She glanced in the rearview mirror and narrowed her eyes at the bright headlights. At first, she worried that the driver might be a police officer, but she didn't see a rack of lights on the roof of the sports utility vehicle.
"Who is it?" Sarge asked, his voice agitated as he looked over the passenger's seat.
"Can't tell. He won't pass. Maybe just someone who's tired and mesmerized with our taillights as he follows us."
Although it could be an unmarked vehicle, and the fact she was driving a Jag didn't help. If it had been any other make of car, she probably could have slipped away without anyone knowing anything different. Unless Leidolf's pack had a police officer, she suspected he wouldn't report that she'd stolen his vehicle. At least she hoped he wouldn't.
"I don't see a rack of lights on the top of the vehicle. Why the hell couldn't you have stolen a less conspicuous car?"
"Leidolf didn't leave all his keys out for me to steal," she grumbled. Although as soon as she said it, she was mad at herself for explaining herself. She didn't owe Sarge any kind of explanation for anything.
She looked back at the road. A twisted tree caught her eye, and she recalled driving past it before. Heart lifting, she realized her car was only a couple of miles south of here.
That's when the blue lights on the grill of the vehicle behind her flashed, and her worst fears were realized. She was in a hell of a lot of hot water.
"Hell," Sarge said. "What were you doing that you got the cops on our tail? I should have been driving."
"Just be quiet and let me do the talking," she calmly said, but her voice had bite, and if he said another thing...
She slowed down and pulled off onto the shoulder, but she kept her foot on the brake due to the slight decline in the hill. The mini-SUV stopped some distance behind her, but no one got out of the vehicle. Her palms grew sweaty as she clutched the steering wheel. He had to be calling in the plates, maybe checking with Leidolf to see if she'd stolen the Jag if he was suspicious of her driving. She knew she should have been driving faster.
So what would Leidolf say? If the guy wasn't a lupus garou, Leidolf probably wouldn't have her arrested. Or maybe he would.
Pack leaders whose pack members tested them could be totally unpredictable, even if she wasn't one of his members. Sarge could be another real problem. She didn't trust him to keep his mouth shut in front of the police officer.
The vehicle behind her continued to idle. Come on, come on. Get it over with. She slipped her foot off the brake, and the car rolled forward, but then she figured he might think she would try to make a break. She would, but not the way he probably would expect. Maybe nothing would happen. He'd say, 'Hi, false alarm,' and let her go on her way. Fat chance.
"What's he doing now?" Sarge asked.
"Just sitting in his car. Probably checking the license plate to see who owns it and if anyone has reported it stolen. If the guy is a lupus garou, he'll just 'arrest' us, so to speak. If he's not, Leidolf might have enough influence to have the guy detain us until he gets here. Either way, it's not good."
She applied the brake again and tapped her other foot on the floor. Come on, come. Do something.
"Make a run for it. The Jag's got to be fast enough that we could outrun his vehicle."
She gave him a get-real look. As noticeable as the car was, even if they could outrun the police vehicle, helicopters would soon see the yellow Jag anywhere along the winding, hilly road.
Maybe the officer had contacted Leidolf and was waiting for him to arrive to confiscate his vehicle and her and Sarge. She just hoped the officer would hurry up and greet her at the Jag. Then she'd make her move.
Leidolf hadn't gotten far down the road when his cell phone rang. Jerking it off his belt, he flipped it open and recognized the sheriff's number. Good news hopefully. "Yeah, Sheriff?"
"Mr. Wildhaven, I stopped a Jag that was driving slower than normal, brakes kept being applied, and the vehicle was weaving a bit. So I ran the license plates and found it was yours. We didn't have any others in the area, and you said you never drive it, so I just wanted to make sure the Jag hadn't been stolen."
Thank God for small miracles. Donating to the local sheriff's department, which didn't have a lupus garou on staff, sure had gotten his butt out of a sling a few times. Not his exactly, but a couple of his pack members' rather.
"Thanks, Sheriff. We're engaged to be married, but we had a bit of a disagreement. She's never driven the Jag before, so she's probably not real familiar with it. Where are you exactly?"
The sheriff gave him directions, and Leidolf said, "Just hold her for me, will you? We'll be right there."
"You got it, Mr. Wildhaven. And congratulations."
"Thanks. Anyone else with her?"
"I'm headed to the vehicle now. It's hard to tell who's in the car since the windows are so darkly tinted and with it being night and all."
"All right. Thanks. Be there shortly."
Leidolf passed the word along to his men and couldn't have pushed his Humvee any faster on the curving road after getting word that the sheriff had caught up with his little runaway wolf and maybe that idiot Sarge. Didn't she realize how conspicuous she would be in the Jag?
Good thing for him. This time she wasn't getting away from him. And he was going to learn the truth about her. All of it. One way or another. As for Sarge, if he was with her and had coerced her in any way, Leidolf wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
Cassie watched in the rearview mirror, her skin perspiring lightly in Leidolf's flannel shirt and wool sweater that smelled musky and--if she was willing to be honest with herself--heavenly.
Sarge smelled of sweat and fear. She'd strangle him if he said anything that gave them away.
The driver's door of the police car opened slowly. Police had the market on giving good guys--well, normally good guys--a case of nerves. Can you move any more slowly than that? she wanted to scream.
Her eyes glued on the rearview mirror, she anticipated his every move like a wolf would.
He slapped a notebook against his leg, his look fierce, sure to put the fear of the law into her. And she would spill all her secrets as soon as he opened his mouth and began questioning her. Right.
Sarge shifted again in his seat. "Now would be a good time to make a run for it."
She ignored him but moved her foot to the gas pedal. Outrunning the police wasn't really in the plans. If she continued on this road in the direction she was headed, she'd drive right by her car. And if she tried to make a quick stop and switch cars at the trailhead, the police officer would catch her at it and could run her plates and know exactly who she was.
He drew closer, and although he carried a few extra pounds, he looked too fit to walk so darned slowly.
At least he hadn't drawn a weapon yet.
"Hell," Sarge said, folding his arms across his chest. "We could have left him choking in the dust."
As if this place ever got dusty, as rainy as it was. Muddy was more like it.
She opened the car window and tried to look cool and collected.
When the police officer reached her door, she let out her breath, not even realizing she'd been holding it.
"Ma'am, can you open your door for me? And turn off the ignition, please." The dark-haired man peered into the vehicle, his brown eyes darkening as he saw Sarge.
Now he had his hand near his revolver. As much as she didn't want to, she opened the door and pushed it wide, but she didn't turn off the engine, while she still rested her foot on the brake. His gaze went from her face downward to her bare legs. The shirt and sweater pooled over her lap, but it only reached about thigh-high. Socks, no shoes. For a minute, her appearance distracted him, and he didn't say anything about the fact she hadn't cut the engine.
His brows arched a little, and he said, "Turn off the vehicle, miss."
Last chance to peel some rubber and take off. She turned off the ignition. The silence seemed deafening.
"Have you got some ID?"
Yep, but the driver's license was in her car.
"It was stolen," she said in a small voice, designed to earn her some sympathy.
The man's mouth curved up slightly, but his eyes didn't reflect any humor. "Like the car?"
"Leidolf loaned it to me."
"Ah, and his clothes also?"
She took a deep breath, but she couldn't smell any hint that he was a lupus garou. Leidolf must have told the sheriff that she took both his clothes and the Jag. Or he assumed it. The clothes were definitely too big for her, and menswear.
"Your name?"
"Cassie Robbins." Might as well use a different one since she didn't have any ID anyway. "Are you going to arrest me, or what?" She was past trying to get his sympathy. Lost cause.
"Who are you?" the sheriff asked Sarge, ignoring her question.
"Sarge... uhm... Elmer Rowlington."
Cassie glanced at Sarge, thinking of Elmer Fudd of cartoon fame. Sarge gave her a dark look in return.
"From around here?" the officer asked.
"I'm originally from Millinocket, Maine. But now I'm one of Leidolf Wildhaven's ranch hands." He tried to sound tough, like a ranch hand might, but his voice hitched, and he fell far short of the role he tried to play.
She wondered how he could have gotten mixed up with a group who made it their business to kill werewolves.
"And you're with Ms. Robbins for what reason?" The sheriff spoke in a rough tone with both of them, but his voice got a whole lot darker when he talked to Sarge.
Sarge wasn't holding up well, not the way he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, or the way he squeaked out the words. "She wanted me to make sure she drove the stick shift okay. She hasn't driven one in a long time."
The sheriff stared hard at Sarge as if he was trying to intimidate him into revealing the correct answer. The guy was easily intimidated and looked like he was about to crawl under the seat, head bowed, eyes lowered. Which meant? Cassie was the brains and muscle behind the operation, while Sarge was just a tag-along. Hell, the way he acted, the sheriff might conclude that she was the one who coerced Sarge to come along with her... because she hadn't driven a stick shift in so long.
