The sober look Razor was giving her now seemed to say that he didn’t think she could handle it either.
“I have something of hers.” He reached into the pocket of his black pants and took out a scorched gold chain and pendant. A delicate half-heart dangled from the end of the chain. It was warped from heat, but Willow recognized it instantly.
“She was wearing that when I found her,” Razor said, holding the necklace out to her. “It looks like it could’ve been a gift from Theo. I was going to give it back to him when I see him.”
“It’s not his.” Willow took the damaged pendant from him and carefully held it in her palm. “I gave this to Laurel when we were kids. I have the other half. We never took them off.”
In fact, Willow currently wore hers under the flowy fabric of her peasant top.
Razor stared at her, his hawk-like eyes solemn beneath the heavy slashes of his brows. “Do you need any more proof?”
She gave him a faint shake of her head, even though she hadn’t totally decided if she could trust him. Though her heart ached with grief, her mind swam with memories and conversations she’d had with Laurel during the past few months. Her sister’s seeming paranoia had been justified. Whatever she’d been hiding from had caught up to her in the most horrific way.
And then there was the matter of Lauren’s cryptic instructions to Willow. The promise she’d forced her to make in the event that the worst should happen.
Willow never thought this day would come. She’d prayed it wouldn’t.
She didn’t know what waited at the other end of that vow Laurel had made her swear to keep.
She wasn’t even sure what waited at the bottom of the mountain now that Laurel had been murdered in cold blood and Willow was at the mercy of a huge Breed male who’d just admitted to killing a pair of local police officers.
Who was he, anyway? Obviously, he was a lethal menace, but he didn’t seem completely psychotic. He almost seemed . . . reasonable. Protective. Trustworthy.
Ridiculous words to describe one of his murderous kind.
Still, he had only tried to help her so far.
Maybe she was the one losing her grip on reality, because there was a part of her that felt thankful Razor was there with her now. Relieved that she wasn’t alone to process what was happening. She was grateful that he had been there to look after Laurel’s body before she would have been forced to see the horror of her sister’s suffering up close and personal.
“We have to get out of here,” Razor said, his deep voice cutting through the tangle of her emotions. “I’ll drive.”
It didn’t sound like a request, but Willow wasn’t sure what other choice she had at the moment. She followed him back to her Jeep, moving as though in a dark dream. He swung in behind the wheel while she numbly climbed into the passenger seat, moving her purse to the floor.
When she sat there, staring blindly into the darkness at the pile of ash and rubble, Razor pivoted to reach around her. He grabbed the seatbelt above her shoulder and fastened it for her.
“There’s blood on your arm,” she murmured, roused from her shock-induced stupor by the sight of his injury. She sat up a little straighter. “You’re hurt? Is that a bullet wound?”
He grunted. “I’m fine.”
Without another word, he put the Jeep into gear and put them back onto the rough trail back down the mountain. The headlights bounced wildly against the bumpy dirt road and the surrounding trees. He flicked the beams off with a low growl and plunged faster into the night.
Willow threw him a startled look. “What are you doing? I can’t see a thing.”
“I can.” His unearthly eyes met hers, sending an arrow of strange heat into her veins. “I know a shortcut. Hold on to something.”
She barely had time to brace her hands against the dashboard before he veered off the so-called road and down a steep decline. The Jeep sped through the trees, and how Razor managed to avoid colliding with any of them was nothing short of a miracle.
He navigated the dark, rugged terrain as if he’d lived there all his life, totally in command of the vehicle and the uncharted path beneath them. A few minutes later, they emerged onto the mountain pass several hundred yards from the commotion gathering at the entrance.
Police lights on two parked cruisers flashed blue and red where the fallen officers lay. More emergency vehicles were arriving by the second. Cops and other first responders were positioned all over the road, blocking the only way off the mountain pass if he intended to head back into town.
“Fuck,” Razor snarled. “Guess we’re taking the long way.”
He turned opposite of the ruckus and drove the darkened Jeep onto the pass. Willow braved a glance behind them. They had stirred no notice, the frantic law enforcement teams too busy sealing off the road at the other end to pay them any mind.
The pass began to curve around the soaring wall of the mountain, and then the strobing lights of the crime scene were extinguished completely.
Willow sat forward again and looked at Razor. “What about your bike?”
