Reaper's Justice
Authors: Sarah McCarty
Tags: #Werewolves, #Paranormal, #Fiction, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Western, #Historical
Table of Contents
Praise for
Promises Reveal
Promises Reveal
“Few writers can match the skill of Sarah McCarty when it comes to providing her audience with an intelligent, exhilarating Western romance starring two likable protagonists. The fast-paced story line hooks the audience.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Entertaining and kept this reader turning the pages. I’ve got a soft spot for Western historicals, with their hard times and smooth-talking cowboys. Ms. McCarty delivers on both of those fronts.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“I absolutely adored the chemistry and witty banter between these two spicy characters, and the sex, as always, was titillating, sizzling, and realistic . . . I don’t know how she does it, but I want more and more and more. You will too once you read this fantastic tale.”
—Night Owl Romance
“A must read . . . Enticing and erotic . . . I am already craving more!”
—Romance Junkies
“Highly entertaining . . . Plenty steamy . . . and a great compliment to the series.”
—A Romance Review
“A delightful tale with lots of intense passion . . . Outstanding! Not to be missed by fans of historical Westerns who enjoy a strong dose of erotic fiction.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
Praise for
Running Wild
Running Wild
“[Sarah McCarty’s] captivating characters, scorching love scenes, and dramatic plot twists kept me on the edge. I could not put it down.”
—Night Owl Romance
“McCarty . . . skillfully brings out her characters’ deepest emotions. Three strong heroines and three mouthwatering heroes . . . will tug at your heartstrings, and the well-written sex scenes will not disappoint.”
—Romantic Times
“Sarah McCarty entices and enchants . . . and has taken paranormal romance to a whole new level.”
—Romance Junkies
“You are going to love this . . . Entertaining and passionate . . . Fast-paced story lines and super-hot sex scenes . . . Sarah McCarty definitely takes you on a wild ride and . . . weaves a fascinating paranormal.”
—Lucrezia Magazine
“This one is a scorcher. If you’re looking for a romance to raise the temperatures, then look no further than McCarty’s
Running Wild
!”
Running Wild
!”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“Provide[s] werewolf romance fans with a strong, heated collection. Fans will be
Running Wild
.”
Running Wild
.”
—Midwest Book Review
More praise for the novels of Sarah McCarty
“[A] pulse-pounding paranormal.”
—Road to Romance
“Masterfully written.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Powerfully erotic, emotional, and thought provoking.”
—Ecataromance
“Has the WOW factor . . . Characters that jump off the pages!”
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews
“Toe-curling.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
(recommended read)
(recommended read)
“Ms. McCarty is a genius!”
—Romance Junkies
Berkley Sensation titles by Sarah McCarty
PROMISES REVEAL
The Shadow Wranglers
CALEB
JARED
CALEB
JARED
The Shadow Reapers
REAPER’S JUSTICE
REAPER’S JUSTICE
Berkley Heat titles by Sarah McCarty
RUNNING WILD
WILD INSTINCT
WILD INSTINCT
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
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(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. BERKLEY
®
SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
®
SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / February 2011
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / February 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
McCarty, Sarah.
Reaper’s justice / Sarah McCarty.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-44575-4
1. Werewolves—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3613.C3568R43 2011
813’.6—dc22 2010045392
To Linda, Isaiah’s Woman of Radiance:
May the paths you travel be lined with all the love and
happiness you deserve. The best is yet to come.
May the paths you travel be lined with all the love and
happiness you deserve. The best is yet to come.
1
THEY’D STOLEN HIS SANITY.
A hint of dawn watered the darkness to a pale gray, illuminating the doorway in a feeble wash of light. Isaiah Jones touched the piece of deep blue wool caught on the shattered wood of the door frame, a tiny, lingering fragment of the violence that had invaded the peace he’d found, tainted the haven she’d created. Touched
her
.
her
.
He pulled the scrap free of the splinter. It came easily into his grip, as if sensing his need. It was cold, devoid of the heat of her body, empty of that subtle scent he associated only with her. They hadn’t taken her recently then.
He tucked the piece of fabric into his pocket and shoved the hanging door out of the way. He didn’t go any farther into the kitchen than the first foot. This was her space, her world, not a place where a man like him belonged. Besides, he didn’t need to go into the room to know when they’d taken her. The pink-and-white teacup on the table told the story. She was a woman of habit, going through her day in an orderly manner. No matter what chaos stirred around her, she handled everything with efficient competence, maintaining her balance through the rituals she cherished, sharing that balance with others who came into contact with her. She never looked deeper than a person’s need, meeting it as best she could. It was one of her more foolish habits and one of the reasons he’d taken to guarding her. That and the fact that he owed her.
One of her nightly rituals—one he approved of—was to sit at the kitchen table every evening at nine o’clock with a book and a cup a tea. She read for half an hour then rinsed out her cup and put it back on the drying towel on the counter before going to bed. He knew because he came by her house whenever he was in town, drawn against his will to check on her, the ghost of his existence haunting hers. Except for tonight, the one night she’d needed him.
He forced himself into the room, toward the table where her teacup still rested, guilt driving his feet forward. The scent of sweet dough settled around him, drowning out the other smells, pushing against the inner walls that contained the beast.
One step, two steps. He made it one more before the walls closed in around him.
Shit.
He hated enclosed spaces. He blinked as reality wavered and the cheery, blue arbor rose wallpaper disappeared into the memory of damp, crevice-laden dirt walls, crawling with cockroaches. He breathed steadily as the slip between past and present persisted, gliding silently forward, roses and roaches shimmering one over the other. He stopped just short of the table, instinct carrying him through the confusion, and reached out to touch the cup. Her cup.
Shit.
He hated enclosed spaces. He blinked as reality wavered and the cheery, blue arbor rose wallpaper disappeared into the memory of damp, crevice-laden dirt walls, crawling with cockroaches. He breathed steadily as the slip between past and present persisted, gliding silently forward, roses and roaches shimmering one over the other. He stopped just short of the table, instinct carrying him through the confusion, and reached out to touch the cup. Her cup.
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