Читать книгу One Eye Open - Karen Whiddon - Страница 7

Stunned, Brenna swallowed. “Alex couldn’t,” she stammered, her words trailing off at the cynical certainty she read on his face.

“The killing was a test to determine Alex’s loyalty. They said he passed with flying colors.”

A sound escaped her, something between a plea and a moan. She had read about this case. “The newspapers said an unnamed biker.”

“Innocent until proven guilty. How could you not know? You’re his sister.” He made the simple sentence sound like a curse. “Or so you claim.”

He thought her brother was a murderer. Worse, he believed she knew and was lying through her teeth. Her throat felt tight, closed in. She couldn’t seem to get enough air. She forced herself to breathe deeply. To swallow then lift her head and look directly at Carson Turner, unflinching. Alex couldn’t have done what this man claimed.

“There has to be some other explanation,” she said. “You were shot. In pain. Maybe you saw wrong. Alex isn’t a murderer.”

Though in effect she’d just called him a liar, to his credit he didn’t threaten or sneer. He didn’t open the door and shove her out with a wave and a quick hasta la vista, baby. No, Carson did none of those things. He merely continued to regard her much like a wolf watches a rabbit caught in a snare, waiting for her to prove her statement.

But she couldn’t, not in words he would believe. She hadn’t been there; she hadn’t seen her brother with a smoking gun. Carson had. Or thought he had.

“What kind of trouble are you in?” Carson asked, breaking into her chaotic thoughts.

Still silent, she shook her head, raising her hands, palms up, in a gesture meant to convey ignorance.

His mouth twisted. “If you want me to help you, you’re gonna have to tell me.”

Startled, she met his gaze. “Help me? Why would you do that?”

“Because whoever you are, I’m stuck with you right now.” His sour tone left no doubt as to his feelings about the situation. “If you really 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 shadowy woods as they flashed past, she wondered if any of her people roamed there. Snow had begun to fall, the dainty white flakes becoming thick, heavy ones the farther north they traveled. Soon Carson slowed the vehicle to a crawl, his headlights reaching only a few feet ahead of them on the snow-covered road.

A sign proclaimed they were on the outskirts of Albany, the state capital.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I got a lead that some of the gang is holed up in Hawk’s Falls, near the Vermont border.”

Mostly wilderness. Her kind of place. She allowed herself a small smile. As a huntress, her tracking skills were unparalleled. If Alex hid anywhere in a forest, she would find him.

“How long before we get there?”

He shook his head in the clumsy manner of a wolf cub shaking off snow. “We won’t get there tonight,” he said, his deep voice sounding gravelly. “It’s late, and the storm’s getting worse. I need some sleep.”

She sat up. “I’m not tired. I’ll drive.”

He drummed on the steering wheel. “I don’t think so.”

“I want to find him as much as you do,” she reminded him. “You sleep, I’ll get us there. It’s not too far.”

“We’re pulling off at the next town. We’ll take a motel room for the night.”

“But—”

“We have to stop sometime.”

“I’ll stop when I find my brother.”

He shook his head again. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

“If we’re not snowed in.”

“I’ve got chains.” He shrugged. “And there’s always a plow.”

She tried not to grind her teeth. “Look, I really think—”

“Enough.” His tone was sharp enough to cut a coyote off in mid-howl. “This is not a democracy. We’re stopping and getting some rest. End of subject.”

Brenna glared. “Fine. You get a room. I’ll stay in your vehicle.”

“Right.” He snorted. “It’s ten below and snowing, and you want to stay here?”

Put that way, her words did sound…unusual.

“I don’t want to waste money on a motel room. I can rest here. This is comfortable enough for me.”

“Money?” He gave her a long look. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay. We’re sharing a room, anyway.”

At her sputter of protest, he flashed her a bleak, tight-lipped smile. “Look, I’m not going to attack you. I don’t want sex with the sister of my family’s killer. I’ll make sure we have two beds.”

Safe. If only he knew. She suppressed the desire to growl. “I’m not worried.”

“Of course not.” His tone mocked her. “But like I said, until we find Alex, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I don’t want to be that close to you.”

“Tough.”

She took a closer look at the intense man beside her.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I want to keep an eye on you as badly as you do me.”

“Then it’s settled.” In silence he drove on, windshield wipers slapping ineffectively against the blinding snow. He handled the vehicle with the ease of long familiarity. In the blizzard, the streetlights shone like dim halos, the occasional car or semi looming up huge, then lumbering away, like brief scenes from a surreal, homemade movie.

An exit sign indicated available lodging. They left the freeway, turning right and fishtailing on the snowy road.

“Slow down,” she said.

Instead of commenting, he pointed. “There.” Clustered together were several older motels. A red neon sign at the first one indicated a vacancy.

Carson pulled into the snow-covered lot, parking around back, out of sight of the brightly lit office. With the snow coming down fast and furious, the place looked cozy, inviting, though Brenna knew in harsh sunlight the weather-beaten exterior would seem tired and worn.

With an innate caution that came as naturally as breathing, she took stock of her surroundings. The frame building appeared badly maintained, its fading green paint peeling. A few pine trees, bent and sickly, grew near the office. The weight of the snow on their branches made them seem about to topple.

Despite the storm, or perhaps because of it, the parking lot contained five or six other vehicles, all older, all rapidly disappearing under white shrouds of snow. From the iron bars on the office windows, she judged this would not be a safe place for a woman to wander at night, at least a human woman unable to change.

Carson killed the ignition and pocketed the key before turning to face her, his expression flat.

“Let’s go.” He squeezed her shoulder, effectively cutting off her last attempt at refusal. “Give it up. You’re staying with me.”

“I’m your captive?” Both amused and angry, she couldn’t help but wonder at his reaction if she were to change right here, right now. If she were her powerful wolf self, he wouldn’t be able to contain her. No man on earth could hold her then. Even as a human, she was a formidable opponent. Years of martial arts classes had made sure of that.

For now she could only let him think he had won. The force of his glare told her he didn’t appreciate her amusement or her anger.

“Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Brenna, I’m warning you.” Illuminated by the flashing neon hotel light, his gaze was as cold as the night and twice as harsh. “Don’t try to escape. Your brother destroyed my family and ruined my life. I will make him pay. Neither you nor anyone else will be able to stop me.”

Releasing her, he pushed open his door and strode around to her side. Before he reached the door handle, she pushed it open herself and slid to the ground in front of him. Squaring her shoulders in the bulky parka, she lifted her chin and stared him in the face, snow swirling around both of them in a heavy cloud.

“My brother is not the man you’re looking for.”

“Unwavering devotion,” he drawled. “That’s good in a sister.” Pausing, he looked her over once. “That is, if you really are Alex’s sister.”

Her breath came out in a hiss. Narrow-eyed, she glared at him with such ferocity that he took a step back. Then she spun on her heel and marched over to the hotel office, yanking open the dirty glass door. She went inside without waiting to see if he would follow.

A few minutes later, metal key firmly in hand, Carson allowed her to precede him toward their room.

On the ground floor, 119 sat at the very back of the building, as far away from the growl and snarl of the normal freeway traffic as the hotel offered. Though the blizzard muffled sound, she was still glad, as the noise, utterly foreign, made her uncomfortable and restless.

Come to think of it, the utter absence of sound, normally welcome, had her feeling skittish as well. Or maybe she owed her heightened awareness to her companion. With his grim-jawed features, he appeared oblivious to her discomfort as he unlocked the door.

Once inside, he flicked the light switch. A single dim lamp illuminated the well-used room.

Brenna went in. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the foul smell. Though he’d asked for nonsmoking, the stale scent of cigarettes hung in the musty air. Coughing, she looked at the window. Carson shook his head.

“Too cold.” A battered heat/air unit, faded yellow, sat under the window. With the twist of a knob, he turned on the heat. She could only hope the warmth didn’t intensify the nauseating smell.

“I’ve been in worse,” he said. Never having stayed in a motel, Brenna didn’t reply. She waited to see what he would do next.

Two double beds took up nearly all the space in the room. Once he’d pulled the door closed behind him and turned the dead bolt, he had to turn sideways to get past her. Their chests brushed. He jerked away as though she’d given him an electrical shock. She couldn’t help it—a quick chuckle escaped her at his discomfort.

Ignoring her, he moved quickly, turning on every lamp. The cheap clock radio on the nightstand blinked red—2:05 a.m. Then Carson went to the bed nearest the door and yanked back the sour-smelling bedspread.

“Nice and comfy, don’t you think?” His tone mocked both her and their surroundings. The heat overpowered her. The sickening odor made her head spin. Because she didn’t trust herself to speak without giving her true nature away, she went into the tiny bathroom and closed the door with a sharp click.

Chipped turquoise tile decorated the walls and floor. The porcelain sink, though old, appeared clean. She turned the faucet. The tap water felt icy and refreshing. Splashing her face, she drank deeply from her cupped hands. Then she finger-combed her hair, eyeing herself in the distorted mirror. Exhaustion and worry had made faint circles under her brown eyes and carved new hollows in her narrow face. She craved a long hot shower, but she didn’t want to leave Carson alone for too long. If he made a phone call, she wanted to hear every word.

By the time she came out of the bathroom, he had pushed one of the beds snugly up against the front door, effectively blocking them in.

“Yours?”

He nodded.

“Give me a break. What if there’s a fire?”

“Then we’ll move it.”

Unable to resist pointing it out, she said, “There’s always the window.”

“You’d have to go over me to get to it.”

Over him. The air felt suddenly charged. Brenna shrugged away the unfamiliar feeling of awareness with a quick toss of her head.

“We can keep this up all night,” he said. “Or we can get some rest. It’s late.” Massaging the back of his neck, he indicated the other bed. “That’s yours. Go to sleep. We’ll start again early in the morning.”

“If the plows show up.”

He gave her a tired smile. “They will. They always do.”

He watched while she gingerly tested her mattress. She pinched a corner of the faded bedspread between her index finger and thumb, yanking it back so it fell on the floor at the foot of the bed. The nappy blanket, though, she turned back neatly. Then, still fully dressed, she lay down on her side on top of the sheets, trying to ignore the faint musty scent that tickled her nose. Still facing him, she kept her eyes open. Watching.

“Tap on the wall,” he said.

Blinking, she sat up. “What?”

“I need to go in there.” He indicated the bathroom. “I want you to tap on the wall until I come out.”

Amused, she let her mouth curve in the beginnings of a smile. “You really think I’ll run.”

“Won’t you?”

Exhaling loudly, Brenna lifted one shoulder. “Turn down the heat.” Moving with deliberate slowness, she peeled off her heavy leather vest and tossed it on the bed. Then she lifted her hand to the wall and rapped three times, the plaster rough against her knuckles, repeating until she’d found a simple, primitive rhythm. Oddly, this soothed her.

After flipping the dial to off, he nodded curtly. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he spent less than a minute in the tiny bathroom before he emerged. Without glancing at her, he went around the room, extinguishing the lights one at a time. That made Brenna want to laugh again. She saw as well in the darkness as she did in the light.

She let her arm fall, watching him as he readied for bed.

Like her, he didn’t undress. She heard the rasping sound of his jeans as he slid between the sheets, fully clothed.

In the silence, she listened for his breathing to slow. Instead his restless movements indicated he was as far away from sleep as she.

“Let me tell you about my brother,” she said finally, keeping her voice low and nonconfrontational.

He grunted. “Go to sleep.”

“Maybe I can tell you something you don’t know.”

“I doubt it.”

“Alex and I are twins.”

He sat up at her words, his bulky shape ominous in the dim light. “Listen, quit the lies. You’re not even his sister. Alex had no family. Believe me, I would know if he did.”

She sighed, reaching over and clicking on the light. “Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.”

“You don’t even look like him.” Disgust colored his words, and his hard tone would have shaken even a career criminal. “He’s blond and you’re dark.”

“We’re fraternal twins.”

“Sure.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You live in fantasy land, lady.”

She sighed again. “This is getting old. I’m telling the truth. Alex is my twin. I have no reason to lie.”

“Don’t you now?”

Ignoring his skepticism, she continued doggedly. “Alex and I are different in a lot of ways. Of the two of us, he is calmer and more rational.”

“Alex is an unemotional man,” he agreed, the savagery in his voice surprising her. “And I still don’t believe you’re his sister.”

She leaned forward to peer at him through the dim light. “Did you ever see his birthmark? The one on his arm?”

Surprise briefly lit his face. “Yeah, I did,” he said grudgingly. “I thought it was a tattoo at first.”

Turning her back to him, she lifted her shirt, pushing down the waistband of her jeans so he could see. “The shape of a wolf,” she said, giving him a clear view of her own birthmark above her left hip. “Maybe you’ll believe me now.”

He swore at the unmistakable evidence. “He never mentioned family. Any family. At all.”

Ignoring that she let her shirt fall back into place, turning once more to face him. “You never told me. Where do you know Alex from?”

“DEA.” He spat the single word. “We were undercover together. Alex was my partner.”