Fallen Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page A

She and her brother at the beach. A five-year-old Harper was frozen in time with a huge toothy grin, sitting in the middle of the sand castle Bobby had just finished building. But instead of being mad at her for flattening his masterpiece, she remembered he’d laughed even harder than she had.
    The picture frame dropped from her fingers and crashed to the desk. Harper’s shaking hands shot up to her head as grief and fury pounded her mind.
    “Oh crap.” Harper gasped and doubled over. It was happening again.
    She took a deep breath, struggling to calm her frenzied mind. Tried not to think she was standing where her brother used to stand daily, bathed in the natural light he’d created for his precious plants.
    Harper was breathless now, as if someone had kicked her hard in the gut and smashed a board across the back of her skull. Aching sorrow blasted behind her eyes. She fell to her knees.
    Icy shards sliced through her veins, only to be replaced once again by a scalding heat—so hot, she saw a red inferno glow behind her tightly closed eyelids. Pain swarmed within her rushing blood. Energy vibrated inside her brain, thrashing around to get out of its cage.
    Harper howled in agony and shuddered as she felt the ravenous wave of power surge from her mind. The wild force hammered everything around her with barely perceptible currents emanating from her body, sending Bobby’s desk slamming into the wall just as someone burst through the door.
    A tortured wail from inside the lab pierced the air. Done with decoding the lock on the lab’s secure door, Rome reached under his coat and withdrew his gun from its holster. Holding the gun downward and ready, he gripped the door handle and shoved it open.
    Rome instantly dove to the floor, barely missing the flying desk coming straight at him. It crashed hard against the concrete wall right above his position, raining thick splinters on top of him. He bit back a moan and struggled to clear the broken parts away enough to get into a crouch.
    He stilled, listening. It was quiet save for some creaking and settling of scattered tables and other debris. What the hell just happened? An explosion?
    Then he heard it. Heavy breathing. Panting. The suffering wail he’d heard outside had an owner. He clutched his gun and started to glide along the wall like a ghost.
    A stumbling noise made him freeze. Peeking around the corner of an upturned lab table, he spied the source of the sound and aimed his weapon. The dim lighting, mixed with the lab’s destruction, cast irregular shadows, bathing the hunched figure in an ethereal glow.
    “Don’t move,” Rome ordered with quiet intensity.
    Edging closer to his target, he now had a clear view. The person was on hands and knees, gasping for breath, back arching and bowing with each labored gulp of air. Rome’s sharp gaze tracked from the dirty running shoes, along the jeans, to the tight rear end. Mussed blonde hair was evident just above the folded hood of a raincoat. The shape of the body told him this could very well be his quarry, returned to the scene of the crime. That’d be nice. He’d be able to have his pizza and beer after all.
    He pulled out a firm cord from his leather jacket, meant for binding his prey. He stowed the gun in his holster and silently unraveled the line, creeping even closer, ready to spring.
    Rome pounced, but hit solid ground with a thud. Instantly he rolled to a squat. His target had slid out of the way and now mirrored his crouch mere inches away.
    They faced off. Hunter and hunted. Wild and savage. Though still cloaked in shadows, he could see that it was indeed the woman from the picture. Much scruffier than she’d been in the happy photo.
    Her frightened eyes glinted in the low light. Good, she should be scared. He was the best. And he loved a good chase. He didn’t want this to be too easy. Blood raced through his body, readying it for a strike. Excitement and anticipation surged in his muscles.
    He shot