Ghostwalker 07 - Murder Game

had superior intelligence, strength, vision, and sense of smell. Muscles rippled beneath his skin, flowing like water, fluid and controlled. He was one of the youngest billionaires ever reported by Forbes , and he wielded vast political power. He had the savage, animalistic magnetism of his species and the ruthless logic to strategize and plan boardroom battles. He could mesmerize people with the sheer strength of his personality; he could attract and seduce the most beautiful women in the world, and frequently did so, but he could not make them love him. This—this mechanic —had commanded love from all those around him. It made no sense.

    What had made Andrew Reynolds so damned special that he could inspire that kind of love? That kind of loyalty? Hell, Jake couldn't claim love or loyalty from his own parents, let alone anyone else. As far as he could see, Reynolds hadn't given his wife a ABC Amber LIT Converter
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    damned thing, yet everywhere he looked he could see evidence of their happiness.

    He touched Emma's brush, strands of red hair gleaming at him like spun silk. His gut clenched. Longing nearly overwhelmed him. More than longing. Black jealousy assailed him. He'd heard his kind had that dangerous trait, but never once in his life had he ever experienced it. The emotion, so strong, so intense it left a bitter taste in his mouth, knotted his gut and put a killing edge to his already volatile temper. Andrew and Emma's life was fairy tale. A fucking fairy tale. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She didn't have decent clothes. Every pair of her jeans was faded and worn. There were only two dresses hanging in the closet.

    He found books on birds everywhere, an amateur design for a greenhouse aviary drafted by a feminine hand. He folded the drawings carefully and slipped them inside his coat pocket. He spent another hour in the apartment, not really understanding why, but he couldn't pull himself away. He was a man who needed freedom and open space. He was intensely sexual, seducing women and bedding them whenever, wherever he wanted.
    He'd never considered having a woman of his own, yet looking around that tiny apartment made him feel as if all the money in the world, all the political clout, all the secrets of what he was and who he was, all of that was nothing in comparison to what Andrew Reynolds had had.

    Jake closed and locked the door. Someone had to look at him that way. Not just someone—Emma. He couldn't walk away and leave her. The thought of another man finding her, possessing her, sent rage careening through his mind. Inside, he roared a protest. Emma should have been nothing to him, but he couldn't get the sight or scent of her from his mind.

    He wanted the damned fairy tale. He could be patient. He was methodical and completely ruthless. Once set on a course of action he was implacable, unswerving. No one, nothing, stayed in his way for long. A grim smile touched the slightly cruel edges of his mouth. He played to win, and he always did. It never mattered how long it took. He always won. He wanted what Andrew had had. He wanted Emma Reynolds, not some other woman. Emma. And he would have her. Nothing, no one, would stand in his way.

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