"Crowe." Joey stopped him as he turned to leave. "Wayne's supposed to follow him to the bar tonight. He says he's going to make Stoner leave. You might want to be there."

"What time?" Crowe asked him.

"Ten, about the time he leaves. Wayne's going to try to do it private, so no one knows what Stoner's doing to her."

Crowe nodded. The meeting would be in less than two hours.

"Get out of here and get to base now," he ordered Joey again. "And I was never here, Joey. Remember that."

"Remember?" Joey snorted. "Why don't I just forget this whole year of my life, man? I think that would be safer all the way around for me."

"I think I agree with you."

From the cabin he'd met the soldier in, Crowe drove to Sweetrock, keeping to the back roads and hiking through the dense forest the last few miles into town.

At the time, it had been easy to access the tavern without pa.s.sing too many houses. The small stream behind it that swelled with yearly snowmelt hadn't yet been tamed to stay within its banks. The wilderness grew to within feet of the small block on one side, making it easy for Crowe to slip to the back of the bar where Stoner had just stepped outside.

Wayne was waiting for him just as Joey had reported, with two of the heavily muscled bruisers Wayne hired from time to time.

Grabbing Stoner as he stepped from the bar, Wayne threw him against the wall of the bar.

"Pack your s.h.i.t and get out before I kill you!" Wayne rasped in the other man's face. "I'll make d.a.m.ned sure Amelia divorces you before you leave."

"We have a deal, old man," Stoner reminded him, his smug tone drifting clearly to Crowe.

"That deal didn't include using my daughter as your personal punching bag."

"Well now, aren't you a fine one to talk," Stoner sneered.

Before the younger man could go any farther Wayne buried his fist in his gut.

"Tonight, Stoner," Wayne reminded him. "Or you'll wish you had."

Leaving the younger man where he sank to the ground, gasping for air, Wayne and the other two slipped around the edge of the bar and left. Only then did Crowe move to Stoner, silently, deadly.

"Crazy old b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Stoner moaned as he rose to his feet and stumbled toward the shadowed parking lot. "I'm not going any d.a.m.ned place."

A second later a gasp left Stoner's lips as a force pinned him to the side of the pickup. A razor-sharp knife pressed cold and threateningly against his throat.

"You'll leave," Crowe whispered at his ear, not caring if Stoner knew who he was or not.

"What?" Stoner's heart rate increased, fear echoing in his voice.

"You will leave tonight," Crowe repeated. "If you don't, you'll face me. Wayne will just kill you, maybe. But Stoner, I'll make you suffer. Are we clear?"

"Clear," Stoner wheezed. "We're clear."

"And I'll be watching to make sure you do," he promised, pulling back as quickly as he'd come upon the other man and disappearing into the shadows.

He watched as Stoner rubbed at his neck before rushing to his car, sliding in, and racing the few blocks to Wayne's house.

Crowe was just moving into place in the tree outside Amelia's bedroom balcony when Stoner slammed in.

Amelia had been sitting at the small writing desk and jumped to her feet. Before she could move more than a few feet, Stoner backhanded her across her face.

Crowe felt the growl that tore from his lips, drawing them into a snarl as he lifted the rifle he'd carried with him. He flipped on the laser sight just as Stoner gripped her neck and threw her against the wall.

The fear on her face horrified him. The tears that filled her eyes gave birth to a monster inside Crowe that he never wanted to feel again.

"Crowe Callahan visited me, b.i.t.c.h." Crowe could hear him clearly through the opened balcony doors. "I hope he enjoys you while I'm gone. When I get back, I'll see how fast the Slasher returns once I start telling everyone how protective that b.a.s.t.a.r.d is over you. How long do you think it will take before I'm a widower?"

Centering his rifle, Crowe let the little red bead center first on Amelia's forehead, right between her eyes, just to be sure Stoner could see it. Then he moved it to the hand wrapped around her throat as he keyed Stoner's number into his cell phone.

The other man activated the Bluetooth he wore on the first ring, though he didn't release Amelia's neck from his grip.

"Do you really want to die?" Crowe questioned him silkily. "Have no doubt, Stoner, I really want to kill you."

"I'm packing," Stoner whispered, though his hold never loosened as Amelia began to claw at his fingers, her eyes widening helplessly.

"That bead on your hand means I can see you, you f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Get your hands the f.u.c.k off her."

Stoner released her immediately, paling as he turned, moving quickly to the closet and grabbing a bag he obviously kept packed.

Crowe could hear every word as Stoner cursed and raged.

"He has to leave sometime, b.i.t.c.h. When he does, you'll pay for tonight."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice raw and thread.

"What or who do you think I'm talking about? Crowe Callahan, that's who."

Amelia gave a bitter, pain-filled laugh that tightened Crowe's chest with regret.

"You're crazy, Stoner. Crowe couldn't give a d.a.m.n whether you're here. Why don't you just go ahead and leave and stop making excuses. I didn't want you here to begin with."

"Oh, I'm leaving, you little f.u.c.king Callahan wh.o.r.e. But I will be back. And when I get back, I'm going to make certain every man, woman, and child in this d.a.m.ned county knows you for the Callahan-f.u.c.ker you are. How much do you want to bet the Slasher comes out of retirement just to make certain he gets a piece of you?"

Resignation vied with fear in Amelia's expression at the threat. "Better now than later," she said tonelessly. "It beats the constant threats, Stoner. Between you and Wayne, I've really grown tired of them."

In that moment Crowe knew Stoner would never live to see the morning light. Watching the other man slam from the room, he leaned back against the tree trunk and turned off the laser sight before sliding the rifle into the scabbard he'd slung over his back.

He'd wait just a bit, he decided. Just watch her for a few moments before he went after Stoner.

Moving shakily to the mirror hanging over her dresser, Amelia stared at the bruises that ringed her neck-livid red, already darkening to blue. Touching the marks, she let a strangled sob part her lips as her head bent, her fingers now gripping the edge of the dresser. G.o.d, how he needed to be there with her. To hold her rather than hiding and watching her hurt like this. The need was so brutal he had taken that first step on the heavy limb when her bedroom door opened again.

Crowe froze, watching, listening as Wayne stepped slowly into his daughter's bedroom. Dressed in his familiar black slacks and white shirt, he'd removed his tie, but had only pushed his gla.s.ses to the top of his thinning gray hair.

Amelia's expressive face was so completely expressionless now that Crowe could feel the fine hairs at the back of his neck lift warningly.

He had known she didn't trust her father, and he'd sensed she was frightened of him. This reaction had him tensing in preparation for danger, though.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," Wayne sighed, shaking his head as she stared back him through the mirror. "I'll take care of this, I promise."

She only nodded slightly.

What the f.u.c.k was going on here?

"You hate me," Wayne said then, a grimace contorting his face. "I didn't know he was like this. I swear I didn't."

"Would it have made a difference if you had?" she asked him. Crowe could hear what Wayne obviously didn't recognize.

Pure hatred. And he saw something else.

Amelia had clasped her hands in front of her, twining her fingers together. It was a sure sign she was preparing her entire body to lie. Her expression, her stance, her muscle tone, right to her eyes. Every part of her body followed the lies her lips spilled. Every part of her except her hands. And it amazed him that no one else realized it. No one else even noticed it.

"I would have done anything to keep you safe, Amelia." The sincerity in his tone would have caused Crowe to pause if it weren't for the fact that Amelia so distrusted him.

She did not distrust without good reason.

She drew in a deep breath, giving a smile that sent a chill racing up Crowe's spine. That smile was so soft, so forgiving ... and her fingers were twisted together so tightly they were white.

"I understand," she told him. "I understand."

She was lying through her teeth.

What the f.u.c.k was going on here and what did Wayne think he was saving her from?

"Good then," Wayne nodded, his hands lifting to her shoulders, his head bending to place a kiss at the top of her head. "Good night, sweetheart, and I promise you, Stoner will not be back."

Releasing his hold on her shoulders, Wayne turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Suddenly Amelia's shoulders heaved. Her hand clapped over her mouth and she rushed for the connecting bathroom.

Crowe could hear her retching from the bathroom, the violence of the sounds causing him to clench his fists to hold himself back from going to her. He knew his training and he knew the woman who filled his heart. And both were telling him something was very wrong.

And it wasn't just Stoner.

He forced himself to leave. Forced himself to track Stoner instead.

Pulling his truck into the back of the diner Stoner had stopped at, just a few miles from the cabin he owned, Crowe knew what he was going to do.

Crowe rarely killed without orders. h.e.l.l, until now, he'd never done so. He'd left Amelia's with the intent to kill, but each time he began preparing for it, he'd pictured the disappointment and fear he'd invariably meet in her eyes if she ever learned of it.

Pulling the rifle case from beneath the front seat of the truck, Crowe opened it and snapped the weapon together efficiently. Pulling on a black ski mask and gloves, he left the truck and headed around the back of the small diner, keeping close to the shadows.

It wasn't that he intended to kill Stoner there; he was more curious as to why the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had parked in the back.

It didn't take him long to figure it out.

The sight of young, hungry runaways wasn't uncommon at that particular diner. The night cook was known to sneak them small portions of food from the hot servers in the back. In his fifties with half a dozen grandchildren, he'd pay for the food himself out of his own pocket before seeing a kid go hungry.

But some kids, it took them a while to actually ask for the food. Those kids, especially young girls, often found themselves at the mercy of men like Stoner. That particular young girl hadn't been willing, though.

He'd gotten her out of the diner somehow-or perhaps he'd caught her coming in, Crowe didn't ask which. But when Stoner used his fist to disorient her and began tearing at her clothes, Crowe had had enough.

Acting quickly, he moved to the corner of the diner, called out the name he'd heard Stoner call her as though concerned, and made enough noise to wake the dead as though searching for her. It had been enough to get Stoner moving.

Tossing the kid aside with a curse, he'd rushed to his car and within seconds was speeding back up the road toward the cabin he owned. Exactly where Crowe wanted him.

Crowe took care of the girl first. Calling into the diner, he told the old cook there was a kid in the back lot, probably hurt and frightened, who could use a good meal and a friendly shoulder. Then he'd headed farther into the mountains.

Stoner didn't have much longer to live.

Once Stoner had nearly raped that kid, Crowe hadn't had a conscience left.

The stone-cold, merciless hunter the military had trained kicked into place, and Stoner was no longer a man. He was prey. A rabid, senseless waste of life that no longer deserved to breathe.

Pulling into a hidden spot below the cabin, Crowe pulled the black ski mask over his face, donned specially made leather gloves certain to leave not so much as an identifying smudge, and grabbed the rifle from the seat next to him. Leaving the vehicle, Crowe hiked the extra mile to the cabin, certain Stoner had beat him there until the sound of his vehicle pulling into the drive a.s.sured him Stoner was only just arriving.

Slipping behind the stacked firewood next to the driveway, Crowe watched as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the cabin. A second later his gaze narrowed as the pa.s.senger-side door opened and a young girl fell from the car.

"Come here, you little b.i.t.c.h," Stoner snarled as he jumped from the driver's side and moved quickly to the girl as she tried to back away from him fearfully.

"Please don't do this," the girl cried out desperately. "I'm only sixteen. Please."

"That's okay, b.i.t.c.h, the younger the p.u.s.s.y the tighter the hold, ya know?" Stoner laughed drunkenly, obviously determined to victimize young, defenseless girls that night.

Dimming the light on the smartphone he carried, Crowe called Stoner's number again.

"What the f.u.c.k do you want?" Stoner screamed through the link as UNVERIFIED came up on his phone's screen, obviously alerting him to who was calling.

Crowe laughed lightly, his gaze narrowed as the girl took advantage of Stoner's momentary distraction to race from the drive and hopefully off the mountain.

"What do you want? I left already. Go f.u.c.k the little b.i.t.c.h and get your own case of frostbite. I don't care in the least."

Stoner was looking around, obviously hoping to catch sight of his third victim of the night and cursing at the realization she was gone.

Silently disconnecting the call, Crowe felt his entire system sliding into killing mode. Stoner had made his final mistake as Crowe realized that letting him live meant the rape of a kid. Stoner wouldn't stop until he found a victim to hurt. Possibly to kill.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Hang up on me will you? Just wait till I get back to that b.i.t.c.h wife of mine. f.u.c.king Callahan wh.o.r.e. The next time you kiss her all you'll taste is my f.u.c.king c.u.m filling her mouth. You can have some real sloppy seconds. Then I'll be nice and let the Slasher know what a Callahan-f.u.c.ker she is so he can take her off both our hands."

Crowe stepped back as Stoner slammed into the cabin. Crowe went after the girl. He'd make sure she got home, or back to her parents, then he'd return for Stoner.

Less than two hours before dawn Crowe slid into place in a stand of evergreens at the back of the cabin. Through the kitchen window he could clearly see into the well-lit room as Stoner stood at the back door. He was silent, staring into the night as he finished what appeared to be another in a long line of beers.

Pulling the rifle to his shoulder Crowe knew he didn't have long to wait. He could smell a hint of urine where Stoner had relieved himself off the porch, obviously more than once. And it was obvious the lazy b.a.s.t.a.r.d was considering it again rather than walking to the bathroom at the front of the cabin.

Yep, here he came. Crowe waited until he was fully in view, caressing the trigger. Then as Stoner reached down to loosen his pants Crowe took the shot.