The Breed Next Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

His obvious discomfort in doing things most people did every day of their lives should have clued her in. The haunted shadows in his eyes.
    His inability to cut grass should have told her something immediately. All men knew at least the rudiments of cutting grass.
    The joy he found in a freshly made cup of coffee and homemade bread. As though he had never known it.
    She had thought him a computer geek. That wasn't a computer geek fighting in her backyard. That had reminded her of her brothers, practicing the tae kwon do they had learned in the military. He had reminded her of an animal, snarling, his growl echoing through the yard as he fought with the attempted burglar.
    She should have known.
    She had followed every news story, every report of the Breeds, just as her brothers had joined in several of the missions years before to rescue them. They had told her the tales of the ragged, savage men and women they had transferred from the labs to the Feline Breed home base, Sanctuary.
    Men near death, tortured, scarred, but with the eyes of killers. Men who were slowly being fashioned into animals—
    killing machines and nothing more.
    "There's nothing else we can do, Ms. Mason," the officer taking her statement announced as she signed the appropriate line. "We've called your security company, and they'll be out here tomorrow to repair the system."
    "Thank you, Officer Roberts." She smiled politely as she handed the papers back to him, wishing they would just leave.
    "We'll be going now." He nodded respectfully.
    It was about time.
    She escorted them to the door, closing and locking it before pushing her feet into a pair of sneakers and waiting impatiently for them to pull from the drive.
    The minute their taillights headed down the street, she grabbed her keys, threw open the door, and slipped onto the porch. Closing it quickly, she sprinted through the rain toward Tarek's.
    She wanted answers now. Not whenever he decided to show.
    A frightened scream tore from her lips as she passed one of the thick evergreen trees in his yard and was caught from behind as another hand clamped over her mouth.
    A hard arm wrapped around her waist, heated, muscular, nearly picking her from her feet as he began to move quickly to the house.
    "How did I know you would do something so stupid?" His voice was a hard, dangerous growl in her ear as he pushed her through the living room door and slammed it shut. "I told you to stay put, Lyra."
    He released her quickly, throwing the bolts closed on the door before punching in the code to the security pad beside it.
    "You were too slow," she snapped. "What the hell was going on tonight?"
    She turned on him fiercely, with every intention of blasting him over the previous hours' events. Her eyes widened, though, as she caught sight of his pale face and the bloodstained bandage.
    "Are you okay?" She reached out, her fingers touching the hard, sun-bronzed flesh just beneath the bandage.
    "I'll live," he grunted. "And stop trying to distract me. I told you to stay put."
    His eyes glittered a menacing gold in the dim light of the heavily curtained living room.
    "I don't obey orders so well." She licked her dry lips nervously. "And I was tired of waiting."
    "The police had barely left, Lyra." He pushed his fingers through his damp hair with rough impatience. "I was on my way."
    His voice gentled, though not by much as he stared down at her. For a moment, his expression softened and then turned fierce once again.
    "You would drive a grown man to drink," he finally growled before turning to stalk through the house. "Come on, I need coffee."
    "Do you know how to fix it?" She followed him quickly, the question falling from her lips before she could stop it.
    "Hell no. But I'm fucking desperate," he snarled impatiently, his voice rough.
    "Then don't touch that coffeepot, because I want some, too."
    She moved quickly in front of him before coming to a dead stop in the middle of the immaculate kitchen.
    "Fine, go for