“What, baby?” I ask even though I already know. My body tightens in anticipation.
“It was a growl. An animal-that wolf. I know that sounds crazy, but I swear it was the same wolf from the cabin. It came up the stairs and-” She stops and covers her mouth.
I slide a hand over her back. “It’s okay,” I murmur over and over even though I feel as sick as she looks. What would’ve happened if I had been too late? Or if the monster in me took over and continued the hunt? How many people would’ve died?
With a sharp shake of her head, she recovers. “I’m fine,” she says in a way that makes me think she’s giving herself a command. “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”
I pull my hand away. I don’t deserve to touch her. “Take as long as you need.”
“I know you think I’m crazy-”
“No, baby,” I cut in, but she doesn’t seem to hear me.
“-but I swear it was a wolf. It could’ve been a dog but…” She stares out the window. I wish I could say something to comfort her.
“Annabel…” I’m the monster you saw. My tongue is heavy in my mouth. My stomach twists in disgust at my own cowardice.
“I know you think I’m crazy,” she repeats.
“No,” I say. “It’s possible these guys had… an attack animal with them.”
“But it attacked them. Not me.” Her eyes widen. “Charlie, it rescued me.”
My mouth is dry. It doesn’t matter how powerful I’ve become-I can’t tell Annabel the truth. I’m not strong enough. I stare at the red brake lights ahead of us and jump when a horn honks angrily nearby.
“I think…” She sounds thoughtful, “I think it tried to help me.”
“Whatever it was,” my voice rasps, “promise me next time you see it, you’ll shoot it down.”
“What?”
“Something like that is dangerous. It could’ve attacked you. If you see it again, gun it down. Promise me.” I turn my head so she can’t see the desperation in my face.
Her eyebrows knit together. “But-”
“Annabel.”
“Fine,” she soothes. “I promise.”
The brake lights ahead of us blink. Traffic hasn’t moved more than an inch in several minutes. Typically for D. C., and yet…
“Something’s wrong.” My instincts clang in warning, loud and clear. Even before I was a wolf, I knew to trust them. “I have a bad feeling about this, Annabel.”
I look around. A motorcyclist leans a foot on the ground a few lanes over in front of us.
“Get out. Leave the car running. Follow me.” I exit the car, gun gripped in my hand but held against my leg, so it’s semi-hidden. I dart forward through the lanes between cars until I get to the motorcyclist.
Quickly, I lift the gun and tuck it against the guy’s ribs, inside the flap of his jacket so the people behind us can’t see.
He goes perfectly still but gives us both an up and down look. Annabel’s not wearing shoes.
“We need to borrow your bike. Our car is back there, still running.”
The motorcyclist eases off the bike without a word. He must recognize the desperation of our situation. Or his.
“Give her the helmet and your jacket.”
He scowls but does as I ask him.
“Silver Camry, far left lane.”
He walks toward the car, giving us one searching look over his shoulder.
“We’ll leave your bike where the police can find it,” I tell him.
“You’d better,” he calls gruffly back. I almost smile. He reminds me of the wolves in the pack in Tucson, a motorcycle gang of shifters who run cage fights and nightclubs and own the city streets at night.
“This will be hard to manage without shoes, but I’ll do the driving,” I tell Annabel as I stow the gun in the holster taped to my back and pat the seat. She pulls on the jacket and hikes up her skirt to mount the bike which is way too big for her. I place the helmet on her head and adjust the strap, then mount the bike in front of her.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” I say and gun the engine, zooming in between cars.
About a half mile ahead, I see the police have blocked the exit and highway, and they’re working their way back. I pull the motorcycle over to the far-left lane and stop it. “Get off.”
Annabel dismounts. I follow, then heave the bike over the guardrail.
Annabel gasps. I pretty much gasp in my head, too-I shouldn’t be able to lift a Harley Davidson in the air like that. Certainly not without straining something. But every day, it seems like my strength increases, along with endurance and heightened senses.
If I stay in the secret agent business, being a wolf could really come in handy.
But that’s a huge if.
Annabel and I leap over the guardrail and climb back on.
The police catch sight of us and shout. I gun the motorcycle, skidding out as we roar off in the opposite direction.
They’ll have to do a lot better than a roadblock to catch me.
Annabel
I CRANE my head to watch the lights of the cop cars recede behind us. Charlie drives like a madman, guiding the bike down narrow trashcan-lined alleyways. We don’t stop until we’re on a street lined with respectable brick townhouses.
“Think we lost them?”
Charlie shrugs. The wariness hasn’t left his shoulders. With everything that’s happened, I’m running out of shock, but the sight of him lifting the bike like it was a toy is forever burned into my brain.
I guess these super spies eat their Wheaties.
“Why are the cops looking for us?”
“Someone put a bulletin out. I’m burned, you’re probably wanted as an accomplice.”
I let my head sag against his shoulder. He reaches back and squeezes my knee.
“Let’s get to the safehouse. Then we can work on clearing you and your father’s name.”
And figure out who sent men to grab me. I can’t even deal with the thought of the wolf. I’ve reached my quota of crazy.