bit back my anger. “I wish you had told me before actually doing it.”
“Sure. You would have told me no and I would have done it anyway. I decided to skip the act of betrayal and just get to the gift-giving. Plus, you’re in my motel, my territory. By the grounds of hospitality, seeing that you come to no harm and helping you is part of the deal.”
I curled a lip, turning away from him. “I should have kept driving when I realized you were here.”
“Maybe, but it’s too late now. I actually gave you the time to run, too. I was thinking you would notice me and get moving after you and your charge got some sleep, yet here you are, still in my motel, still eating my wife’s home cooked breakfasts.” He started to laugh. “Not everyone is out to get you, Jacky. Some part of you must realize that, because you’re still here.”
I waved a hand dismissively at him and walked out, shaking my head. I should have told Hasan about Brin. I should have kept driving. He was right, though. Some part of me did just want to stay in the motel. I had an ally, no matter how out of the blue it was, and it was someone who could really help and not some human bystander. I had someone to talk to, who understood what was going on.
I headed to the gas station, seeing it was Rian behind the counter this time. Unlike their father, who kept a glamour up over his red hair, the three half-fae sons didn’t. Rian was a punk, his flaming copper red hair in a mohawk with blue streaks. He had more metal in his face than I had seen before on a person, and I wondered if he set off metal detectors with that sort of assortment.
He seemed stiff when I walked in, which he hadn’t been the last time I had seen him behind the counter. Over the last few days, I had visited the gas station on a number of occasions, and Rian was my favorite.
“What’s up?” I asked him, not going to the food, but directly for him.
He nodded his head to the back of the room. “Just came in.” His voice was a hushed whisper.
I turned slowly, breathing in the air and paused, fear flying through me.
Werewolf.
“Haven’t had the chance to call my father. I don’t know if there’s more.”
“There’s always more,” I said softly, my heart racing. I couldn’t will it to calm down as I stepped around a display to get a better view of the werewolf. He was grabbing some cold coffee from a cooler in the back. He was dressed to kill with beaten-up jeans and a thick leather jacket. I could see the gun in its holster at his waist.
I started walking to him, determined. I had no idea what I was going to do when I finished closing the distance, but I wasn’t letting him go unnoticed.
When he was in arm’s reach, I saw the moment he noticed I was there. He hadn’t been paying attention, the fool. I reached out, grabbing his shirt with one hand and his gun with another, snarling. He raised his hands as I threw the gun away.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice rough and animalistic. “Who do you work for?” That’s what they ask in the movies, right? I was throwing it out there. Maybe I would even get an answer.
He growled back as I knew my scent was finally registering in his brain. Wolves have a much better sense of smell than I did, which meant he was truly not paying attention when I walked in if he let me get the drop on him.
“You must be the werecat he sent her to. We’re not here to kill you or Carey. We need her.” I smelled the lie. Fucking idiot must not have realized I could do that just like him.
I slammed him back, hearing the glass door crack, then break, drinks falling out and going all over the floor. “Don’t fuck with me! How many more wolves are here?”
“Like I’m going to tell you that,” he snapped back, now starting to struggle. I was six inches shorter than him, probably a hundred pounds smaller, but that didn’t matter. I was a god-damned werecat. He wasn’t breaking my hold. “Did you really think you could hide her? That we don’t have the resources to find you wherever you