Читать книгу One Eye Open - Karen Whiddon - Страница 8

Outside, the sharp ice of the wind cut straight to the bone. Shivering, Carson regretted giving Brenna his work jacket. Quickly he fitted the icy gas nozzle into his tank, setting the metal pin so the gas would run automatically. Then, turning his back to the wind, he punched a number into his cell phone. Warm as it was inside the Tahoe, he needed to talk to his informant privately yet still keep an eye on his reluctant passenger.

Three rings, a click, then a muffled answer. As usual, the man he knew only as Jack didn’t want to talk. Carson kept his voice low, rational, cajoling. He did the usual song and dance with the normal promise of payment, and finally got the information he needed. A potential sighting of Hades’ Claws. As he’d thought they might, they were heading north, toward their compound in Hawk’s Falls.

Jack believed Alex traveled with them.

Snapping the cell phone closed, he got back in the truck, shivering, and turned up the heat. A quick look at Brenna told him something had happened in the brief time he had taken to make the call. Her entire demeanor, posture and expression had changed. From the rigid line of her back to the way the sharp edge of her glare touched on him before skittering away, he read a simmering anger.

He swept the gas station at a glance. Two or three other vehicles were parked at the pumps, their drivers bundled against the cold while pumping gas. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and no one had approached the Tahoe while he was on the phone.

Then why was his new companion spoiling for a fight?

“What’s up?” He avoided her gaze as he turned the key and started the engine. The less eye contact, the less chance for an argument.

“You used your cell phone. Who’d you call?” Her tone sounded surprisingly pleasant, even with contained anger.

He suppressed a smile. Damn she was good. Answering a question with another question. One of the oldest avoidance tactics in the book.

“Informant.” Signaling, he pulled onto the road. With one hand looped over the top of the steering wheel, he fiddled with the radio, finding a station that played soothing classical music to calm her. Small tricks like that had become ingrained, something he did without conscious thought.

Her face still averted, Brenna made a sound low in her throat. It could have been either pleasure or disgust; he didn’t know her well enough to determine which.

Nor did he care. Again he reached for the radio. One flick of the dial increased the volume to a level loud enough to discourage conversation, and he settled back in anticipation of a nice, quiet ride. Alex’s sister seemed inclined to cooperate, watching the snow-covered landscape go past with no attempt to speak further.

But when the melody on the radio switched to Liszt’s “Hungarian Fantasy,” she swung around in her seat to face him. The swiftness of her movement, in keeping with the ominous crash of the music, startled him.

Even more alarming was her degree of anger. One quick glance told him the shoulder restraint was all that kept her from launching herself at him. Even her exotic eyes glowed caramel with fury. She took a deep breath, baring her white teeth, before exhaling loudly.

She looked almost like a wild animal.

“What the h—” Imagination. Had to be. He took a deep breath himself, blinked and took another look.

The furious glare remained. Quickly he turned the radio off.

“Now what?” he asked. “You got a problem?”

“Why did you lie to me?” Simmering rage trembled in her voice. “You said you had an official reason for looking for my brother, but you’re not even working for the DEA.”

Damn. He shook his head. “You snooped in my glove box.”

“I was looking for a tissue. Instead I found a crumpled piece of paper that says you’re on medical leave.”

He clenched his jaw. “None of this is your business.”

“I think it is.” She tilted her chin, contempt blazing from her gaze. “Tell me, Carson Turner, have you become the thing you profess to hate?”

“What?”

“A criminal.”

“Lady, I’m no criminal.”

Again she blew out her breath. “You’re acting without the sanction of the Justice Department. You’re on medical leave. Impersonating a federal agent is a crime.”

“You just did the same thing at the bank.”

“That was different. You led me to believe you were there on official business, and I was with you. You’ve been doing it for…what? The last six months?”

Carson felt his face heat. “I have good reason—”

“Sure you do.” Scorn sharpened her tone. “Even Ted Bundy thought he had good reason.”

“Give me a break.” He ran his hand through his hair, his earlier expectation of a peaceful drive evaporating. “You can’t compare me to him.”

“Why not? He’s a murderer. You could be. Do you intend to kill my brother?”

A low growl rose in his throat. It sounded enough like an animal to cause the puppy to raise his head from Brenna’s lap.

Oddly enough, Brenna smiled as though she found comfort in the sound.

“I’ll bring The Wolf to justice. By whatever means necessary.”

Brenna forced her jaw to relax. She would simply have to wait and see what other lies he might have told.

Carson turned his head, looking directly at her for the first time in what seemed like hours. Holding his gaze, she resisted the strange, shivery sensation she got whenever their eyes connected. She didn’t know if it was because of the threat this human represented or some other, inexplicable reason. Whatever the cause, she didn’t like the feeling. She focused on the threat.

“I will not let you harm Alex.”

His lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Hmm.”

Brenna let that pass. Carson had no idea what he was dealing with. Most men took one look into her eyes and knew better than to toy with her. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

He laughed. “Should I be?”

She tried a different tack. “Are you afraid of anything?”

Instantly he sobered. “I told you. I live for one thing only. Finding the people who destroyed my life and making them pay. Nothing and no one can keep me from that goal.”

Back to that. Fine. “You want answers, right?”

“I want the truth.”

“Then we’re on the same side.”

He quirked a brow in question, alternating his attention between her and the road. “How do you figure?”

“We both want facts.”

“Yeah.” A shadow of savagery remained in his tone. “That’s why we’re heading toward the Vermont border.”

All right, she would bite. “Why? What’d you find out?”

“My informant told me that Hades’ Claws is having a big meeting. Hundreds are assembling in a week’s time in a place they have north of Hawk’s Falls.”

“How do you know you can trust him?”

“Trust who?”

“The informant.”

“I’ve worked with him before. His tips have always panned out. As long as I pay, he tells me the truth.”

“I thought you didn’t pay for information,” she said.

“Seldom.” He smiled. “Sometimes I bluff.”

“And if you don’t pay?”

“Then he’d sooner let me die.”

For some reason that touched her. “You live a sad life, Carson Turner.”

His expression froze, the falsely pleasant mask slipping slightly to reveal hard ruthlessness underneath.

“Sad?” He shook his head. “Angry, maybe. Mad. Oh yeah, definitely furious. But not sad, not anymore. Not ever again.”

She saw that her words had hit some deeply hidden mark. “I meant,” she said, “it’s sad that you have to pay people to help you.”

He shrugged, a quick jerk of his shoulders. “Not in my line of work.”

“And this?” With her hand she indicated the road ahead. “Is all this work, too? Pretending to be an active DEA agent, lying to other law enforcement guys, making me a captive?”

Holding her breath, she waited to hear his answer. Though he’d lied to her initially, since she’d caught and confronted him, perhaps now he would tell her the truth.

“This is my life,” he said, after a long silence. “Finding Alex, finding them, keeps me alive.”

“Vengeance?”

He nodded.

Bleakness settled in her chest, icier than any northern blizzard. “You do mean to kill him.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. If he was the one—”

“If?” She pounced on the word. “You have doubts then?”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “If he was the one who betrayed me—us—and had Julie and Becky killed, he deserves to die.”

She seized on the word. “‘If.’ You said if again.”

“I saw him, Brenna.”

“No.” She remembered his exact words as clearly as if she’d written them down. “You said you saw him with a gun. But you never saw him shoot, did you?”

“Semantics,” he snarled. “It’s not like he tried to help me, now is it?”

“And you have the right to be his judge and his jury?”

“The right?” Raw savagery burned in his expression, from the hard set of his chin to his burning gaze. “I lost any rights long ago. I should have been the one to die, not my family. They were blameless, damn it. It was because of me, because of my job. They died without warning, without protection. They’d done nothing—” His voice broke, and he swallowed. White-knuckled, his hands gripped the steering wheel while he struggled to regain control of his emotions.

Such pain. Raw anguish. As quickly as it had begun, her protective anger faded. What must it have been like to lose everyone he loved? Brenna could only imagine.

“What about your parents?”

He continued to stare straight ahead. “What about them?”

“I imagine they care what happens to you.”

“Imagine all you want. They’re divorced. My mother lives in Seattle. She calls me once in a while, or I call her.”

“Your father?”

He made a rude sound. “Remarried. New family. He doesn’t need any of this.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“Look, what is this?” His gaze raked her before he turned his attention back to the road. “Why are you asking so many questions? Why does any of this matter to you?”

His reaction stung. “I’m trying to figure you out, that’s all.”

“Well, stop. All the relatives in the world can’t make up for the loss of my wife and daughter.”

“I didn’t think they could,” she said softly. “But having them to depend on sure helps.”

“Like you depend on Alex?”

She ignored the mockery in his tone. “Yes, exactly. Like I depend on Alex.”

“I wouldn’t depend on him too much. Looks like he ducked out on you, too.”

She heard the unspoken: like he ducked out on me.

Though she tried to tear herself away, she found her gaze drawn to him. Despite the painful emotions still plain in the hard cast of his features, he handled the Tahoe with deft precision, moving in and out of lanes with the confidence of a skilled driver. His law enforcement training, no doubt.

Watching him channel his agony into driving, Brenna knew Carson meant what he said. The more she learned about him, the more she realized he wanted the truth and meant to find it, no matter what. This man took no half measures. He would be absolutely certain he had the right person before he started any course of action. Given that, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to find her brother.

A thought struck her so hard that for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. What if Carson was right? What if her brother had been the one who’d murdered Carson’s family? Just thinking such a thing felt disloyal and impossible, yet…

The evidence seemed damning. Carson himself had seen Alex with the gun. He was still involved with the biker gang. If he wasn’t undercover, why was he with them? There had to be some sort of rational explanation.

“I don’t understand why Alex hasn’t contacted you,” she mused. “Unless he’s in danger.”

“Because he’s guilty.” After a quick glance at her face, his tone softened. “Believe me, that’s something I’ve wondered, too. Hell, Julie loved him like a brother. Becky called him Uncle. And he was my best friend.”

Was. Once again, past tense. Did Carson see no possibility that he might be wrong? That someone else might have killed his family?

“When I was lying on the floor bleeding, I raised my head and looked at him. He knows I saw him. That’s why he’s trying to have me killed.”

Brenna started. Though he spoke without inflection, she heard no doubt in Carson’s voice. He truly believed that Alex…She couldn’t complete the thought.

Again Phelan whimpered, shifting in her arms. Instantly she stilled her heart rate. She didn’t want to alarm the puppy. In a moment he snuggled into her warmth, drifting back into a fitful doze.

“You should have let him out when we got gas,” Carson commented. Since he was right, Brenna merely nodded.

With the radio off, the ebb and flow of traffic combined with the Tahoe’s engine in a soft roar. Twice Brenna’s eyes drifted closed. Both times she forced herself to sit up and stretch her neck and shoulders.

“How much longer will it take to get there?” she asked, not from any real need for conversation, but merely to break the silence and stay awake.

“An hour, maybe less.” From his terse response, she doubted he wanted to talk any more than she did. Tough. She had to prepare herself for the situation they were headed into.

“Tell me about Hawk’s Falls. What kind of situation are we going to find?”

Another sidelong glance. “Dangerous. If Jack—my informant—is right, a lot of money and drugs are going to change hands in a couple of days. They’re smart. The big rally is a cover. With hundreds of bikers in town, no one will be able to tell when the deal goes down.”

“So the bikers will be on edge?”

“Only the ones involved. The rest of them will be too busy partying to pay attention to anything else.”

She sighed. “What kind of place is this?”

“Hawk’s Falls? Typical small town. I’ve been through it once or twice. Nothing exciting.”

“Then why do they allow this biker gathering?”

“Hey.” Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Most bikers are decent people. Their money’s as good as anyone else’s.”

“What are we going to do once we get there? Do you have a plan?”

“We?” Carson shook his head, still watching the highway.

Amused, Brenna hid her smile. “Yes, we. Unless you plan to tie me up and leave me in here.”

“Don’t tempt me.” he growled, though the slight lift at the corner of his mouth told her he was joking. So the man did have a sense of humor.

“Seriously, what are we going to do?”

“We have to be careful. Once we get to Hawk’s Falls, we’re going to play it by ear.”

“You don’t have a plan.”