Shades of Midnight by Lara Adrián

she walked in, the house felt colder, darker, emptier than ever. Thankfully, there was no blood spilled within, as he and Teddy had either run or been chased outside before their killer managed to catch them. Everything looked just as it would be if they’d been there, only it chilled Alex like some kind of alternate reality that had collided with the one she knew.
    Out of place in the cramped living room was a black leather duffel bag that sat unzipped on the skirted orange-and-brown plaid sofa. Alex stole a quick look at the contents, noting a couple changes of clothes inside and a rather nasty hunting knife that had been removed from its sheath and set atop a pair of black military-style fatigues.
    But the gleaming, serrated blade that looked as though it would make short work of a grizzly’s hide was merely an appetizer for the rest of the weaponry laid out in Pop’s living room.
    A high-powered rifle with a blunted barrel was propped in the corner nearest the door. Beside it on the scarred lamp table that Pop Toms had made with his own hands as a wedding gift for his wife some three decades ago was a book-size case of custom rounds. The tips of the big, shiny bullets were pointed and capped, the kind of ammunition that ripped through the toughest flesh and bone in an instant, showing no mercy and taking no prisoners. Another gun, a semiautomatic 9mm that easily trumped her .45 revolver, rested in a black chest holster next to the case of hollow points.
    Having lived in the bush most of her life, Alex didn’t cower at the sight of weapons or hunting gear, but this personal arsenal—and the awareness that the man who owned it had suddenly, silently, returned to the room with her—took her aback.
    She glanced up to find him shrugging into a thick gray chamois shirt and rolling the sleeves off’ his forearms. The fascinating array of tattoos disappeared as he worked a couple of the buttons closed in front. In the tight confines of the room, Alex caught the scent of Arctic air and crisp pine, as well as something wilder that seemed to cling to him and made her senses come to full attention.
    God, had she been so long without male companionship that her survival instinct was broken? She didn’t think so, and then again, she wasn’t the only female in the room to be affected by this stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere last night. Luna had parked her traitorous butt at his feet and gazed up adoringly at him while he reached down and scratched her behind the ears. Normally the wolf dog was cautious around strangers, wary of new people, but not with him.
    If she needed someone to vouch for a person’s character, she could do a lot worse than listen to Luna’s instincts. For that matter, Alex had her own internal gauge for judging whether she could trust someone, a sort of instinctual lie-detector that she’d been aware of since she was a child. Unfortunately, in order for it to work, she needed to be close enough to touch the person—even a simple brush of her fingers against someone was usually connection enough for her to tell if she was being lied to.
    Tempting as it was to put her hands on some of this guy’s bare skin, it would also mean setting down her gun. Frankly, she didn’t think it would be smart to get that friendly just yet.
    “Who are you?” Alex demanded, wondering if he would answer this time. “What were you doing at the town meeting in Harmony, and what business do you have being out here? This is a crime scene you’re compromising, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
    “I noticed. And the three feet of fresh snow burying the place had compromised it long before I got here,” he said without apologizing, still rubbing his big hand over Luna’s head and under her chin while the dog practically drooled with contentment.
    Alex could have sworn something unspoken passed between man and canine in the moment before Luna rose and came strolling back to Alex to lick her hand.
    “Name’s Kade,”