Howling in the Darkness Read online

  “You never did say what you were doing out here this late at night,”

  Jonah said.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Kat lied. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep either.” He kept looking at her with that same I-can-lie-as-well-as-you-can expression on his handsome face.

  She turned, planning to take off, but he moved too fast.

  One hand came to rest at the small of her back as his lips unerringly found hers.

  She would have fought both him and the kiss, but he had taken her by surprise and left her reeling when it ended abruptly.

  “I hate having regrets,” he said matter-of-factly, then turned and left her on the deserted dock without another word, leaving her to stare after him, the taste and feel of him still on her lips.

  It seemed he had no qualms about leaving her with one big regret—that she wouldn’t be kissing him again.

  Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

  Harlequin Intrigue has four new stories to blast you out of the winter doldrums. Look what we’ve got heating up for you this month.

  Sylvie Kurtz brings you the first in her two-book miniseries FLESH AND BLOOD. Fifteen years ago, a burst of anger by the banks of the raging Red Thunder River changed the lives of two brothers forever. In Remembering Red Thunder, Sheriff Chance Conover struggles to regain the memory of his life, his wife and their unborn baby before a man out for revenge silences him permanently.

  You can also look for the second book in the four-book continuity series MORIAH’S LANDING—Howling in the Darkness by B.J. Daniels. Jonah Ries has always sensed something was wrong in Moriah’s Landing, but when he accidentally crashes Kat Ridgemont’s online blind date, he realizes the tough yet fragile beauty has more to fear than even the town’s superstitions.

  In Operation: Reunited by Linda O. Johnston, Alexa Kenner is on the verge of marriage when she meets John O’Rourke, a man who eerily resembles her dead lover, Cole Rappaport, who died in a terrible explosion. Could they be one and the same?

  And finally this month, one by one government witnesses who put away a mob associate have been killed, with only Tara Ford remaining. U.S. Deputy Marshal Brad Harrison vows to protect Tara by placing her In His Safekeeping— by Shawna Delacorte.

  We hope you enjoy these books, and remember to come back next month for more selections from MORIAH’S LANDING and FLESH AND BLOOD!

  Sincerely,

  Denise O’Sullivan

  Associate Senior Editor

  Harlequin Intrigue

  HOWLING IN THE DARKNESS

  B.J. DANIELS

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  Special thanks and acknowledgment

  are given to B.J. Daniels for her contribution

  to the MORIAH’S LANDING series.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A former award-winning journalist, B.J. Daniels is the author of thirty-seven short stories and fourteen novels. Most of her books are set in Montana, where she lives with her husband, Parker; two springer spaniels, Zoey and Scout; and a temperamental tomcat named Jeff. Her first novel, Odd Man Out, was nominated for the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for best first book and best Harlequin Intrigue. B.J. is a member of Bozeman Writers Group and Romance Writers of America. When not writing, she enjoys reading, camping and fishing, and snowboarding. Write to her at: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman MT 59771.

  Books by B.J. Daniels

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  312—ODD MAN OUT

  353—OUTLAWED!

  417—HOTSHOT P.I.

  446—UNDERCOVER CHRISTMAS

  493—A FATHER FOR HER BABY

  533—STOLEN MOMENTS

  555—LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

  566—INTIMATE SECRETS

  585—THE AGENT’S SECRET CHILD

  604—MYSTERY BRIDE

  617—SECRET BODYGUARD

  643—A WOMAN WITH A MYSTERY

  654—HOWLING IN THE DARKNESS

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Jonah Ries—The FBI agent has more to fear in Moriah’s Landing than even he knows.

  Kat Ridgemont—The private investigator has a deadly secret admirer after her.

  Arabella Leigh—Is she as crazy as everyone thinks she is when she warns Kat of danger and death?

  McFarland Leary—His ghost is due to rise again.

  Cassandra Quintana—What does the fortune-teller see in the cards that she isn’t telling?

  Ernie McDougal—Is the shy Bait & Tackle shop owner into more than fish and lures?

  Emily Ridgemont—The seventeen-year-old has a secret of her own.

  Brody Ries—The owner of the Wharf Rat bar will do anything for money.

  Tommy Cavendish—The fifteen-year-old doesn’t know what he is getting into.

  Deke Turner—The former FBI agent comes to Moriah’s Landing with only one thing on his mind: revenge.

  Marley Glasgow—He hates women. But enough to kill?

  Max Weathers—The FBI agent disappeared after being sent to Moriah’s Landing to investigate an anonymous tip.

  Dr. Leland Manning—How far will the scientist go in his quest to discover the secret in witches’ descendants’ genes?

  Leslie Ridgemont—She might be dead, but in Moriah’s Landing that doesn’t mean she is gone for good.

  This one is for Jeff Robinson, a great writer,

  a great friend. Not only has he always supported

  my career—but he keeps my husband, Parker,

  busy playing basketball so I can write. Thanks, Jeff!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  A killer fog rolled in off the Atlantic, moving silently through the darkness as it approached the small town nestled at the edge of the sea.

  Jonah Ries didn’t see the fog coming any more than he could see the future. But he felt it. At first just a disquieting sense of foreboding. Then he came roaring up over a rise in the rocky landscape and saw the sign, Welcome to Moriah’s Landing, and he knew, a soul-deep knowing, that this was the last place on earth he should be.

  He slowed his motorcycle, the feeling of darkness so strong he could see himself flipping a U-turn in the middle of the road, throttling up the bike, his taillight growing dimmer and dimmer beneath the twisted dark limbs snaking over the pavement.

  But he could no more turn back than he could convince himself he had nothing to fear in Moriah’s Landing. He knew what he would risk coming here. A hell of a lot more than just his life, he thought as he swept down the hill, passing St. John’s Cemetery without looking in that direction, and heading for the wharf.

  Overhead, a half-moon rode the star-specked sky, reminding him he had five days, tops.

  He felt the first hint of the fog long before he saw it. Small patches of dampness brushed past his face, ghostlike as spiderwebs. But the moment he turned down Waterfront Avenue, the mist moved in as thick as wet concrete, obliterating everything, forcing him to pull over, park his bike and walk the rest of the way.

  Might as well just get it over with. He reached under the left side of his leather jacket for
the reassuring feel of his .38 nestled in the shoulder holster. Snug as a bug. Too bad what he feared most couldn’t be killed with a bullet. Not even a silver one.

  He made his way along the brick sidewalk toward the faint beat of the neon bar sign at the end of the street, unable to throw off the ominous feeling he’d gotten at just the sight of the town’s sign.

  Nor had he realized how late it was until he noticed that the shops were all dark, locked up for the night. Of course, it wasn’t Memorial Day yet. That’s when the tiny Massachusetts town would come alive with tourists, especially this year, with Moriah’s Landing celebrating its 350th anniversary.

  Tourists would flock here for the beach—and the witch folklore, bringing a morbid fascination for the town’s dark, witch-hanging past.

  Tonight, though, the small township lay cloaked in a fog of obscurity, silent as McFarland Leary’s grave, as if waiting for something to happen. Unfortunately, Jonah feared he knew what that something was.

  “Hey!” A voice came out of the darkness from the end of the street near the blurred, flashing bar sign for the Wharf Rat. Jonah could barely make out the form, but instantly recognized it, just as the man coming out of the bar had recognized him.

  “Hey.” The man staggered forward, then stopped, clearly jarred momentarily from his drunken state.

  Jonah reached blindly for the first door next to him, grabbed the handle and turned, praying it wouldn’t be locked, but prepared to use whatever it took to get in. He shoved with his shoulder as he turned the handle, losing his balance in surprise as the door fell open and he stumbled in, closing it behind him.

  “You’re late,” a female voice admonished.

  He froze, his back to the dark room. From beyond it, a narrow path of light ran across the carpet to his feet. He turned slowly, comforted by the feel of the .38.

  She stood behind a large antique desk, one hand on her hip, her head cocked to the side so her long mane of raven’s-wing-black hair hung down past her shoulder like a wave. He could feel her gaze, dark and searching, long before he stepped close enough to really see her face.

  “Sorry,” he said without thinking. He had plenty to be sorry about so he didn’t mind.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I guess you didn’t get my last e-mail.”

  He shook his head. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten any of her e-mails.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, sounding a little unsure of herself. He sensed this was new territory for her.

  Ready? He watched her pick up her purse and jacket and then hesitate. He couldn’t help but stare at her. She had the most interesting face he’d ever seen. Wide-set dark navy-blue eyes with dense lashes, a full, almost pouty, mouth and high cheekbones, all put together in a way that startled and interested him at the same time.

  “Yes?” she asked, eyeing him, definitely not sure now. “Is there a problem?”

  Not unless being totally confused was a problem. He started to tell her that she was making a mistake. But then she came around the corner of the desk and he got the full effect of her little black dress.

  Wow. It was a knockout on her, formfitting against the warm olive glow of her skin. Silver glittered on her wrist, dangled from the lobes of her ears and swept the curve of her neck and throat. Nestled in the hollow between her breasts hung a small silver lighthouse charm.

  “Did you have some spot in mind?” she asked. The tap of her heels drew his attention back up to her face as she moved toward him.

  He had lots of spots in mind. But she’d caught him on a night when he was already off-kilter and she was the last thing he’d expected to run across. So it took him longer than it should have to realize she thought he was her date—an online blind date, it seemed. Even worse. And from the way she was dressed, they were going out for a drink. Maybe a late supper.

  Unfortunately, her “real” date would probably be along any minute. Jonah realized he’d be damn disappointed when that happened. The problem was, leaving here right now wasn’t an option.

  At least not out the front door where he feared the man he’d seen would be looking for him.

  Past her, he saw a way out—literally. A back exit and a chance to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

  “How about the Moriah’s Landing Inn?” he asked, realizing he had a better chance with her than alone if he hoped to avoid the man he’d just seen in the street. The hotel was only a few doors up on Main Street and had a very nice restaurant. And it was easy to get to since he figured he was probably supposed to be driving a car. Which he wasn’t. More important, they could get to it quickly by going down the narrow alley out back, therefore cutting down the chance of an ugly confrontation with his past.

  “Great,” she said, sounding a little surprised.

  Probably because of the way he looked. “I apologize for the way I’m dressed,” he said, glancing down at the jeans, biking boots and the laundry-worn blue chambray shirt he wore underneath his old brown leather jacket. He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, then raked it on up through his hair. Not exactly hot-date material.

  She looked down at her dress. It hit about thigh-high on her legs. Black platform sandals gave her a few more inches in height, putting them on about the same level. Her eyes came back to him, a tantalizing flush to her cheeks. “Is the dress too—”

  “It’s perfect,” he said, meaning it. “You look sensational.” Meaning that, too.

  She quirked a smile at him and ducked her head. “Thanks.”

  Yes, definitely new territory for her. This was a woman who didn’t often feel vulnerable. But she did right now. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Even if he hadn’t had to make a quick getaway, her vulnerability made him all the more anxious to get her out of here before her real date arrived.

  He glanced out the front window toward the street, the fog dense as chowder. No sign of the dark figure he’d seen earlier. “Why don’t we go out the back? It’s closer that way.”

  She lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. He helped her with her jacket, wondering how much she knew about her real date, and opened the back door, glancing down the quaint brick alley to make sure no one was waiting for him.

  As they left, he noticed the small sign hanging over the back door. Ridgemont Detective Agency. She worked for a private investigator? Just his luck.

  He could hear music and the faint murmur of voices traveling on the sea breeze coming up from Raven’s Cove. His heart picked up the beat of her heels tapping the brick as they walked closer to the wharf, wrapped in the dense cloak of the fog, making what was already an unimaginable night surreal.

  He told himself he’d just stolen someone else’s date. That alone could explain his uneasiness. Also he was home again, back in a town he’d vowed never to return to. Unfortunately, he knew only too well all the things that could be lurking in Moriah’s Landing.

  She took his arm, the dark alley almost intimate as the foghorn groaned out past the cove. He breathed in her scent and tried to relax. He was safe with her. But he knew relaxing would be impossible as long as he was in Moriah’s Landing. And dangerous.

  The apparition came out of the mist so unexpectedly Jonah didn’t even have time to reach for his weapon, let alone sense the presence. Suddenly a dark figure appeared in front of them, her black hooded cloak blowing out in the breeze like the wings of a vulture.

  He started at the sight of the old crone, her gray hair a silver aura sticking out from under her black hood, her eyes bottomless holes in her wrinkled face.

  Reflexively he stepped between his date and the old woman as the crone reached clawlike gnarled fingers toward them.

  “It’s just Arabella,” his date whispered. “She’s harmless.”

  How little she knew.

  The old woman’s gaze locked with his for an instant, then she stumbled back as if she’d seen a ghost. Or something worse. “Katherine,” she cried, fear contorting her face as she gasped for breath and reached around him, trying to pluck at the fabric
of his date’s jacket sleeve.

  “Danger comes in with the fog,” the crone croaked, her gaze on Jonah. “Danger and death.” Then the old woman stumbled back into the mist, leaving Jonah shaken. If he couldn’t even sense an old woman coming in the fog, how did he plan to protect himself from the real trouble here?

  Katherine must have seen his expression. “Arabella’s just local color,” she said with a laugh, and pulled him toward the Moriah’s Landing Inn. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the town council paid her to freak out visitors as part of our witch-folklore ambience.”

  Jonah looked over his shoulder. The old woman was gone. But like him, she’d sensed something had come in with the fog, unleashing evil in Moriah’s Landing.

  They walked past one of the “witch” shops along the narrow alley that peddled magic, from herbs and oils to tarot cards and crystals.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard about all this foolishness?” his date asked as she glanced into the shop window, then at him.

  “What foolishness?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know and that he wasn’t still shaken by their run-in with Arabella.

  “Witches, the supernatural, all the hype that comes with Moriah’s Landing,” she said with a laugh. “According to local legend, early resident McFarland Leary was a consort to a witch.”

  They crossed Main Street to the entrance of the Moriah’s Landing Inn. He opened the door for her, anxious to get inside. Because of the hour, the hotel lobby and the restaurant were nearly empty. A young waiter showed them to a table by the window facing the cove—farthest away from the door and Main Street.