Chapter 4
4
“ I should’ve known you’d run me down,” I mutter.
I peek over Nathan’s shoulder to confirm only he chased me out of the kitchen and into this alley. The coast is clear. For now. There’s no guarantee it will stay that way.
He frowns down at me, concerned. “What is it? Why’d you take off like that?”
I debate how much I want to tell him.
The answer: as little as possible.
Nathan was only a step behind me, so he couldn’t have smelled Adrian, the Minnesota alpha hellbent on snatching me.
If he knew Adrian was responsible for his attack in Dawley, he would not be asking me what’s wrong. He would be in there, starting a fight and probably get himself killed.
I can’t let that happen.
“I’ve changed my mind about Hardin,” I declare.
He blinks. “You have?”
Nodding firmly, I walk away, back toward the motel. Nathan’s car is in the parking lot, and I have something else I need to do. “I figure what’s the worst that could happen if I check out Hardin?”
“You looked scared.” He matches his pace to mine, a line between his brow as he peers down at me.
“Did I?”
“You did.” The line between his brow deepens. “Something is wrong.”
“Something is not wrong.” I walk faster, and it takes everything I have not to peek over my shoulder to make sure we’re not being followed.
The day is mild, the sky a light blue-gray and my wolf isn’t snarling to warn me danger is looming.
Yet .
But that could change any minute.
I pick up my pace. It can’t hurt to get out of this town a little faster.
“You’re nearly running,” Nathan says.
“No, I’m not. I’m just excited to see everything Hardin has to offer.”
“Hmmm.”
I dart a rapid glance at him.
He’s still matching my pace, visibly concerned as he looks back the way we came. Exactly what I don’t want.
In my mad dash through the kitchen, O’Shane was busy on the grill, so that must be why he hasn’t followed to find out why I sprinted out of the building. And Megan is working, so at least I didn’t leave him high and dry.
When Nathan’s steps slow, I decide I need to encourage him to keep going.
I yelp as I let my left leg give way beneath me.
Nathan catches me, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
I glare at the ground. “Not sure. I caught my ankle on something. But I’m okay.” I take another step and wince.
“You are not fine.” I’m in his arms a split second later.
I’m not going to lie, but it feels really good. “You don’t have to carry me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Oh, okay. If you don’t mind.” I steal a peek over his shoulder as he strides toward the motel. No one has left the diner. I can only hope that Adrian thought I was in the back or something and decided to take a seat at a table.
I aim to be out of Rosenwood in the next two minutes, so I hope he’s nice and comfortable in there.
“And you’re sure everything is okay?” Nathan asks, distracting me.
“Hmm-mmm. We can get going right away. No need to head to the motel room for anything.” Mostly because I left Dawley with just the clothes on my back.
His frown deepens. “You didn’t say a word to your boss. You just took off.”
“He’ll understand.” I strangle my guilt. My boss did me a big favor giving me a job and a place to stay, and I don’t feel good abandoning him mid-shift. What would be worse was if I stayed and he wound up with his throat torn open because of me.
This is the lesser of two evils.
“But maybe we could stop at the motel reception so I can leave a message for him?” I suggest.
Nathan gives me a probing look as he walks to the reception, keeping a tight grip on me as he swings the door open.
Kevin, the motel owner, is a sweet older man in his fifties. He rises from behind the counter, frowning. “Everything okay, Clara?”
“Fine.” I smile. “I’ve just had something come up. It’s kind of a big deal and it means I have to leave town right now. I didn’t get a chance to thank O’Shane for everything, but could you let him know I appreciate all his help? He doesn’t have to worry about paying me for the work I did today, and I’m okay. Can you tell him that?”
Nathan listens quietly as I apologize. I don’t really have time for this. Adrian could literally be walking this way right now, but I can’t just take off and say nothing.
“Sure, I can pass the message on.” The motel owner's eyes narrow on Nathan. “He mentioned something about a boyfriend.”
Uh...
That big fat lie I told about a boyfriend dumping me in Rosenwood.
“Oh, it wasn’t this one.” I snap my mouth shut when Nathan’s arms tighten around me. Smiling brightly, I wave. “But everything’s okay now. Thanks.”
Nathan doesn’t ask me any awkward questions even though he must have a bunch of them.
“What was that?” he asks as the reception door slams shut behind us on the way across the parking lot to his car.
“Nothing.”
“It sounded like something. And you said something about a boyfriend back in the diner.”
“You’re reading too much into things, and you need to stop eavesdropping. It’s rude.” We stop beside his car. “You can put me down now.”
Nathan lifts me higher in his arms and fishes his car keys from his pocket. He doesn’t seem the least bit aware that I’m wiggling to get free as he unlocks the passenger door and puts me inside. Then he drops into a crouch and reaches for my seatbelt.
I slap his hand away. “No.”
“I’m trying to help.” His expression is innocent.
My eyes narrow. “You’re looking for an excuse to put your hands on me, Blackshaw.”
And you know what? He doesn’t even deny it. He just flashes me a grin. “How’s the ankle?”
“What ankle?”
“The ankle you twisted or sprained a minute ago.”
Oh. That ankle.
“Surprisingly okay. Good thing we’re fast healers, huh?”
He doesn’t look like he isn’t buying any of my lies, and I can’t even blame him for it. My lying game since I arrived in Rosenwood has been weak. I’m usually more convincing.
He snorts. “If you were in trouble, I could help you.”
“I’m good.” I turn away to buckle my seatbelt. “Can we leave now?”
When he doesn’t respond, I look at him.
He’s still crouched beside my open door. His expression is faintly amused, but his eyes are serious.
For the briefest moment, I have the strangest sensation that something is wrong with him. I had a similar feeling when I was small and I practically bullied Martha into letting me show her something in the forest near our home, knowing she wouldn’t want to.
Martha always liked to stay close to the pack. I would disappear into the forest to play with anything and everyone, and always needed to be dragged home when it was dark.
But that particular day, I knew with every fiber in my being that going home would be a mistake.
And I was right, because when Martha eventually had enough of me dragging her on a run she hadn’t wanted to go on, we returned to a dead pack.
I think about what would have happened if we’d gone home when our neighboring pack was still busy killing our family. Would they have let us live, or would they have slaughtered us as well?
“Clara?”
I blink.
Nathan is scrutinizing me closely.
“Yeah?”
“You were staring.”
“Was I? Sorry.” I finish buckling my seat belt.
But he doesn’t move. “I have a packmate. Well… an old packmate since she left Hardin. Regan.”
I recall the auburn and green eyed Luna in Dawley. “Yeah, I met her. She seemed nice.”
“She’s an omega. Did she ever tell you that?”
Alarm bells ricochet in my head as I feign indifference. “Sure. Why?”
His eyes narrow. “She sometimes used to look at me like that. I always thought it had something to do with the fact she’s an omega.”
“Weird.”
I get what he’s hinting at. Not that I’d ever admit to it. But I get where he’s going with his less than subtle probing.
After a thoughtful stare, he rises and closes my door before rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.
I blow out a quiet sigh of relief, and the second Nathan slides into his seat, I ask brightly, “How about I pick out music for the drive?”
Because loud music means less opportunity for prying questions about me, the alpha hunting me, and whether I’m an omega.
Nathan raises his eyebrow as he starts the engine, a sign he suspects I’m trying to change the subject. But he doesn’t ask me any probing questions, so that’s something.
We’ve been driving for a couple of miles, and I’ve been focusing on finding a decent song, bouncing from one crap radio station to another, that I miss Nathan’s frequent glances in the rearview mirror.
“What is it?” I ask, pausing my search for the elusive best road music.
He frowns in the rearview mirror. “A green Ford was a couple of cars behind us an hour ago.”
“And?”
“It’s still a couple of cars behind us.”
I get a bad feeling and turn off the radio. “So?”
He puts his foot down. Gravity gently tugs me back into my seat as Nathan pulls off the highway and changes lanes. We blow through a small town so fast I barely glimpse it.
When we’re back on the highway, I watch Nathan closely as he slows the car down and his eyes drift from the road to the rearview mirror.
“Nathan?” I prompt when he says nothing.
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “It’s still there.”
Shit.
He doesn’t need to tell me what he’s thinking. I’m thinking it too.
Whoever is in that green Ford is following us, and has been since we left Rosenwood. My eyes linger on the rearview mirror. It’s dropped further back, as if the driver is trying not to look so suspicious, but it’s definitely still there.
There’s no doubt in my mind who it is.
Adrian.
Nathan shoots me a rapid glance. “You seemed to be in a real rush to leave Rosenwood.”
How to talk my way out of this?
“Like I said, I was excited to see Hardin,” I lie.
“And not get away from anyone looking to hurt you?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because someone tried to kill me in Dawley, and you just bolted out of Rosenwood with a lie so flimsy even the motel owner saw through it.” I wince as he darts a rapid glance at me. “Now someone is following us. I’d assume all of that was coincidental, but I don’t think it is.”
Why couldn’t he have been stupid?
I bitterly regret letting Nathan take the spare bed in my motel room. I should’ve made him sleep outside. Maybe he’d have gotten fed up and returned to Hardin instead of sticking around. Now I’ve put him in more danger, because if Adrian catches up, he won’t hesitate to go through Nathan to get to me.
Nathan slows the car, letting a silver Honda overtake us.
The green Ford has dropped back even further. So Adrian knows we’ve realized he’s following. Is he hoping to convince us that he isn’t? Or is he planning something else?
“Uh, Nathan. What are you doing?” I ask, worried.
He pulls the car to a stop on the forest-lined side of the road and cuts the engine.
Alarm bells aren’t just ringing at this point. They’re blasting me like the loudest church bell in the world.
He unsnaps his seatbelt and reaches for his door. “Dealing with the problem that won’t leave us alone.”
He gets out, slamming the door shut as I fumble for my seatbelt to follow him out.
This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid.
I scramble out and around the back of the car, hissing, “What are you doing?”
He barely spares me a passing glance. “Like I said, dealing with whoever the hell has been following you and probably who tried to kill me in Dawley.”
As I stare at him, all I can see is Nathan’s dead body on the ground, throat torn open, blood everywhere. I see it so clearly it’s like it’s already happened.
“Are you insane?” I hiss. “You can’t shift here. Someone will see you.”
But other than the headlights in the distance, we’re the only ones on the road.
Thanks, universe, for helping me make my point, I sarcastically tell myself.
“Nathan. Listen to me.”
Nathan isn’t listening. He’s trained his narrowed gaze on the green Ford heading toward us on this lonely stretch of road.
An image of Nathan’s mangled body inserts itself in my mind.
My lips flatten. I refuse to let that happen. Nathan can’t die because of me.
Nathan reaches for the hem of his shirt. “Just stay back, Clara. I have everything under?—”
I shove him as hard as I can, flinching when he thumps down the side of the road with a yelp and disappears down a hill.
“Sorry !” I yell after him, wincing at another yelp.
I glance back at the road. The green Ford is still a few miles away, so I throw myself down after Nathan and hope I don’t break anything.