One Eye Open

“Proof?” All but snarling the word, he reached into his pocket and, fumbling with his gloved fingers, withdrew a plastic covered ID, holding it up for her inspection.

“Drug Enforcement Agency,” she read out loud. “Carson Turner, Justice Department.”

“Yeah.” Pocketing the ID, he flashed her a humorless smile. “That’s me. Now get in the car.”

She examined the black Tahoe parked to the side. It was one of only two four-wheel-drive vehicles amid the seven or eight motorcycles in the parking lot. He pressed his remote control, and the vehicle lights flashed as the doors unlocked.

“I need to get my bag from the car.” She started forward.

“I’ll get it,” he said. “Toss me your keys.”

Without another word she did as he asked. So he worked for a government agency—was that good or bad? Since Alex wouldn’t do anything illegal, what would the DEA want with him? No one in the Pack used drugs of any kind. Doing so could seriously impair the ability to change, causing far greater damage than any brief moment of pleasure would be worth.

Climbing in after her, Carson tossed her duffel bag in the back seat and started the engine, turning on his wipers to clear the powdery snow from the windshield. She waited until he’d backed from the parking lot and pulled out onto the road before trying again.

“Tell me what you want with my brother.”

He gave a rude snort, shooting her a look of fury that felt like a slap. “I thought you said you knew what your brother was.”

Holding on to the shreds of her patience, she gave a slow shake of her head. “Alex disappeared over a year ago. No one in the Pack—” she stopped, heart in throat, then shook her head “—I mean, no one in my family has heard from him. I’m worried.”

Only the quiet rumble of the motor broke the silence.

“You know, if I didn’t need to keep my hands on the wheel, I’d clap,” he said. “You sound really sincere. Family. Right. Academy Award material, that.”

She gave him a blank look. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to argue the point now, but I’ll tell you what—” disdain underscored his savage tone. “—when you level with me, I’ll level with you.”

Having learned long ago that there was no way to deal with irrationality, she stared out the window at the dark landscape as it flashed past. Being called a liar was a new experience and one she couldn’t say she particularly liked.

But none of that mattered. None of it mattered at all, if she could only find her brother and make certain he was safe.

“What, no elaborate explanations?” Carson taunted. “Surely Alex gave you a better cover story than that.”

“Enough.” Turning to look at him, she was careful not to show her teeth. “If you really believed I was a criminal, you would have searched me for weapons before allowing me in your truck. You’d need a hell of a lot more proof of some kind of crime before you could legally arrest me.”

He swore under his breath. She continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“So, in the spirit of honesty—and legality—” she allowed a trace of her own anger to show in her voice “—why don’t you tell me why you’re looking for my brother? Or I’ll start to believe—” she met his stare directly, ignoring the cynicism she saw there “—that you yourself are engaged in some sort of illegal activity. I won’t allow you to threaten my family.”

“Won’t allow?”

Though she’d spoken one of the most important creeds of the Pack, he didn’t seem to recognize it, which was good.

“No.”

He smiled. “Short and sweet. I like that.”

Crossing her arms, she waited. Finally he shrugged. The look he gave her was laced with mistrust.

“Ever heard of Hades’ Claws?”

Puzzled, she mentally reviewed every magazine article she’d read, every television show she’d watched, in preparation for this trip. “No.”

His mouth thinned. “Right. The Wolf is your brother, but you don’t even recognize the name of his biker gang?”

Biker gang? No way. Not Alex. Like her, he’d gone to college, gotten a good job. He worked in marketing, with a large Long Island firm.

“You must be mistaken,” she said, her certainty showing in the flatness of her normally melodic voice. “Alex doesn’t even own a motorcycle.”

“Then why did you call him The Wolf? And why were you looking for him in a biker bar?”

She frowned. “The Wolf has been his nickname ever since third grade. And I heard he’d been to that bar, that’s all.”

With a quick motion, he peeled off his right glove, keeping his left hand on the wheel. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a much-folded sheet of paper and handed it to her.

Though grainy, the black-and-white photo in the center of the page was unmistakable. Alex.

Quickly she scanned the text. An FBI datasheet, the paper went on to describe how a biker gang, Hades’ Claws, had committed numerous crimes, including several drug-related murders up and down the East Coast. Her brother was believed to be one of its high-ranking members and was wanted for questioning.

Feeling numb, she handed the paper back to Carson.

Accepting it, he kept his bleak stare on the darkened road ahead.

“Time to share again,” he said. “Since you know why I’m looking for The Wolf, now you can tell me who shot at us.”

She raised a brow. “Why do you think I would have that information?”

“You obviously were forewarned. You knew when to hit the ground.”

“I heard the gun cock.”

“Right,” he said. “Who was the shooter?”

“I really don’t know.” She shrugged, careful to keep her expression neutral, while her head spun and her heart ached. Was the datasheet right? Was her brother hiding because he’d turned to crime? Or, as her premonitions suggested, was he in real danger?

“Damn.” Carson went still, focusing on the rearview mirror.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw headlights approaching fast on the otherwise deserted road.

“Are they—”

“Hold on.” His low-voiced order was terse. He accelerated. The Tahoe leaped forward. The speedometer crept past eighty, then eighty-five. Ninety. The cab began to vibrate. She hoped that the road would remain straight and flat; at this speed, the slightest curve might send them into a skidding rollover.

Checking to make sure her seat belt was securely fastened, Brenna glanced over her shoulder. If they were going over ninety, the other vehicle had to be traveling in excess of one hundred, for it still seemed to be steadily gaining on them.

“I can’t kill the headlights.” Carson swore again.