I kicked into high gear, no longer bothering to hide, but he was too close to the stairwell. I was almost at the closed door when it flew open again, and I narrowly missed barreling into a middle-aged man.
"Sorry," I said as I tried to brush past him. "I was just--"
"Running for the exit because you're afraid to walk through an underground lot at night?"
"Uh, yes."
"There are plenty of lots aboveground, miss. Much safer. Here, let me walk you up to your floor."
It was obvious there were only two ways I could get past this guy--let him play the gentleman or shove him out of the way. Clay would have done the latter--no question--and thrown in a snarl for good measure. But I haven't overcome my Canadian upbringing, which forbade being rude to anyone who hadn't done anything to deserve it.
So I let the guy escort me up the stairs, and thanked him at the top.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't park underground..." he began.
"I understa--"
"Hell, it's your right to park wherever you want. What you shouldn't do is need to be afraid. This will help."
He held out a paper-thin white rectangle, making me think they really had done a lot with personal alarms since I'd last seen one. But it was a business card.
"My wife runs Taser parties."
"Taser...?"
"You know, like Tupperware parties. A bunch of women get together, have a good time, share some potluck and get a demonstration of the latest in personal security devices."
I searched his face for some sign that he was joking. He wasn't. I thanked him again and hurried out of the stairwell.
Reese's trail led out the front door. As I went after him, I realized I was still holding the card, which featured a cute little red Taser that I'm sure fit into a purse and accessorized very nicely, for women who carried purses or accessorized.
From Tupperware parties to lingerie parties to Taser parties. I shook my head and stuffed the card into my pocket. Right now, I actually wouldn't mind a Taser. It might be the only way to stop Reese. Of course, I'd need to get close enough to use it, which wasn't looking very likely.
THREE BLOCKS LATER, I finally caught up with Reese on a rooftop. He'd climbed up the fire escape, probably thinking I wouldn't follow.
When I swung over the top, he broke into a run, heading for the opposite side, boots sliding on the gravel. When I realized he wasn't going to veer at the last second, I threw on the brakes, gravel crunching as I skidded to a stop.
"Okay," I called. "I'm not coming any closer. I just want to talk to you."
He was close enough to the edge to make my heart race. He slowly pivoted to face me.
Reese Williams, twenty years old, and recently emigrated from Australia. With broad shoulders, sun-streaked wavy blond hair and the remnants of a tan, he looked like the kind of kid who should be leading tour groups into the outback, all smiles and corny jokes. Only he wasn't joking or smiling now.
"My name is Elena--" I began.
"I know who you are," he said. "But where is he?"
"Not here, obviously." I gestured around me. "In two days, you haven't caught a whiff of any werewolf except me, which should be a sure sign that Clay's not around."
"So you're alone?" The sarcasm in his voice made that a statement. I was the only female werewolf. Obviously, I needed protection, which must be why I'd taken refuge with the Pack and, for a mate, had chosen the Alpha's second-in-command--the baddest, craziest werewolf around.
"He's teaching," I said. "Georgia State University, this week."
His glower said he didn't appreciate my joke. I wasn't kidding--that bad and crazy werewolf also had a Ph.D. in anthropology and was currently lecturing at a symposium on cult worship in ancient Egypt. But there was no way Reese would believe that.
"Fine," I said. "You think he's been lurking in the shadows, out of sight and downwind for two days. Unobtrusive is one word that's never been applied to Clay but, sure, let's go with that theory. Unless he's learned to fly, though, the only way up is that ladder behind me, so you're going to see him coming. Now, let's take a minute and chat. The reason I've been chasing you for two days is that I want to talk to you about--"
"South Carolina."