Destiny Kills

Chapter Two

Fear froze me to the spot for too many valuable seconds. But the sound of the key scraping in the lock got my big feet moving, and I ran like hell for the second bedroom.

“Del, did you leave the TV on?” The voice was male, and he spoke in a slow drawl that had me visualizing a cowboy.

“Jack, you saw me turn it off,” a woman answered. “Why?”

“Because it’s now on and there’s a mess all over the kitchen counter.” The man known as Jack paused. “It looks like someone has been in here. You want to call the officer back? He wouldn’t be that far along the beach path yet.”

The bedroom door creaked as I swung it closed. My breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t dare stop to find out if anyone else had heard it. With my heart pounding like a jackhammer, I ran to the window, shimmied my way out, then reached back in to grab the screen.

“You folks got trouble?” a new voice said.

I swore softly and abandoned my attempt to get the screen back in place, scooting instead along the side of the house and around the corner.

Not a moment too soon.

“Window’s open in the second bedroom, and the screen has been pushed out,” the gruff voice said.

“Couldn’t have been the wind,” came the other man’s comment. “I checked them when we first arrived. It was on solid.”

“You want to see if anything has been taken? I’ll look outside.”

Oh, crap.

I looked about frantically for somewhere close to hide, but there didn’t seem to be much about. I sucked in a breath, then ran like hell for the long grass and the not-so-distant hillside. If I could get over the crest, I’d at least be out of sight. Of course, plowing through the long grass would leave a trail for all to see, but right now, that couldn’t be helped. The last thing I needed was to be caught by a small-town cop.

And I had no idea why I needed to avoid the cops or capture. It was just a feeling. A certainty that capture, in any form, was a very bad thing.

Because of the past. Because of that scientist.

I bit down frustration and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Footsteps began to echo on the wooden patio, so I threw myself down behind the hill and prayed like hell that the grass hid my body.

For too many seconds I didn’t move, hardly even dared to breathe, as I listened to the gentle sounds of the day, waiting for the footsteps that would mean my doom.

When they didn’t immediately come, I carefully shifted and peeked up over the hill. I might not have heard the footsteps, but the damn cop was coming up the hill anyway.

I swore under my breath and wriggled back down the hill. When I’d moved far enough down, I rose and ran. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The thick, regimented strands of pines would have provided excellent cover, but they were just too far away. And the only thing between them and me was a small dam.

It would have to do.

I ran toward it as fast as I could. Quite a few yards out I found a cattle track and followed that thankfully. At least the soil was hard and compacted, and wouldn’t show any footprints. Hopefully, the cop would think I’d simply disappeared rather than suspect I’d hidden in the water.

As I neared the dam, I risked a look over my shoulder at the hilltop. Still no cop. I had time yet, but probably not a whole lot. I shucked off my stolen sweatshirt as I sprinted around the water, throwing it behind the dam’s erosion-rutted shoulder, then did the same with the pants. If luck was on my side, I’d at least have dry clothes to climb into once the cop had left. If not, well, I’d have to find something else to steal.

I dove into the water. It was so damn cold it snatched a gasp from my throat, and the sound seemed to echo across the softer sounds of the day. I swam to the far edge and peered through the reeds and grass at the hillside. The cop had breached the top of the hill and was following my trail down toward the dam.

I took a deep breath and slid under the water. An odd sensation ran across my eyes—it felt for all the world as if some sort of film was being drawn over them. It made me blink, and in that moment I realized I could see under the water. It might have appeared muddy as hell from the surface, but I could see the bottom through the muck, see the water beetles and insect larvae swimming through it. Hell, even the banks and the sky were as clear as could be.

It was probably a pointer to what I was, but it was one I didn’t understand. Nor did I have time to contemplate it, because the cop suddenly walked into sight.

I floated under the water, watching the cop and hoping like hell that being able to see him so plainly was just a weird aberration, and not any sort of indication that the water had magically gone clear.

The cop was a big man—big in an overweight sort of way—but even so, he reminded me a little of a boxer. He moved light, like a man ready for action. His face was on the paunchy side, too, his cheeks veined and nose red. But his blue eyes were sharp and clear, and however out of shape his body might appear, those eyes suggested there was nothing flabby about his mind.

He stood on the bank and stared at the water, then the surrounds. His expression was dour, unhappy, his gaze continually returning to the water. Meaning he probably suspected I was here, and was waiting for me to surface.

How long could I hold my breath? I guess I was about to find out.

He waited, and I waited. After a while, he unclipped the small radio from his belt, pressed a button, and said, “Frank to base.”

The answer was little more than a buzz of sound to my ears. He said, “No, I haven’t had a chance to look for bodies on the beach yet. We’ve got another break-in, this time over at the Dougherty’s cabin.” He paused briefly, listening, then added, “Yeah, it’s the newlyweds. You want to get Mike to bring the dogs out? We got a trail, but it ends at the old dam.”

Great. Someone had not only seen us on the beach, but they’d reported it to the cops. And it was just plain bad luck that I’d been in the cabin when the newlyweds and the cop had arrived back.

“I’m not sure what’s been stolen. The cocky bastard helped himself to a sandwich and some Coca-Cola, though.” He paused, listening. “Yeah, they’re both fine. I’ll write up a list of what’s missing, and wait for Mike. You might want to get young Aaron out here to check out the beach, though. It’s going to be a while before I get the chance.”

He paused again, then grinned. “Yeah, I know the old coot was drinking, but we still gotta check it out.”

He snapped the radio back onto his belt, then glanced at his watch. Seconds passed into minutes. He didn’t move, I didn’t move, and somewhere deep inside, curiosity grew.

Regular people couldn’t hold their breath for this long. I might not be “regular” as humans defined the word, but my lungs weren’t even burning and yet I had to have been under the water for a good five minutes. Even free divers couldn’t stay under water that long, could they?

But I guess that for someone who contemplated swimming oceans, someone who could compare the coldness of a ring to the waters under the arctic ice, floating in dam water like it was a second home might well be easy.

God, why wouldn’t my memories just damn well return? Tell me who I was? What I was?

And why wouldn’t the cop leave?

He stood there for another minute or so, then finally turned around and made his way up the hill. I waited until he’d disappeared from my watery sight, then slowly rose up until my head was free of the murk. I blinked, and that odd sensation happened again. It definitely felt like something was being drawn across my eyes.

A tremor ran through me. I licked my lips, tasting the muck in the water, knowing that if I wanted to, I could name the minute particles that ran across my tongue. Part of me was desperate to remember the reason behind the skill. The rest of me just wanted to get the hell out of here.

When the cop had finally disappeared, I got out of the water, scooped up my clothes, and ran for trees. I had no idea where I was going, but the property’s road seemed to head in the same direction as the line of firs, so maybe the main road was up that way. There had to be a town somewhere close by, because the newlyweds hadn’t been gone all that long before they’d come back.

With a cop who’d actually come to investigate the report of a body on the beach. Which they wouldn’t find, because Egan was long gone, but they would probably discover the blood-soaked sand where he’d lain, and that in itself might be enough to bring out more hunters.

I had to get to Maine.

Had to see my dad before it was too late, and tell him . . .

The thought faded, and I resisted the urge to scream. What was so important that I’d crossed continents and risked the life of a rare friend to tell my dad?

I blinked at the thought, then kicked the soil savagely. And only succeeded in stubbing my toe hard enough to feel like I’d broken it. I cursed and hobbled on.

By the time I hit the trees, my body was a little drier and I was able to dress. I wrung out the remaining water from my hair, and half-wished I had something to tie it back with. It was only just over shoulder length, but that was long enough to be bothersome when running.

I twisted it into a knot instead, knowing it wouldn’t hold long, then continued on my way. Twigs and leaves rustled under my bare feet, and in the shadows of the pines, the day was cool. Insects buzzed lightly, but little else stirred. After a while, the drone of traffic began to invade the peacefulness, and I slowed cautiously.

Ahead, the tree line came to a sudden halt. Beyond that was a short run of grass to a fence, then what had to be a main road, given the traffic that passed by regularly.

I had no money, no identity, and no clue as to where I was. And no way of getting out of this area quickly. Which meant my best option for the moment was hitching. I could worry about finding a way to Maine once I knew where the hell my starting point was.

Of course, getting someone to pick me up when I was barefoot, wild of hair, and looking a little worse for the wear was easier said than done.

After half an hour of less than stellar results, I was getting more than a little frustrated, so when the red Ford crested the distant rise and zoomed down toward me, I marched into the middle of the road and held out a hand.

I swear to the Gods of sea and sand, the driver gunned the engine rather than slowing, and the car rocketed toward me. The roar of the motor seemed to fill the air, and my stomach began to churn. I licked my lips, but stood my ground. Damn it, I needed help, and the bastard in that car was at least going to stop and listen. Or rather, listen to a rather creative lie, because who actually knew the truth?

As I stood there staring at the car, silently demanding it stop, another sound edged through to my consciousness. The baying of dogs.

The cop had called for tracker dogs at the dam. While I hadn’t seen any police cars go by, that didn’t mean anything. There could be a hundred different roads into that property that I didn’t know about. And while those dogs might not actually be hunting me, I really couldn’t take that chance. Which meant it was more important than ever that this car stop.

As the vehicle grew closer, the blur that was the driver gradually clarified into a broad-shouldered man with sun-kissed brown hair. I could see his strong hands on the wheel, see the almost insolent grin twisting his lips.

And realized I was facing a man playing chicken.

I might not want to get caught by the cops, but I sure as hell didn’t want to die, and that’s what faced me if I stood my ground any longer. I threw myself sideways, hitting the side of the road hard, skinning my palms and the tops of my feet as I slid to a long stop in the dirt and stones. Heard the screech of brakes and twisted around to see the car slew to a stop only feet away.

The idiot could have killed me. If I had stood there a moment longer, he probably would have. He’d only missed me by inches as it was.

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths to try to calm myself down. A hard task when I was shaking like a leaf. My hands and feet were stinging, and my heart was beating like crazy.

Behind me, a car door opened, then footsteps approached. “What the fuck are you playing at, lady?”

Even with the anger so evident in his rich, deep tones, the stranger’s voice was as sexy as all get out.

Not the sort of thoughts any sane person would be having about the man who’d just tried to run them over.

“Me?” I said, voice little more than a squeak thanks to a mix of annoyance and pain. “You’re the idiot who apparently forgot where the brake pedal was.”

I tried pushing upright, but that forced more stones into my already scraped hands, and I yelped.

He muttered something under his breath, then stepped closer. “Here, let me help you.”

Before I could even open my mouth to say don’t bother, a rather large pair of feet appeared on either side of me, then hands grabbed me under the armpits and he unceremoniously hauled me upright.

Only his touch had my senses exploding, and suddenly, dizzyingly, I was hyperaware of everything about him—the warm lean strength of his body, his spicy scent, his aura of confidence and sheer masculinity. It all swirled around me, filling every breath, caressing every pore, setting my skin afire, and making my blood burn.

I didn’t even know this man. Hadn’t even turned around to look at him. And yet my body was reacting to him in a way it had never reacted to Egan.

Maybe I’d hit my head on the road, as well, and just didn’t realize it.

He dumped me on my feet, then quickly stepped back, making me wonder if he’d had a reaction similar to mine.

“You okay?” he asked, voice gruff and still as sexy as hell.

“No thanks to you,” I muttered, picking out the larger stones from my hands before turning around. A gaze as blue as the summer sky met mine, and something deep inside quivered.

Partly because no matter how pretty those eyes were, there was only cold calculation beyond the surface depths. These were the eyes of a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it. But more than that, there was a wildness in them that was both familiar and yet alien. A wildness that spoke of sun and sky and air, and had absolutely nothing to do with humanity.

Egan had that look, I thought. Now, if I could just remember what Egan actually was, that would be handy.

But recognizing a similar wildness didn’t actually mean I could trust this man. After all, many of our hunters had shared that same untamed look.

Of course, that thought came and went with no further clarification.

“Why the hell didn’t you slow down when you first saw me?”

He waved a hand in the general direction of the stillidling car, his voice incredulous as he said, “I was doing sixty. Why in the hell would you just stand there? That’s insane.”

Yep, it was. But this day had gone to hell anyway, so what did one more act of madness matter? Besides, he did stop, so at least I’d achieved part of my aim.

“I needed a lift, and no one was stopping.”

“Considering the less than appealing way you look, I’m not entirely surprised.”

“That’s no damn reason to try and run me over,” I muttered, tucking thick strands of matted hair behind my ear.

A smile tugged at his lips, and it transformed his face, lending his aristocratic features a brief moment of warmth and compassion.

Then the warmth faded and he considered me, his gaze lingering on the bruise marring my forehead before moving down. It was deliberate, that gaze, designed to tease, to arouse. To scare, even. Like he was testing me. Testing my seriousness. Only it stopped abruptly when his gaze reached my hands. “Nice ring.”

The sexiness had fled his voice, replaced by a flatness that made my toes itch with the need to run. I resisted the urge to tuck my hand behind my back, and said, “It’s a friend’s.”

His gaze went past me, searching the trees. “And where is the friend?”

I hesitated. “Elsewhere.”

The baying of a hound ran across the brief silence, and I glanced over my shoulder. I couldn’t see any movement, but those barks—and obviously my hunters—were getting closer.

His gaze came back to mine. “Then why don’t we go find him?”

Wariness swirled through me. Don’t trust, don’t trust. The mantra ran through my brain, words from a past I had yet to remember. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Because if you’re willing to risk your life standing in front of a speeding car to get help, your friend obviously needs a lot of it.”

I studied him, not entirely sure what to do. True, I needed help, but did I need it badly enough to trust a stranger who suddenly seemed overly eager to help out two people he didn’t even know?

Of course, Egan was beyond anyone’s help—and I might just suffer the same fate if I wasn’t careful. They were out there, and they were hunting me.

And this stranger could be one of them, for all I knew.

Suddenly my idea of stopping a car to get help didn’t seem so bright after all.

“I don’t think—”

He laughed, a sound so soft, and yet so cold. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Meaning I should? “Other than the man who just tried to run me down, you mean?”

He snorted softly. “Yeah.”

I frowned and tried to force a memory through the fog. He did remind me a whole lot of Egan—he had the same broad-shouldered, athletic build and shaggy, sun-kissed hair. But this man’s face was more aristocratic and a whole lot handsomer. And there was an odd sort of grace and elegance to his movements. Egan, for all his gentleness, had often resembled a bull in a china shop.

But then, in all the time I’d known him, he hadn’t really seemed to care about anything at all.

Except for me.

And the kids.

Tears touched my eyes again, but with them came anger. And I had no idea why, because the answers to all my questions were still locked behind the walls of forgetfulness.

I glanced down at my somewhat bloodied feet and blinked the tears away. Whatever the reasons behind the anger, it was an undeniable fact that I hadn’t deserved Egan’s caring. I’d liked him, I’d enjoyed being with him, and I’d slept with him—but it had never been anything more than that. Not for me.

And not for him.

Yet he’d still given his life for me.

Nothing could ever repay such selflessness.

Nothing except stopping this. Stopping Marsten.

I looked back at the stranger. “No. Who are you?”

“Egan’s brother.”

I blinked. Of all the answers I’d been expecting, that certainly wasn’t one of them. And it made me even more wary. “Egan hasn’t got a brother.”

“Egan has three brothers, two sisters, and one half brother. That last one’s me.” His gaze went past me again as the hound barked, closer than before. “That dog seems to have found the scent of whatever it’s chasing. You want to stay, or do you want to go?”

I hesitated, but really, what choice did I have? It was either stay here and confront the police—try to explain why I wore stolen clothes, and had no ID and no memory—or go with this man who could be spinning me more lies than a used-car salesman desperate to close a deal.

“They’re almost on us,” he prompted.

“Let’s go. Please.”

“Good decision. Come on.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me forward, the heat of his fingers seeming to burn through the sleeve of my sweatshirt and brand my skin. He opened the car door, then ran around to the driver’s side.

A prickle of awareness ran down my spine, and without turning around, I knew we were no longer alone on the road.

“Oh, fuck,” the stranger said, about the same time as another voice said, “Hey, you two, stop right there.”

“Get in,” the stranger said. “Quickly.”

I wasn’t about to argue. I got in as fast as I could, then slammed the door.

“Police. Stop,” the other voice called.

I looked around, saw the big cop accompanied by another man wearing a checkered shirt and holding two dogs in check. Then the stranger gunned the big car’s engine, and we were speeding off.

“Thank you,” I said, after a few moments.

“Forget it,” he said, his voice holding an edge. “But why are they chasing you?”

“I broke into a house to get some clothes.”

“And that outfit was the best you could come up with? Lady, you make a pretty poor thief.”

“It wasn’t as if I had a whole lot of choice,” I muttered. “And what would you know about thieving, anyway?”

“A whole lot more than you, apparently.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror and swore softly. I twisted around. The cop had the radio to his mouth. He was either calling in the troops or calling in the registration. Either way, too much heat would soon be swarming around my hard-won ride.

“Look, I don’t want to get you into trouble—”

“Well, good, because I can manage that quite well by myself.”

“If you’d just drop me off at the nearest town—”

“And you’ll what?” He glanced at me briefly. “You appear to have no clothes, no money, not even shoes, for God’s sake. Besides, you’re not the only thief in the car.”

I raised my eyebrows, not entirely sure whether he was being serious or not. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He glanced at the mirror again and his expression grew grimmer. I took another look behind us. The cop was climbing into a squad car—obviously, that’s what he’d been calling. The stranger’s car seemed to leap forward, the engine a howl that filled the interior with ear-splitting noise. Either he really was a madman, or he was speaking the truth about being a thief.

“You’re not the man who’s been breaking into various houses around these parts, are you?”

He snorted softly. “No.” He glanced briefly at the rearview. “Where’s Egan, Destiny?”

Shock rolled through me and, for a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Destiny. It felt right, that name, felt comfortable.

Question was, how did he know it? Had I stepped into an even worse situation than being chased by the cops? God, was he one of the hunters?

I licked my lips, and repeated, “Elsewhere.”

“Where? Damn it, tell me where my brother is!”

“Why should I?” The retort came out before I could really think about it, but I was growing more and more convinced that I’d made the biggest mistake yet by getting into this car. “How do I know you’re really even his brother?”

“I haven’t exactly got time right now to stop and show you my credentials,” he said coldly.

“Well, until you do, you get nothing from me.” I crossed my arms and stared out the windshield. The trees were zipping past way too fast, making my stomach feel queasy. Looking at him seemed a better option. “How did you even know he was back in the country?” And how did he know we’d be here? That was just too weird a coincidence, and another reason to be wary.

“He contacted me last night.”

He had? How, when he’d died last night? “Why did he contact you?”

His gaze met mine. The cold depths were assessing. Distrusting. “We were supposed to meet in Florence. So what happened?”

“Florence? Where the hell is that?”

“Oregon.”

So I was in Oregon? God, that was a country away from Maine. And if I needed to get there so urgently, why would I have even agreed to come here?

And how did he know about me? Even if he had somehow talked to Egan before he’d died, I doubted Egan would have told him much about me. We were both too aware of the need for secrecy.

“How did he contact you?”

“If you knew anything at all about Egan, then you’d know how he contacted me.” He gave me another one of those cold glances. “Unless, of course, you really are a thief, and the police are after you because you stole Egan’s ring.”

Again the shock rolled through me, but this time it was accompanied by a sick churning in my stomach. “What makes you think this is Egan’s ring?”

He smiled, and this time it was a cold, harsh thing to behold. “Egan had that ring on his hand the last time I saw him.”

“You know, I find it very strange that Egan never mentioned having siblings, let alone a half brother, in the ten years I was with him.”

Even as I said the words, sadness washed through me. Ten years was a long time to be with someone you could never love. But it wasn’t as if we’d had any other choice. We’d been locked up, caged like animals. The two of us, my mom, and the little ones—some of them barely more than toddlers who had never really known the freedom of the skies. . . .

The memories faded yet again. I flexed my fingers and resisted the urge to scream.

“That’s the second time you’ve used past tense,” he said softly. “Why?”

I briefly closed my eyes. God, I was an idiot. Yet now that he’d picked up on the mistake, part of me desperately wanted to blurt it all out—all the confusion, all the pain. I needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in. Someone to be what Egan had been to me.

Someone to end up dead just like him?

Besides, no matter how good it would feel to confide in someone—anyone—about the stuff I could remember and the stuff I couldn’t, the truth was that I didn’t know if I could even trust this man. His sudden appearance seemed a little too convenient. And hell, trusting a stranger was what had landed me in this whole mess in the first place. I’d lost eleven years of my life thanks to that mistake, and I wasn’t about to repeat it.

Maybe I was being a little paranoid, but without the benefit of memories, I was working blind, and the urge for caution was humming through my bloodstream.

I couldn’t end up caged again.

I wouldn’t end up caged again.

“Slip of the tongue,” I said, twisting around to look behind us rather than facing the stranger’s knowing gaze. “The cop car is getting closer.”

“I’ll worry about it when it’s ramming our tail.”

“Worrying about it before it sends us flying into the trees might be a better idea.”

“They won’t ram. They’re probably arranging a road-block up ahead as we speak.”

I studied him for a minute. “What do they really want you for?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do they want you for? I doubt they’d be so intent on chasing someone over a pair of sweatpants.”

“Well, apparently you’re wrong.” I hesitated, but had to ask the question that came instantly to mind. “Have you killed anyone?”

“Have you?” he shot back.

“No,” I said, but somewhere in the back of my mind, screams mingled with the splatter of blood and white matter across stark white walls. No, I thought. No.

But the memories would not be denied.

It wasn’t Egan’s death. The responsibility for that might be mine—if only because he’d died trying to protect me—but he’d been shot through the heart, not the head. The death I remembered was another one entirely.

I had killed. I just didn’t know how or why. And that was a scary thought.

Maybe the stranger should be scared of me, and what I might do, not the other way around.

He didn’t say anything and I looked behind us again. The cop car was catching up. No matter how powerful the engine in this car sounded, we weren’t gaining any ground. I glanced back at the stranger and studied his profile. His lips were like Egan’s—same shape, same lush kissability. I pushed the annoying thought away, and said, “Do you have a name?”

“Trae Wilson.” He glanced at me. “And I find it hard to believe that Egan never talked about any of us.”

“The only thing he ever said was that the past no longer mattered.”

“So he never talked about his clique and what they did?”

Clique? What the hell did he mean by that? His family?

“No, he didn’t.” I hesitated, my fingers clenching around the cold metal ring as the decision I’d made to return the ring to its owner reverberated briefly through my thoughts. “What did they do?”

“What didn’t they do might be a better question.” His gaze went back to the rearview mirror.

I twisted around again. The cops were closing in fast. The big man who’d tracked me to the dam was talking into the radio, meaning that Trae was probably right in his earlier assessment that they were setting up a roadblock.

“If I was the betting kind,” I said, “I’d reckon they’re working up a trap.”

“Looks like it.”

He didn’t sound in the least concerned, and I studied his face for several seconds before letting my gaze slide downward. Was it his similarity to Egan that had the flick of attraction racing through my veins, or was something else going on?

“Have you actually got a plan to get us away from them, or are you just playing it by ear?”

“I always have a plan.” His gaze met mine, the sky-blue depths holding an intensity and an awareness that sent a warm shiver across my skin. “Always.”

I rubbed my arms and pulled my gaze from his. I didn’t understand what was going on, but for once my lack of memory had absolutely nothing to do with it. This man seemed to be working on a whole different level.

The car swept around another bend, revealing a long straight stretch of road. Two cars sat across the road at the far end, completely blocking it.

“Well, there’s our roadblock,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer, just wrenched the wheel side-ways. The car slewed around, the tires screaming in protest. The unexpected motion threw me against him, hard. And that odd awareness rose again, thick and strong, until all I could feel, all I wanted, was him.

And then the car was straightening again, and I was thrown back, this time against the door, hitting my head so hard against the glass it was amazing one or the other didn’t crack.

“Seat belt,” he snapped, voice little more than a heat-filled growl.

Or maybe it was my imagination, a leftover of the weird awareness our brief touch had caused.

I took a deep, shuddery breath and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand—escape.

We were currently gunning down a dirt track that barely looked wide enough to fit a motorcycle, let alone a car the size of this one. Tree branches and God knows what else slapped across the windshield and scraped the sides, but somehow we were getting through. But a look behind soon revealed the cop still followed.

“Have you any idea where we’re going?”

“Not really.”

I looked at him. “I thought you said you always had a plan?”

“Maybe I lied. Maybe I just like winging it.”

Amusement played about his lush lips, and I frowned. “Is that meant to be comforting?”

“Sweetheart, it’s not meant to be anything more than the truth.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

His amusement bubbled, stretching his lips into a devilish grin that had my pulse doing happy little cartwheels.

Why? That was the question that still echoed through me, even as another part of me bathed in the sexiness of that grin. What the hell was happening to me? Why on earth was I reacting like this to a stranger? A man who might yet prove more dangerous than the cops chasing us?

“You may not be my sweetheart,” he said, blue eyes twinkling as he glanced my way, “but you could be, if you play your cards right.”

“In your dreams, my friend.”

“You don’t want to know about my dreams. Trust me on that.”

I pulled my gaze away from his, unsure whether the sudden erratic beat of my heart was excitement or fear. A whole lot of me was praying for fear, because that was the sensible reaction in this situation.

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of sensible around at the moment.

The car hit a bump and jumped into the air. I did the same, yelping as my head hit the roof before the car and I crashed back down.

“You really might want to put on your seat belt,” he said. “This is going to get a lot rougher before it’s over.”

I looked out the windshield, saw that we were approaching a forest where the trees were all big and sturdy and impassable looking, and quickly pulled on the belt, as advised. “I really need to know that you have a plan right now.”

Especially seeing that the gap between those trunks didn’t seem to be getting a whole lot wider. I braced myself against the car and resisted the urge to squeeze my eyes shut.

“I do have a plan,” he said, voice calm and still touched by warm amusement. “Which is not to say you’re going to like it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, and I couldn’t really be unhappy about that. The tiniest loss in concentration on his part could easily send us splattering across the trunks we were approaching way too fast.

One thing was becoming obvious, though. This man and sanity weren’t exactly chummy.

He was driving us full bore at a forest. My heart began beating so hard I swore it was going to leap out of my chest, and the sweat trickling down my spine almost became a torrent. Part of me wanted to grab the wheel, the hand brake, do something that might divert or stop the car. Truth was, though, we were going far too fast and were far too close now to prevent the inevitable. I gave in to the desire to squeeze my eyes shut and hoped like hell I lived long enough to beat the crap out of the crazy man behind the wheel.

Only the crash didn’t happen. Instead, the surrounding light grew dim, as if someone had suddenly swallowed the sun. I forced an eyelid open, saw the trunks and shadows and branches slashing past, impossibly close, and promptly shut it again.

Better not to know.

“How far behind us is that cop car?” he asked.

The sudden sound of his voice had me jumping. I sucked in a breath that did nothing to ease the pounding of my heart, then twisted around. Through the green shadows and trees, lights flashed. They didn’t seem to be going as fast as us, because they were certainly a lot farther behind than they had been before we entered this forest. But then, I guess not everyone became a crazy person behind the wheel like Trae apparently did.

“They’d have to be a good ten or so car lengths behind.”

“It’ll have to be enough,” he muttered.

“Enough for what?” I asked, more than a little alarmed.

“Escape.” He glanced at me briefly. “What else would I be talking about?”

Who knew? With this man, it could have been anything.

I looked ahead. Though we were still surrounded by shadows and trees that zipped by at gut-wrenching speed, up ahead sunlight danced. It lifted my spirits a little, even though I suspected Trae’s surprises were not done with yet.

A point he proved by slamming a foot on the brake. I screamed as the car slewed sideways and shut my eyes, waiting for the inevitable crash. Which didn’t happen. The car came to a halt, rocking gently from side to side.

“Out,” Trae ordered. “Quickly.”

He flung his own door open, grabbed a backpack from the backseat, then ran around the front of the car.

I hadn’t moved. Fear—and disbelief—had me glued to the spot.

“Out, Destiny, unless you want to be caught by the cops.”

He grabbed my hand, half pulling, half assisting me out of the car.

“You’re a maniac,” I said, as he kept hold of my hand and forced me into a run.

“But I’m a free maniac, and I have every intention of remaining that way. Come on, faster.”

I obeyed. One good thing about having long legs and big feet was speed and surety of step.

We came out of the trees and into sunshine. Up ahead there was no land. Only ocean. Deep blue ocean, far, far down.

“What kind of escape plan is this?” I cried, trying to stop, trying to slow him down. To no avail. He ran on toward those cliffs regardless, pulling me with him. “You’ve managed to trap us, you idiot!”

He tossed me a grin that was all wildness and dangerous excitement. “You’re never trapped when you have wings, sweetheart.”

And suddenly a golden haze was sweeping across his body, and he was shifting, changing, growing. Becoming something more than just a man.

Becoming a beast with scales of molten gold and wings that swept me off my feet and out over the ocean.

Then I was in the ocean, and the sudden shock of cold water had my body shifting, changing, just as Trae’s had. Except he was the sun to my darkness—he was born to fire, and a brother to the wind. I was of the sea and the tides and the great ocean depths.

And suddenly the past was crowding close, filled with pain. Filled with bloodshed. Mine, Egan’s, and others’. It hurt, remembering. Hurt because there was so much I’d done, so much I’d yet to do. In so many different ways, I now realized, not remembering had been a blessing. A brief respite in the twisted bloody mess that my life had become.

But at least I knew who I was.

Knew what I was.

And most important of all, I knew what I had to do, and how many lives I had yet to save.