The Watcher

Williams doesn't buy it. "Then he tricked you somehow. He's a shape-shifter. He can't teleport. It's impossible unless Burke …"

It's there, unspoken. Gave him the magic—or used magic on him to transport him somewhere he didn't want to go.

Williams resolve is hard and unbreakable as concrete. I know that from past experience. Still, I have to try.

"What do you want me to do?"

He has his face turned away from me, his mind unreadable.

"Williams?" I prod. "What do you want me to do?"

At last he stirs, half turning in the seat to look at me. "Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

A flash of a

Now the a

"You can't help."

He says it without equivocation.

He says it like I have no say in the matter.

He says it like Max telling me to butt out of his investigation.

But Williams isn't Max and this isn't a human matter.

"Culebra is my friend," I whisper.

He remains unmoved.

I have to change that. All the aggravation and frustration of the past two days sweeps over me, driving away any hesitation, any vestige of good sense. I launch myself at Williams with the ferocity of a tiger.

He doesn't see it coming. One minute he's sitting up in the seat, his resolve like a smug halo. The next, I have his throat in my hands and his body pi

Drive on.

He hesitates, glancing backward.

I put more steel in my voice. Drive on, Ortiz.

The pure heat of my fury convinces him. His foot presses the accelerator and the car resumes speed.

Good.

I've had a bitch of a week, and I'm really tired of arguing with men.

CHAPTER 22

WILLIAMS DOES NOT STRUGGLE. HIS MUSCLES go slack, his face clears of emotion—no anger, fear or surprise. He simply waits for me to recover my senses and let go of his throat.

He knows I will. I know I will, too. I just want his attention.

Culebra is my friend. I don't know what part he is being forced to play in this witch's scheme, but he is being forced and he needs my help.

You're sure he's being forced?

Yes.

Williams' eyes reflect skepticism. Culebra is a shapeshifter with powers of his own. He is an old soul. Burke is a powerful witch, but a young one. She could not force him to do something he doesn't want to do.

I don't accept that. I saw the way he looked at her. She has some kind of control over him.

Williams doesn't respond, but his thoughts are clear on the subject. He doesn't believe it.

I sit back, uncurl my fingers from around his throat. He slides back away from me and sits up, tugging at his collar.

You wonder why I call you impulsive?

He can call me anything he wants. As long as he understands that I intend to play a part in whatever he has pla

Williams is staring straight ahead. I may be more powerful physically than he is, something I still don't understand, but if he closes off his thoughts, I can't get inside his head. Unless I forcefully take his blood. Doing that would break the tenuous bond we've formed in the last couple of months. I'm not ready for that. There has to be another way.

I blow out a breath and work at the kinks in my neck with the palms of my hands. I temper the anger out of my head and replace it with contrite rationality. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough week. First Max, then David. The telephone calls. Now this—"

Williams swivels toward me. "What telephone calls?"

I'd forgotten that I hadn't mentioned the calls before. "Someone is harassing me. Or trying to. I think it's Foley, trying to get me to lead him to Max."

Open mouth, insert foot. I know as soon as those words are out of my mouth that I should have left that last part out. I'm glad I didn't say more because Williams jumps all over it.

"Then how do you know he isn't here in El Centra? That he didn't see what happened in that canyon?"

Jesus. I'm pretty sure he did more than see it.

My silence confirms Williams' suspicions. "A

Williams pauses and I see the thoughts churning behind those eyes even if I can't read them. Then his expression clears and he snaps his fingers. "You are going to Beso de la Muerte."

"What? I just told you …"

"That the place was deserted. That's what makes it perfect. Culebra is gone, but the protection spell will still be in place. No one can follow you there."

"I don't care about that. I want to find Culebra. He needs my help, I'm sure of it. This is ridiculous. You're doing this to keep me away from the witch thing. You know where they're going to be, don't you?"

When he refuses to answer, irritation boils up, once again washing over me like a tidal wave. I have an overwhelming urge to grab Williams again and shake him like a dog with a chew toy.

He senses it. He responds with red-hot anger that matches my own. "I let you get away with throwing your childish tantrum once today. I don't intend to let you do it again. I'm trying to help you whether you realize it or not."

He must send Ortiz a telepathic command because the car coasts to a stop. Williams opens the door and steps out. He turns around and leans inside. "You'll find money in the glove compartment and a suitcase in the trunk. I'll get a message to David. Something to the effect that you need to get away for a little while. After what happened between you, he shouldn't be surprised. Don't come home until I send for you."

He doesn't give me the chance to argue. Like every other man in my life lately, he's here one minute and gone the next.

CHAPTER 23

ORTIZ LEAVES WITH WILLIAMS. THEY CLIMB INTO another car parked a hundred feet or so down the road. I was wrong. Williams didn't tell Ortiz to stop. This was all prearranged.

I climb out of the backseat and slam the door. I have an overwhelming urge to shout something obscene at the departing car but what good would that do?

I slide into the driver's seat and reach over to open the glove box. There's an envelope inside. Ten hundred-dollar bills.

A thousand bucks to spend where? Certainly not in Beso de la Muerte.

I look into the glove box again. There's a cell phone. One of those disposable ones with the prepaid minutes. Sixty in this case. Williams wants to make sure I don't get chatty with anyone. Sneaky. Calls can't be traced, either. Just for kicks, I pull out the car registration. It's in the name of Anita Long. There's a California driver's license attached to it with a paper clip. My picture. Not my name. Anita Long.

He's thought of everything, hasn't he?

I don't even look in the backseat to confirm my next suspicion. My purse will be gone. Along with life as I know it and my real identity.

The engine is still idling. I turn it off and lean my head back against the seat.

Part of me understands why Williams wants me out of the way. But a bigger part knows there's more behind his concern than the fact that I exposed myself to mortals yet again. This vampire existence is still new to me. If I had chosen to become, if I were an orphan with no friends, if I were simply evil, I might be more inclined to go along with the rules about disengaging from mortal concern. Of course, if I were evil, I wouldn't be interested in becoming a real Watcher. I know it involves more than policing our community, which is all Williams is allowing me to do at this point. It involves doing what Williams has done, placing oneself in a position to offer the most protection to our human charges.