A moan escaped her. “Bloody hell. If anything—”
“No. She’s fine. I’m sure we’re worrying for nothing.” He sounded confident, certain.
How she wished she could agree. But every instinct told her he was wrong. She bit back a second moan.
“Marika, look at me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from her intense study of the landscape to his face.
His reassuring grin took her breath away, suddenly and unexpectedly making his craggy face beautiful. “Don’t worry. Not yet. One thing I have learned in my time as a Protector is to wait until I have all the facts. Doing otherwise just brings trouble. We don’t want that.”
“No,” she said slowly. “But I can’t ignore my instincts.”
“You’d better. You know how hard it is to fight when you can’t focus.”
Damn. He was right. She knew this. “It works when you’re not emotionally involved, but this is my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” he corrected. “And you worrying about her isn’t going to help her if she’s in trouble.”
Taking a deep breath, she made herself continue to study him. Distraction, distraction. “You know,” she said slowly, considering, “I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. Does that ever get in the way of what you have to do as a Protector?”
“Former Protector. And, Marika, you can’t go around saying things like that.” His voice sounded thick. The faint reddish tinge under his skin told her he didn’t take well to compliments.
No matter. As soon as she reached Addie’s, barring a disaster, she planned to take Dani and run. If things went well, she’d never see him again. Though he was Dani’s father, she couldn’t take a chance on letting him endanger her.
Assuming she wasn’t already in danger.
She gave herself a mental shake. Everything had to be all right. They’d get to Addie’s, wake her up, find Dani and while Beck was distracted, she’d take Dani and disappear.
Dani had to be safe. She had to be. The alternative simply wasn’t acceptable.
Again she focused on her plan. Take Dani and run. If there was a way she could keep Beck away from her … The less complicated she could keep their lives, the quicker escape she and Dani could make if it became necessary to make one. Beck would only get in the way.
Dani’s father. A niggling of guilt still bothered her. Casting him a sideways glance, she knew he wouldn’t give up easily. Separating from him would be best accomplished quickly, before he had a chance to stop them.
Not only would Dani be safer without him, but the truth of the matter was that being around him brought too much pain. She’d never forgotten him or understood how she’d let herself come to care for him so much, so quickly. Being with him reminded her too much of what she’d lost. Even now, the carefully constructed shield she’d put around her emotions was cracking.
Cracks were dangerous.
“This intersection looks vaguely familiar.” Beck slowed to read the sign facing the other direction. “U.S. 90,” he read. “Marathon, ten miles.”
Close. They were getting closer. She leaned forward. “So we’re heading the right way.”
“Yeah. We’re in between Alpine and Marathon.”
Heart pounding, Marika sat up straight in the seat. “Then step on the gas. The quicker we get there, the better.”
The landscape—flat scrub brush, tumble-weeds and dry, brown grass tinged silver in the moonlight—flew past them as the truck sped down the road. For the most part, Beck managed to avoid ruts; when he didn’t, they bounced so hard she felt as if her teeth were going to go through the roof of her mouth.
Her stomach churned. “Try Addie again,” she blurted.
“Here.” He handed her the cell. “You try. Just hit redial.”
She did, letting it ring twenty-seven times before closing the phone. Her feeling of foreboding increased. “Still no answer.”
“We’ll be there soon enough.”
Not for the first time, Marika wished there was some truth to the legend about vampires being able to turn into bats and fly. If she could, she would have done so.
Finally, ahead she saw the glow of Addie’s neon sign, the peculiar and familiar shade of bright pink lighting up the still-dark sky. As they neared, she saw only one familiar car in the parking lot.
“Addie’s Prius.” Relief flooding her, Marika couldn’t keep the satisfaction from her voice. “She’s still here.”
“But why?” Beck pointed toward the bar. “It looks like the place is locked up tight.”
“Everything looks normal.” Marika softened the sharpness of her reply. “She must be inside, working. Or sleeping. She keeps a cot there. I’m guessing that’s where Dani sleeps while Addie tends to the bar.”
Beck killed the headlights before turning into the parking lot. Then, the engine. Coasting to a stop next to Addie’s car, he put the truck in Park.
Out in a flash, Marika forced herself to wait impatiently for Beck. He grabbed her arm just as she was about to dash forward, making her stumble.
“Wait.”
“Why?” She shook him off, clenching her jaw. “I want to see my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” he corrected. Head up, his nostrils flared. “Something’s off. The scent … the air doesn’t taste right.”
A frisson of fear stabbed her, which she instantly pushed away. Being friends with Juliet had taught her that a shifter’s sense of smell was four hundred times stronger than a human’s—or a vampire’s for that matter.
If he said that the scent was off, then she believed him. But she hoped to hell he was wrong.
In case he wasn’t, she did as he asked and let him lead the way.
Moving cautiously, he kept close to the side of the squat brick building. His powerful, lean body moved with easy grace, yet even so close to her, there was an air of isolation about him.
“Do you see anything?” she whispered, fighting the urge to simply dash around him and inside. But if there was a chance, however small, that she might endanger Dani with rash actions, she couldn’t take it.
Beck shot her a grim look. “Not yet. But the smell is getting worse.”
She sniffed but detected nothing. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No. Those idiots took my gun. And I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
At this, she felt the first prickle of real alarm. Inside, she began a running litany, over and over—something she might have once called a prayer. Let Dani be all right, let Dani be all right. Please.
As Beck’s broad shoulders disappeared around the corner and she prepared to follow, she couldn’t shake the sudden, horrible sense that he was right. Something had gone terribly wrong. She could only hope Dani hadn’t been hurt. She had to dig her nails into her palms to keep from rushing inside to find out.
Patience. Prudence. Caution. Words every highly trained Huntress—and Protector—knew well. And yet when someone she loved was in danger, each and every one of them became meaningless, empty.
When they reached the back side of the building and she saw the back door swinging open in the slight breeze, she froze in terror and let out a quiet moan.
Dani. Dani. Dani.
Caution