The Wolf Princess: The Wolf PrincessOne Eye Open (The Pack)

by Karen Whiddon

  Was that a threat or a promise? Brenna settled back in her seat, trying to sort out her confused reactions to him.

  She could smell her own desire. Mingled with that, despite his words to the contrary, she could smell the heady scent of his.

  Complications like this she did not need.

  Though she tried, she couldn’t make out the voice on the phone. Listening, Carson narrowed his eyes.

  “Alex?” The single word was full of shock—and fury. “Alex, is that you?”

  Chapter 5

  Alex?

  “Give me the phone.” Grabbing for it and missing, Brenna clenched her jaw as Carson snapped the flip top closed.

  “Damn,” he swore.

  “Was it him?”

  “Yes.” The grim set of Carson’s mouth exposed his agitation. “I could barely hear him. He was whispering.”

  Whispering? “He must be in danger and trying not to be overheard.”

  “Damn.” Carson cursed again. “I don’t believe this.”

  “Tell me what he said.”

  With a savage flick of the turn signal, he moved the Tahoe into the middle lane. “He gave me an order, plain and simple. ‘Get Brenna out of here.’”

  Alex. Concerned about her welfare. How did he even know she was here? Maybe by using the same internal sense that told her he was in danger.

  “Did he say anything else?” Leaning forward, she watched while Carson focused intently on his driving, trying unsuccessfully to change lanes again, this time into an unbroken line of traffic. Finally he negotiated an opening in the right lane and moved over. Their speed was now barely sixty.

  “We have to exit in a half mile,” he said. “After this we’ll take mostly back roads.”

  She waved his words away. “Carson! Did Alex say anything else?”

  The look he shot her was dark. “Not much,” he drawled. “I’ll repeat it. ‘If Brenna gets hurt, there will be hell to pay. Get her out of here. Now.’”

  “He’s worried about me. And not just because I’m traveling with you. Whatever he’s involved in is dangerous,” she said. “Was that it?”

  His expression turned cold, watchful and alert. “Did you expect a personal message? Something in code?”

  Suspicion tainted his voice and gaze, forcibly reminding her that they were still on opposite sides of the fence.

  “No.” She sighed, wishing Alex had thought to give her some sort of signal. “I would have thought you two had a code, since you did undercover work together.”

  Carson shook his head. “All field agents use abbreviated speech for emergencies. He didn’t use it.”

  “Did he sound okay?”

  Carson made a sound of disgust. “Hard to tell from a whisper.”

  Phelan whimpered and lifted his small head to peer up at her. Absently she stroked his soft fur. What kind of trouble was her brother in? Bad enough that he didn’t want her anywhere near him, even though they both could change for protection.

  “I don’t get this.” Speaking her thoughts aloud, she looked at Carson. “How long have you had that cell phone?”

  “A couple of years. Why?”

  “Because Alex still remembers your number. I don’t understand why he hasn’t contacted you before now.”

  “Here we are.” Ignoring her, Carson jabbed his thumb toward the exit sign. Behind a beat-up, dirty, white panel truck, they slowed to nearly forty miles per hour.

  “Come on.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “We haven’t got all day.”

  Brenna bit back a flash of anger. “Carson? Any thoughts? Why do you think Alex never called you?”

  “Importance.” He ground the word out between his teeth. “Until now he obviously didn’t feel anything was important enough to merit a call.”

  The unsaid words hovered in the air. Even when my wife and daughter were murdered and my world ripped apart. Even then his partner and former best friend hadn’t called.

  She fought rising panic. “Something is terribly wrong.”

  Carson snorted. “You think?”

  Without thinking, she placed her hand on his forearm and felt his muscles tense at her touch.

  “I know my brother. If he called you his friend, he wouldn’t rest until he helped you.”

  With a deft motion he shook off her hand and drove. Now the road curved sharply, and the panel truck in front of them slowed further. Carson muttered under his breath.

  They passed a weathered wooden sign. “Welcome to Hawk’s Falls. Population 1,240.”

  “Twelve hundred and forty?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It is a small town. That’s weird.”

  “I know. You would think that would make them more obvious. But most of this area is rural wilderness. People mind their own business here.”

  After the curve, the road widened to four lanes, with a concrete median. The panel truck remained on the left. Carson swung around to pass on the right.

  “Damn idiot is speeding up.”

  It was true. As they drew abreast of the dirty, unmarked truck, the driver matched his speed to theirs. Alongside them, the truck rattled and bumped as it kept pace.

  “What’s up with that?” She envisioned men leaping from the van with machine guns spitting, just like in the movies. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I.” Now Carson gripped the steering wheel with both hands, tension evident in the stiff set of his shoulders. “They were behind us for miles on the interstate, then got in the right lane and wouldn’t let us cut in front of them when it was time to exit. At first I thought they were following us—”

  “Is it a government truck?”

  “Maybe.” Carson gunned the Tahoe, then eased off. A speed limit sign flashed past. “These days, anything goes.”

  “We’re up to fifty-five, and the speed limit is forty here,” she said. She could practically taste his agitation. Or maybe that was merely her own.

  “Yeah, there’s one more sharp curve ahead, then it will be thirty, because we’ll be downtown.”

  The white truck slowed to take the curve. As it did, it drifted across the solid line into their lane.

  “Look out!”

  Carson stomped on the brake, causing the Tahoe to fishtail. They missed clipping the truck’s bumper by inches, coming to a sliding stop just behind it.

  It proceeded on a few hundred feet, weaving across both lanes of the deserted road.

  “Something—” Before he finished speaking, the truck swerved and came to a screeching halt, blocking both lanes completely.

  “They’re waiting for us.” Jaw set, Carson put the Tahoe in Reverse. “We’d better get out of here.”

  “How? You can’t see.”

  “I think I can.”

  “It’s a blind curve. We’ll be killed.”

  Two men dressed entirely in black jumped from the cab of the truck. Both carried shotguns.

  Carson put the Tahoe in Drive. “You want to take your chances with them?”

  Brenna sat up straight. “We can take them.”

  He stared hard at her. “Are you crazy? They have guns!”

  She exhaled, forcing away the adrenaline pumping in her blood, hoping her eyes didn’t show how badly she wanted to fight. “You’re right, but I don’t care. Let’s go.”

  With a short bark of savage laughter, he gunned the engine. The Tahoe surged forward, directly at the gunmen. One of the men jumped to the side, out of their path. The other remained where he stood, cradling the gun—good, that meant he wouldn’t shoot it. He lifted his arm to throw something.

  “Get down!” Carson yelled.

  Instantly, Brenna obeyed, dropping her head and touching her nose to her knees.

  They bumped across the median and sped past on the wrong side of the road. As they did, the rear window shattered, showering her with glass.

  “What the—”

  “We’re past them. We lucked out. No one was coming from the other direction.” Carson
sounded irrationally calm. Too composed. Still, she sensed his rage.

  “Are they following us?”

  He checked the rearview mirror. “No, they don’t appear to be. Maybe they just wanted to scare the hell out of us.”

  “Did they shoot? Is that what broke the window?” Sitting up again, Brenna shook her head, sending tiny bits of glass flying. Gingerly she brushed herself off.

  “No gunshots. That one guy threw something through the glass. You need to see what it is.”

  Brenna looked over her shoulder. A large brick covered in shards of glass rested on the back seat.

  “A brick.” She brushed more glass from the upholstery before leaning over the seat to retrieve it. “You’d think they could have been a little more creative. Look,” she mocked. “There’s even a note attached.”

  She lifted the brick and undid the rubber band holding a white piece of paper in place.

  “A note?” Carson glanced at her, then back to the road. “Read it to me.”

  Carefully she unfolded the crumpled paper. Made from letters cut from a magazine and pasted on the page were two simple sentences, which she read aloud. “‘The Lamplight Motel, Hawk’s Falls. Meet me there.’” At the bottom of the page, a name—The Wolf. Her brother’s nickname.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she mused. “First he calls, warning us away, then uses goons to break your window to send a message asking us to meet him? No way.”

  “He’s nuts.”

  Brenna sent him a savage look. “This note isn’t from Alex. We’re being set up. I think it’s a trap.”

  “You do, do you?” Carson whistled, the sound causing Phelan to try to stand in her lap. “Still trying to protect him?”

  “I don’t get it. Protect him how?”

  “You want me to think this rendezvous is a trap so I won’t go to the Lamplight Motel. Then you can slip off and meet your brother without me.”

  This time Brenna laughed, a bit wildly, since adrenaline still coursed like a jolt of caffeine through her blood. “Get real. Why would Alex resort to such drastic action to send a simple message? For that matter, why would anyone?”

  “Exactly.” Carson narrowed his eyes. “But then, why would anyone kill my wife and daughter?”

  Carson snapped his fingers. “Bingo. I know why. He’s insane.”

  Brenna bit her lip. None of this made sense. Alex wasn’t a criminal, nor was he crazy. She knew him better than anyone, Carson included. If only he would talk to her, she knew she would get to the bottom of things.

  Like why he’d never contacted Carson.

  Someone else was involved, thus the old-fashioned, heavy-handed brick through the window. But who? Most likely the same people who wanted to kill Carson.

  Glancing up, she saw the dense undergrowth in the trees had thinned out. They went around another bend in the road. Myriad brick buildings, many of them restored, decorated the outskirts of the town.

  “Here we are,” he said. “Hawk’s Falls. Now we need to find the Lamplight Motel and check in.”

  Brenna stared. “Look, Carson. While I can take care of myself, I don’t know if I can protect you. I know this is a trap. If Alex truly wanted to meet me somewhere, he’d make sure I knew without a doubt the message was from him. And he wouldn’t sign the note ‘The Wolf.’”

  “Does insanity run in your family?”

  For a moment she only gaped at him. “What?”

  “Look at you. What are you, five feet tall?”

  “Five-one.”

  “And I’ll bet you’re a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

  “So?”

  “You really think you can protect yourself from these people?” His tone left no doubt what he thought of that.

  “I’m tougher than I look. But like I said, I don’t know that I can protect you.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No.” She sighed. “Just the truth. The letter isn’t from Alex. You say people are trying to kill you. I think they’re setting a trap. I can’t protect you from guns.”

  “You can’t protect me from guns.” His cool tone indicated his disbelief. “You’re as bad as he is. What kind of life do you people lead?”

  “I’m trained in martial arts.”

  He glanced at her sideways. “Martial arts, right. What exactly do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a librarian.” She grinned. “I live upstate, in a small town called Leaning Tree.”

  “For a librarian you have strange hobbies,” he said.

  “Jujitsu classes were Alex’s idea. He wanted me to be able to protect myself. Always.”

  She glanced at him. Anger simmered underneath his skin, radiating from him. Furious, he looked deadly, like one of the lead hunters in the Pack. Again she felt an unwelcome tug of sexual attraction.

  “You’re lying.” He made a sound of frustration. “You know more than you’re saying.”

  Instead of responding, she studied the town. Hawk’s Falls was a charming place, with neat, well-tended buildings and a quaint air. Small-town America at its best.

  “I can’t see why a biker gang wants to meet here,” she said.

  “Changing the subject?”

  “I’ve told you everything I know,” she said.

  “I’ll let it go. For now.”

  “Good.” She lifted her chin, daring him to accuse her again of lying. “Now tell me why this biker gang would want to congregate here.”

  “Their leader, a guy named Nemo, has a farm north of town. Over a hundred acres, isolated and fenced.”

  The name took her by surprise. “Nemo? Like in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”

  “Yeah.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “Kind of sappy for such a dangerous man. He’s deadly, though, make no mistake about it. I met him when Alex and I were undercover.” A pained expression crossed his face, and whatever else he’d been about to say died.

  “There.” He pointed. “The Lamplight Motel.”

  A weathered sign hung from a seven-foot-tall, black cast-iron lantern. At the end of the cracked blacktop drive, the motel itself had been painted a cheery yellow.

  Brenna sighed. “Here we go again. Two rooms?”

  “One.”

  He still didn’t trust her. “Fine.”

  After they were settled in their room, which this time smelled blessedly free of stale cigarette smoke, Brenna began to pace. It had been a while since she’d changed, and she was beginning to feel the need. Since she couldn’t, she needed to do something else to dispel her nervous energy. A two-mile jog sounded wonderful, but she doubted Carson would go for it. Still, the outdoors beckoned.

  “I need to go for a walk.” Crossing her arms, she gave him a look that left no room for argument. “You can come with me or not. I don’t care. But I’m going. I need exercise.”

  On the floor near her feet, Phelan cocked his head. He whimpered and pawed at her leg, tongue lolling.

  “He needs a walk, too.” Without waiting for Carson’s response, Brenna picked up the puppy and headed for the door.

  “Wait. I’m coming with you.”

  Hand on the knob, she paused. “Well, come on, then.”

  “Don’t you want this?” Her coat dangled from his hand. “It’s twenty-seven degrees. The wind chill is probably in the teens.”

  A coat. Brenna had nearly forgotten. She seldom wore jackets unless the temperature dipped far below freezing, as her internal body heat was much higher than a normal human’s. That enabled her to stay warm even in subzero temperatures.

  “Here.” He tossed it to her. “I brought it in. I thought you might need it.”

  “Thanks.” After placing Phelan on the bed, she slipped it on, leaving the zipper undone. Then she scooped up the puppy and stepped out, lifting her face to the cold slap of the chill breeze.

  The air contained the scent of snow. The wind blew crisp and exhilarating, beckoning to her to enjoy winter, her favorite season. She increased her pace, heading for the
fringe of trees to the west.

  “God, I hate winter.” Beside her, Carson turned up his collar. “That wind cuts like a knife.”

  Ignoring him, Brenna continued to scent the air. No danger here—yet. Only the chill sharpness of winter and the silent call of the woods. Exhilarating. The longing to change, to run as a wolf, shook her. All that she was, her very nature, seemed contained in this slight expanse of forest. Here she belonged. Still, she must remain human for now. She suppressed the urge to change, pushing it deep inside herself.

  Phelan squirmed in her arms, feeling the pull of nature just as she did. Stooping, she let him loose, watching with envy as he romped and rolled in the snow. If she were free to change she would join him, frolicking without a care.

  “Keep one eye open,” Carson said, his voice low. “If they’ve been tracking us, we’ll be an easy shot out here, unprotected.”

  Brenna started. “What did you say?”

  “We’ll be an easy—”

  “No. Before that.”

  “Keep one eye open?”

  She jerked her head in a nod. “When I was a kid, my mother used to put it a different way. ‘Sleep with one eye open,’ she always said.”

  With a puzzled look, he studied her. “Why would a mother say such a thing to a young child? Seems like it would scare the daylights out of you.”

  “It was meant to.” Brenna laughed softly. “Who knew what kind of threats we might face?”

  Carson stopped, frowning. Hunched against the cold, he had his hands in his pockets. “Where did you grow up?”

  Guarded now, Brenna forced a smile. “Alex and I grew up on a farm upstate, near the Canadian border. Very remote and isolated. There were lots of wild animals and dangers you city folk never have to deal with.”

  Not entirely a lie. But the real danger always came from humans. Though members of the Pack integrated well, if humans were to discover the Pack’s ability to shape-shift, they would panic and attempt to destroy them. Such a thing had happened before, long in the past. Because of that history, they always had to be guarded and abide by the unbreakable laws.

  “Your brother never mentioned a farm.” Though steady, Carson’s tone sounded suspicious.

  “Apparently Alex kept a lot of things to himself.” Though she meant to be flippant, her remark served to remind both of them that perhaps she hadn’t truly known her brother at all.