figured, both.

“Been up a while.”

“Figured as much. I took your advice and called Dan Grayson in Grizzly Falls.”

Sheriff Dan Grayson.

“And I also put in a call to Larry Sparks, with the state police up in Portland,” O’Donnell went on. “Grayson said you were a stand-up guy. Reliable. Sergeant Sparks confirmed it and told me he’d trust you to have his back.”

“Good to know.” Trent shoved his wet hair from his eyes and waited, knowing where this was going.

“According to Grayson, you’re on the bull-headed

side, but that’s not a problem for me. Thing is, my deputies and me, we barely made it out of the mountains last night, what with the storm. And now that our investigation has turned to homicide, well, I’m going to need some inside help. So, if you’re still willing, I’m deputizing you, here and now. Probably add a few others to the list out there, so I’ll need your input on who at Blue Rock would be good, who you could trust.”

That list was sure to be short.

“I won’t kid ya,” O’Donnell said, and paused for a second. Trent heard the click of a lighter and a deep intake of breath as the sheriff fired up a cigarette. “The storm has really stretched us thin. Deputies working around the clock. Had to pull a few of my guys away from the school to field other emergencies. Hell, I had to cover a few jobs myself.”

Which explained the early hour.

“We just don’t have the manpower to handle everything, even with help from the OSP, city police, and emergency crews. We could use a man like you.”

“Count me in,” Trent said, relieved to have access to some information, albeit limited, from the sheriff’s office.