Then he was behind me, and I hadn’t seen him move. “Up you go.” He heaved me into the seat and nodded to the seatbelt. “You’re gonna need that.”
“Or ten.” I rolled my eyes.
“Somebody destroyed my motorcycle.” His glare said it all. “So, where are we going?”
“Funny you should ask,” I hit the windows down and held up my shaky hands. “I’m gonna need you to follow her scent.”
“You can’t?”
“I literally see seven of you right now. If I track her, we’ll end up in China, and I know how you feel about rice.”
“IT’S NOT REAL FOOD!”
I laughed. “Neither are pinecones.”
“They have sustenance.”
“Tree, Mason. They are from a tree.”
“A seed, actually.”
“Either we argue about pinecones in the driveway, or you track Hope, your choice.”
“Really?”
“No!” I yelled, “Go! Hurry!”
“Someone’s not very grateful.” He put the car in reverse, taking out a potted plant in the process of backing up. Cursing, he hit neutral, added rocks onto the broken plant pot, then hit drive and jammed his foot down on the accelerator.
My body slammed back against the seat. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“I like the wind in my hair.” Mason closed his eyes.
“STOP THAT!” I grabbed the wheel narrowly missing oncoming traffic, “You can’t close your eyes when we
drive!”
“It’s how I track!”
“How do you NOT run into trees?”
“Trees are soft.”
“O-kay… it’s suddenly occurred to me that you’re a very private person, and while I may not know much about you even though we’ve been through centuries of war, it’s alarming that you think a tree is soft.”
“It’s the bark.” Was he purring?
“Eyes on the road, you can fantasize about trees later, Casanova.”
“Didn’t he die of Syphilis?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mason, I have no energy right now, like none, I need you to focus on—”
He slammed on the brakes and turned a hard right. “She is only a few miles East.”
“Good.”
Mason sniffed and then parked, “Not good. It is guarded.”