Dark Hunger by Rita Herron Page A

him since.”
    “He hasn’t contacted you at all?”
    She twisted her hands in her lap. “No.”
    Quinton lapsed into a sullen silence as she turned to look out the window.
    “What about your family?” she asked.
    He gave her a sharp look. “I don’t have family.”
    “What about your brother, Vincent?”
    A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Get some rest, Annabelle. We’ll be in Charleston soon, and it’s going to be a long day.”
    She twisted her hands together, disturbed at the way he’d cut her off. Quinton was one person she couldn’t trust.
    So why did she feel drawn to him?
    It didn’t matter. She had to guard her emotions and protect herself against him. His avoidance told her more than he realized. And she would find the story behind him before this was over.
    But he was right. Her head was throbbing and when they got to Charleston, they had work to do. It was already early morning.
    Midnight was only hours away. They had to stop this bomber before more lives were lost.
    Quinton momentarily tapped into Annabelle’s thoughts. She didn’t trust him. And she’d vowed to guard herself against him.
    Smart thinking. She
shouldn’t
trust him.
    But she wanted him, found him desirable.
    Hmm… interesting.
He could use that attraction to his advantage.
    Wind whipped the trees into a frenzy, scattering dead leaves across the grass and sidewalk in a flurry of red, orange, yellow, and brown as they neared Charleston.
    He swiped a hand over his neck, then turned to study her. Her blonde hair lay in waves against the seat, her bruises more pronounced in the early morning sunlight. Everything about her was light to his darkness, her blonde hair to his black, her ivory skin to his bronzed.
    Her soul to his lack of one.
    For once in his life, he wanted to soothe someone’s pain, not inflict it.
    He had to stop this bomber today. The sooner they discovered who’d orchestrated the attacks, the sooner he’d be free from Annabelle’s spell.
    Because he would never be free from the darkness that ate at his soul.
    And when he killed again, he didn’t want her around to interfere, or to endanger her because of it.
    Or to make him question his actions.
    He pulled into a hotel on the northern side, went inside and reserved adjoining rooms, and quickly installed cameras in the room where Annabelle would stay so he could watch her every move.
    He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t pass on her story or suspicions. Besides, he needed to see if anyone approached or tried to attack her.
    When he returned to the car, he nudged her awake. “I got us a room. Let’s go inside, rest a bit, and clean up before we talk to the police.”
    She nodded sleepily, her mouth pinching as she climbed out. But again, she didn’t complain. She tried to grab her suitcase, but he yanked it from her and carried their bags inside. As soon as she crawled into the bed, Quinton called his chief to let him know he was in town.
    “I’ll meet you at the local police station,” Chief Tarrington said. “Then we’ll try to narrow down target areas.”
    Quinton agreed then hung up. He only hoped they found the location in time.
    Although Annabelle could have slept for days, the short nap and shower revived her. She and Quinton grabbed coffee and doughnuts on the way to the police station, where a burly bald man named Detective Barbaris met them.
    An FBI agent named McLaughlin joined the team in the conference room, along with a man whom Quinton introduced as Chief Tarrington, his boss from HS.
    “What do we have to go on?” Detective Barbaris asked.
    Quinton spoke up. “Miss Armstrong received a text warning of an impending attack tonight at midnight.”
    The detective frowned. “And you know this is for real?”
    Quinton exchanged a look with Annabelle, then nodded.
    “Why do you think it will occur here?” Detective Barbaris asked.
    “It’s really a hunch,” Quinton said, earning him an odd look from the chief, “The vultures gathered in