Page 125 of Red Fury

Webb shakes his head, looking down at the paper in his hands. “It’s a new destination. Small town in Wyoming called Clearwater. The flight landed half an hour ago.” He looks up at me. “We’ve put an urgent order to track Claire’s phone. We should have information in the next ten to fifteen minutes.”

Wyoming. Fucking Wyoming. Middle of nowhere.

I grab the laptop bag from Webb’s desk and dump its contents onto the surface. Documents, cables, and office supplies scatter everywhere.

Webb looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What are you doing?”

“Can I borrow the bag?”

He shrugs, still staring at the mess I’ve made of his desk. “Sure.”

“Send me the location as soon as it comes through,” I say, already moving toward the door. The empty bag is clutched in my hand. “I need to get to Claire. Her life is on the line.”

Webb nods. “I’ll send it immediately.”

“Thank you,” I manage, then I’m walking out into the evening. The sun is setting.

Good.

Soon it will be dark. Soon, the darkness will hide what I’m about to become.

I tilt my face toward the sky.

Shadow needs me. And this time, I won’t fail her.

38

Shadow

I’m buckled into the passenger seat, of the car, next to Kozlov, and everything feels wrong. The seatbelt feels too tight, or maybe that’s just because I can barely breathe. My head is pounding, and there’s this weird buzzing in my ears that makes it hard to focus.

I don’t know if it’s the drugs he pumped into me or the blood loss from drinking from me like he did. Like he wasn’t going to stop. Like he didn’t care if I died. It’s probably a bit of both.

The landscape outside the window is endless farmland. Fields of corn and soybeans stretch as far as I can see, broken up by the occasional farmhouse or barn. Then there are the herds of cattle grazing in huge fields of tall grass. It might have been beautiful on another day. It might have been relaxing even to stare out of the window at the passing countryside as the sun lowers on the horizon. Today is not one of those days.

I have no idea where we are, only that we’re in the middle of nowhere.

The perfect place to dump a body. The thought makes my stomach lurch.

“Where are we going?” I ask, noting how my voice sounds just as weak as I feel. “It’ll be dark soon. Are we going somewhere to sleep for the night?”

“Yes,” Kozlov tells me without taking his eyes off the road.

He looks worse than he did on the plane. Much worse. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles. His shirt is wrinkled and has bloodstains on the collar. My blood. But it’s his eyes that worry me the most. They’re wild, almost manic, with dark circles underneath that make him look like he hasn’t slept in days.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a drug addict going through withdrawal.

He keeps sniffing in my direction, his nostrils flaring like he’s trying to catch my scent. It’s beyond creepy.

“I’m curious,” I add, but he doesn’t answer.

He sniffs at me again, closing his eyes and groaning. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So fucking good.”

There’s something hungry in his voice that makes what little I feel of my dragon recoil even further inside me.

He says it again, and this time he actually leans closer to me while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. I press myselfagainst the passenger door, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

“You have no idea how good you smell,” he continues, his voice getting rougher. “It is driving me insane.”