to the roof of her mouth. That, and the stunning, abject alarm at having heard Hunter voice her son's name out loud.
She hadn't been prepared for that. Still wasn't, in fact. The instinct to protect her child, to deny his existence if it might mean keeping him safe from discovery, safe from harm, had risen up in her in much the same way as she would yank her hand away from an open flame. The lie had been a reflex, and now it lay between Hunter and her like a chasm. She glanced away from his unreadable face as the car slowed and the beams lit up the weathered gray wood shingles of a rustic old house nestled deep among the ghostly, moss-draped trees. An elderly black woman in a floral housedress stood beneath the shelter of the covered porch, watching them approach. Her arms had been crossed under her ample bosom, but as the car neared and came to a stop, she lifted her hand in a slow wave of greeting. Hunter turned off the engine and pocketed the keys in his leather coat. "Wait here until I tell you it's safe."
As he stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to meet the old woman, Corinne wondered what kind of threat he expected might wait for them with her. But she could see from the way he carried himself, the hard line of his shoulders and the loose gait of his long legs, that it was his training in control of his actions now.
Having spent so many hours in close company with him, it was easy to forget how massive he was, how purely lethal he could be. He radiated danger, even without the skills that had made him one of Dragos's deadliest foot soldiers. Having felt his mouth move so tenderly on hers, it was easy to forget how unforgiving his hands could be if he sensed an enemy threat or had cause for suspicion. He was taking no chances here, no matter how minute they might seem. Corinne wanted to dismiss his caution, but if he was overprotective, she realized with no small amount of humility that it was because he meant to keep her safe.
He moved with pantherlike grace and military precision, and as he strode up to their smiling, grandmotherly hostess, for a moment Corinne worried the poor old woman might shriek with fright and run the other way. She didn't. Corinne heard a molasses-smooth voice through the glass of the passenger-side window, welcoming Hunter and her and bidding them to come inside. Hunter swiveled his head and met Corinne's gaze. He gave a vague nod, then came over and opened her door before she had the chance to climb out on her own. He walked back with her toward the elderly woman and placed Corinne's hand in the outstretched palm that waited to greet her.
Clouded, milky eyes darted back and forth sightlessly as Amelie Dupree clasped Corinne's hand in a warm hold. Her smile was broad and radiant, filled with a kindness that seemed to radiate from deep within her. And when she spoke, her aging voice was a sweet, musical rasp. "Hello, child."
Hunter made quick introductions while Amelie's blind gaze searched them out in the dark. She gave Corinne's hand a motherly pat. "You come on in now, child. I got a kettle about to whistle on the stove and a pot of gumbo been simmerin' all afternoon."
"Sounds delicious," Corinne said, left with no choice but to follow along as Amelie Dupree led her up the creaky steps of the porch. She glanced back at Hunter, noting he'd stayed behind, his cell phone already pressed to his ear, no doubt checking in with the Order to let them know they'd arrived without incident.
The house didn't look like much from outside, but inside the furnishings were new and well kept, the painted walls bathed in warm earth tones and adorned with art and several decades'
worth of framed photographs. One particular picture caught Corinne's eye at once as she walked along behind Amelie Dupree, marveling at the old woman's ability to navigate the room without assistance or hesitation.
Corinne paused to look closer at the photograph that drew her attention. It wasn't current - it had to be many years old, based on the odd clothing and yellowed tinge under the glass. But the face of the vibrant young woman with the round halo of ebony curls was unmistakable. Corinne had met her at the