Tracker(Rylee Adamson #6)(8) by Shannon Mayer
“You distracted me.”
Milly snorted. “We heard the ‘distraction’ all the way downstairs.”
Pamela snickered and Alex let out a sn" alet outeeze. I was grateful for the candlelight because the heat in my face grew at a rapid rate I couldn’t control. I didn’t think we’d been that noisy; then again, it had been hard to think at all …
Liam snapped his fingers, drawing all of our eyes to his face. “Regardless, tell me what happened.”
We quickly went over the events, and the shock of the guns’ accuracy struck me again.
“Rylee.” Liam’s eyes were distant and I saw his mind working. “Have there been other times when the vibrations of supernaturals has been blocked?”
What the hell was he getting at? I racked my brain and then it hit me like a slug between the eyes.
“The FBI’s private jet.” I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Between the dark cars that followed us and the jet, I should have known.
Alex sat up and moved to my side, pressing himself against me. He tugged at my jeans. “Alex hungry.”
“In a minute.” I dropped a hand to his head and he grabbed my hand in his mouth.
“Hungry,” he mouthed around my fingers. I stared down at him. This was weird, even for Alex.
“Alex, I said in—” He tugged me so I faced the side window, where the sash was closed except for an inch or so. Just high enough for me to see the ice blue eye staring in at us.
Holy fucking hell, Faris was here? Why now, why so soon?
I grabbed Alex around the ruff. “I’m taking Alex for a pee.”
“I thought he was hungry?” Pamela stood.
“That too. Could you see what there is for canned food in the house?” I was all but dragging Alex, who was now trying to go with Pamela. Liam stood on the far side of the room, opposite Milly, and seemed lost in thought. Another time I would have been worried, but at that moment I was glad he wasn’t noticing me.
“Pee first,” I said and opened the front door, all but shoving the werewolf out. I didn’t really want to see Faris, but since we all knew I was going to help him, no time like the present to start working with the prick.
Alex went tearing around the side of the house and I ran after him, our footsteps muffled in the snow. I yanked a sword from my back as I rounded the window where I’d seen Faris’s eye—just in case. A pair of boot prints were set in the snow, but no vampire waited for me.
Alex sniffed the ground, lifted his leg and peed on the boot prints. “Piss on vampires,” he grumbled, showing his teeth. I stepped closer and lowered my blade to rest into the snow. Etched into the window, where the sash covered, were two words:
Well, that was just fantastic, just the way to end an already shitty day. Like I needed that reminder when it had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d been locked in his stupid cement coffin of a room. A shiver traveled the length of my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Come on, Alex. Let’s go inside. And don’t mention the vampire. Got it?” I slid my sword back into its sheath. No need to freak out anyone, or get Liam riled up. Fucking vampire and his games.
“Gots it.” Alex shook his leg a couple of times, shaking off extra pee. We went inside, and no one had missed us. Pamela puttered in the kitchen, and Alex raced into her, yelping about his empty belly. Ma spty belilly sat in her chair, curled up and brooding. Liam sat on the other side of the room seemingly watching her, but I saw he was zoned out, not really here.
Good and bad, I suppose. I didn’t want anyone knowing I had to deal with Faris so soon, but to have Liam be so out of it … again, I wondered what Giselle said to him. The only obvious thing was, whatever she’d said, it likely hadn’t been good. And I had a bad feeling it had more than a little to do with me.
Just fucking peachy.
I sat beside him. No point in beating around the bush. “Hey. What did Giselle tell you?”
He glanced up, his silvery golden eyes, a not so subtle reminder he was no longer entirely human, there was no going back for him. “Nothing that concerns you.”
I blinked a couple of times, surprised. “No? Then why can’t you tell me?”
His jaw ticked, and his voice grew in intensity with each word. “It was for me, and no one else. If Giselle wanted the rest of you to know, she wouldn’t have told you to leave.”
A pit opened, somewhere near my guts, rolling with acid. This wasn’t like Liam; he didn’t keep secrets. Neither of us did, not from each other.
“Seriously?” I strode away from him, hurt curling through me. Shitty part about loving someone was this kind of crap, and how easy they could stab you with mere words. I’d prefer to get run through with one of my own blades. Stupid-ass male.
He followed me out of the living room, through the kitchen and out the back door onto the rickety porch.
A whisper of voices made the hair on my neck stand up, even knowing what I heard was Giselle’s spirit guides. No time for that right now.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Liam growled. “You don’t get to know everything.”
Oh, so that was the game he wanted to play. “You’re right, but I thought with you, at least, I would have someone I could damn well finally trust. I guess I was wrong.” I kept my back to him, pissed off and worse, scared. I hated being scared.
“You can trust me, you know that. You’re just pissed you can’t bully me into spilling.”
I spun around, my jaw dropping. “Are you fucking serious? I know what kind of Reading would make you clam up like that. So I know it was bad, and the fact that even now you are pushing me away tells me it’s even worse than I think. Which is pretty fucking bad after everything we’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours.”
His mouth snapped shut and thinned to a hard line. That was it, I knew him; he would say no more. As if to hammer the point home, he turned his back to me and stripped out of his clothes, barely making it out of them before he shifted. The oversized black wolf glanced once over his shoulder at me before he loped off into the darkness.
I leaned against the house, the wall sagging with my weight. He decided he wasn’t telling me, and there was nothing I would be able to do to change his mind. Shitty part was, my imagination was more than apt at filling in the myriad of possibilities. Maybe Giselle’s words had echoed Doran’s.