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

by Karen Whiddon

  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.”

&nbs
p; “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.”

  Chapter 3

  “Partner?” For a moment she didn’t understand. Then, once she realized what he meant, she wanted to call him the liar. “You’re telling me that my brother was working for the FBI?”

  “DEA.”

  “Whatever.” She swallowed. “He would have told me.”

  With a wry twist of his mouth, Carson shook his head. “He couldn’t. Right after we graduated from Quantico, we were sent out together. We were both undercover.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Very.” From the hitch in his voice, she knew he was thinking of his murdered family.

  “No wonder he didn’t mention me,” she said. “He didn’t want to put me in danger.”

  With a pointed glance at the clock, which now showed 2:45 a.m., Carson made a rude sound. “Who knows? Who cares? Turn off the light and go to sleep.”

  Stung, she glanced away. No matter what precautions her brother had taken, she’d managed to put herself at risk by traveling with Carson. Judging from the shooter and the men in the Hummer, danger had found her.

  Reluctantly she clicked off the light and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Morning came quietly, with bright sunlight peeking through the heavy curtains. The second she opened her eyes, Brenna lay motionless, instantly alert, and listened for activity outdoors.

  “The snow’s stopped.” Carson spoke from near the door. How had he known she was awake?

  Slowly she raised her head. Even with his five-o’clock shadow and sleep-mussed hair, the man looked devastatingly attractive. Dangerous. She licked her lips. “I haven’t heard the snowplows.”

  “They haven’t made it through yet.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I think we got maybe a foot.”

  Forcing herself to look away, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Powder?”

  “I can’t tell. Probably, under the crust. We’ll find out. There’s a coffee shop across from the motel office.”

  She stretched, yawning. Though her jeans were snug, they were comfortable and she’d slept well in them.

  “I’d like to take a shower.” She rubbed the palms of her hands on the faded front of her jeans. “That way I’d feel more human.” Now there was a laugh.

  Carson opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he’d been about to say was drowned out by a burst of static as the clock radio alarm on her nightstand went off.

  The previous occupant must have set it. Shocked, she saw it read 10:00 a.m. They’d slept late.

  “Breaking news.” The radio announcer’s stern voice broke into the dying strains of the music.

  “Drugs were involved in a multiple murder in the small town of Welkory near the Vermont border.”

  They looked at each other. Swallowing, Brenna grimaced and reached to turn up the volume.

  Details followed. In the midst of a bank robbery less than an hour earlier, two groups of people had opened fire on each other, killing several innocent bystanders. One of the getaway cars had been captured, trunk loaded with cocaine. Supposition was that the robbery had been an attempt to gain money to pay for the drugs.

  “Damn,” Carson said as the news announcer switched to another story. “That’s north of Hawk’s Falls. We need to check it out.”

  “The Claws?”

  “Hades’ Claws,” he corrected absently. “And yes, I’m willing to bet they had something to do with it, especially since Welkory is so close to their hideout. Add the cocaine, and it’s pretty much a given.”

  Again she met his gaze, letting him see her fierce determination. “You think Alex was involved, don’t you?”

  He shrugged, turning away. “No doubt.”

  Brenna took a long look at the man who’d claimed her as his captive. In the small room the pain radiated from him so strongly it made her own heart ache with sympathy she could ill afford. She needed to focus only on finding her brother and ensuring his safety.

  “Let’s go,” Carson said.

  “Wait.” She held up a hand. “We need to get something straight. Your family is gone. You want revenge. I’ve got that. But I want to know the truth. You said you knew Alex well, that he was your partner. Well, why would he go bad? Is it possible there was some other explanation why he was at your house when it happened? Some other reason he had a gun?”

  The absolute silence in which he glared at her was the embodiment of rage. Though the muscle that ticked in his clenched jaw should have been adequate warning, she couldn’t stop herself from continuing.

  “What do you think he did? Really? Murder, rape, torture?” The mere notion of someone thinking her twin could hurt anyone for no reason, anyone at all, made her furious. “He’s incapable of those things. You should know that, too—if you truly know him as well as you say.”

  Despite her taunts, Carson said nothing. His features seemed cast in stone. Implacable. Angry. Hurt. She noticed he, too, wore the same faded jeans and dark flannel shirt as the night before. And boots. The man wore cowboy boots made of some kind of exotic leather.

  “Somehow I have to prove to you that my brother is not the devil incarnate.”

  “You only have to prove it to yourself.” Bitterness coated his words with acid. “Grab your coat. We’re hitting the road. Since the robbery was less than an hour ago, the investigation will be in full swing.” He consulted his watch. “The interstate should be plowed. If we leave now, we’ll get there in time to talk to them.”

  For the space of a heartbeat, she merely looked at him. “Logic,” she drawled. “The one thing I can’t argue with.”

  A few minutes later they were back on the road. He’d been right about the snowplows. Piles of snow lined the one open lane on each side. Carson constantly pressed the seek button on the radio, looking for more news about the robbery.

  The farther north they went, the less deeply the snow appeared to blanket the ground. The highway opened up, too, all lanes, though the traffic seemed considerably lighter than the day before.

  Welkory, Exit One Mile.

  As they approached the turnoff, he reached behind him and yanked a wrinkled black jacket from behind the seat.

  “Here,” he said, shoving it into her lap. “Put this on over yours.”

  Noting the yellow DEA on the back, she guessed the coat would provide cover as well as warmth. Shrugging out of her own parka, she slipped on the lighter jacket. “What about you?”

  “I’ve got a cap.” His tone discouraged conversation.

  The two-lane road that led to Welkory was curved and lined with towering, leafless trees. Coated with a light dusting of snow, they appeared both majestic and threatening. Brenna sensed the presence of animals in the woods, though she and Carson sped by so fast that she had no time to communicate with any of them. Before long they rounded the final curve and found themselves smack-dab
in the middle of Welkory.

  Downtown seemed oddly deserted, as though at the first hint of danger all the shops had rolled up their carpets and locked their doors.

  Carson slowed the car, though every one of the four stoplights turned green at his approach. First Street, flanked by well-maintained, charming historical buildings. Then Second and Third, until finally they reached the intersection of Main Street and Fourth. Yellow police tape squared off the corner of Welkory First Bank and Trust, and a yellow fire truck, lights flashing, was parked next to the drive.

  Brenna counted no fewer than seven police cruisers, two of them local, the rest state police.

  Carson rolled down his window to flash his ID at the officer blocking the entrance. “DEA,” he barked, and was rewarded with an immediate wave past the barricade. They barely glanced at Brenna. Wearing Carson’s jacket made her look like another DEA agent.

  He parked between two police cars, right next to the building. After turning off the ignition, he pocketed the keys and grabbed a battered black cap and crammed it on his head. The DEA letters in yellow made the cap a mate to her jacket.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice raspy. All traces of emotion had vanished from his face. He looked every part the professional government officer, stern and unforgiving in his quest for justice.

  She licked lips suddenly gone dry before she replied quietly, “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go,” he said. “More than anyone else, you need to see this.”

  She heard the unspoken second part of his sentence: so you’ll understand what kind of man your brother has become.

  Eager to prove him wrong, Brenna pushed open her door. Ice-coated gravel crunched underfoot as she walked beside Carson to the squat brick building. Crisp air carried a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the grim mood radiating from the uniformed officers who congregated inside the bank.

  Brenna froze, sensation overwhelming her. The interior of this place smelled strongly of fear, of blood and death, like a hunt gone brutally wrong. She wanted to cover her nose, so nauseated did the scent make her. The odor of evil hung in the air so strongly she thought she might be sick. More than anything, she wanted to break away, lunge for the door and run. But she was a huntress, strong, not weak. Though her sense of smell was ten times more powerful than a human’s, she would force herself to stay.