A little fury never hurts... Until the FBI comes knocking.

Sawyer didn't make it out of the destruction of Club Diablo without scars. Lots of them. They criss cross his body from head to toe. His pack is trying to help him recover, but between the smothering and the whispers, he's not interested. Once again his life has been destroyed by hunters and this time he doesn't want to start over. He wants revenge. He definitely doesn't want to babysit some Fed, no matter how many of his buttons she pushes.

Penelope Bishop has always wanted to prove herself as one of the top profilers for the FBI, but she's had to struggle to get out of her father's infamous shadow. Finally, she's been given a chance to show she can handle a high-profile case on her own. She's sent to Devils Point Island to profile the suspect who planted an explosive in a strip club. Except what she finds doesn't fit any profile she's ever seen and the local assigned to help her is more interested in the chip on his shoulder and what color panties she wears.

Publisher: Gypsy Ink Books
Cover Artists:

Penelope Bishop stared out the big picture window that took up most of the front wall of the tiny island “diner.” Although she used that word loosely to describe the place she'd been sent to cool her heels. Yes, they served food and yes, they had a couple of tables to sit at (mostly outside) but that's where her expectations had come to a screeching halt. The makeshift establishment looked more like a food trailer that someone added a small enclosed area to. In fact, that's exactly what it was right down to the silver bullet camper the base of the diner was made from.


It had a certain unexpected charm though. The walls were lined with warm wood with subtle color variations and the hanging light fixtures were giant hunks of reclaimed wood wrapped in thick ropes with Edison bulbs dangling from the ends. Framed tide maps lined the meager wall space and an electric fireplace at one end obviously heated the tiny interior on cold days. She could easily see tourists to the island loving the rustic charm as well as locals finding it the perfect place to congregate for an early morning pick me up before they started their day.

At least if anyone asked her later about her experience on the island, she could provide them with these kinds of interesting details. After all, it was her job to notice more than most. Speaking of the job...

She glanced around the room at the other customers. With the grill and counter taking up eighty percent of the space, it was order at the counter and then seat yourself. For now, she stood waiting for a place to sit since the few tables were occupied.

She had no idea what this Sawyer person she was supposed to meet looked like, but no one looked in her direction like they expected her. Instead, the patrons kept their heads down and seemed to avoid eye contact with her. The whole situation made her uncomfortable to the point it took every ounce of her own restraint to not keep her eyes aimed down to avoid them as well.

This was her first lead assignment with the Bureau and they were counting on her to act like a leader, not a scared little mouse. Not an easy feat growing up under the shadow of her larger than life father while working at his beloved Bureau where he had a certain reputation. They called him a hardass, no nonsense investigator with impeccable instincts. She had definitely inherited his knack for seeing the truth, but somehow she’d missed the hardass genes. What he lacked in empathy she’d received in spades.

Hence, her lack of field experience. The powers that be preferred to hide her inside an office conducting research and far away from an actual crime scene.

Until this case.

Out of the blue her boss had called her in and notified her she was going on a field assignment. He also had gone out of his way to make sure she knew everyone would be watching to see how she handled this one. Her future likely relied on this oddball multi-layered case that involved the destruction of an adult nightclub on the tiniest island in the middle of nowhere.

Who even put a club like that where it was almost guaranteed to get no traffic?

Except that her in depth examination into their tax records showed more than a brisk business took place here. Leading her to believe that the outward appearance of a sleepy island with only a small tourist season was misleading. There was more going on here than met the eye. She was sure of it.

The door to the diner opened, snagging her attention away from her thoughts. She turned to look and a gasp slipped from her mouth before she could stop it. Not only did the man coming in through the door stop and stare, but all the other customers turned and glared at her, too.

She tried to recover and avert her eyes, but it was no use. She couldn't not stare. At six foot something, the man standing there simply towered over her five foot, five-inch frame. But it was more the breadth of his shoulders and the way they filled the doorway that took her breath away. Then there was the matter of his seemingly magnetic, mesmerizing dark eyes that pulled her in and threatened to never let her go.

It was like looking into an eclipse and being unable to look away right down to the golden rim around the dark center.

She clenched her teeth. Of course that wasn't a cheesy thought at all.

Still, neither of them had moved and their staring continued, beginning to feel a bit like a silent contest of who would look away first.

Except the muscle in his jaw. That moved several times.

In addition to a penchant for details, she also had good peripheral vision allowing her to not only notice the sexy stubble on his jaw, but other parts as well. His strong chin. Full lips that seemed made for...you know.

And then there were the scars. Not the first thing she’d noticed, but unable to be missed. The right side of his face was no longer smooth. Pale pink, puckered flesh, from a burn it looked like, ran from his forehead down to the corner of his lips. That little jagged line just meeting his upper lip intrigued her as the urge to touch him there almost made her move.

Luckily, the unconscious sway of her body in his direction jerked her back to reality. Of course his lips pursed and she swore she caught sight of a tiny smirk before he schooled his expression.

He stood taller, if that were possible and lifted his brows in a silent question.

She shrugged off a response and remained silent, still entranced by the scars as she trailed them down his neck and underneath his shirt.

Often scarring such as his made people uncomfortable to the point they tried to hide it. However, in his case that was simply not the deal. The man standing in front of her exuded masculine confidence in spades.

She really wanted to ask how it had happened, although she suspected she already knew the answer. Either way, it made him no less appealing to the eye. He was a frigging gorgeous, rugged wall of muscled giant and those scars were the only thing about him not carved from perfection. They made him real.

Or at least as real as a man could be with perfect and beautiful bone structure that no amount of mangled flesh could cover up.

Or maybe it was the aura surrounding him that she'd immediately picked up making him bigger than life. He exuded strength like nobody’s business and she was pretty sure that trait attracted women all the way back to the caveman days. A woman could count on a man like him to protect her.

She cocked her head. Where the heck had that strange thought come from?