Deadly Vows (Lizzie Grace 6)

I rubbed my arms, but it did little to chase the chill that gathered once again. Aiden might be talking about physical trackers, but magical ones were easy to do and easy to conceal. Getting me—or Belle—cornered on our own would certainly be something Clayton would prefer. It’s no doubt the reason I’d been drugged on my wedding day—it meant he didn’t have to put in the time and effort required to seduce the unwilling.

The question that had burned in me since that dark day was whether my parents had been party to that drugging. While I could totally believe my father would have turned a blind eye, I really, really didn’t want to believe my mother would have condoned it. I might have been a great disappointment to her, and she might have been a somewhat distant parent thanks to my lack of magical ability, but she’d never been deliberately cruel or uncaring.

As the wolf ahead neared his vehicle, he flowed back into human form and jumped into the SUV. I couldn’t see the plate number from this distance, which was annoying because it meant we had no means of finding him if my tracker stopped working for some reason. Seconds later, he was speeding away from us. Aiden followed, gradually gaining ground as his truck bounced unsteadily over the rocky pasture. My grip on the grab handle was so fierce my knuckles glowed.

The wolf’s SUV smashed through a gate, sending it flying as the truck spun to the right and barreled toward the road.

“You know,” I said, as we hit another pothole and the truck threatened to topple. “It might be worth letting him think he’s gotten away.”

Aiden shot me a glance—something I felt rather than saw. “Are you sure the tracker threads won’t snap or something if he gains too much distance?”

“I can’t give you an ironclad guarantee, of course, but I’m pretty sure it won’t.”

He instantly slowed, and I eased my death grip on the handle. The SUV crashed out onto the road, its rear end fishtailing dangerously for several seconds before the driver got it under control and sped off.

“Either he’s dragging a ton of fence line behind him, or he cut it earlier to get into the paddock.”

“It’s the latter,” Aiden said, and immediately called the Barnetts.

I concentrated on the thinning spool of magic and on providing directions. We were soon cruising back to Castle Rock.

“Left into Forest Street,” I said. “It feels like he’s stopped.”

“You want me to go slower?”

I hesitated. “Not yet. Turn down the third street on the right—it’s just beyond that park.”

We turned, the truck’s headlights briefly spotlighting a couple walking on the gravel path that followed the left edge of the road. “We’re almost on him now.”

Aiden immediately slowed. We swept around the next corner, and a number of buildings came into view. Directly ahead were several long tin sheds, and to our right was a single-story cream-and-red-brick pub that looked to have been around since the gold rush days. There were a number of cars parked out the front of it and at least six more in the vacant lot on the other side of the road. The SUV was nowhere in sight, but the tracking threads suggested our watcher had hightailed it into the pub.

“He’s probably parked around the back.” Aiden turned into a side street further up the road and then stopped.

“The minute either of us go in there,” I said. “He’s likely to run.”

Aiden nodded. “I’m actually counting on it.”

“How many exits are there?”

“Two aside from the kitchen, and he won’t chance being stopped by the chefs or owner. There’s an exit into the beer garden and another down the service hall, which contains the toilets.” His smile was brief and sharp. “He’ll no doubt take the latter the minute he spots you walking through the front door. Once I bring him down, you can make him talk.”

“Oh, you can bet I will.”

“Give me five minutes to get around the back without being seen, then head in.”

I nodded. He climbed out, then leapt over the nearby fence and disappeared. I watched the clock count down, then leaned across the seat to grab his keys and climbed out. The moon was once again free from clouds, which was never a good thing when you had crimson-colored hair that burned brightly under any sort of light.

I tugged the hood of my jacket over my hair and walked casually toward the pub. There were six old weatherboard houses between it and me, but thankfully, the pub was wedge-shaped and the closest end had no windows. Even if our target was keeping watch, he wouldn’t see me until I walked past the veranda.

The nearer I got, the more my heart raced. I flexed my fingers, trying to remain calm. At this point, we had no idea if this man was doing anything more than a bit of nefarious snooping. We had no idea yet if he was—in any way—connected to Clayton. Just because instinct was coming down on the affirmative didn’t mean it was right.

I went past the section of veranda protected by plastic roll-down blinds and then stepped up onto it. A small sign to the left of the double wooden doors said Railway Bistro. I grabbed the handle, took a deep, settling breath, and then stepped inside. It felt like I’d stepped back in time. The ceiling was dark wood, the walls warm amber dotted with old photographs and landscape paintings, and the antique furniture well-worn. There was a dining area on the left, a servery in the middle, and a bar area to the right. There were five couples and a family of six in the dining area, and half a dozen more people in the bar. The tracking thread led me to the right and, after a moment, I saw him. He was tall, rangy, with pock-marked skin—unusual in a werewolf—and dark gray hair. He definitely wasn’t from Aiden’s pack, as they ran the full gamut of blond; gray only set in once age had started taking its toll. This wolf looked to be in his mid-thirties.

I pushed the hood off and walked toward him. The movement obviously caught his attention, because his gaze rose and met mine. Surprise flickered across his expression, followed swiftly by consternation. He pushed away from the bar and strode to the left, quickly disappearing from my sight.

As I rounded the corner of the bar, I saw a slowly closing door that said Bathrooms and couldn’t help smiling. Aiden had picked it right.

By the time I got there, the hallway beyond was empty and the door at the far end open. I couldn’t see our suspect, but I could certainly hear him. He was cursing up a storm.