Page 28 of Hunted

Gunn kept glancing at her sideways as he drove. Waiting for her to talk? Or try to escape? Or shove a knife in his ribs?

She could feel his emotions seesawing from wariness to hope and back again, and tried to pretend hers weren’t doing the same.

Because her and Gunn—that could never happen. All she was doing was helping Dobe. And surviving.

The road passed through the town, so Michelangela could finally get a good look at it.

It was like some family-friendly TV show from the 1950s. A bank. A café. A B&B. Prosperous-looking shops—not high-end, but catering to everyday people. A grocery market, a bakery.

A freaking hardware store with a front porch where a few good ol’ boys were sitting around in chairs, chewing tobacco and bullshitting.

Families coming out of the bakery with Saturday breakfast. Some kids kicking around a soccer ball in the middle of the town square.

There was a damn duck pond.

Even though nobody could see her, Michelangela suddenly became aware of all the dirt and blood on her skin. On her soul.

She turned to Gunn, narrowing her eyes. “Is this some kind of a movie set?” she demanded. “It’s too damn down-home America to be real.”

A slight grin touched his face. “It’s real.”

“And how do they feel about their local wolf pack?” Surely they had to know about the camp up the mountain—Gunn’s pack must get most of their supplies here.

Before he could answer, an SUV carrying a mom and a bunch of kids passed them as they waited at an intersection. The woman waved at Gunn.

The amusement on his face growing, Gunn waved back.

Michelangela looked sideways at him. “Friend of yours?” she asked acidly. “Maybe a soccer mom you’re boinking on the side?”

That got an actual laugh. “Like I have time for fucking soccer moms during work hours.”

A man driving a pickup passed them. He also waved. Gunn said, “I’m not boinking him either.”

“So it’s just a friendly town,” Michelangela said. Uh-huh. “Wolf-friendly?”

Gunn shrugged. “They know me here.”

“And they still wave?” That got another laugh. But it also gave her something to think about. Because a group of conscienceless mercenaries would hardly be getting cheerful waves from the townspeople.

As they left the square, Michelangela found herself turning around to get a last glimpse of it. It reminded her of Cascade, the nearest town to the Silverlake territory.

When she was a kid, she couldn’t wait to get out of there—but all of a sudden, she had a pang of homesickness.

As she was about to turn back around, though, she saw a tan Sheriff’s Department SUV pull around the corner behind them. The light bar lit up, and he blipped the siren at them.

Mikey glanced at Gunn. Face impassive, he pulled over.

She wondered what the sheriff would think if she told him Gunn had been holding her against her will. But she couldn’t do that, could she? She’d agreed to help Dobe. She slid Gunn’s knife underneath her leg so it didn’t get her arrested.

They waited, engine idling, as the sheriff parked at the requisite angle behind them, and walked up to the side of their truck.

Gunn rolled down the window.

The sheriff was Latino, lean and surprisingly dangerous-looking. He said, “Do you know why I stopped you?”

Gunn replied, “Because you’re an obnoxious son of a bitch who likes to fuck with people?”

Michelangela froze. What the hell was he doing?