One Eye Open. Karen Whiddon
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Название: One Eye Open
Автор: Karen Whiddon
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Mills & Boon Intrigue
isbn: 9781408962190
isbn:
Carson drove as if a demon were chasing him, rapidly increasing their speed until they were hurtling down the highway. They took the left lane by storm and passed every other vehicle they encountered.
“What are you hiding?” Brenna heard the taunt in her voice and lifted her chin. “Tell me, Mr. Level-With-Me. Why aren’t you working with the other government people?”
“I work better alone,” Carson snapped. “I’ll find him and bring him in before they even get their heads out of their asses.”
“You never stop, do you?”
His expression grim, he shook his head. “No. And I never will. Not until he’s in custody.”
“Did it ever occur to you that he might still be undercover?”
“Yeah.” His mouth twisted. “It did. Briefly. But I saw him. I’ll never forget that. He shot my family, then threw away the gun. And he never contacted me. Ever. Not even the day of the funeral, the day I buried Julie and Becky. He was my partner, damn it. My friend.”
The bitterness of betrayal rang in his voice. Unable to take the stark desolation in his eyes, she looked away.
“That wasn’t Alex in the video,” he said finally. He eased up on the gas pedal and moved into the middle lane.
Staring at him, she nodded. “I know.”
“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved.”
“He wasn’t.”
The puppy whimpered, shifting in her arms. Some of her tension must have communicated itself to the animal. Taking a deep breath, Brenna forced herself to relax.
“You’ll see,” she told him. “Once we find him, I’m sure he’ll have a reasonable explanation for everything.”
Ignoring her, Carson exited the freeway and pulled into a service station.
While he refueled, Brenna concentrated on her new companion. He had to have a name. For now she would call him Phelan, little wolf.
As she spoke the name out loud, three times in the custom of her people, the puppy raised his head. He lifted a small foot, accepting the naming with quiet dignity. As she took his paw in her hand, Brenna saw a splotch of rust marring the white fur. Blood, dried and flaking. Surely Carson had tissues or something in the glove box. A sidelong glance showed her that he had his back to her.
She opened the glove box. Inside there were no tissues, only a few sheets of paper, crumpled and wadded into a ball. One of those would have to do. Smoothing one out, she glanced at the words printed on it and froze.
“Leave of Absence—Medical.” Swiftly she scanned the rest of the document. In disbelief she read it again, before crumpling and tossing the paper back. Carson Turner had lied. Whatever he did, he was no longer acting under the auspices of the DEA. Since early summer, he’d been on forced medical leave. Six months ago. That meant that in his hunt for her brother, he was acting alone and unsanctioned, his reasons personal rather than official.
A private vendetta. Now, more than ever, she knew she had to find Alex first.
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