Nocturnal

NOCTURNAL

By

Madelaine Montague

© copyright by Madelaine Montague, August 2012 Reissue.

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Pain and fury filled Raphael as he raced through the dense brush in a mindless quest for freedom. Adrenaline drove him, else the pain from his wounds might have overwhelmed him. Fear ate at his mind, as well, but it was a distant voice, drowned by the frustration and anger because the fear wasn't for himself. It was fear of failing.

He had almost had the bastard!

For months he had tracked the ring leader of the men that had killed his woman and their unborn child. Patience was not one of his virtues, but his rage had grown cold in the year since Concepcion's death. His determination had hardened in the weeks he had lain fighting for his own life and the months after that that he had spent regaining his strength with an agonizing slowness that had been maddening while he chaffed at his quarry's trail growing colder and colder.

He had tracked him, though, halfway across two continents.

His stupidity had nearly gotten him killed, but he had wanted the bastard to look in his eyes and know that he was going to die because of Concepcion. He hadn't wanted to send the son-of-a-bitch to hell wondering.

He hadn't expected to be interrupted, but he should have anticipated the possibility.

If they hadn't taken him completely off guard, he could've finished the bastard before he left. Now he was wounded again, pretty fucking badly, he thought, if the blood he was losing was any indication.

He couldn't stop to examine it, though, because he could still hear them following, could still hear a random shot from time to time as the trigger happy morons spied something they thought might be him and fired at it. The darkness and the thickness of the woods were his only allies and he had a feeling he was running out of allies.

Almost on the thought he bounded from the woods and onto a narrow, two rut track. Tall weeds sprouted from the soil on either side and along the narrow center strip, but he was exposed and he bounded across the track and into the woods on the other side.

He paused there to catch his breath because he couldn't do anything else. The adrenaline that had kept him going thus far was rapidly draining away from him now and he could feel weakness seeping into every muscle in his body. Panting for breath, he tipped his head back to look up at the trees for cover.

He tamped the impulse. He would be too exposed. If he had been stronger, it wouldn't be such a bad idea. It would give him a vantage to watch for the hunters. It would give him a strategic advantage if he was able to fight back, but he had a bad feeling he would come out the loser in his current state.

Twisting his head to look back in the direction from which he'd come, he listened intently. Sure enough, within a few moments, he heard the hunters trampling through the brush in pursuit.

Uttering a mental curse, he looked at the track again.

It might just lead back to the compound, but he didn't think so. He'd studied the area pretty thoroughly over the past few weeks and he was fairly certain that this track belonged to the woman he'd spotted a few times in his surveillance.

He didn't trust the impulse that assailed him to seek her out, but he was pretty much out of options unless he wanted to just lie down and let them finish him off.

A year ago, he would've almost welcomed it. Hell, even six months ago.