Dark Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,1

I was no good with firearms. Never had been.

I choked, and Nic released the stranglehold on my windpipe, though he didn't release me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of metal on the desk. He'd put my gun aside. One less thing to worry about.

"What do you want?" I managed.

Instead of answering, he nuzzled my hair and his breath brushed my ear. My knees quivered; my eyes burned. Having Nic so close was making me remember things I'd spent years trying to forget. And the memories hurt. Hell, I still loved him.

An uncommon rush of emotion caused my muscles to clench, my stomach to roil. I wasn't used to feeling anything. I prided myself on being cool, patrician, in charge: Dr. Elise Hanover, ice queen. When I let my anger loose, bad things happened.

But no one had ever affected me like Nic. No one had ever made me as happy or as sad. No one could make me more furious.

I slammed my spike heel onto his shiny black shoe and ground down with all my weight. Nic flinched, and I jabbed my elbow into his stomach. I forgot to pull my punch, and he flew into the wall. Spinning around, I watched him slide to the floor, eyes closed.

Oops.

I resisted the urge to run to him, touch his face, kiss his brow. For both our sakes, we couldn't go back to the way things had been.

Nic's eyelids fluttered, and he mumbled something foul. I let out the breath I'd been holding. He'd be all right.

I doubted he was often on the losing end of a fight. Since I'd seen him last he'd bulked up - the combination of age and a few thousand hours with a weight machine.

What else had he been doing in the years we'd been apart? He'd planned to become a lawyer, except he didn't resemble any lawyer I'd ever seen. The suit, yes, but beneath the crisp charcoal material he was something more than a paper-pushing fast talker. Perhaps a soldier decked out in his Sunday best.

My gaze wandered over him, catching on the dark sunglasses hooked into his pocket.

Suit. Muscles. Men in Black glasses.

"FBI," I muttered.

Now I was really ticked off.

Nic's eyes snapped open, crossing once before focusing on my face. "You always were smarter than you looked."

I'd been the victim of enough dumb-blonde jokes to last me several lifetimes. The moronic jabs and riddles had bothered me, until I realized I could use the speaker's attitude to my advantage. If people thought I was stupid, they weren't expecting anything else.

So I didn't rise to Nic's bait. He'd been sent here by the big boys, without warning, and that meant trouble.

"I suppose you want me to hand over my gun?" he grumbled.

I shrugged. "Keep it."

A weapon filled with lead was the least of my worries.

He struggled to his feet, and I experienced an instant of concern when he wobbled. I'd hit him way too hard.

"Let me give you some advice," he said. "I've always found that the people we least expect to shoot us usually do."

Funny, I'd found that, too.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

His brows lifted. "No hugs, no kisses? You aren't glad to see me? If I remember correctly I should be the one who's angry."

He sat on a chair without being invited.

"Oh, wait." His eyes met mine. "I am."

Nic had every reason to be furious. I'd snuck out in the night as if I had something to hide.

Oh, wait. I did.

Nevertheless, being near him hurt. I couldn't tell Nic why I'd left. I couldn't apologize, because I wasn't really sorry. I couldn't touch him the way I wanted to. I couldn't ever touch anyone that way.

"You didn't come here to talk about our past," I snapped. "What does the FBI want with the Jüger-Suchers?"

I wasn't the only one fighting monsters. I was merely the geeky member of a select group - "hunter-searchers" for those a little rusty on their German.

Though financed by the government, the Jüger-Suchers were a secret from all but those who needed to know. If it got out that there were monsters running all over the place, people would panic.

Not only that, but heads would roll. Unlimited cash for a Special Forces monster-hunting unit? Someone would definitely lose their job, and we'd lose our funding. So we pretended to be things we weren't.

For instance, I was a research scientist investigating a new form of rabies in the animal population. Most of our field