are Alex’s sister, having you with me might help me get his attention. If you’re not,” he shrugged, “you still seem to care deeply for him. Either way, your being with me can’t hurt.”
His eyes narrowed. “If you know something about the shooting or those guys in the Hummer, you’d better tell me now. Traveling with me is dangerous. You’re putting your own life in danger.”
“No,” she told him. “I don’t know anything.” In more ways than one, she thought. Whatever Alex had gotten himself involved in, dangerous didn’t seem to begin to describe the situation.
“Okay. I consider you warned.” He sounded oddly agreeable—pleasant, even—making her wonder if he used this tone on a daily basis to trick suspects under interrogation into admitting guilt.
“You really think I’m a criminal.” She spoke her thoughts out loud.
“The men in the Hummer weren’t with law enforcement.” He spoke as though he had no doubt. “Neither was the shooter.”
She shook her head. “Hades’ Claws?”
He snorted. “You tell me.”
“Hey, I don’t even know them.” She could tell from Carson’s skeptical expression that he didn’t believe her. “Seriously, I never heard of Hades’ Claws until you mentioned them.”
“How long have you been looking for your brother?”
She narrowed her eyes. “A few months. I haven’t heard from him for six. Why?”
“Surely you read the papers.”
“Some.” She gave a halfhearted shrug. “But I don’t remember seeing anything about them.”
He laughed then, lightening the grim atmosphere in the Tahoe. “Are you from around here?”
“No. Upstate. I came down here looking for my brother. Why?”
“Because they make the paper here all the time. Maybe your local paper isn’t interested.”
“So they aren’t that bad?” Keeping her expression haughty, she resisted the urge to chew on her fingernail. This was a habit she’d broken in her teens, right after she’d passed the Pack tests that made her a full-fledged huntress. Odd that a habit she despised would try to resurface now.
“Oh, they’re bad, all right. Unless you don’t count murder, smuggling—” he ticked the words off on his fingers “—illegal weapons, drugs and robbery as wrong.”
“And they want to kill you,” she said softly.
“Oh yeah. And even if you can’t get a grip on the idea that your brother is one of them, while you’re with me you’re a target, too.”
“I’m not worried.” She ran her fingers through the back of her long hair, combing it out from force of habit. “As I’ve said, I can take care of myself.”
“So you claim.” He lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug. “Either way, I have no intention of letting you out of my sight. So don’t even think about taking off.”
“The thought never crossed my mind,” she drawled.
Instead of replying, he accelerated. At her questioning look, he flipped his fingers at the dark road ahead of them. “We need to get off the interstate.”
“Do you think they’ll catch us?”
One corner of his mouth twisted. “Eventually. For a while they’ll keep going down that access road, thinking we’re just ahead of them. But once they realize we pulled off somewhere…” As he spoke, he glanced in the rearview mirror.
His profile seemed hard and angry. No doubt he still believed she’d lied about her connection to the biker gang.
Biker gang. Alex a murderer. Hard to even think of using the words together in a sentence. Never mind DEA and FBI. Another shiver went down her spine.
“I’m not a member of Hades’ Claws.” Her words came out in a furious, staccato burst.
“A rival gang?”
“Of course not. No.”
“You don’t sound too certain. What about this ‘pack’ you mentioned?”
Alarm clogged her throat. He’d caught her accidental slip. “It’s a nickname, an inside joke among my relatives,” she said. “It’s what we call ourselves. No gang, just family. You know how family can be.”
“Yeah. I had a family once.” The grim savagery in his voice made her catch her breath.
“How long ago?” she asked softly. “How long ago did it happen?”
He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw. With a white-knuckle grip, he held on to the steering wheel. “It’s been eighteen months.”
Eighteen months. Last year, early spring. Alex had called her, told her he’d taken a new job, one that would let him move from the city back to the Catskills. Still only a few hours away, he’d said, knowing she missed him. After they’d graduated from college, he’d left her once before to go alone on an extended winter tour of the northern cities. Seattle, Vancouver, Boise, Helena, Bismark. Then east to check out Phillie and Boston and New York. His absence had made her sad, then furious, wishing she’d gone with him.
When he’d finally returned to the small town of Leaning Forest, he’d told wonderful stories. Not of blood or murder or mayhem, but of ordinary, city-human things. Rush hour and crowded subways, poodles with painted toenails and corner hot-pretzel vendors.
They’d laughed together over his tales. In her quiet life as the town librarian, she’d secretly envied him the adventure, the experience, never dreaming that one day she would venture forth from her comfortable existence in search of him. Never expecting him to go missing, be accused of murder. How peaceful her old life seemed now.
“Eighteen months,” she repeated. “And you’ve looked for revenge ever since?”
“I’ve been looking for your brother,” he said. “As soon as I got out of the hospital, I started searching. Alex went underground. Obviously, he doesn’t want me to find him.”
She let that one go, focusing on the word hospital. He’d said he’d nearly been killed. “Did it take you a long time to recover?”
He gave a curt nod.
Less than two years. In her own life, a lot had happened in that time. She’d lost a fiancé, misplaced her brother. Meanwhile, this man’s entire family had been ripped away, brutally murdered in circumstances that made her brother look guilty.
“I’m sorry.” She knew her words were inadequate, but she meant them nonetheless.
In response, Carson accelerated again.
Brenna got the message and closed her mouth. The digital clock on the dashboard showed 1:30 a.m. Late for humans, but prime hunting time for those of her kind. Glancing at the
