He glanced over his shoulder and kept walking. He didn’t react the way most men would if they saw a woman chasing after them.
I quickened my pace, and when he looked back and finally noticed me, he picked up speed. I shoved my way through a sea of people who made little or no attempt to move aside when they saw me coming.
“Raven!” Wyatt yelled from behind.
I looked back and spied him through a gap. He held up his arms as if asking “What gives?” and I pointed frantically toward the door, hoping he could read the expression on my face.
When I turned around, the main door down the hall was closing. I bolted toward it, weaving around a woman who shrieked when I bumped her glass and splashed red wine all over her dress.
The moment I emerged outside, a burst of frosty air burned against my skin. My silk blouse was as good as wearing nothing at all for all the warmth it provided. I scanned the pockets of people who were gathered together for a smoke or a chat.
“Sneaky little bastard,” I whispered, racing around to the parking lot on the right side of the building.
Footprints were everywhere, and I couldn’t sense his energy among so many other Breed. He was probably long gone.
Before I could turn around, I heard an engine throttling and tires skidding on slush. A car gunned toward me—headlights off—and the man in the driver’s seat was the guy from inside. He almost flew past me until a group of people crossed in front of his path and forced him to slam on his brakes.
I rushed up to the door and pulled the handle.
As if it would be that easy.
When our eyes met, my adrenaline skyrocketed. I was a predator chasing prey, and that old familiar rush felt exhilarating.
Just like old times.
As the slow-moving crowd dispersed, I had seconds to decide if I was going to let him go or stay on his tail.
One thing was for certain: innocent men don’t run.
Chapter 10
I punched the passenger-side window. Nothing broke except maybe a small bone in my middle finger. The car lurched forward, and I flashed after him, spotting Wyatt and Shepherd out of the corner of my eye as they raced to the Mini Cooper parked by the main street.
“Follow him!” I yelled.
I caught up with the car and touched the trunk just as he sped onto the main street. My Mage energy would only carry me so far. Seeing that he was nearing the on-ramp to the freeway, I surged forward, stepped onto the bumper, ran up the back window, and threw myself on top of the roof. He jerked the steering wheel left and right, trying to throw me off.
I grabbed the rack rails on either side, which were like raised handles, praying they wouldn’t break off.
When my phone rang, I looked down incredulously, my cheek pressed against the blistering-cold roof. The fishtailing had stopped, so I reached in my pants pocket.
“Hello?”
Christian sounded amused. “A little bird told me you’re hitchhiking.”
I raised my knee and anchored my foot against the other rail since the phone was in my hand. “I’m a little busy!”
“So I heard. If he slows down, I want you to jump. It’s not worth your life.”
My life wasn’t about to end on the turnpike.
The wind blasted me in the face, making it impossible to hear, so I stuffed the phone back in my pocket without ending the call and held on. My shirt inflated with air and ballooned out, and I suddenly felt like a sail on a boat. As we approached the highway, the car slowed down to turn onto the ramp.
A cartoonish horn sounded from behind—Wyatt was closing in on us. I peered back, wondering if I could jump onto his hood, but I was reluctant to let go. We might never find this guy again. It was possible he didn’t have anything to do with Jennifer’s murder, but now he was just pissing me off with his erratic driving.
He made a sharp turn, and I slid to the left as we merged onto the expressway.
I growled between clenched teeth, my body going into a state of shock from the icy wind. Since the rest of me was plastered against the roof, I kept my head down to shield my face.
Great thinking, Raven. Leave your coat behind in winter and go car surfing.
Thankfully my gloves helped me keep a firm grip on the rails since they protected the palms of my hands from the cold.
Wyatt’s incessant beeping stopped, and I looked over my left shoulder behind me to see what was going on. His little red car looked like an angry hornet coming after us. Wyatt’s steering wheel was on the opposite side, so it took me a second to realize that Shepherd wasn’t the one driving. He sat to the right with one hand over his face, probably regretting his drinking binge by now.
Because of the weather and late hour, the roads weren’t active—just a few semis and sanding trucks. When my guy suddenly jerked the car into the left lane to pass an eighteen-wheeler, I almost rolled off. We were nearing the Five Level Interchange, and my stomach dropped when he took the northbound ramp. The car slowed down a little, but not enough for me to make any bold moves. We climbed the overpass, veering left, and my eyes widened when I noticed a man standing on the ledge of the road above us, his arms wide.
It was Christian. His black coat flapped behind him like a cape as he leapt off and crashed onto the hood. The car jolted.
“Hold on!” he shouted.
Christian reached back and then punched through the windshield. The car sideswiped the wall and offered me a glimpse of the underpass far below. Christian climbed in until all I saw were his legs. A struggle ensued—probably a fight for the wheel. Panic set in when the vehicle hit a patch of ice and lost control.
Oh my God, we’re going to roll over!
I scrambled to my feet as best as I could and jumped off the moving vehicle just as it skidded onto its side. A loud explosion of metal sounded behind me, but I was too busy doing a rollover of my own. I cradled my head and came to a jarring stop when I slammed against the concrete wall.
Headlights popped into view about fifty feet away. Wyatt hit the brakes, then he and Shepherd got out and broke into a run.
My arm screamed with pain, as well as my leg and shoulder. Dizzy, I managed to stand up. The car was upside down, smoke rising from the engine. I limped toward it, ignoring the pain.
The man emerged from the broken window and staggered away from the car, blood streaming down his face from a gash on his head. A flare of Mage energy rippled through the air, and he looked at me long and hard. I returned the same menacing glare as I continued my zombielike advance. I couldn’t flash in my condition, but I was ready to fight. With my good arm, I reached for my belt and pulled out a push dagger.
When he pivoted around, I threw the dagger in frustration, and it bounced off the concrete as the Mage vanished into the night.
“You asshole!” I fell to my knees.
The front end of the car lifted up a few feet before Christian crawled out from beneath. He stood up and spat out a mouthful of blood. His left wrist and fingers looked like a grotesque nightmare the way they were dangling in the wrong directions, the bones shattered. He held his hand upright and stared at it for a few seconds before the fingers began wiggling normally again. Because he hadn’t lost any blood, his healing abilities worked much faster than when he got shot.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t healing as quickly.
Christian’s fangs were out, and he balled up his hands into fists. “I had the bastard. Had him right in my hands!”
Wyatt jogged up, wheezing and out of breath. “Son of a ghost. That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!”
I glanced back. Shepherd ambled toward us like the walking dead, and he looked green.
Christian ripped the license plate off the vehicle and flung it at Wyatt. “Look that up in your database. See if the shitebag is registered.”
Snowflakes eddied around us from the changing wind direction, and a few caught in Christian’s dark hair and beard. He turned away to retrieve my dagger.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt asked, his eyes scanning my body in disbelief. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to be my new haunt.”
Still in shock and denial that I might have internal bleeding, I summoned a smile. “Just a scratch.”
What I couldn’t figure out was why the Mage hadn’t tried to kill us. If he was hiding something, wouldn’t he have taken the opportunity to do us in? That was what I would have done in his shoes.
Wyatt twirled the license plate and pointed it at me. “Stay here, Evel Knievel, while I get the car.”
He spun on his heel and hurried toward Shepherd.
Christian swaggered up, my dagger in hand.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” I asked.
“On what grounds? Assholery? If that’s the case, then more men must die.” Christian handed me my dagger and touched my cheek. “Jaysus. You’re like ice.” He shucked off his coat and then stripped off his sweater, putting it over my head.
I tried to lift my right arm, but pain shot down every nerve ending. His body heat was still in the threads, and I sighed a little when he put his coat around my shoulders. I knew he was right about killing the guy. Viktor had hired me for my instincts and bravery, but part of the deal meant controlling my impulse to kill. It was like teaching a hunter how to capture and release.
Christian held my gaze for a moment and tapped my chin. “You’ll live.”
“I can’t feel my face.”
He suddenly snapped his gaze up at the overpass. Before I could utter a word, Christian hauled me off the ground with one arm and spun around. The world moved in slow motion as a thunderclap of metal and concrete drew my eyes skyward. My jaw slackened when a large truck plummeted off the overpass above us.