Blood Trail - By Tanya Huff Page 0,81

back over her shoulder. "He was driving."

Carl bent so he could see into the car and nodded at Celluci who nodded back and said, "We seem to have taken a wrong turn."

"Easy to do in the country," the older man told him, straightening.

Vicki thought he looked tired. His eyes were ringed in purple shadows and the lines running past the corners of his mouth had deepened. "Trouble in the garden?" she asked, and wondered why he started.

"No. No trouble." He rubbed at a bit of mud dried to the edge of his thumb, his hands washing around and around themselves.

"Well, well, well. Lost again, Ms. Nelson?" The words were identical, but the tone sat just this side of insult. "I think you'll have to face the fact that some people aren't cut out for country life."

Vicki considered returning a smile as false as the one Mark Williams offered her but decided not to bother. She didn't like him; she didn't care if he knew it.

He pushed past his uncle and leaned into the car, resting one hand on the bottom edge of the open window. "I see this morning you've managed to lead someone else astray." His left hand stretched across Vicki into the car. "Mark Williams."

"Celluci. Michael Celluci."

They shook briefly. Vicki found herself tempted to take a bite out of the tanned arm as it withdrew. She restrained herself; time spent with the wer had obviously influenced her thinking. Besides, odds are I'd catch something disgusting.

"What happened to your head?" He sounded concerned.

"I had an accident." And it was none of his business.

"You weren't badly hurt?" Carl looked down over his nephew's shoulder, brow furrowed.

"Just a bump," Vicki assured him. He nodded, satisfied, and she shot Mark a look that warned against further questions.

"We're trying to get to the Heerkens farm." Celluci wore his neutral expression - not friendly, not unfriendly, just there. Vicki had one like it. She didn't bother to put it on.

"No problem. Three or four kilometers down this road and the first left. Their lane's about two K in." He laughed companionably. His breath spilled into the car, smelling like mint. "And about two K long once you get there."

"Nothing wrong with privacy," Celluci said mildly.

"Nothing at all," the other man agreed. He stood and spread his hands, the gold hair on his forearms glinting in the sun. "I'm all for it myself."

I bet you are, Vicki thought. And wouldn't I just love a look at the dirty little secrets your privacy hides. Probably good for five to ten just for starters...

"Ms. Nelson?" Carl had stopped rubbing at the dirt but he still appeared disturbed. "Will you be staying with the Heerkens long?"

"I hope not."

"That sounds almost like a prayer."

She sighed. "Maybe it is." She was staying until she nailed the bastard with the rifle and if prayer would help then she had nothing against it. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she turned to wave as Celluci did a three point turn in the driveway and headed back to the road.

Carl raised a strained hand in a reserved salute but Mark, who knew full well he hadn't been included in the farewell gesture, responded with a flamboyant movement of his arm.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" He half turned toward her, brows up. "You aren't actually asking my opinion, are you?"

"Celluci."

He pursed his lips and turned back to face the road. "The older man's upset by something, probably the younger - pity you can't choose your relatives. Given what you told me over breakfast and what I observed just now, my brilliant powers of deduction conclude you like Mr. Biehn, who I admit seems to be a decent sort, but you don't like Mr. Williams."

Vicki snorted. "Don't tell me you do?"

"He didn't seem so bad. Hey! Don't assault the driver."

"Then don't bullshit me."

Celluci grinned. "What? You want your opinion confirmed? That's gotta be a first."

Vicki waited. She knew he wouldn't miss an opportunity to tell her what he thought.

"I think," he continued right on cue, "that Mark Williams would sell his own mother if he figured he could make a profit from the deal. I guarantee he's up to something else; his kind always are."

Vicki shoved at her glasses even though they were sitting firmly at the top of her nose. It'd be a cold day in hell before Mark Williams had the discipline to become the kind of marksman who was picking off the wer.

Carl Biehn turned away the moment the car left the drive. He'd always