awkwardly. I wrench the door open and throw myself inside before I’m invited.
“Whoa!” the driver exclaims. “My goodness, young lady. What’s going on here?”
I slam the door behind me and engage the lock. “Please! Can you give me a ride? A guy … he … he took me…” But I can’t continue. My attention has returned to the trees, to the wolf that’s lurking in them. I know he’s out there. I can feel it just like I’d felt him watching me before he’d abducted me.
That’s how he knew I was a waitress. I think about all of those strange sensations I’ve experienced during the last two weeks.
Sweat moistens my hands. I now understand what those sensations were. For the past few weeks, when that prickly unease stole over me, it was my sixth sense telling me that danger was lurking, and each time, it was Collin. I’m certain of it.
Another second passes before I realize the truck driver is talking to me.
“…took you? Did someone hurt you? Do I need to call the police?”
I force my attention back to him and nod but then shake my head. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” I bring a hand to my forehead. My heart is still beating too fast, and I can’t think rationally.
A part of me wants to tell the trucker that Collin abducted me outside of my home and intended to kill me, but then I remember that Collin’s a werewolf. I saw him turn into one, and nobody on the police force will believe that. But do I need to tell them that detail? Should I just report it and say a man took me?
But he also let you go.
That small voice in the back of my mind reminds me that in the end Collin did the right thing. He didn’t hurt me, and he let me leave. He also said I was the first person he ever abducted.
He’ll go to prison if he’s caught.
I grit my teeth, feeling so discombobulated that I don’t know what to do, but then I reason that it really wasn’t Collin that hurt me. It was his wolf. Collin’s remorse is genuine. I feel as certain of that as I do that his wolf is out there right now watching me.
And Collin said something about the Supernatural Forces being after him. Maybe I should leave him to get caught by them. They deal with werewolves, right? And didn’t he say something about the SF coming after me now too? What if alerting the police pisses the SF off? What if they do something bad to me for reporting Collin to the police?
Shit. I don’t know what to do.
“Miss? Are you alright?” The driver’s expression is guarded, as if he’s unsure if a crazy woman just jumped into his cab.
I force a smile, but my lips quiver. “Can you please give me a ride and drop me off at the nearest town? There’s no need to call the police. I’m fine.”
The logger tips his Oakland A’s baseball cap up and frowns. He has to be around fifty and looks as if he’s spent most days working with equipment if his grease-stained fingertips are any indication. The scent of acrid sweat wafts off him, and stubble lines his cheeks. He’s in need of a shower. I eye my torn shirt and dirty limbs. That makes two of us.
“Are you sure? I can call on the radio for help.” He nods toward his equipment then eyes the side of my head.
I never did wash the blood from my neck and hair, and I wonder if my goose egg is showing. I finger it self-consciously, then unclick the pack from my back and slip it around me to rest on the floor. I quickly stash my purse in it so I don’t lose it. “No. Really, it’s fine, but I would appreciate a ride to the next town if you’re willing.”
He shrugs. “Fine by me. We’re about an hour out.” He shifts the truck back into gear, and it rumbles as we pick up speed.
Something flashes in my peripheral vision, and this time when I look out the window, he’s not hiding.
Collin’s wolf is twenty yards away, and if the logger’s attention drifted to my window he would be able to see him too.
The wolf’s eyes glow brightly in the sunshine. He shuffles his feet, the movement anxious as the logger and I drive farther away.
The wolf bobs his head, and a faint whine reaches my ears.