Neva lost the truck halfway down Main Street. By that stage, her legs were aching, her lungs felt as if they were on fire, and the snow she'd gulped down hadn't done a thing to ease the dryness in her throat. She padded along the street, following the truck's tire tracks and hoping the snow didn't decide to fall any heavier, because then she'd certainly lose them.
The Blue Moon came into view, an oasis of warmth and energy in the cold night. Music pumped, beating through her blood like fire, and she momentarily wished she was inside, dancing and laughing with everyone else.
But not alone.
She sighed. Admit it, she thought. The damn man has gotten under your skin. And had she felt this deep an attraction to anyone else but Duncan Sinclair, she would not be dithering about her feelings for him. But she couldn't change years of conditioning, and he was everything she'd been taught to avoid.
And while she should undoubtedly be doing as Ari had advised — screwing that beautiful man's brains out and letting the future take care of itself — she just wasn't built that way.
Yes, her wolf might be free — but her wolf loved Ripple Creek, loved working at the diner, and as much as she'd toyed with the idea, really had no hankering to explore the world. Her sister was the wild child in the family, not her. And Savannah was probably a more suitable match for Duncan than she'd ever be.
So why did the thought of him leaving tear at her so?
She didn't know.
Didn't want to know.
Coward, an inner voice whispered.
But better a coward than holding out her heart to a man who'd long ago vowed to remain a lone wolf.
The tire tracks led her to the far edge of town then veered left onto Heather Creek Road. Neva paused, trying to catch her breath as she listened to the sounds of the night. Beyond the pounding music and happy laughter coming from the Blue Moon, there was little noise. If the truck was moving anywhere near, she couldn't hear it.
She shook off the snow that had settled on her coat and continued on. She'd head down the road a mile or so, but if the tracks went on after that, she was going home. The night was too cold, and her legs were too tired to go any farther. Besides, Heather Creek Road eventually made it all the way down to Dillon, and there was no way in hell she was traveling that distance. Not on foot, anyway.
The glow of lights from Main Street faded, and the darkness and the snow seemed to close in. Unease slithered through her. She didn't know this area all that well, but knew there were very few people living out this way. A few ski lodges, a house or two, but that was it. If she got into trouble, she'd find no help close by.
The thought made her pause. Through the silence, she heard the sound of an engine — one that seemed to be stationary rather than moving. Unease prickled down her spine, raising the hairs along her backbone. The urge to run away was so great she half-turned. Only the knowledge that more people might die if she didn't keep going made her head forward again.
Lights glimmered ahead. Red taillights, gleaming in the night like a mad wolf's eyes.
She shivered and padded forward more cautiously. It was a blue truck ahead. Iyona's truck. Halted in the middle of the road, lights on, engine running. Neva stopped and sniffed the air. She could smell oil and gas fumes from the exhaust, but couldn't pick up Betise's sharp scent, or Iyona's slightly off aroma. There was no sound other than the idling engine.
And no way in hell she was going closer. It looked like a trap, and right now, the safest thing she could do was hightail it out of there. She could always come back later — in the safety of the car and with Duncan by her side.
She retreated. But she'd barely gone three steps when the night blurred, and she suddenly found herself under the snarling weight of a silver wolf.
Chapter Fourteen
Duncan's footsteps echoed as he walked down the hospital corridor toward Savannah's room. The young officer stationed at her door watched him warily, his hair gleaming carrot red under the harsh lights, and his hand drifting toward the gun at his side.
Obviously a ranger who was new to Ripple Creek, otherwise the youngster would have known who he was — if not by sight then by reputation. Duncan held up his hands and stopped. "Duncan Sinclair. I wish to talk to Savannah, if possible."
The ranger leaned around the doorway to speak to her. Duncan shook his head. The fool was obviously very new, because turning your back like that was not a good idea. Savannah must have said something along those lines, because when the young ranger looked back, his face was almost as red as his hair. "You can go in."
He held back his smile. "Thanks."
The carrot-topped ranger nodded, his hand still near the gun and a watchful look in his blue eyes. Duncan walked into the room. Savannah was sitting up in bed, her face still swathed in bandages, but overall looking a whole lot healthier than she had yesterday.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Sinclair?" Her voice held none of the warmth so evident in Neva's.
He dragged a chair up to her bed and sat down. "I believe we might be able to help each other."
A smile touched her lips. "Oh yeah? You come to confess?"
"Are you interested in hearing what I have to say, or are we going to dwell on a past I can do nothing about?"
She studied him for a moment, and he wished he could see her eyes. He had a feeling that, like Neva's, they would be extremely expressive.