“I’m fine with driving. You navig—”
The truck shot forward, narrowing the gap between them.
“Damn it,” Vanessa said, twisting to watch the truck. “The idiots are getting restless. Can you go any faster?”
“I can. But that’s the problem.” He waved at the red light ahead—with cars going through.
“Make a hard right at the light. Join the traffic flow. Try not to hit anyone.”
The last part was the toughest. The road ahead wasn’t jam-packed, but it wasn’t empty either.
“Nick! Brace—!”
The pickup bumped them. Nick smacked against the seat belt. He hit the accelerator. The light ahead was still red, with no sign it’d turn green anytime soon. Nick played with the acceleration, easing back and jolting forward, judging the traffic flow ahead, trying to gauge …
He hit the gas. There was a split second where the engine hesitated, as if to say, “You want me to do what?” Then it revved, and while they didn’t exactly fly back in their seats, the car did accelerate, engine whining.
Nick glanced over his shoulder. He could see the driver’s face, screwed up in confusion, the passenger’s eyes wide, mouth open as he said something, likely some variation of “Slow the fuck down!” as they barreled toward the intersection.
“You need to slow—” Vanessa began.
“Got it.”
“You can’t take the turn—”
“Hold on.”
He gauged the traffic flow, slowing just a little. Behind him, he could hear the pickup’s passengers shouting, “He’s going through! Goddamn it, Ted, don’t you dare follow—!”
Nick braked hard, sending the car into a skid and then steering out and around the corner, wide enough to make a car in the opposite lane veer. He heard the other driver yell an obscenity. Completely unwarranted, considering that Nick probably saved the guy’s life, because as the driver veered, he also slowed, and the guy in the pickup—still thinking Nick was going straight through—kept going, narrowly avoiding a T-bone.
There was still plenty of honking, and a squeal of tires. Nick accelerated again, zooming up on a transport. He weaved to see past it. Then he swerved into the opposite lane—and into the headlights of an oncoming car.
“You don’t have time—!” Vanessa began.
Nick hit the gas. She was right—he didn’t have time. But presuming the person at the wheel wasn’t asleep, the oncoming car would brake. Which it did, tires protesting as Nick’s car veered in front of the transport. Both the oncoming car and the truck laid on their horns.
Nick put the pedal down again, passing the next car and then making a sharp right at the light and another at the next, taking them back the way they’d come. He crossed the first road they’d originally been on and continued into the night, the pickup long gone.
“You can drive.” Vanessa grinned over at him, eyes sparkling, and for a second he knew she’d forgotten the horror of the night.
“So, do I get that drink now?” she asked.
“Several. I think we’ve earned them.”
They continued in silence for a few minutes. Then she said, “I need to call Rhys.”
“And I need to call Elena. Just let me get where we’re going.”
“Which is …?”
“Someplace we can get a drink.”
She smiled and relaxed in her seat. They reached the highway, and she watched out the window, saying nothing for about five minutes, and then, “We need a plan.”
“I know. Just … let’s rest a bit.”
Nick left the highway two exits before their turnoff, intentionally. He glanced over, waiting for her to ask where they were headed, but she had her eyes closed. When she opened them ten minutes later, she shot forward in her seat.
“Why are we at the airport?” she said.
“Getting a drink. If anything’s open. Then getting you on the first plane home.”
She twisted to face him. “Hell, no. You’re not—”
“Yep, I am.”
“If this is because Stokes got the jump—”
“It’s not.” Nick pulled into the parking garage. “We’re chasing a psychopath who’ll grab you the first chance he gets. Then he’ll kill you—horribly—to teach me a lesson.”
Her face hardened. “I’m not some date you brought along—”
“I know that.” He pulled into a spot. “You’re accustomed to bad guys who will kill you if you get in their way. But that’s not Malcolm. He knows I’m with a woman, and he’s going to target you because, if you die, I’ll blame myself. That’s how he operates. He kills those who don’t matter. And he hurts those who do. He will come after you.”
“Then we’ll know how to catch him.”
“No.”
Vanessa sat there, poised, as if waiting for him to elaborate.
He looked her in the eye. “No.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to split up and do this on our own. You call Elena and have her send Clay. I’ll get Jayne and a few others, and we’ll go after Malcolm separately. Then we’ll pray it doesn’t turn into a huge cluster-fuck, attacking each other and those damned werewolf hunters, while Malcolm circles until he can take out Clayton.”
“After that fight at Nast headquarters, Malcolm knows Clay will—and can—take him down. The minute Clay’s here, he’ll bolt. Elena knows that. She won’t send him.”
“So she’ll come out herself? Even better. Malcolm would love that. You said he likes to hurt his enemies.”
Nick shook his head. “You’re not drawing me into this argument, Vanessa. Stay or go. Your choice, but only because I can’t force you onto a plane.”
He left her the keys and got his bag from the trunk. Vanessa caught up with him halfway to the parking garage exit.
“I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass, Nick,” she said. “But this guy killed my agent, and that gives me a reason to go after him. I can do that with my own people, but I’d really rather do it with you. You know Malcolm. Bring in whoever you want, and I’ll work with them, too. But I have experience and tools that your people don’t. Like checking for a security system or scrambling that phone signal.”
“I don’t want to take responsibility—”
“You’re not bringing me. You’re teaming up with me.”
When he didn’t respond, she said, “How about I call Rhys? Get his word on this. If he wants to recall me, he can.”
He stopped walking. “Fine. You’ll make that call here, where I can hear both sides. But before that, I’ll phone Elena. If she insists we split up, I have to do that.”
“Understood.”
19. VANESSA
Vanessa went into the terminal and used the restroom while Nick phoned Elena. She could have also placed an advance call to Rhys to tell him what was up, maybe even massage the facts to be sure he’d let her stay. Nick hadn’t foreseen that because he wasn’t underhanded by nature. She’d given her word. He expected her to stick to it. So she’d honor that trust.
When she got back, Nick was done his call. Elena had agreed to let Vanessa help him, if that’s what Rhys wanted. In the meantime, Elena was driving to Detroit with Clay, ready to jump in the moment Nick needed them.
Elena’s decision didn’t surprise Vanessa. If Malcolm did go after Vanessa? Well, let’s be perfectly objective here. That was better than risking Nick or any of her Pack. And in coming after Vanessa, he’d get close enough for Nick to act. A cold hard assessment. And the same one Vanessa would make if an outsider volunteered to assist a member of her team.