Moon Sworn

Chapter 2

I studied the red Mazda through the rearview mirror. It was just far enough back that I half wondered if I was being paranoid. After all, we were on a freeway, all heading in the same direction, and mostly going the same speed. Well, except for the young idiots in their pimped-out, overly powerful V8s, trying to prove how tough they were by going over the limit.

It wasn’t even as if the red car were shadowing all my movements. I moved out to overtake a slower car and red remained where he was, neither increasing nor decreasing his speed.

Imagination, I thought. Or a bad case of nerves.

Except … the back of my neck prickled uneasily and I couldn’t stop checking out the car. It remained in my sight, remained the same distance away, and it just felt wrong.

Well, I wasn’t about to ignore my instincts. The last time I’d done that, a friend had died.

Of course, Kade’s death was a whole lot more involved than just a case of me ignoring my instincts. And besides, this uneasiness stemmed as much from the warning that Kye had given me before I’d killed him.

A warning that said that Blake—the wolf who’d murdered my grandfather to take over the leadership of the Jenson pack, and a man whom I’d threatened and seriously humiliated almost a year ago—hadn’t finished with me yet.

That even now, he was planning his vengeance.

Yet more fucking vengeance.

Just what my already broken world needed.

But by the same token, if Blake wanted vengeance, he knew where we lived. He didn’t have to shadow my movements, just hit me where I felt the safest.

Still …

I touched my ear lightly, switching on the voice part of the com-link. “Hello, anyone there?”

“Well, well,” a sultry and altogether too familiar voice said, “isn’t it lovely to hear your dulcet tones again.”

I couldn’t help smiling. Sal and I would never be friends, but we’d moved from barbed insults to droll comments, and from dislike to companionable trust. She was also damn good at her job—my old job—and had saved my ass on more than one occasion.

“You say that with such conviction that I almost believe you,” I replied, voice dry. “Want to do me a favor?”

“Oh, I live for such moments.”

In other words, she was bored shitless and could use something to do. Either that or she was on her lunch break. And like most vampires working for the Directorate in a capacity other than as a guardian, she tended to restrict her feeding to the times she was off duty, which left her with spare time during breaks. Me, I’d be heading out to shop, but as a vamp, Sal didn’t have that option.

“You want to pinpoint my location with the satellites and grab the plate number of the red Mazda three cars back?”

“And why would we be doing this?”

I could hear keys tapping, so she was setting the satellites into motion even as she questioned me. “Because I think it’s following me.”

“Did you pick him up before or after your visit to the crime scene?”

“After. I couldn’t say if he was tailing me from the moment I left the park or not, though.” I really hadn’t been paying that much attention—although I wasn’t about to admit that to Sal. She’d only tell Jack, and he’d probably blast me for not showing good guardian form.

As if I ever had.

“While the satellite is lining up,” I added, “have you had any luck with the search I requested?”

“There’s one hundred and fifty cars so far with a plate starting with BUK.” Her voice was dry. “At least twentythree of those are Toyotas. It’s a proverbial needle in a haystack right now.”

But it was a haystack that Jack would still want searched. “It might be worth cross-checking whether any of those Toyotas belong to the family of whoever Johnson murdered.”

“You think it’s a vengeance kill?”

“It sure as hell smelled like it.”

“Well, all I can say is the bastard probably deserved it. They don’t slap you in jail for that long without good reason.” She paused, then added, “Okay, I have a fix. I’ll trace the plate, if you like.”

“I like.”

I flicked another glance in the rearview, then changed lanes again. The red Mazda didn’t move, remaining obstinately in its own lane. But the distance between us neither increased nor decreased.

“The car belongs to one Irene Gardener, who lives in Melton.” Sal paused. “She’s a little old lady of seventyfive, and there are no reports of it being stolen or anything.”

“Meaning I’m being alarmist over nothing.”

“Well, unless she’s a seventy-five-year-old who’s taken up following people, then I’d have to say yes.” She paused. “Then again, she might not know the car is even missing yet. Might be worth trying to shake the Mazda, just to see what happens.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “And if I crash, I can always say you told me to do it.”

She snorted. “This conversation is not being recorded, and I will deny it ever happened.”

“Right. Thanks, Sal.”

I flicked off the com-link and cruised along the freeway for several minutes, doing nothing other than watching the traffic and the annoying red car behind me.

Then a long semi-trailer came into view. Perfect, I thought, and pulled out into the other lane, keeping my speed even as I passed the truck. A glance in the mirror showed that the Mazda remained where it was. I pulled in front of the truck, then hit the gas. The big car surged forward, the speedometer rising. I didn’t slow as the traffic increased, weaving in and out with a precision that would have surprised anyone who knew my driving record. The Western Ring Road overpass came into view. Ignoring the lights, I swung onto the on ramp and roared up into the traffic, using the emergency lane for several minutes before cutting into a gap between a truck and a cab. A quick glance in the mirror didn’t reveal a familiar red shadow, but I cut across to the Boundary Road exit anyway, only slowing once I’d swung left—tires squealing—onto Fairbairn Road.

No red car.

I was safe.

I blew out a relieved breath and was surprised to discover that my hands were shaking again. I flexed my fingers against the steering wheel and wondered briefly if Kye’s warning was nothing more than a way to get at me from the grave. He might not have thought he’d die—especially at my hands—but he knew enough about my relationship with Blake to understand just what his warning would do to me.

Maybe he thought he could use it to get closer to me. To drag me into his life. He’d suggested that, at the end, before he’d killed Kade and forced me to take the shot I’d been avoiding.

We were both killers, after all. I could do what he did, what Rhoan did. I’d proven that amply enough over my years as a guardian …

No, I thought, shoving the thought away viciously. I was not like him. I wouldn’t be like him.

And yet … it was a possibility. If I stayed in this job, kept hunting down killers, I would continue to harden. It was inevitable.

Maybe that’s why my hands were shaking. It wasn’t so much the ghost of a threat but rather the fear of the future. A future without my wolf soul mate.

I closed my eyes briefly. This was ridiculous. I needed to stop thinking like that, because I wasn’t alone. I still had Quinn. My soul might have been reduced to ashes, but I still had my heart.

I continued toward home, parking several doors down from our apartment building and locking the car as I headed back up the street. The rich smell of baking bread wafted around me, making my stomach rumble and reminding me that I hadn’t yet had breakfast. I spun on my heel and headed back to the bakery, which was run by the same family that owned the pizza place next door. I’m sure Rhoan, Liander, and I kept the two places in business.

A bell rang as I pushed open the door and Frances—the cheery, matronly woman who was the chief baker—

came out of the back room, wiping floured hands on a towel.

“Riley,” she said, a wide smile creasing her lined features, “You’re up early this morning.”

“I had to work early.” I stopped in front of the display case and eyed the mouthwatering treats indecisively. The trouble was, they were all so damn good, and if it wasn’t for my werewolf genes, I’d probably be the size of a house.

“You should tell your boss these hours are no good for your beautiful face. It’s far too cold these mornings.”

I smiled. Frances had a thing about cold air causing rosacea, and often lectured me about not wearing a hat and scarf.

“Unfortunately, killers don’t really give a fig about how the cold affects my face.”

“That is very inconsiderate of them,” she said, snapping on some silicone gloves. “Now, what can I get for you this morning? The chocolate croissants are particularly good.”

“Then I’d better get a dozen.” If she was recommending them, then they had to be.

She gave me a happy smile and bagged the croissants. I handed over the cash, then headed back to our apartment. As I pushed open the front door, a familiar flash of red caught my eye. I spun around, spotting taillights disappearing down a side street, but couldn’t see the make of the car. I frowned, wondering if I was getting so paranoid about the possible threat Blake represented that I was now imagining that every red car on the damn road posed a danger.

I shook my head and munched on one of the warm chocolatey treats as I climbed the stairs to our apartment.

Rhoan was waiting with the door open by the time I got there. “I smell chocolate croissants.”

I took another one out, then handed him the bag. He took a deep whiff and sighed in pleasure. “There’s nothing that smells nicer in the morning.”

“Actually, I can think of one or two things that do.”

The absence of one of those scents—my vampire lover Quinn—suggested he was either at work or out pounding the pavement again in an effort to get fit. Or fitter, as the case was. I squeezed past Rhoan and was instantly assaulted by the rich aroma of percolating coffee. I flared my nostrils. Hazelnut. Quinn must have put it on before he’d gone for a run. Rhoan would have put the Kona on, because that was Liander’s favorite.

I headed for the kitchen, adding over my shoulder, “I thought you were supposed to be undercover this week.”

“I was, but it went pear-shaped.” He shrugged and shut the door behind us. “An old school friend of mine walked into the bar and recognized me. And of course, the damn suspect happened to be listening in via the close-circuit system at the time and fled.”

“Well, he obviously wasn’t innocent, then.”

“No. There’s a kill order out on him, but given he’s a bird-shifter, he could have well and truly flown the coop by now.”

It wouldn’t help him in the long run. Kill orders were issued Australia wide. Sooner or later, the Directorate would get its man.

Liander wandered out of the bedroom he shared with Rhoan, bleary-eyed and looking more than a little worse for wear. I raised my eyebrows. “Big night last night, I’m gathering?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand through his tousled silver hair, messing it up even more. “Got that special effects contract I was talking about, and we celebrated big.”

“Congrats.” I pulled mugs out of the cupboard then went to the fridge to get the milk. “But I hope you realize you can’t be out boozing all night when we become parents?”

Liander leaned a shoulder against the door frame and gave me the biggest smile imaginable. “That has such a good sound, doesn’t it? Us as parents. Who’d have thought?”

Certainly not me—not with Liander as the father, anyway. I’d known for a while that my own vampire genes and the drugs forced on me by a mad former lover had made me incapable of bearing children, but there’d always been that slither of hope that at least part of the dream would be achievable. That I would still find a way to have children with the man I loved.

That hope was gone, buried along with Kye.

But with Liander and Rhoan’s relationship stabilizing and deepening, they’d both developed a hankering to become dads. Liander’s sister had volunteered to become a surrogate, and I’d had eggs frozen before my body had totally betrayed me—and my eggs were as close as my twin was ever going to get to having children of his own, since he’d gone sterile long before me.

Of course, Liander had dreams of a big family, with at least a dozen little Jenson-Moores running around. I wasn’t so sure I could handle that many kids, as much as I’d always dreamed of a big family myself. And the sudden reluctance might have something to do with little Risa—who’d been the sweetest thing going—suddenly hitting the terrible twos and becoming a demon child.

“You’d better hope she has twins, because after seven of her own, she may not want to go through the whole process again for us.”

Liander snorted. “Trust me, Emalee loves being pregnant. She’s already said she’s up for a second round of surrogacy.”

She might be saying that now, but she hadn’t yet gone full term and made it through the birth. None of us knew what effect the drugs I had been given might have had on my eggs. Or whether those changes would affect Emalee herself. This could still go horribly wrong, as so many other things in my life had. Which was why the doctors were monitoring Emalee carefully.

But I kept my doubts and fears to myself, not wanting to dampen Liander’s infectious happiness.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Liander added, accepting his coffee with a smile. “Emalee has her first ultrasound on Thursday. She wants to know if we’re all coming.”

“Too bloody right,” Rhoan said, handing Liander a croissant before squeezing past him to grab his coffee. He glanced at me. “I’ve already told Jack we aren’t available that afternoon, no matter what happens or how many crazies appear.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But you were supposed to be undercover. How were you going to get around that?”

“Given that’s no longer a problem, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” He gave me a grin, then took another croissant out of the bag. “I’m betting we have a boy—mainly because I don’t think the world could stand two Riley Jensons.”

I snorted softly. “Better another me than another you.”

“It can’t be the image of either of you, because thankfully it will have my genes in the mix. Which ultimately means it will at least be sensible,” Liander commented. “And I don’t care if it’s a he or she, as long as it’s healthy.”

“Amen to that.” I leaned past him to grab a croissant for myself, then spotted Quinn coming through the door.

“Hey, handsome. About time you got home.”

He gave me a grin and snagged one of the towels from the clean laundry basket that was perpetually sitting in the living room. A fine sheen of sweat clung to his face and darkened his blue T-shirt, molding it to his lean, muscular body. Hollywood would have everyone believe that vampires had no need for bodily functions, but that was nonsense. They might not eat the same way as the rest of us did, but they still had to drink to survive, and what went in had to come out in one form or another. And while they didn’t sweat that much, it happened.

Quinn had recently added long-distance running to his fitness regime. He was getting fit for the baby, apparently—which said a whole lot more about his anticipation of the impending birth than my staid old vampire’s often blasé attitude would have us believe.

Liander shifted to give him room to pass, then flared his nostrils. “You know, it’s damned unfair that he smells so good after running fifty kilometers.”

“It was only twenty-five today,” Quinn corrected, then grabbed my hand and tugged me into his arms, kissing me quickly but thoroughly. “Because I have an appointment with a real estate agent at nine.”

“You’re determined to get us all out of this apartment, aren’t you?” Rhoan said.

“Neither Liander nor I is used to living in a hovel, and we need some breathing space. And babies do tend to bring their own mountains of mess. We’ll all end up feeling trapped before you know it.”

“It isn’t that bad,” Rhoan protested.

“I agree,” I said, a grin twitching my lips. “There’s actually plenty of space. You just need to clean it up better.”

“It’s not Liander and me that make the mess, so why should we be the ones cleaning?” he retorted dryly, then kissed my nose. “I’ll hire a housekeeper once we move, though I think she’ll face an impossible task.”

He had that right. I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist and breathed in the scent of him. Liander was right—he smelled delicious even when he was sweating. “So, where’s this latest house situated?”

“It’s not a house. It’s a three-story brick warehouse in Abbotsford, situated right next to the banks of the Yarra River, with Dickinson Reserve and Studley Parks on the other side. Each couple could have one floor, and the general living area could be in the middle. It even has a fenced parking lot that can be converted into a safe playground for little werewolves to play.”

“Sounds ideal,” Rhoan commented. “Between that and Riley’s land in Macedon, we have the perfect mix of city pad and country retreat.”

“Let’s make sure the place actually matches the real estate blurb before we start making plans,” Quinn said, then reached past me to grab a mug, his damp body pressing against mine and fueling the already-stirring embers of desire.

But with it came an odd wave of reassurance. Not everything in my life had gone so horribly wrong. Quinn was here, still standing by my side through all the tears and the heartbreak and the more than occasional bad mood.

He loved me and he wouldn’t go away—he’d told me that so often in the last few months that it had almost become a joke between us.

He was also damn hard to kill, because he wasn’t just a vampire but an Aedh—a being who could became shadow and mist, and for whom there were few physical threats. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t be killed—he certainly could when in flesh form—but he was harder to kill than your average vampire, and for that, I was mighty grateful. I’d lost my soul mate. I didn’t think I could live through losing my heart’s desire, as well.

I pressed myself a little harder against him and said, “So, you want company in the shower?”

“That’s another reason to get another apartment,” he said, dark eyes sparkling as he glanced at me. God, I could lose myself forever in those depths. “The shower in this place is far too small for couples.”

“Squishy is fun,” Liander said. “You just have to use a little imagination.”

“Oh, trust me, Riley has enough imagination for the two of us.” Quinn’s voice held a dry edge, but the smile teasing his lips just about melted my bones. “That doesn’t make it any more comfortable, however.”

“You forget, he’s a sedate old vampire,” I said, my grin growing, but nowhere near as much as the pleasure blooming deep inside as his fingers came to rest on my hip. “And you know what old people are like when it comes to their comforts.”

One dark eyebrow rose, and the depths of his eyes sparkled with warmth and love. “So I’m sedate and old, am I?”

He moved quickly, his body a blur, and before I knew it, I was being thrown up and over his shoulder. Luckily for me, he swung around so my head didn’t smash against the fridge door. But with my nose buried in the middle of his back and his scent filling each breath, some of this morning’s sadness washed away.

I had this.

I had him.

Life wasn’t so bad, no matter what had happened.

“I think,” he added heavily, “the pup needs another lesson on being polite to her elders.”

“You know she doesn’t like to learn,” Liander commented. “She’s stubborn like that.”

“Hey, I bought you breakfast,” I protested. “You should have the decency to forgo the insults—at least for now.”

“The croissants are gone, so I’m officially free to insult.” Liander moved aside to let Quinn through, and I took a swipe at him as we passed—which he avoided with a laugh.

As the kitchen floor became the living room carpet, I said, “I thought you had a very important meeting with the real estate people?”

“Letting real estate people know you’re eager for a property is never a good idea,” Quinn said easily.

“They’ll wait.”

“Well, good.” Although I wished he’d tip me the right way up. Having my nose stuck in his back was far from unpleasant, but being upside down and bounced around like a sack of potatoes as he strode toward the bathroom wasn’t much fun.

“If you wanted to be right way up,” he said, obviously following my thoughts, “you wouldn’t have made snarky remarks about my age.”

“And I would have thought that one of the four oldest vampires in the country would have learned to take insults by now.”

“He has, except when it’s more fun to do otherwise. Prepare to be ravished by your ancient but extremely fit lover, my dear.”

“Oh, I’m prepared.” More than prepared, really.

But of course, my cell phone chose that moment to ring. I was tempted to ignore it, but the ring tone said it was Jack, and he never phoned just to chat.

Quinn put me down without being asked. With a frustrated sigh, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and answered it. “Hi, Jack.”

Quinn kissed the top of my head, then continued on into the bathroom. I leaned against the door frame and watched—frustration growing—as he turned on the shower taps then stripped off his sweaty running clothes, revealing the long, lean lines of his body.

Lovely was the first word that came to mind. He reminded me of an athlete—not a bodybuilder or a runner, but sitting comfortably in between the two. His was a body to run your fingers over time and again. As I had—each time delighting in the silky smoothness of his skin and the play of muscle beneath it. And I really wanted to be doing it again this morning.

Damn Jack and his timing.

“Riley, are you even listening to me?” Jack said, sounding a little exasperated.

I briefly thought about lying, but I knew from past experience he’d ask me to recite back his words—and then get even madder when I couldn’t. “Sorry, momentarily distracted.”

“I won’t ask by what, because I probably wouldn’t want to know.” His voice was dry. “We found the Toyota the victim’s soul mentioned. It was abandoned in Keilor. Apparently the owner didn’t even know it was missing. A sharp-eyed citizen reported two men leaving the vehicle.”

“Two? Our soul only mentioned one.”

“He might have only seen one, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone else there.”

True, but I’d also only smelled the one. Or had the smell of vengeance been so thick and ripe that it had overwhelmed all other scents?

“Has Cole had a chance to check it out yet?”

“Dusty’s there now. He’s found a partial print that didn’t match the one the police have listed in their database for the owner.”

Meaning the owner had a record. “And do you have a matching listing for the print?”

“Yep. It belongs to one Hank Surrey, a vamp who turned fifty-five years ago.”

I watched as Quinn stepped into the shower and closed the glass door. The fierce desire to just hang up, strip, and step in beside him swept through me. I swallowed and tried to quell the trembling in my limbs, but it took all the control I had not to follow that urge.

“Have we got a recent address listed for him?” Even as I asked the question, I had my fingers crossed that we didn’t.

But fate, as usual, wasn’t giving me even the tiniest of breaks.

“We have him in Mt. Martha, although the last check on his location was done almost a year ago.”

Mt. Martha was a well-to-do suburb down on the peninsula that catered primarily to families. It wasn’t the sort of place where you usually found vamps—young or old. They tended to stick closer to the city, where feeding was a whole lot easier—especially with the advent of the blood whore clubs.

I said as much to Jack.

“Well, they have a cracking little golf course down there,” he said, “and they’ve installed night lights for those of us who can’t beat the little white ball through the grass during the day.”

My eyebrows rose. Jack was a golfer. Who’d have thought? “I wouldn’t think a vamp who resorts to stealing cars would be too interested in golf or clubs.” Unless he intended to steal the golf clubs.

“Hey, everyone has to have a hobby. I’ll send his address through to your onboard.”

In other words, leave immediately. I blew out a frustrated breath, then said, “Heading out now.”

“Report in if you find him,” Jack said, then hung up.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and wasted a few minutes watching the soap trail down the wet planes of Quinn’s back.

“I have to go,” I said, mentally shaking away the images of what I’d rather be doing. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

I wanted to go in and kiss him good-bye, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle that sort of closeness and still walk away.

“Call me when you finish,” he said, turning around and blowing me a kiss. Obviously, he was still following my thoughts. “We’ll grab either lunch or dinner, depending on the time.”

“It’s a deal.”

And I walked out while I still had some resolve left.

I glanced into the rearview mirror as I pulled onto the Citylink tollway and my pulse leapt. Several cars behind me was a red car. Same make, same model as the one that had been following me only hours before.

I watched it for several minutes, wondering again if I was merely imagining it. I mean, everyone knew that red cars traveled in packs—see one, and you see at least three.

And red was an extremely popular color.

But the same red Mazda sitting three cars behind me twice in as many hours? That was a little bit too much of a coincidence.

I switched on the com-link and said, “Sal, I think I’m being followed by that little old lady again.”

She laughed. “You’ve obviously pissed off said little old lady. Which wouldn’t be hard, given you do the whole pissing-people-off thing so well.”

“Except I haven’t been near any little old ladies of late. You want to see whether this one is missing her car yet or not?”

“On it now.” Silence fell, and I kept half an eye on the annoying red Mazda. It retained the distance between us, sitting right on the edge of keeping me in sight and losing me altogether.

“Okay,” Sal said. “The little old lady has been contacted and is mighty annoyed that I woke her so early. She reckons her nephew has borrowed the car for the week.”

“Have we got a license photo and address for the nephew?”

“Requesting that now, as well as doing a search through the data banks. I’ll send anything I get through to your onboard.”

“Send me the photo immediately. I’m going to try and corner my follower.”

“Will do.” She hesitated, and in the background I heard Jack muttering something. “The boss says be careful, and don’t delay too long in getting out to our suspect’s place.”

I wanted to ask why the hell it mattered when the vamp had turned only fifty-five years ago and wouldn’t be going anywhere until the sun went down. Vamps had to be at least several hundred years old before they could start tolerating the touch of the sun. Hell, Jack was over eight hundred years old, and even he could only go out in the early hours of the morning and the late evening.

But I knew why he wanted me there ASAP. Our suspect would be easier to catch, easier to handle, now. This was Jack’s version of mollycoddling me.

So I simply said, “I’ll be in touch.”

Jack’s voice rolled through the background again, then Sal said, “He says to keep the com-link open so we can hear what is going on, but we both know that won’t happen.”

I grinned but did as requested, although I did cut their ability to talk to me. I didn’t need Jack or Sal buzzing in my ear if things got nasty.

I continued to drive along Citylink. The computer beeped, indicating it was receiving information. I touched the screen. The image that appeared had red hair and bright blue eyes, and he was young—probably no more than nineteen or twenty. It had to be the least threatening image I’d ever seen, but I’d learned over the years never to judge a book by its cover. For all I knew, this innocent-looking kid could be the underworld’s best hit man. With that face, no one would ever suspect him.

When the High Street exit ramp came into view, I moved over to the left lane, then took the ramp. Several cars back, my red follower did the same.

It was looking less like imagination every minute.

The lights turned green as I approached, and I followed the traffic around to the left. A parking lot came into view, so I swung into that, parked the car in front of the trees, then quickly jumped out, locking the car before shifting into my seagull form.

The red Mazda came into view just as I walked under the car to keep out of sight.

It slowed but didn’t stop. I couldn’t see the driver thanks to the fact that I was under the car, but I didn’t dare come out, because I had no idea how much my follower knew about me.

When the car had moved far enough away, I walked out from beneath the car and took to the air, surging upward swiftly and easily—something I’d have sworn wouldn’t have been possible when I’d first started learning to fly.

The red car crawled along the curb until there was a break in the traffic, then did a quick U-turn and parked in the lot on the opposite side of the street to the one I was parked in.

I landed on the outstretched limb of a scrawny gum and walked along its length to get a better view of the Mazda’s driver.

It wasn’t the granny’s nephew. The driver was a swarthy-looking man who was all teeth and nose. His shoulders were thickset and his arms were the size of tree trunks. He didn’t look like a wolf, because we tend to be slender, and I couldn’t really see Blake using a non–pack member against me. He wouldn’t risk that sort of exposure with people he couldn’t trust absolutely—or put the fear of God into.

Of course, he had used Kye to guard his son, but at least Kye had been a wolf. He’d also been the very best killer that money could buy.

Except that he wasn’t the best, because I’d killed him.

So did that make me the best?

No, I thought. No!

I forced the darkness away and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Whatever this man was, he could never be called the best. He couldn’t even tail someone properly.

But maybe that was the whole point.

I watched the driver for several minutes. When it became obvious that he had no intention of going anywhere until I did, I fluttered down to the road and strutted up to his car. He didn’t even look my way.

I shifted back to my human form, keeping low as I waited to see if he picked up my presence. But there was no movement from inside the car and no sting of tension or excitement in the air—either of which would have indicated he was aware that something was close, if not me.

Which meant either he was too intent on his target to hold an awareness of his surroundings—which would make him a very bad tracker—or he was something other than a wolf.

Either way, he was about to regret his decision to follow a guardian.