They scrambled to obey, dragging their unconscious friend out the door. It was interesting to note that no one seemed too worried about the fact that he’d been felled by a stranger.
Harris’s gaze came back to me. There was little emotion to be seen in the blue of his eyes, and once again it reminded me of someone else. I wished I could remember who.
“I think you’d better come with me.” His gravelly voice was firm, and it was obvious he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Of course, part of me wanted to say just that, but it wasn’t exactly the wisest course of action when I had no idea what the hell was going on. So I blew out a frustrated breath and followed him out of the bar. At least I didn’t have to fight my way through—the crowd parted for Harris as easily as the sea for Moses.
“I’ll escort you home,” he said, once we were out the door. “Just to ensure you don’t get yourself into any more trouble.”
“I can handle myself.” I rubbed my arms lightly. The night air seemed a lot cooler now than it had when I’d entered the bar. Maybe my sunburn was finally starting to heal.
“You probably can, but Denny doesn’t like being taken down by anyone, let alone by a woman.” His blue gaze met mine, assessing, calculating. A wolf undecided whether I was friend or foe. It was mutual. “Watch yourself, because he’s likely to seek retribution.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So warn him off.”
“I will. But it won’t make a blind bit of difference. And until he actually tries something, I can’t do anything.”
“If he tries to get back at me, he’ll regret it.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t frown. Didn’t really react in any way at all, in fact. It made me wonder at the reasons for the tight control.
“His dad is the pack second,” he said evenly. “He’s well connected, so watch how you react.”
Don’t damage him too much, in other words. I smiled grimly and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “So what pack runs this town?”
“West. Remy West is the leader, although you won’t often see him in town. He dislikes tourists.”
That raised my eyebrows. “Then why open the town for tourism? If these lands are pack owned, you have the legal right to restrict entry.”
He snorted softly. “Not if the land has some significant natural feature. In such cases, the government insists it be available for all.”
“And Dunedan has a significant natural feature other than red dust, heat, and ocean?”
Amusement briefly twitched his lips and lent his stern features a surprising amount of warmth. “We have what is known as a fringing reef, which means the coral starts right at the water’s edge. It’s rare, and therefore significant.”
“I’m guessing the pack makes a whole lot of money from that significant feature.”
“We all live rather comfortably,” he agreed.
I studied him for a moment, then said, “You don’t look like the rest of the pack. Why’s that?”
He slanted me a sideways glance. “You don’t mind getting personal, do you?”
I shrugged. “When you can’t remember anything of importance, you quickly learn to ask questions, personal or not.”
He was silent for a moment, but his gaze roamed across the darkness and there was an alertness about him that suggested he was ready for trouble. If that trouble was Denny, then he could relax. Werewolf or not, I didn’t think he’d be capable of walking for a day or so. I really had hit him hard.
“My mother came from a different pack, hence the blue eyes and lighter skin.”
“And I’m guessing the pack never let you forget that you weren’t entirely one of them.”
His gaze flicked to me. “What makes you think that?”
“Because I know what it feels like to be unwanted by the pack.”
“That’s an odd statement,” he said, “given your brother has been heard to say that his upbringing was happy.”
I shrugged. “That doesn’t mean mine was.”
“Indeed.” But again, I got the impression he just didn’t believe me.
The caravan park came into view. Few lights were on and the caravans were little more than hulking shapes in the darkness. The perfect place for an ambush, except the cool air was free of any scent. The only people out in this darkness were Harris and myself.“I can make it the rest of the way by myself,” I said. “You don’t need to baby-sit me.”
“I’m protecting my packmates, not you.” It was said as flatly as he said everything else, but this time, the teasing hint of amusement touching his lips also reached his eyes.
I smiled. “Good night, Officer Harris. I daresay I’ll be seeing you around.”
“Not in any official capacity, I hope.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Does that mean you’re open to unofficial approaches?”
“No. It simply means stay out of trouble.”
“I’m not sure I’m capable of doing that.” And the truth of that statement echoed right through my very being.
Trouble and I were old mates. Of that I was sure.
“Good night, Hanna,” he said, then turned and loped off into the darkness. I watched him disappear, then headed past the caravans and to the villa.
Evin was sitting on the sofa drinking a beer, his bare feet up on the coffee table. “There’s more in the fridge,” he said, as I entered the room and closed the glass sliding door.
“Thanks, but I’m more a champagne person.” And why wouldn’t my own brother know that? I dropped down on the other sofa and crossed my legs. “So tell me about our pack.”
He raised a pale eyebrow. “Why? You’ll remember it soon enough.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I hesitated, then added, “You had a happy childhood?”
“Why?”
“Because I feel like I didn’t. When you mentioned Mom before, I had this very weird feeling.” I hesitated. “And yet if you were happy, why wasn’t I?”
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well, you did have the tendency to get into trouble. Some of the stories about you and—”
He stopped dead and confusion crossed his face.
“Me and who?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, and took a long drink of beer.
And again I wondered if he was telling the truth. He seemed to be, but that didn’t mean he actually was.
Was I always this damn suspicious of my own brother? Because I did believe he was my brother—even if he wasn’t the one I remembered or wanted—but there was little else coming out of his mouth that appeared to be the truth.
“Tell me about our family, then.”
“There’s really not much point when you’ll remember soon enough.”
It was said with just a touch of impatience, and I raised my eyebrows. “There’s no harm in humoring me, is there?”
“I honestly don’t know. I guess not.”
Which, as comments went, was odd. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.
He took another long drink of beer, then crushed the can and lobbed it toward the trash. “We’re a fairly large family unit for our pack. Mom met Dad fairly late, but she made up for it. Beside me, there’s a younger brother and a set of twins. Two girls.”
Sisters. I had sisters. Something twisted in my stomach and an odd sense of sadness and regret rose.
“What are their names?”
“Our brother is Raynham, and was named after my mother. The twins are Jobie and Nelia.” He glanced at me. “I’m guessing by your expression you don’t remember them.”
“No.” How can you remember someone when you’ve never even met them? The question rose out of the mire of my mind, clear and strong. “What are they like?”
He smiled. “Raynham is the studious type. He likes his books and computers. Nel is the adventurous one. She’s stubborn and strong, and has a nose for trouble. A smaller version of you, basically.”
“And Jobie?”
“A homebody. She’s already saying that when she grows up, she wants nothing more than a soul mate and babies. Lots of babies.”
Which is what I want. And something I’ll never achieve. Not without someone having them for me, anyway. I rubbed my head wearily and wondered if the ache was ever going to fade enough to bring back memories and understanding. Or was this pain, and the fleeting, annoyingly incomplete memories, all I was ever going to get?
Then I frowned as the rest of his words hit. When she grows up? “Just how old are they?”
“Raynham’s seven. The twins are five.”
Shock rippled through me. I was more than twenty years older than any of them. No wonder I didn’t know them—I’d left the pack long before they’d even been born.
My gaze swept Evin. Even he looked younger than me. “How old are you?”
He hesitated. “Twenty-four.”
And that just seemed so wrong I wanted to be sick. My brother shouldn’t be that young. He just shouldn’t.
But it also made him far older than our other siblings. So why didn’t I know him? He might be younger, but he was old enough to have been around during my time with the pack. Surely to God I couldn’t have forgotten my own brother—not to the extent that he seemed a complete and utter stranger.
“You mentioned Raynham being named after our mother, but you haven’t mentioned our father. Why do I have a feeling that I have no father?”