Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(10)

He slammed himself into the driver’s seat, gave Tamsin a warning look, took the key from under the visor above him, and cranked the car to life. He then reached into the back seat and brought out a clean towel, handing it to her in silence.

“Where are we going?” Tamsin asked in an eager tone, as though he’d asked her out on a date. She wrapped the towel around her arm. “Someplace nice?”

“To get you fixed up,” the man growled. “All you need to know.” He put the car in gear.

“Wait!” Tamsin thrust her good hand out in panic. “My motorcycle. I can’t leave it. You know someone will steal it. It’s over there, in the trees.”

Wolf-man shot her an angry look. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Put it in the back. This car’s a gunboat. There’s room.”

Another scowl. He was sure cranky. “I’m not bringing along a getaway ride for you. Tell you what.” He retrieved a cell phone from a compartment in the dash. “I’ll call a friend and have him look after it.”

His cell was an old flip phone—no latest tech stuff for Collared Shifters.

“Reg,” he said abruptly into it after he’d punched a few buttons. “Look for a motorcycle hidden near the gas station at the crossroads. Get it to my house for me, would you? Oh, and grab my clothes. I had to shift in the woods, and didn’t have time to go back for them.”

Tamsin heard the Shifter on the other end clearly—no mistaking the gruff tone for anything but Shifter. “Sure. Everything all right?”

“Fine. Mission accomplished. Thanks, man.”

“Great. Catch up with you later,” the other Shifter said.

“Yep. Tomorrow.”

They both hung up without saying good-bye. Typical male Shifters.

“Who was that?” Tamsin asked. “Boyfriend? Bromance?”

Wolf-man briefly rolled his eyes, then backed out the station wagon and pulled onto the road. He drove carefully, as though unused to handling giant metal cars manufactured before Tamsin had been born.

“Where do you even gas this thing up?” she asked curiously.

He grunted. “Engine’s been converted. Runs on unleaded. So they tell me.”

“Not your car, I take it.”

“No,” he snapped. He seemed more worried she’d think this car belonged to him than that she’d believe he worked for Shifter Bureau.

He said nothing more, only headed along the dark road. Going north, Tamsin noted.

She tamped down the fluttery fear in her stomach. She tried to reassure herself that she’d squirmed out of tighter situations in her life, and she could squirm out of this one. Wolfie wasn’t wrong that she needed her arm seen to, and once she felt better, she’d get herself away from him. She’d been unlucky in the woods, in spite of him declaring the opposite. If the stupid gator hadn’t lunged at her, she’d be free now, heading out of state on her motorcycle at a rapid pace.

Tamsin cradled her arm against her chest, leaned back, and propped her booted feet on the dashboard.

“Something to be said for giant cars. Roomy. I’m Tamsin, by the way. Tamsin Calloway. But you knew that already. And you are . . . ?”

Another growl. “Angus.”

She waited but he said nothing more. “That’s it? Just Angus? I thought only bears didn’t have last names.”

A sideways look. “You don’t need to know it.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone has issues.” Tamsin crossed her ankles. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Angus. That’s Scots, isn’t it? A lot of Shifters spilled into Scotland from Faerie, didn’t they? Back in the day?”

“I don’t know.” Angus hunched over the steering wheel, the tattoos playing as his muscled arms moved. “I’m not that old.”

Tamsin let out a laugh. “What, you don’t remember the Shifter-Fae war? That was what, thirteen hundred something? Or twelve hundred? I’m not good at history. I’m exactly forty-seven Shifter years old. What about you?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, come on. I’m only trying to get to know you. It’s a bit of a drive back to the New Orleans Shiftertown.”

“We’re not going there.”

Ah. Interesting. “Or Shifter Bureau’s office in the city.”

“Stop fishing. Not going there either.”

Tamsin looked at him in true surprise. “No? Where, then? Aren’t you capturing me for the Bureau?”

“Maybe. But first, like I said, we’re getting your arm fixed. All you need to know.”

Tamsin fell silent but she couldn’t let him think he had her cowed, no matter how terrified she truly was. Shifter Bureau wanted to know what was in her head, and they weren’t going to be nice to get it. Their interrogation methods for rogue Shifters weren’t exactly full of sugar and sweetness.

She began to hum, then sing. Singing always helped keep down fear. When words ran out, Tamsin scatted guitar parts, drumming her good hand in time to the beat in her head, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

Angus said nothing, though he shot her frowns from time to time. She could feel the growls from him even though he kept them stuffed inside.