Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (10 page)

“No.” Seamus gave a short laugh. “I was being chased by hunters and in the car with a crazy woman.”

“Not crazy ... well, not
much
crazy.”

“I was half passed out with pain,” Seamus said. “But everything since I met you, I remember. I haven’t faded out again.”

“That’s good. Where is this safe house? Is that where we’re going?”

“Only if we can make sure we aren’t followed.” Seamus paused to push a branch out of her way. It was quiet back here, and humid, Bree’s hair already damp. “I have to get there, check on it, but I can’t risk leading anyone there. It’s very important.”

“I’ll make sure,” Bree said. “I didn’t exactly have an angelic childhood.”

Seamus didn’t respond to that, and Bree glanced behind her. Seamus was following closely, and again, he put out a hand to help her keep her balance.

“So what do you think happened in my attic?” she asked as they trudged along. “Water pipe bursting? A leak would explain the shorting light you saw.”

“I don’t know.” Seamus sounded troubled. “I didn’t like the smell.”

“Yeah? I have a feeling you don’t mean like an animal that crawled in there and died.”

“No, it was sharper,” Seamus said. “A scent no Shifter wants to smell in his lifetime. If your house is on a ley line, it could be a gate into the Fae lands. The scent wasn’t strong, so the opening might be weak. But if your house
is
on a ley line, I want you to move.”

“Oh, right. I don’t think my mom will go for that. The house is paid for.” Bree navigated over a boulder, clinging to Seamus’s strong hand. “I’ve heard Shifters talk about the Fae. They
made
you a long time ago, right? And now you hate them?”

“Shifters have always hated Fae. It’s nothing new.”

Seamus pulled her to a halt. Standing with him, Bree felt right, no matter that they were hurrying through a creek bed evading cops and Shifters with Collars or whoever. She belonged here, leaning against him.

“I don’t hear anyone following,” Seamus said. “We need to stop and think. Where are you trying to take me?”

Bree shrugged, liking the warmth of his shirt against her shoulder. “To find a car, one that won’t be missed for a while.” One that wouldn’t land on a police report until they were long gone. “Remy taught me how to hotwire.”

“You miss him,” Seamus said.

“Yeah.” Bree blinked suddenly moist eyes. “I do. He always had time for his pesky little sister. Losing him put a big hole in my life, you know?”

Seamus drew his hand down her back. “I do know. I lost my brother and sister, my mom. It was before Shifters were rounded up. When they started coming after Shifters, planning to shut them in Shiftertowns, I ran and hid out. I ran to a lot of places before I found some Shifters to stay with. I’d been alone a long time, but I’m not anymore. They took me in.”

Seamus closed his mouth to a thin line as though he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

One day, Bree vowed, she’d make him tell her the entire story. Right now, though, they couldn’t stay down in this creek bed forever.

“This way,” she said, pointing down a side trail. “It will take us to a more populated area, where we can find an old car.”

Seamus pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “How do you know your way around here? I thought humans stuck to sidewalks.”

Bree gave him a laugh. “I grew up in the bayous. Learned to explore the backwoods when I was tiny. When I moved here, the first thing I did was figure out where all these little paths out here went. Easier than the bayous, trust me. There are plenty of snakes in this part of Texas, but no alligators. That’s a plus.”

Seamus didn’t laugh, only listened as though she imparted important information. He gave her another kiss on the head, then pulled away as though worried he wouldn’t let go if he didn’t make himself.

While Bree was not happy they had to walk on, putting distance between themselves and her house, she knew now was not the time and place to indulge in her growing desires for Seamus. In movies, people stopped and had sex in the middle of running away or fighting, but that was the movies. This was real life, and dangerous.

Bree headed down an overgrown path, the two of them ducking under low-hanging branches. About half a mile later, they emerged in a weed-choked ditch that was bridged over for the road above it.

They were on the southwestern outskirts of Austin, which had built up so much in the last ten years, people had told Bree, that it was running into the towns around it. Bree, new to the area, only saw strip malls, housing developments, restaurants, and giant hardware stores.

At the end of a string of stores selling farm equipment, building equipment, and lumber, Bree found cars sitting empty and forlorn in a parking lot. The dirt on them and the ground around them told her they’d been there for some time. Possibly because they didn’t work, or maybe the owners just didn’t know how to haul them off.

Only one way to find out. Bree went to the most whole-looking of them and opened the unlocked door.

Seamus crouched down next to her as Bree pried open the panel under the steering wheel and tugged out the wiring. Old cars were easier to hotwire than new ones, which were computerized and might have failsafes to keep the car from working if the steering column was broken. A pro car thief could get around it; an amateur like Bree could not.

This car was old enough for their needs. Bree’s hands grew moist, her fingers shaking as she strove to remember what wires Remy had taught her to touch together.

There. A spark jumped from wire to wire. The car sputtered to life, and then died. Bree tapped the wires again, getting sparks, but the engine didn’t make a sound.

“Damn it.”

Seamus said nothing, only rose and helped her up. The next one Bree tried had the same result. The blasted things had been here too long.

Seamus, who could have been yelling at her to hurry or berating her for not being able to do what she claimed she could, only patiently escorted her to the next car. No one else was in the lot, though the sun was well up now; no one seemed to spot them flitting from vehicle to vehicle.

The fourth car Bree tried finally struggled to life. She revved the engine, rewarded by a steady hum, not gurgling death throes. She let out her breath. “Finally.”

The tank was almost empty, and Bree would have to fill it. She was grateful she’d had sense enough to bring her purse, which held a little bit of cash. Credit cards or bank cards would be off limits—those were easily traced. Good thing there were enough people in Texas—as had been in the bayous—who didn’t trust credit cards and banks, so Bree making cash purchases wouldn’t be regarded as unusual and memorable.

First, to get there.

“All right,” Bree said as Seamus slid into the passenger seat. “We have transportation. Where are we going?”

“North,” Seamus said.

“Can you be more specific?” Bree put the car in gear and carefully drove out of the lot. No one yelled, no one came running, no one seemed to notice.

Bree glanced at Seamus, sitting so casually next to her as he had in her truck last night, but washed and nearly recovered this morning. He was watching the surrounding area and other cars, sun glinting on the fake Collar resting against his throat.

“I’m not sure from here,” he answered after a time. “Go north, toward the city.”

Bree wasn’t as familiar with this area as she wanted to be, but she picked a large, high-trafficked road and turned the direction she thought was north. A green sign with “Austin” on it plus an arrow pointing the way didn’t hurt.

“Of all the Shifters in all the world who could jump into my truck,” Bree muttered, “I got one who’s directionally challenged.”

Seamus slanted her a look from his golden eyes. “And I got a Shifter groupie with smeared makeup.” He ran a gentle finger down her cheek.

Bree went hot. “Smeared because I was saving your ass.”

“I know. By showing off
your
sweet ass.”

Bree went hotter still. “Oh, you like it, do you?”

“Yes. And what you felt like under your sleep shirt, when I kissed you last night.” He skimmed his touch to her shoulder. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Bree softened her banter. “Well, so did I.”

“Good.” Seamus looked around again, but she saw the flush on his face, the need in his eyes. “I remember this now. Take that road.”

That road
was Mopac, which led right through the heart of Austin. Seamus was searching, searching as they sped up the highway—and then slowed down for a ton of traffic. It was eight in the morning, and Mopac was clogged.

Seamus kept quiet until they’d crossed the river. Then he came alert, pointing to a sign they were fast approaching. “Enfield, that was it.”

Bree pulled hurriedly across two lanes, earning honks, yells, and fingers, diving for the exit. Seamus directed her east, and they drove on again. Enfield was a quieter, if narrow street, heading up a hill before it descended again toward the tall buildings of downtown.

Seamus was peering carefully around again, directing her down a side street and then to another little artery that seemed to go nowhere.

“You know, we’re almost out of gas,” Bree pointed out.

“Not far now,” Seamus said absently.

They ended up at Lamar. Seamus directed her south on this street, then into a smaller neighborhood. The houses here were nearly obscured with overgrown trees and bushes. Old houses perched on rises above the street, stone stairs leading up to them.

“Are you sure this is right?” Bree asked. “This is like the middle of downtown Austin. Well, very close, anyway. You know, with police stations and everything.”

“I know,” Seamus said. “Here.” He pointed.

Bree guided the old car to the curb, or rather, the side of the road. There were no sidewalks, just the narrow street hidden among trees and behind a curve of hill that followed the Colorado River. Bree knew that they were in the middle of the city—with people in cars rushing everywhere—but in this little area, hidden from all eyes, they might have been in the quiet countryside.

“Not what I expected,” Bree said in a hushed voice.

Seamus climbed out of the car and carefully shut its door—no slamming. Bree joined him, taking the same amount of care.

Seamus gave her a half smile as he waited for her. “Did you think I’d bring you to a burned-out shack in the middle of nowhere? Even rogue Shifters like running water and electricity.”

“Funny.” Bree wrinkled her nose. “Lead on.”

Seamus took her to a flight of steps that went up the hill, each individual step nestled into the earth. They climbed about fifteen of these, trees closing around them to shield them from passers-by on the road. Not that Bree saw or heard anyone.

Seamus pulled off his fake Collar as they walked, the ends unfusing at his touch as easily as they’d joined. Bree wondered how on earth Sean had made it to do that. He truly was an artist.

At the end of the steps lay a narrow dirt path, at the end of the path a house. The house was small, white, and needing paint, with a wide porch of the bungalow style. The windows were framed by black shutters, also needing paint. The yard around it had seen better days, the grass yellow now with coming winter. At one time, though, Bree could tell, flower beds had lined the path and the perimeter of the house. The whole place was quaint, tiny, and the kind of place Bree would love to live.

Seamus walked up to the front porch, took a key from his pocket at the same time he stuffed the Collar into it, and unlocked and opened the door. He entered the house first to make sure all was well within, as Shifters did.

“All right, Francesca?” he called softly inside.

Francesca? Who the hell was
...

Must be the tall woman with a mass of brown hair coming down the stairs, her rangy look telling Bree she was Lupine.

The Shifter who came galloping from the back at the sound of Seamus’s voice wasn’t Lupine—or Feline either. It was a bear, a brown one, and very, very small. He, or she, barreled toward Seamus on short legs with oversized paws, and ran smack into him.

Seamus rocked a little as the cub slammed into his legs, then he paused to let himself feel vast relief. Katie was all right.

Bree, behind him, stopped in astonishment. Seamus felt the waves of her confusion and wonder roll off her.

“And who is
this
?” Bree asked with eager interest.

The little bear was clinging to Seamus’s leg, claws coming through his jeans, as Bree’s cat’s had done this morning.

“This is Katie,” Seamus said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m looking after her.”

Katie looked up at her name. The cub was about two years old in human terms, which was barely born in Shifter. She needed constant care.

“But what is she doing here?” Bree asked, amazed. “She’s Shifter, right? What happened to her parents? Or are you ...?” She broke off, looking at Francesca. Cross species mating did happen.

Francesca unbent enough to bark a laugh. “Not mine. Seamus found her.”

“Found her?” Bree swung her focus to Seamus.

“More or less,” Seamus said.

He didn’t want to describe how he’d come across Katie’s bear Shifter mother, dead from bringing Katie in. He’d found them all alone in the wilds in northern Manitoba, near Hudson Bay. Katie’s mother had been Collared—all Seamus could figure was that she had escaped her Shiftertown for whatever reason to have her child alone.

Seamus had fetched Kendrick, who’d sent the mother to dust with his Sword of the Guardian then taken the cub to foster with others. Kendrick’s Shifters had many foster cubs, rescued from similar situations. The cubs were split up among the Shifters who had the ability to take care of them.

Seamus wasn’t fostering Katie—Francesca was. When Kendrick’s compound had been raided and destroyed, the protocol was that certain trackers were put in charge of making sure cubs and their mothers, natural and foster, were taken care of. Seamus was one of those trackers, his assignment, Katie and Francesca.

“Any trouble?” Seamus asked.

Francesca shook her head. “Not a peep. Katie’s getting restless, though. She wants to run.”