Legacy Found: Legacy, Book 3 Read Online Free PDF Page B

she looked good enough to eat.
    He shrugged. “I don’t know any other way to be.” She started to shift away from him and his arms tightened reflexively around her. He only relaxed when he felt her settle back into his embrace. He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. She felt incredibly right wrapped in his arms. “Tell me what you do remember.”
    She rubbed her fingers against her temples as if her head still pained her. He waited while she seemed to gather her thoughts. Patience was the key to getting Shelley to open up to him and he suddenly found himself filled with boundless amounts of it where she was concerned. He knew they had to be back on the road soon, but there was time for this.
    “Not much.” She dropped her hands back into her lap and clasped them together. “Snippets of other people and places. People I don’t really recognize.” She glanced up at him and then away, and the sadness he glimpsed in her face almost brought tears to his eyes. He’d never seen anyone so sad. “I feel as if I should know them, but I can never quite reach for the knowledge.” She shook her head. “Maybe I don’t want to remember.”
    “Why wouldn’t you want to remember?” He rubbed his hand over her arm, cuddling her closer.
    “I couldn’t go back to them even if I’d wanted to.”
    James stilled, his entire body going on alert. Whatever she was about to reveal to him, it wasn’t going to be good. “What do you mean, you couldn’t go back?”
    Her hands were clenched so hard in her lap that her knuckles were completely white. “I…” She shook her head, curling tighter into herself.
    “It’s all right,” he promised. “You can tell me.” He continued to keep his voice low and soothing as he started to stroke her arm again.
    She shook her head and her lips pursed together. He’d gotten as much as he was going to. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Chapter Three
    Steve Macmillan sipped his drink as he surveyed the three men seated around the table with him. Some folks might think it was too early in the day for a drink, but he didn’t care. The whiskey was smooth and mellow and heated his belly. But it didn’t soothe the anger that seethed inside him.
    He carefully set his glass back down on the scarred wood surface, hanging onto his temper by sheer willpower. What he really wanted to do was smash the glass against the faded beige walls. But that would be a waste of fine whiskey.
    He was sick to death of being on the move, staying in cheap motels, but they’d had no choice. The debacle in Chicago last fall had landed them in a heap of trouble with a pack of werewolves. He’d spent the last five months hunting them and being hunted by them. It was a deadly cat-and-mouse game that had left five more dead on his side.
    But they’d trapped and killed a dozen of those so-called purist wolves. Steve didn’t care if a wolf’s blood was pure or not. In his book, they all needed killing.
    He’d enjoyed that part, but it had meant time away from his special project—finding the bitch that had murdered his father. Now it was time to get back on track.
    That’s why he’d gathered these men here in his motel room. Once they made plans, they’d split up and do some searching.
    “What have you found?” He directed the question to the group, but it was Red Coulter, an old friend of his father’s who answered him.
    Red tipped the bottle beside his glass and poured. The amber liquid swirled before settling. The bottle hit the table with a thump and Red raised his glass. “Not much.” He took a big swallow of bourbon and swiped his hand across his mouth. “She must have stolen Tom’s money. I know he kept some on hand for emergencies. It’s hard to tell what she took from the cabin. The fire destroyed damn near everything.”
    Fresh anger swamped him as Steve remembered the charred remains of his father’s home in the Tennessee hills. At first, they’d believed it was an accident. But when