Destiny Kills (4 page)

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.

Chapter Three

I
swam to the wild surface of the sea, blowing water out of my snout as I looked around for Trae. He swooped low, powerful and beautiful against the brilliant blue of the skies, then flew on, heading down the coast.

I followed. I could have easily escaped had I wished to, because the sea was my home and my sanctuary, but even with my memories retrieved, there were answers I still needed.

Like why Egan might have called Trae to help us. He
must
have had a reason—a good reason. He wouldn’t have risked either of our lives otherwise.

But at least I knew now
how
he’d contacted Trae. Air dragons, like sea dragons, share a form of telepathy between loved ones. It is often restrained by distance—at least it is with sea dragons—but dire circumstances can sometimes shatter that restriction. And Egan getting shot could certainly be classed as a dire circumstance. I closed my eyes against the images that rose. I didn’t want to think about Egan just yet. Didn’t want to deal with the pain and the guilt.

Instead, I concentrated on the shoreline, wondering where we were going, wondering if Trae even knew.

Eventually the trees and wildness of the shore began to give way to houses. Trae dipped one wing low, turning lazily and heading toward the sand line. Then the golden haze swept across his form again, so that what strode onto the beach was human rather than beast. Only there was blood all over his back.

I shifted shape and followed. The magic that allowed us to change took care of the clothes we were wearing—although anything we were carrying as humans we would be carrying as dragons—but it didn’t actually keep them dry, so I was rather bedraggled by the time I joined him on the beach.

“Why are you bleeding?” I asked.

His eyebrows rose, as if surprised by the question. “I’m a draman.”

Like
that
was supposed to explain it all. “Which is?”

“Half human, half dragon.”

“And this is important because?”

“Because the magic that allows dragons to change is muted in we draman, and when the wings tear out of our flesh, we bleed.”

“Does it hurt?”

He shrugged, which could have meant anything, then looked me up and down. “You look cold.”

“That would be because it’s fucking freezing standing here in wet clothes.” I might be a sea dragon, and I might be able to stand the coldest of waters even in my human skin, but that didn’t mean I had to
like
it. “That was a bit dangerous, wasn’t it? The cops could have easily seen you in dragon form.” Or anyone else who happened to be walking along the cliffs at the time.

He shrugged. “They may see me, but who’s actually going to believe them?”

“People may if there’s enough evidence to back up the sighting. And air dragons are big enough to be tracked by radar, you know.”

“Yeah, but humans are decidedly dumb when it comes to what is walking—or flying—around them. They wouldn’t say anything if they did spot me because they don’t want to be taken for idiots. It’s that whole UFO effect. Besides, I doubt the cops would have seen us. We were well gone before they got to the cliff.”

“Humans are not
that
dumb, trust me,” I muttered. Otherwise I would not be in this pickle, and Egan would not be dead. “And that was still a stupid risk to take.”

He shrugged again, his gaze moving past me and his expression still remote. “I think the first thing we should do is find somewhere to rest for the night.”

“Good idea.” Once I was warm, I might be able to think coherently and ask some questions.

“Come on, then.” He grabbed my hand again, his fingers hot against my own. That was the good thing about air dragons—they were nice to snuggle up to, even on the coldest of nights.

Not that I’d be snuggling up to
this
dragon any time soon—no matter how strong the weird awareness zinging between us might be.

We managed to catch a cab, then Trae directed the driver to a hotel several miles inland. It wasn’t the Hilton—I doubt it was two-star let alone five—but the beds looked clean and the water was hot, and that’s basically all that mattered.

While Trae took his turn in the shower, I hung up my clothes to let them dry, and then snuggled into the bed. And even though I had no real intentions of sleeping, that’s exactly what I did.

It was dark when I woke. Blue light flashed intermittently through the shadows, revealing glimpses of the still-neatly-made second double bed. Trae hadn’t slept, though his tangy, spicy aroma still rode the air.

I shifted some more and saw him. He was a shadow in the darkness, untouched by the flickering light coming in through the window to my right. He sat at the end of my bed, his pose seemingly casual, and yet there was something about his very stillness that seemed both unnatural and deadly. The predator watching his prey.

What I had to work out now was whether that predator was friend or foe. Marsten and his scientists had used our kind to capture most of the dragons currently being held in their Loch Ness research facility. Of course, most of those dragons were youngsters ranging in age from seven to fifteen and, as such, had put up little fight. My mother, Egan, and myself had been the only adults, and while I had no idea how they’d captured Mom, I knew it had taken three hunters to bring Egan down. My own capture was due more to my own fool-hardiness—and willingness to trust—than any form of skill on their part.

Which was why I had to be so careful now. I might
want
to trust Trae, I might want to believe he was Egan’s brother, but that didn’t mean I could actually do either of those things.

My gaze slid down Trae’s shadowed front, coming to a halt on one extended arm. He seemed to be pointing something at me. Tension crawled through my limbs, and the sense of danger leapt into sharp focus.

I reached to my left and turned on the bedside lamp. Pale yellow light washed across the room, revealing the cracked walls, worn-looking paint, and the gun in Trae’s hand.

“Well, well,” I said, glad my voice was steady because my pulse rate sure as hell wasn’t. And I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was fear or attraction or maybe a bit of both, because there was something dangerously attractive about the heated anger in his bright eyes. “The thief has a sting.”

“The thief wants answers.”

I pushed myself into a sitting position, and hugged my knees close to my chest. My skin was cool, infused with the chill of the night, and glowed with an odd luminescence—the result of taking after my mom more than my dad. It was only the day and the sun that warmed me.

The sheet that had been covering me slid down my legs as I moved, probably revealing a whole lot more than was wise. But after eleven years of being kept naked by the scientists, it no longer particularly worried me.

Trae’s gaze didn’t waver, and neither did his aim. “Where’s Egan?”

“I’m not telling you anything about Egan until I know whether you’re telling the truth about who you are and what you’re doing here.” My gaze flickered to the gun and a tremor ran through my limbs. His hand was too steady, too still. That spoke of familiarity, and practice. “Go ahead and shoot me if you want. I’m sure the scientists will give you a handsome reward for my dead body.”

The confusion that flitted briefly across his face eased a little of my tension. If he didn’t understand what I meant, then he probably wasn’t a hunter. A small mercy, perhaps, given that he still had a gun on me, but the long years of captivity had taught me to be grateful for such things.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice still cold, his eyes still filled with anger, “but I can assure you, I’m not working with any scientists, and I don’t want a reward for your dead body.”

Even as he said the words, his gaze slid down my length ever so briefly. He mightn’t want my dead body, but he sure did want my live one. His desire filled the cool air, heating it, heating me. And while I wasn’t entirely sure whether my own reaction was merely lust or something far stronger, I
did
know it was damned inconvenient timing. Even so, I couldn’t help dragging in a breath, drawing in the scent and heat of him, letting it briefly chase away the chill and set my soul alight with a deep-seated hunger that I’d never known with Egan.

Part of me wanted to feel guilty about that, but honestly, I just couldn’t. Egan and I had been lovers because we’d been lonely, and because we’d had little other choice. Had we met in the outside world, I doubted if we would have even shared a hello. Which would have been a shame, because Egan was a good man who deserved a whole lot more than what he’d gotten out of life and me.

“So if you’re not intending to hand me over to anyone, why are you pointing a gun at me?”

“Because I have no idea what, exactly, the powers of a sea dragon are, and I certainly don’t trust you.”

“A sea dragon can’t do much away from the sea.” Which wasn’t entirely true. We could control any sort of water we wanted—and if it was a lake, often the land that surrounded it—but it was the sea that held our true strength, the sea where we had full control. “And you holding a gun on me isn’t doing a whole lot to make me want to answer your damn questions.”

He stared at me for a moment longer, then shook his head and lowered the weapon. “I sit here with a loaded gun and a mean look, and you sit there completely naked and totally unfazed. You’re crazy.”

“If that’s the best mean look you have, you really need to go to acting school.” I rested my chin on my knees and watched him carefully. Just because he’d lowered the weapon didn’t mean he had no further intention of using it. This man was a dragon, and air was his element. He could move faster than I could blink. “Are you really Egan’s brother?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wallet. “Look inside,” he said, tossing it onto the bed in front of me.

Opening it, I saw that he was indeed Trae Wilson, and that he was thirty-five. The same age as Egan, and six years older than me. Then my gaze was drawn to the picture sitting inside the small photograph window. It was of two almost identical boys. Same age, same cheeky smile, same golden skin and sun-shot hair. The only thing that was different were the eye colors—one pair golden, one sky blue. Egan and Trae as boys.

Behind that were a couple of other photos—Trae with two women, one older, one younger, but all three sharing the same blue eyes, and another shot of him and Egan, this time as teenagers. Both of them were goofing around with surfboards, and the laughter and friendship—love even—between the two seemed to have been caught in that single photo.

There could be no doubt that they were, indeed, brothers. God, how was I going to tell him that Egan was dead?

I tossed the wallet back on the bed, then said, “Have you been searching for him the whole time he was gone?”

“No, because he told me he was disappearing for a while. I just didn’t expect it to be for ten years.” He raised the gun again, and anger sparked in the depths of his blue gaze. “Now stop avoiding the question. Where is he?”

I blew out a breath. There was no easy way to do this. No gentle words that could make the hearing of it any easier. “He was shot in the chest last night. We escaped, but I couldn’t get him to a hospital and he died.”

Pain, deep and haunting, flashed briefly through his eyes. He’d known, I thought. Had felt something was wrong, which is why he’d been so angry with my refusal to talk about Egan’s whereabouts.

“Where is his body, then?”

I hesitated, closing my eyes briefly against the sudden sting of tears. “I waited with his body until dawn’s final death, and prayed to the Gods of sun and sky and air to guide his soul onto his next journey.”

He didn’t get angry. Didn’t react in any of the ways I’d half expected—which only confirmed the thought that, deep down, he’d known his brother was dead. He stared at me for a moment, his gaze moving up to the scar on my head then back again to my lips, and then he lowered the gun. “Thank you for doing that much.”

I nodded, a little thankful that he hadn’t asked
why
Egan had been shot. But then, maybe he already knew—after all, he’d been in contact with his brother before his death.

“Egan was a good man. I couldn’t just leave him there alone. It wouldn’t have been right.”

“No, it wouldn’t have.” He stood up abruptly. “Would you like a cup of black coffee? We haven’t got any milk.”

“I can live without milk. I can’t live without three sugars.”

“Three sugars? It’s a wonder your teeth aren’t rotten.”

I stretched out a foot and toed open the wallet. “Who said they aren’t?”

“Sweetheart, those teeth of yours look in fine biting order.”

“Well, they aren’t going to be biting you any time soon.”

He flung me a grin that briefly lit the room with its bright cheekiness. “What a shame. I might have enjoyed it.”

I snorted softly. “Your license says you live in San Francisco, but that’s not where Egan came from.”

“No, we were both born and raised in Stewarts Point, and our clique still lives there. I was there visiting my mother when he contacted me.”