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  SHIFT OF FATE

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, June 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-923-1

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  SHIFT OF FATE © 2004 ELISA ADAMS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Martha Punches.

  Cover art by Linda Hines.

  Shift of Fate

  Elisa Adams

  Chapter One

  Merida lounged in her favorite chair, her eyes closed, the sounds of the gulls flying overhead and the waves breaking against the shore a hundred feet from the patio surrounding her. The scents of warm saltwater and hot sand filled her senses, the heat of the May sun warming her tanned skin.

  She let her eyes drift open and scanned the length of the beach. Not a soul in sight. Just how she liked things. For the first time in her life, she felt completely—and peacefully—alone. No older brother to tell her to behave herself, no domineering boss to tell her what to do…and best of all, no vampires to mess with her head and play havoc with her emotions.

  “Can I get you anything before I leave for the day?”

  She glanced up at Brett, the housekeeper too sexy for his own good. Okay, so she wasn’t that alone. He stood over her chair with his feet apart. The way he had his hands clasped behind his back pulled his emerald green shirt tight against his well-built chest. Brett was muscular, but not overly so, like a certain vampire she knew, with chocolate-brown hair and eyes, and features too smooth to be called rugged. Her brother’s mate had called him “pretty” the last time she’d visited, and Merida had to agree. The description fit. She’d never asked, but he couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. A baby. But old enough to take to bed—which seemed to be why everyone thought she kept him around.

  She didn’t.

  She’d considered it—she’d have been a fool not to—and he’d proved time and again to be ready and willing, but she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. Her mind refused to look past a certain man she’d rather forget.

  “No, thanks. I’m all set. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his tone laced with innuendo. If he knew how old she really was—or what she was—he’d run as fast as he could in the other direction.

  She opened her mouth to accept what he offered, but her mind wouldn’t let her answer. She sighed. “Sorry. Not tonight.”

  “Okay.” He gave her a killer smile, one that would have had her doing anything he wanted if she’d been a few centuries younger. “Maybe another time?”

  “Definitely.”

  His smile widened. “Cool. Remember I have an early class tomorrow morning so I won’t be able to get here until a little after noon. I can stay late, though, if you’d like.”

  She resisted the urge to groan in frustration. She had an amazing man right next to her, offering her something she should want, and she couldn’t take him up on the offer. “Maybe. We’ll see what happens.”

  “Okay. See ya later.” He hesitated for a few seconds before walking toward the gate that led to the front of the house. She stared at his fine ass as he walked away, half wanting to call him back. But she let him go, as she did every afternoon, and regretted the moment she’d introduced herself to Royce Cardoso.

  “Damned vampires,” she muttered. “Always going and messing everything up.”

  If she could go back in time to when she’d first met him, that night almost a year ago in a small New England town, she’d change everything. She never would have announced her presence to him. She would have let him walk by, never knowing he wasn’t alone in his hunt for the killer they’d been searching. But, on impulse, she’d stepped out of the shadows and offered to help him look. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. They were both working toward the same goal, so why not work together? She hadn’t expected the chemistry that had caused an explosion between them. The one night they’d spent together had been one of the things to cause her to flee to Florida and the solitude of a private estate.

  But there were other, deeper reasons, ones that kept her awake at night. If she could stay here for the rest of her life, maybe she’d be able to forget all that had happened.

  Not likely.

  She’d been in Key West for three months, and images of her old life still haunted her at night with the world quiet and sleeping around her. She drew a deep breath and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. Nothing would ever be the same, and she needed to get used to it. Florida seemed the perfect place to start over. She had all the heat and sun she wanted, all the time, a private beach attached to the mansion she’d purchased, and plenty of space and privacy. Life was sweet. Except…

  She shook her head, not willing to go there, not yet. She’d left behind everything she’d known when she’d left New England—her home, her family—she wouldn’t put herself through the hurt of thinking about it again. Not when it still felt so fresh in her mind. If Sam had just fired her after that last little mishap, she might have been able to handle it. But he’d gone and dumped a whole bunch of unwanted responsibility on her shoulders.

  She wouldn’t bow down to what he wanted, what he’d asked of her. She didn’t want it, never had, and she wouldn’t let him get away with pushing her into a job she had no interest in assuming. So she’d packed her things and moved away. In time, she’d forget her anger and contact Sam, but not now. It was too soon after the confession that had changed her life, and she had more important things to do than worry about his feelings.

  Like deny her destiny.

  Sam’s voice floated through her mind, lingering as it had for so many nights. “Fate is too important to ignore, Merida. You have to accept what you are, and what you’re destined to be. You can’t fight it.”

  “Bullshit,” she muttered. “The ability of denial is my biggest asset.”

  The cordless phone on the small metal table next to her chirped, dragging her from depressing thoughts. She snatched the phone up and answered it, hoping against her better judgment that he’d finally decided to call.

  She let out a sigh when she heard her brother’s voice. “Hey, sis.”

  “Eric.”

  “Nice to talk to you, too.” His tone mirrored all the anxiety and irritation she felt, but for much different reasons. On his last visit, Eric had told her he thought she needed to get professional help. She hadn’t been very nice in her reply.

  “I’m sorry for snapping. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Sam? Or Royce?”

  She almost blurted Royce’s name, but she held it back. No sense giving Eric any more ammunition to taunt her than he already had. “Neither.”

  “What is it with you?” he asked, his tone reprimanding. “Why are you obsessed with a vampire? He’s not a nice guy, Merida. I thought you would have realized that by now.”

  She nearly laughed. Eric didn’t know half of what had gone on between them. If he had, he might have done something ridiculously outdated like try to defend her honor. “Don’t you think I know that?” She blew out a harsh breath, trying to keep from yelling at her brother. Hadn’t she made it perfectly clear that she wanted no more interference in her life?

  “Then why even bother thinking about him? I don’t get it.”

  “That’s the beauty o
f it all. You don’t have to. It’s my life, Eric, not yours and not Sam’s. I wish you would stop trying to pressure me, because nothing you say is going to have any effect. I’m capable of taking care of myself. Why don’t you go back to playing house with Ellie and leave me alone?”

  “Easy, honey. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with you.”

  Some of her anger deflated at his worried tone. She drew a breath and let it out on a long sigh. “Nothing’s going on with me. Nothing at all. I just needed a break. This has nothing to do with Royce.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Yeah, sure it doesn’t.” Eric’s answer echoed the voice in her head, and she could almost feel his tension through the telephone lines. Although they’d formed an alliance of sorts during their hunt for the killer that nearly taken Ellie’s life, Eric and Royce couldn’t stand each other.

  To tell the truth, she and Royce didn’t exactly get along, either. She’d never be able to call the man a friend. Every time they got close to one another, they’d been ready to tear each other apart. There had been an intense need under all the animosity…which she promised herself she’d never think about again. End of discussion. “Really, Eric, I couldn’t care less about Royce. I’ve moved on. I’m happy here. You and Ellie should visit, come see the pool I had put in. You’ll love it.”

  “Sounds nice. I’ll talk to Ellie. I’m sure she’d love to come down for a visit.” She heard the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m glad you’re all right. Behave yourself, okay? Don’t get into any trouble.”

  “I never do.”

  “Sure. You’re a perfect angel.”

  She laughed at his playfully sarcastic tone. Growing up, trouble had seemed to follow her around. Not that she’d done anything to avoid it. Some things never changed. “An angel, huh? What fun would that be? The way I remember it, you aren’t exactly up for sainthood yourself.”

  “Don’t remind me. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That leaves me a lot to play with. Tell Ellie I said hello.” She disconnected the call and stood up from the chair, walking to the edge of the patio to bury her toes in the hot sand. She might be able to forget about the secrets Sam had kept from her, but what had happened with Royce would be difficult. Some things were impossible to forget.

  * * * * *

  Women.

  Everywhere he went, they only caused trouble.

  Royce slammed the car door and made his way up the three flights of stairs to his tiny walkup apartment. He let himself in and shut the door behind him, walking away before he put his fist through the plaster on the wall next to the door. He didn’t want to have to explain another gaping hole in the wall to his landlord—who hadn’t been thrilled with the first two.

  He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and took a long swallow. He didn’t need woman troubles now. In fact, he’d be happy to never have them again. Ever. Since Merida had walked out on him nearly a year earlier, he’d reaffirmed his vow to keep himself at a distance from any and all women. He’d been burned twice. Badly. He refused to let it happen again.

  What had happened tonight had been a very different problem, but still he blamed the woman involved. Since coming back from South Africa a few months ago, he’d been working as a private investigator, hoping the change of pace would rid his gut of the insatiable gnawing that had settled too long ago to remember. He’d gone past boredom into apathy a few months ago and had decided a career change might help. Instead, he’d only gotten aggravation. Cheating spouses, insurance fraud…every case sunk him deeper and deeper into his rut. And tonight, when the woman he’d been investigating for her husband broke the back window of his car with a tire iron, he’d been ready to kill.

  The time had come for more drastic measures. He had a friend up north, living somewhere in rural Vermont, that he might go visit. He hadn’t seen Wil in a while, not since his wilder days years ago. A trip to Vermont to relax and leave worries about work or women behind might be just what he needed. Maybe it would finally help him forget about Merida and how she’d left him—and how angry the whole thing made him. He did not like being the one left alone in the morning.

  He and Merida had never promised each other more than one night. But he’d hoped—no. Hope was a ridiculous thing. He would be better off forgetting any of it had ever happened. He should just chalk it up to a night of amazing, incredible sex and be done with it. After all, isn’t that what he did best? Love ‘em and leave ‘em—that was him. The description fit perfectly. Any of the women he’d been with since his wife would say the same thing. And in the years he’d lived, that added up to hundreds of testimonials.

  So why had Merida been the only one running away?

  He abandoned the water for something a little stronger—the bottle of aged red wine his brother had sent to him a few weeks ago. Not bothering with a glass, he took a healthy swig, closing his eyes as the liquid scorched his throat on the way down. Marco often asked him why he tortured himself like this. He hadn’t minded giving up most of his human life when he’d become a vampire, but there were some things a man just couldn’t give up.

  After a few more swigs, he corked the bottle and set it back in the cabinet. With his heightened senses and lowered resistance to alcohol, the wine would hit him hard and fast. He scrubbed a hand down his face as he walked down the hall to his bedroom. The sun would be up soon and, now that the adrenaline rush had started to subside, he felt the weariness of the night weigh down on him. He needed some rest before he did something stupid and barbaric he’d regret later.

  He stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt and dropped onto the unmade bed, pulling the sheet up to his waist. The cool sheets felt good against his back, the silence of the room a refreshing change after dealing with another night of busy city streets.

  The doorbell rang as he’d started to doze off. The only person he could think of who might visit at this hour would be his brother—and only if there was trouble. His heart pounding, he got out of bed, not bothering to put anything over his boxers before he went to answer the door. To his surprise, he didn’t find Marco standing on the other side of the door.

  A woman he’d had a fling with a couple weeks back stood in the hallway, an anxious smile on her face. “Hi, Royce.”

  “Hi.” He leaned a hip against the doorframe, wondering what this one wanted. They always wanted something, and she—what was her name again?—would be no exception.

  “I hadn’t heard from you in a while.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. He’d never made any kind of a commitment with her, and he’d been ready to go his own way after just a few…dates. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I figured. Can I come in?”

  “That depends. What brings you by so early in the morning?”

  “I knew you’d be just getting in. I thought you might be lonely.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So you came to keep me company?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze drifted to his boxers before coming back up to his face. “If you’re up for it.”

  He swung the door open wider and moved to the side, allowing her to step past him into the apartment. She thought he might be lonely. Huh. She had no idea how true that was.

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell…?” Wil Brogan let his whispered voice trail off as he took in the sight in front of him, something akin to a scene out of a slasher flick. In ten years on the Caswell police force, he’d never come across anything quite like this. Not here. He’d seen it—and worse—but in another life, another time.

  A time he’d tried hard to forget.

  He stepped further into the room, his gaze landing on the handful of officers standing around the bodies. “Is this how they were found? Just like this?” Back in New York, he wouldn’t have even had to ask the question. But in Caswell, all bets were off. The officers went through all the training on how to handle crime scenes, but the most they ever dealt with all
the way up in Vermont might be an accident caused by reckless or drunk driving. Murder…the town hadn’t seen anything like this in all the years he’d lived here. Most—if not all—the officers on the force had never seen something so gruesome.

  Wil had. Many, many times. He kept the memories stored in a place he no longer cared to acknowledge. The sight in front of him dragged the memories from the deepest recesses of his mind, twisting his gut into a painful knot and making his head pound.

  One officer, Ray Denton, ran a chubby hand down his face, his eyes reflecting the same torment and horror Wil felt inside—but for very different reasons. “Yeah. Nobody’s moved them. Ms. Henderson walked in and found them just like that.”

  Wil swung his gaze toward the kitchen, where Lora Henderson, a woman who lived down the street half a mile or so, stood talking to another detective. She waved her hands around in nervous gestures as she spoke, her pale face stained with tears. He’d be willing to bet she’d see the bodies in her nightmares for years to come.

  He let out a harsh breath as he paced the length of the room, his mind stuck in a past he no longer claimed as his own. Before the memories drove him mad, he turned his focus back to the task at hand—the bloody crime scene spread out before him.

  “This is exactly how the room was found? Nobody’s touched anything, right?”

  Denton shook his head, his eyes barely concealing his apparent annoyance at Wil’s questioning. “Nothing has been touched in the time I’ve been here, since the call first came in.”

  Good. The last thing he needed, on top of this mess, was an argument with the crotchety old medical examiner. Wil pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The coppery tang of blood filled the air—and his senses— making his stomach churn. He also detected a faint odor similar to burnt hair, though he doubted anyone else in the room had noticed. He was thankful for that, knowing it would cause too many questions. Knives—what would probably be determined as the murder weapon—didn’t burn. He knew of a few other things that would cause a burning smell, none of them within the realm of believability for the people of Caswell.