Accepting his father’s orders, he’d tried to kill her. But he’d failed twice.

Was fate speaking to him?

Maybe he was meant to have her first . . .

Lust shot through him. He needed to put his hands on Gianna. He needed to explore and feel the energy that radiated out of her.

He’d make it happen.

His past had taught him to follow his instincts.

He’d spent most of his life wandering aimlessly in one small part of the world, searching for his place and his purpose. He hadn’t found it. Instead he’d found trouble. He’d been attracted to the wrong people, wanting to experience the danger and energy that oozed from their pores. He’d wanted people to look at him with fear and worship. Instead he’d been set up to take the fall.

I was used.

The knowledge still heated his brain and sent waves of anger to his extremities. His father had had to step in and hustle him out of the country before he ended up in prison for the rest of his life. Part of him had hated his father, who had made success and power look effortless. He’d spent most of his youth believing that he could achieve the same. Every sports car and privilege their wealth had provided, he’d taken for granted, and then his poor decisions had nearly destroyed every advantage he’d received.

Once his feet had touched American soil, he’d known deep in his heart that here he could recreate his father’s success. His father still financed his life. His family’s fortune paid for his glitzy apartment and shiny car. But it wouldn’t be long before he could provide for himself.

He had the brawn, the brains, and the looks to make it happen. He dressed the right way, and Americans loved his accent. That plus credit cards and the right car made American women practically jump in his bed. At first he’d believed he’d conquered the American dream. Then he realized the women simply wanted to spend his money. They were sneaky bitches. Praising him to his face and then laughing about him to their friends. Fakes. Every last one of them. He learned to be more selective in his companions. He didn’t want a stable of easy lays who pretended to enjoy themselves in exchange for a shopping spree; he wanted respect . . . fear . . . and admiration.

The real stuff.

He’d abandoned the cheap whores and nonstop partying crowd, searching for quality. Gianna Trask was quality. People respected her. She was smart and cautious and had stood in the limelight and then chosen to reject it. He’d never had a woman like that in his bed before.

What kind of person rejects fame?

His lust and curiosity were both engaged. His obsession growing beyond that with any other woman he’d pursued. He needed to have her to get her out of his mind and system. Then he could fulfill his father’s orders.

He’d been following her for weeks. His orders were to watch for the subject who’d double-crossed them. The subject had been seen traveling to Oregon, but they’d lost his trail, and their intelligence indicated that he would meet with Gianna. She’d been easy to watch. She hadn’t started her new job yet, and had spent most of her spare time unpacking her moving boxes and sightseeing with her daughter. He’d set up shop in an empty rental house directly behind her new home. Watching from the windows that allowed him a direct line of sight into her bedroom and family room.

No one came to visit.

He’d followed her to Starbucks and the grocery store. Carefully keeping his face from her sight. But the more he’d watched, the more he’d needed her to know he existed. He could feel the pressure still building inside him.

His father still needed the device. Had the man passed it to Gianna? When? He’d searched the old man’s clothing and found nothing.

One of the Trask women should know where it was.

He couldn’t fail his father again.

Before Michael Brody arrived at the ranger station, he suspected he knew more about Dr. Gianna Trask then his quiet brother, who’d been with her for the last twenty-four hours. A couple of quick phone calls at the start of his journey had yielded fascinating fruit by the time he’d come upon the massive wreck that’d closed the highway.

Gianna Trask had a unique legacy. At one point when she was very young, she’d been in every gossip magazine and on every national news show. But her fifteen minutes had been brief. She’d been a child when her parents had died in a manner that’d caught the nation’s attention. According to the old articles his assistant had dug up, Gianna Trask had no recollection of the car accident.

Every molecule in his body ached to interview her.

She had to remember something.

She’d done well for herself, considering her tragic past. A respected forensic pathologist. A daughter who did well in school. Michael’s sources had rapidly dug under a lot of rocks.

Why did she choose Oregon? She’s barely settled in and ends up adjacent to two murders?

His thoughts had raced as his Land Rover handled the snowy roads with ease, churning past dozens of abandoned cars. Drivers had patiently waited on the sides of the road for the highway to reopen, but when the word had gone out that it would be closed down for at least twenty-four hours, they’d discovered their vehicles couldn’t manage the drive back to town. There was a dystopian feel to the highway. Lonely and deserted. Police had long since cleared out the people, and for many miles Michael felt like the only human alive.

A single well-placed call had cleared him to pass the accident. The primary wreck was a sight. Semis, cars, trucks. Some of their makes and colors unrecognizable. Even with the state troopers’ orders to let him through, the one he talked to still gave him crap. “Don’t make more work for us. If you get stuck, we don’t have the time to come find you. We just got the last body out an hour ago. This investigation is going to take days.”