CHAPTER EIGHT

Angus swung into traffic, diving in front of a speeding SUV that had to slam on its brakes. The driver leaned on his horn and gave Angus the finger. Angus didn’t slow, leaving the narrow street behind as fast as he could.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded of the lump in the back seat.

“Me blowing your mission.” Tamsin’s voice was muffled. “I don’t care where you throw me out, but don’t take me back to Haider.”

“You want to tell me where you think I can take you? In this shitbag of a car? With all of Shifter Bureau on our asses?”

“You don’t know it’s all of Shifter Bureau, Dad.” Ciaran’s tone was reasonable but his eyes were lit with excitement. His face and arms were dirty. If any of those goons had hit him . . .

“It will be once Haider reports in,” Angus growled.

“We’ll have to ditch the car.” There was a rustle as Tamsin righted herself but she remained hunched down in the seat. “It stands out a mile, and I bet he put a tracker on it.”

“Why would he have to?” Angus’s barked question was cut over by Ciaran.

“You mean you didn’t look for a tracking device? Seriously, Dad.”

Tamsin nodded. “Remember, he asked where you’d disappeared to? Probably meant he lost your signal at some point. I bet it was when we were at the house. Ley line, sentient house. Makes sense.”

Ciaran’s eyes widened as he turned around and studied Tamsin. “You took her to the haunted house? Nice one, Dad.”

Angus gripped the steering wheel, irritated at himself. His son and Tamsin were no doubt right. He hadn’t bothered looking for a tracking device because it hadn’t mattered. He’d planned to do what Haider wanted anyway—why try to do it stealthily?

But now they needed to be invisible—hard to do in a wood-paneled station wagon from the 1970s.

Angus drove as fast as he dared through the narrow streets, which were heavy with traffic, heading for the broad expanse of St. Charles Avenue.

Ciaran peered interestedly over the dashboard. “What are you going to do? Carjack someone?”

“No.” Angus bent a hard look on his son. “We’re not criminals. I had Ben arrange backup for Tamsin if she needed it.”

“Isn’t he sweet?” Tamsin said from the depths of the back seat. “Is Zander hiding out waiting to carry me off? He’s not exactly inconspicuous.”

“You met Zander?” Ciaran’s eyes widened with admiration. “And Ben? Man, I always miss all the fun.”

Angus glanced at him, noting that, despite his wide-eyed interest, Ciaran was trembling. Angus put an arm around him and drew him close.

“If they hurt you, Ciaran, tell me, all right? Don’t hold back. If they did, I’ll kill them.” He rested his hand on his son’s back, all of him rejoicing that his cub was safe. “I’ll probably kill them anyway—I’ll just do it a bit harder.”

He noted Tamsin watching him in the rearview mirror, surprise in her eyes. What had she thought, that Angus would lie down and roll over for Shifter Bureau? He’d have Haider’s balls on a platter for abducting his son.

“They didn’t,” Ciaran answered, subdued. “Just scared me. Or tried to. But I wasn’t scared, Dad. I knew you’d come find me.”

Ciaran’s shivering told Angus he had been scared, terrified. Haider would pay for that.

“You were brave, son. Never let on to those Bureau shits that you’re worried.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good lad.”

Angus pulled around the corner to St. Charles Avenue, a broad boulevard divided by an island along which streetcars clacked. It was lined with houses large and small, all old and stately.

A beige SUV, unassuming and so like every other SUV on the road as to be almost camouflaged, waited in a side lane that led back toward the cemetery.

Angus pulled the station wagon in behind it and stopped. He quickly got out of the car, scanning the roads in case Haider and company were charging down them. Angus calculated they’d have a minute or so, maybe, to get out of here.

A tall black man with a runner’s body climbed of the SUV, tossing Angus a set of keys.

“Thanks, Reg,” Angus said. “You haven’t seen us, right?”

Reg folded his arms as first Ciaran and then Tamsin darted out of the wagon and hurried to the SUV.

Ciaran threw open one of the rear doors. “I’m in back. You get shotgun,” he said to Tamsin.

He didn’t call her by name. He was already learning.

“I haven’t seen anything,” Reg said. “In fact, I’m not even here. I’m jogging by the lake.”

He started for the station wagon, but Angus shook his head. “It’s probably being tracked. Leave it. Can we drop you somewhere?”

“Sure. The lake.”

Without another word, Reg climbed into the back with Ciaran and shut the door. Tamsin was already in the front seat as Angus slid behind the wheel. She rummaged in the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

“Cool shades,” she said to Reg. “Mind?”

Reg shrugged. Angus could tell he was dying to know who she was and what the hell was going on, but like a good tracker, he knew when to keep quiet.

Tamsin pulled on the square sunglasses, checked her reflection, smiled at it, and hunkered down into the seat.

Angus started the SUV and made a quiet but swift U-turn. He drove sedately to the end of the block, though his heart was thumping with the need to hurry, and turned back onto St. Charles Avenue. This time, he blended in with the traffic, slowing when it slowed, stopping when it stopped.

Every instinct told him to floor it, screech away, and drive like hell, but Angus fought the compulsion. The best way to evade pursuit was to not call attention to himself. This SUV looked like every other one on the road, its windows tinted enough to keep people from seeing clearly who was inside. Reg had chosen well.

“Where did you get this?” Angus asked Reg as he drove carefully along the street. “It’s perfect.”

“What do you mean, where did I get it? It’s mine.”

Angus stepped hard on the brake and glared back at Reg. “Registered with Shifter Bureau?” They’d have a record of the license plate and could easily track them.

Reg frowned at him. “No, no. I’m not an idiot. Bought it under the radar and have been modifying it. You said you needed something inconspicuous.”

“That’s us,” Tamsin said, grinning at him. “Inconspicuous. I’m Tamsin, by the way.” She stuck out her hand to him. “Fugitive from Shifter Bureau. It was nice of you to help out.”

Reg shook the offered hand, mystified. “I’m Reg McKee,” he said as Angus drove on. “Hey, Angus is a friend and fellow tracker. He says come to Lafayette Cemetery and give a ride to a red-haired Shifter woman on the run, I do it. He said I couldn’t miss you. I see why.” He shot Tamsin a smile that had Angus bristling.

Tamsin returned the smile as she withdrew her hand. “I like him,” she said to Angus.

Angus let out a snarl, and then wondered why he was becoming so defensive.

“Is that them?” Ciaran pointed over the back seat out the dark rear window.

A sleek black SUV had pulled from St. Charles Avenue into the lane where they’d left the station wagon.

“Looks like it,” Angus said. Only Shifter Bureau would drive something that flashy while trying to be covert. “Are they coming?”

Ciaran watched for a time as Angus drove slowly onward. “No,” he said, righting himself in the seat. “I bet Haider’s yelling at them all. One of the guys was nice—he let me keep playing games when the others wanted me to sit there and be quiet—but the rest of them . . .” He made the small growling sound of an angry wolf cub. “Shitheads.”

Angus relaxed a bit. They hadn’t broken him. They might have threatened him, but Ciaran hadn’t let himself be bullied.

Angus continued along the street, behaving like any other motorist trying to get somewhere. Not attracting attention.

The question was where to go next. Even if they’d ditched Haider, Angus couldn’t go home or back to the club. Haider would have men waiting at the gates of Shiftertown and at the door to the club. Angus had to take them away somewhere—forever, or at least until Haider died of old age.

This was his own fault. When Tamsin had bolted down the street behind them and leapt into the station wagon, Angus could have kept walking. The keys had been in the car’s ignition, and he’d retrieved Ciaran. Angus could have walked away with Ciaran, found Reg, and had him drive them back to Shiftertown, leaving Tamsin to get away from them best she could.

But no, Angus had turned aside, gotten himself and Ciaran into the car, and sealed his fate. He’d made the choice to give up his sedate life to help an un-Collared fox Shifter on the run, one who’d been a follower of his crazy brother, and he didn’t know why he’d made that choice.

Tamsin watched him from behind the sunglasses, as though discerning his thoughts.

“You can dump me out anywhere,” she said. “Tell Haider I coerced you to drive me away, threatened your cub or something. He’ll believe it. I stole one of their tranq pistols.”

She brought it out from her jacket pocket.

Angus swerved as he eyed it. “That thing loaded?”

“Not anymore. The dart is buried inside Haider.” She laughed, a warm sound. “Let me out wherever, tell Haider I jacked you, and you’ll be off the hook.”

Reg and Ciaran said nothing behind him. Angus felt the weight of their silence, while they waited to see how he’d respond.

Tamsin had a point—Angus could let her off in any of the neighborhoods between here and Shiftertown or take her back out to the bayous, and then drive to the club, fetch his motorcycle, and drive Ciaran home. He could tell Haider and his men she’d forced him to take her to wherever he let her out, and she’d run off again.

Angus would be free of her, of this situation, and he could go home with Ciaran. Make sure he was all right, catch some sleep, and be back at the club for his shift tonight.

Tamsin would be left to run alone from Haider and Shifter Bureau, to fight off whatever tracker Haider coerced to go after her next time.

Fuck that.

Angus stepped on the gas, darting down a side road that led to an on-ramp to the expressway going north. He’d take Tamsin somewhere safe, make sure she was well hidden, and then go home. He’d worry about what to tell Haider and Shifter Bureau later. Angus had Ciaran with him, which gave him a huge advantage—there was nothing else in the world Haider could hold over Angus to force his obedience.

Ciaran knew without being told what Angus had decided. He whooped.

“Yeah, we’re badasses now!”

Reg looked relieved. The man had no clue what was going on, but he hated Shifter Bureau as much as any Shifter did, and he didn’t mind causing them a little grief.

Only Tamsin looked worried. “Seriously, Angus, don’t get into trouble for me. I’ll be all right.”

“I’m already in trouble.” Angus didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on the cars he had to avoid. “So sit back, relax, and accept that I’m helping you out. All right?”

---

Tamsin sat back, but she didn’t relax. Angus drove with fierce determination, his eyes as gray as the rainy skies outside. This morning, he’d been her captor, ready to take her to Shifter Bureau at all costs. Now he was assisting her, risking being labeled a fugitive with her. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his grim look.

The last thing Tamsin wanted to do was drag Angus and Ciaran into her troubles. They didn’t deserve that.

So why did her heart lighten? Why was she so relieved she wouldn’t have to say good-bye to Angus and his cub right away?

She tamped down those thoughts—time enough for regrets and soul-searching later. For now, Angus was helping her, and he was right—shut up and take it.

After about fifteen minutes on the expressway, Angus drove off on an exit that led to the lake. Cute, older houses with well-kept lawns lined the road that wound its way north. Tamsin imagined the sorts of people who’d live in these houses—they’d be retired, mostly, and like to garden, read, cook, and take care of their grandkids. Tamsin envied them as Angus drove calmly past.

Shifters should be able to have this, she thought. Angus had claimed that Shifters already did—in Shiftertowns.

But that was wrong. They had the illusion of a decent life, not true freedom.

Angus turned along a grass-lined drive to a park that skirted the huge Lake Pontchartrain, lying blue-gray and untroubled under the rainy sky. Joggers moved along the path at the water’s edge, lovers strolled hand in hand behind them, and kids played in the grass. The other side of the street was lined with tiny, narrow lake houses, quaint and inviting.

“This is me.” Reg had the door open. “Unless you want me to go with you.” He gave Angus an inquiring look.

“I want you to have nothing to do with it,” Angus told him firmly. “I’ll be ditching this ride too, but I’ll leave it somewhere safe and let you know where it is. You going to be all right getting home?”

Reg descended and came to Angus’s window, nodding without worry. “I’ll call Casey to pick me up—he needs something to do.” He gave Angus a pained look. “Don’t scratch it, all right? It might look boring to you, but I have it running fine and it’s good for hauling supplies.”

Tamsin wondered what supplies. But Reg looked harmless and normal, so it couldn’t be for anything sinister.

“One piece, I promise.” Angus reached out the window and gripped Reg’s shoulder. Shifters, especially friends, usually embraced when they parted, but Angus didn’t have time, and two large men in a fond hug in the middle of a park would draw attention. “Tell Spence not to worry about me. That is, if he notices I’m gone.” The last came out with dry bitterness.

Reg returned the squeeze, gave Ciaran a thumbs-up, and then turned away, jogging out to the path along the breakwater. As Tamsin watched, Reg started to run, his dark legs in running shorts moving faster and faster.

“Holy crap, look at him go,” she said, her jaw dropping. “What kind of Shifter is he?”

Ciaran leaned forward between the seats. “Serval. Reg can seriously run.”

“I see that.” Reg overtook several joggers, passing them with ease. His high-necked shirt hid his Collar, and the joggers simply moved aside for him without worry. “What supplies?” Tamsin asked in curiosity as Angus turned the SUV to head out of the park.

“Woodworking.” The answer was short, to the point.

Ciaran filled in the rest. “He’s really good at it. He makes furniture—they’re like artwork.”

Tamsin looked back to try to see Reg, but he was already out of sight. “Serval, huh? That’s unusual. But explains a lot. The smaller cats are usually fast.” She laced her fingers as she sat forward again, happy that her hand was whole and well. “So are foxes.”

Angus scowled at her as he turned the SUV onto the street. Ciaran hung on to both front seats as he stared at Tamsin. “Wait, you’re a fox? I didn’t know there were fox Shifters.”

“We’re rare.” Tamsin winked at him.

“Dad, you really need to do some full disclosure. They didn’t tell me anything when I was trapped in that crypt.”

“Once upon a time,” Tamsin began when Angus only frowned, “a fox was being chased by some mean Shifter Bureau agents. But they couldn’t catch her, so they sent a Lupine tracker to find and capture her.” She pointed at Angus. “But the fox was sooo cute, and sooo nice, that he couldn’t stand to give her to the mean agents. So he busted his son out of prison, and now he’s taking the fox Shifter . . . somewhere. And maybe they’ll all live happily ever after.” She gave Ciaran a big smile. “I guess we get to find out.”