Possessed by a Wolf. Sharon Ashwood
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never a good time to start a discussion about your juvenile arrest record.”
She shifted gears to take a hairpin curve. “Before we moved in together would have been good.”
But by then he was too far gone in love to risk losing her. “I didn’t plan to screw everything up.”
“We never do,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for all the ways I hurt you.”
The soft words surprised him so much he forgot everything else. “You are?”
She didn’t answer, but the blood rushed to her cheeks. He looked away, knowing that if he pushed her to say more the moment would be ruined. In the brief silence, his gaze drifted to the passenger-side mirror.
The back of Faran’s neck tingled in warning. “Don’t look now, but someone is doing an amateurish job of tailing us.”
Lexie looked anyway. There was a dark gray sedan behind her—which was not by itself a suspicious fact, but when she changed lanes, it changed with her.
“Told you,” Faran said. “I’d give him five and a half out of ten.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Even before she’d known he was a real spy, he’d liked to give a play-by-play review of the covert ops on TV. “What do I do?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know who it is?”
“No.”
“Think you can lose him?”
Irritated and apprehensive, Lexie looked behind her again. The sedan was still there. “Maybe.”
“Go for it.”
Conversation died. Full of curves and switchbacks, the scenic road had been used in more than one sports-car commercial and Lexie needed all her concentration. The first chance she got, she made a left turn off the highway, picking up a smaller road that wound through the hills. The sedan didn’t change course.
“Wait a minute,” she said, oddly disappointed. “Did we completely misread the situation?”
“I dunno,” Faran said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
Disgruntled and feeling as if she was missing some punch line, she let the road take her along a twisting loop that wandered back toward the city. It wouldn’t take long to reach the suburbs—Marcari’s capital was small. No place was more than ten minutes to the countryside and bad roads.
Lexie looked for another turnoff to take her back to the highway, but there was nothing in sight—not that one could see very far in front or behind with so many twists and turns.
“I don’t like this,” Faran said. “It’s like driving blind.”
“I’ll get back to the highway as soon as there’s a turnoff.”
But there were just lanes here and there leading to farms or the wealthy estates that were hidden along Marcari’s coastline. She drove along the hilly, bumpy terrain, sometimes surrounded by clumps of scruffy pine and other times overlooking the blue sea and whitewashed houses below. Another day, she wouldn’t have minded getting semilost, but right then she wasn’t in the mood.
Apart from everything else, Faran’s presence in the passenger seat was reminding her of too many road trips that had ended up at little wayside inns. There had been magical evenings—sometimes with long walks or music festivals or just a local dinner and bed. They had all started out in a car going nowhere in particular with the whole world ahead of them.
Those scattered images of their past made the space between them far too small. Faran had a formidable presence, but Lexie was especially aware of his square, practical hands resting on his knees. Those hands had often told her so much more than his words. They were capable of incredible tenderness, but right now their nervous fidgets said he was every bit as uneasy as she was.
“Lexie!” Faran shouted, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Behind you!”
She glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see a car speeding into view around a steep curve. Instantly, she swerved to avoid it, but the road was too narrow. The car clipped her back bumper, jolting her against her shoulder belt. The Peugeot lurched forward, the front tire sliding off the road and slewing into a sapling. Wood snapped as Lexie cranked the steering wheel hard, forcing the vehicle back onto the road before it skidded completely out of control. She felt the bump as the car regained the solid surface, and only then saw the gray sedan speed past. Furious, she leaned on the horn. Faran swore.
The sedan disappeared around the bend, going far too fast for the sharp curves. Lexie fell back against the seat with a gasp, almost deafened by the thunder of her own pulse. She lowered the windows a few inches, allowing the cool breeze to chill her sweat-soaked skin.
“Good driving,” Faran said. His voice sounded almost normal, but his fingers gripped her forearm as if he would never let her go.
“If you hadn’t spotted him, I wouldn’t have been able to get out of the way.”
“That was a close call. He meant to run us off the road.”
Lexie’s hands turned to ice. It wasn’t just the idea of being targeted that bothered her—she’d lived with her brother’s malevolent temper for years. She just couldn’t understand how a random attack on the road connected with anything. “What’s going on?”
“I wish I knew. A warning, maybe. Against what, I don’t know.” He cursed again.
She put her hand over his, trying not to meet his eyes. At first she simply meant to reclaim her arm, but his touch was electric, as if that small span of skin against skin was all it took to loan her a bit of his unnatural strength.
“It’s okay,” Faran said finally, though which one of them he was reassuring wasn’t clear. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers.
She didn’t reply, not trusting herself. Words never worked well between them. With every heartbeat, she became more aware of the purr of the idling motor, the chirping of the birds hopping from branch to branch in the trees. The world was still there.
“I should check the bumper,” she said.
“Don’t get out,” Faran said, his voice tense. “Not yet. Drive slowly until we get someplace where we can turn around and go back the way we came.”
Spooked again, she inched the car forward, looking for a wider spot and wishing she could see more than a few car lengths ahead. She cautiously rounded a fork in the road. Tall poplars framed both sides of the avenue, turning the late winter shadows to a purplish blue.
“There,” Faran said, pointing. He indicated a dirt lane that led through an old arched wooden gate in a high fence. Judging by the thick growth of grapevines shrouding the gate, it probably went to one of the local wineries. “Careful, though, visibility sucks.”
She slowed, thinking she’d drive past and then back into the lane to turn around. It would take good aim, but the Peugeot was nimble. Even though she was on high alert, she didn’t see the dark gray sedan speed out of the gate until it was too late.
With a yell, Lexie slammed on the brakes, swerving the car to the side. It was the only thing that saved them. The Peugeot skidded and slid, finally bumping to a stop.
A horrible noise followed, like a giant pop can crunching in an ogre’s fist. That had to be the other car.
Lexie sat frozen, hands clenched around the steering wheel. Breath came in short, sharp gasps, her pulse pounding in her throat. At first she felt nothing, just a remote sort of panic. How bad was the damage? Was she hurt? Faran? What about the other driver?
The other driver had turned and waited to ram them on purpose. Why? Her vision focused and found the sedan. It had crumpled against one of the poplars, which was now leaning at a dangerous